Chris and Dorothy are the cutest couple. They were an item when I started working at the home, but they weren’t together when they moved in. They met here, developed a relationship, and then Dorothy moved all her things into Chris’s room. Every time I saw them, their elbows were hooked together. They spoke to each other in baby noises. My boss once saw Chris jokingly grab Dorothy’s boob and they both doubled over laughing.

So it was very sad when Chris told me that Dorothy passed away. Nothing is more heartbreaking than seeing a man who looks like Santa Claus get misty-eyed. I work in the kitchen so the only thing I could think to do was put a goofy sticker on his to-go box.

Now the home has two wings. The first wing is where I work and it functions like an average apartment complex except the seniors all have panic buttons to call a nurse. The second wing is our memory care unit which is pretty similar except there are more nurses per senior, every senior has some form of moderate to late stage dementia, and the only door going in is locked with a keypad. Only staff members and approved family members can have the code.

The day after I got the bad news, my manager sent me to the memory care unit to deliver some food to their kitchen. I put my customer service face on, and greeted all the seniors.

“Good morning, Aggie. Good morning, Herb. Good morning, Dorothy. . . . Dorothy?! How did you get down here???”

“Oh! Good morning, Elizabeth. Isn’t this place nice? I just moved here yesterday. Will I still be seeing you?”

One bizarre conversation later, I ran all the way back to the main office and just about busted down the door.

“Boss! Did you know that Chris thinks Dorothy is dead!?”

“I was going to save this for our daily staff meeting, but yes. He’s been alternatively asking to see her and thinking she’s dead, so the executive director typed up a formal statement.”

She handed me a letter that basically said “If Chris asks to visit Dorothy, we should remind him that she’s fine and he can visit in two weeks. Not even Dorothy’s family will be allowed to visit until that date. Just don’t tell him that she’s in memory care or else he’ll try to break down the door.”

We have three seniors whose spouses live in memory care and they all have the code to visit whenever they want. But Chris and Dorothy were never formally married so Chris doesn’t get that luxury.

Every day I was at work, Chris would ask someone about Dorothy then go back to his room to sulk. I saw less of him during meal times and routinely called nurses to check in on him. “At least make sure he has some toast.”

I asked why Chris hasn’t moved to memory care too if he has such obvious memory problems and needs assistance with them. Turns out his kids don’t live in the same state and don’t know what’s going on. At this point the only way he’d move there is if he demonstrably proved he was a threat to himself or others. And living in a memory care unit is generally more expensive than assisted living.

But this was all months ago, so now a nurse takes Chris to visit Dorothy at least once a day and they continue to be gushy like nothing ever happened.

It’s 8am Friday in the waiting room and I overhear the following side of a conversation.

Receptionist: Good morning, [Practice], how may I help you?
…
R: You’re looking for an appointment with Dr [Name]? I’m sorry the earliest available is Tuesday.
…
R: No, Tuesday.
…
R: No, I’m sorry, Tuesday.
…
R: No, it’s Tuesday.
…
R: No, Tuesday.
…
R: Ok, thank you. Bye.

Receptionist to other Receptionist: “I could say it again if they’d like?”

When I was 17, I got my first job at a pizza restaurant as a cashier. The restaurant was set up with the bar and registers in front of the kitchen, 4 booths on one side of the dining area, 3 on the other, 7 tables in the center of the room, and 3 tall tables against the windows. It’s a fairly small establishment, and it is an incredibly busy Saturday night, with a local softball team, in addition the usual madness of a Saturday night in a pizza place- in all, there are probably about 60 or so people packed in, some dining in, some waiting for to go orders. I have been helping the servers by running food for them. Being that I am pretty short, it’s a wonder that I was not stepped on or knocked over, nor that I didn’t drop the trays of food in my hands. It’s also worth noting that I have glasses.

I have picked up a large pepperoni pizza, and the kitchen has sent me to one of the booths on the right side with it. When I get there, the table is empty, with a closed check sitting on the edge. Figuring the kitchen made a mistake in sending me to the wrong booth, I ask the nearby booths and window tables if they are waiting for a large pepperoni. All of the nearby tables tell me no, so I start to head back to the kitchen to double check, keeping my head down and focusing on dodging running children and other people. Then I see a hand wave from the corner of my eye and I glance over. There is a man that gestures me over. He is sitting in one of the center tables, towards the middle of the room. I put on a friendly smile and ask him how I can help, while still holding the pizza. The man angrily jabs a finger at the tray in my hand and asks if it’s a large pepperoni. I nod, but before I can say anything else, he starts screaming:

Customer: I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION THIS WHOLE TIME!! THAT IS MY PIZZA, WE HAVE BEEN WAITING! YOU NEED TO GET YOUR EYESIGHT CHECKED, AND THOSE GLASSES ARE OBVIOUSLY USELESS! WHAT THE F*** USE ARE YOU HERE IF YOU CAN’T EVEN DO YOUR JOB AND BRING ME MY PIZZA?!?

The man continues to rant, and I am almost in tears. I quietly place the pizza on his table and walk away while he is still talking. I go back to the kitchen and explain to my manager what happened.

My manager tells me that it was the kitchen’s fault for sending me to the wrong booth, as it was supposed to go to one on the other side of the restaurant. But since it is one of our most popular pizzas, there is another one (presumably the man’s actual pizza) coming out of the oven, and to take it to the (correct) booth and apologize for the delay. My manager is not upset until the man asks for a discount when paying. My manager tells him that there will be no discount for insulting one of his employees and taking another table’s food. For the next 2 years that I worked there, I never saw that man again.

I am an independent contractor delivering food from pretty much every restaurant around which I am lucky enough to be able to do it full time because of my location being so busy, the pay is fantastic and there aren’t many others doing it in my area. While I was working a car had its brights on and they were brighter than most cars I come across. It’s normally not a big deal to me to have this happen .. I’ve been the one with my brights on more than a few times after all. So, I do what we all do when this happens and flashed my high beams at the car and the person doesn’t seem to understand so very last second right when he was just passing me I turned on my brights just to be an asshole. The car passes and I see it turn off its high beams in the rear-view mirror and then whips around very quickly and gets right behind me .. It is a cop and of course I get pulled over.

Deputy: “How’s it going tonight? I’m Deputy [Deputies name] with [Police Department] Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Me: “I really hope it’s not the reason I am thinking you did.. why don’t you just tell me and cut out the unnecessary questions since you are quite possibly going to make me late for my delivery I am in the process of? No weapons, no drugs, no alcohol tonight, let’s move on.”
(The Deputy looks taken aback and then angry. He puts his hand on his sidearm and no I do not think he was planning on using it or anything like that I’m pretty sure its standard procedure if a person is being “aggressive” But it’s hard not to make a mental note of that.)

Deputy: “Oh? Who do you work for? You had your high beams on while going past me which is very unsafe and could cause an accident. License, registration and Insurance please.”
(I shoot the most hateful glare at him I possibly can.)

Me: “Ok, I take back what I said about the drugs because you’re clearly on something and I might get a contact high from you. Here is what actually happened you had your high beams on during your approach the entire time and I flashed mine because its what everyone does to remind the driver to turn theirs off. You did not turn yours off. I work for myself making deliveries.”

Deputy: “I never had my high beams on, sir. License, registration and proof of insurance please.”

Me: “Must be some good shit! Too bad I’m working I might ask you to share. You had your high beams on during the entire approach and only turned them off after you passed me and turned around to pull me over. I turned my high beams on at the end of our little “exchange” to help you remember to turn them off for the next car you are driving towards.

Deputy: “I’m not arguing with you. License, registration and proof of insurance or I will remove you from the vehicle. Keep up the drug talk and I will have a K9 unit here momentarily.”

Me: “Kind of an overreaction don’t you think? Besides, if you are any indication the dog is probably as high as you are.”

Deputy: “Give me your license, registration and proof of insurance. I have footage of everything that has transpired and am currently recording this.”

Me: “Would you like to consult my footage as well?”
(His angry look turns confused as I open my phone and show him that my dashcam is recording as well as my rear-view camera.)

Me: “I mean…both of mine have been recording for about 13 hours but it should be easy to find the footage.”
(I am now late for my delivery but I don’t care because this whole pissing contest he thinks he’s having with me is starting to get fun. I start laughing a little at this whole situation.)

Me: “Tell ya what, I needed a laugh tonight so I’ll give you the chance just to go back to your car and drive away. If you don’t tell anyone I wont .. It will be our little secret. Hell, it could be an inside joke if you ever pull me over again. Think of all the laughs we could have at this drug induced stupidity you are causing.”
(He backs up a little and puts his hands in a less “threatening?” pose.)

Deputy: “This is your last chance. How are we going to proceed? Give me your license, registration and proof of insurance and we can have you on your way to your little job.”

Me: “Sure.”

(I grab my license registration and proof of insurance in a way so he can see my hands the entire time and then roll up my window and place them in the crack between the window and seal. I turn my radio up and firmly place both middle fingers against the window while smiling. He stands there for a good minute looking pissed and just waves me on and walks back to his car. He follows me the 6 miles to my delivery clearly just waiting for me to present a real reason to pull me over again and then drives away when I get out of the car with the food and I am now 25 minutes late.

I am normally completely respectful to all law enforcement because that’s how I was raised my father was the fire chief in my town for many years before he died and always just told me to be respectful and they will be you can’t judge all cops based on a few bad ones.
I had just gotten out of the hospital 2 days prior after being there for 6 days due to my pancreas hating me for .. mistakes from when I was a teenager. I was tired, annoyed and in quite a bit of abdominal pain. This was my last delivery before I was done for the night and I was just ready to go home in general .. I was having none of his shenanigans…He lied directly to my face after all. I have never acted this was towards and cop my whole life until tonight.
Oh, and the customer was nice and understanding of how late it was.. or at least he was to my face lol. I gave him a 5 dollar gift card for the restaurant for the inconvenience .. I normally buy and keep a few from the restaurants I get orders from the most just in case something like this happens.)

Possible Titles: “Not the crispiest bacon in the pan” “Not the brightest sprinkle on the donut”

(I’m visiting friends at their university in California. They have me a brief tour and we hung out at the campus. Afterwards, I’m waiting outside the campus for my ride when a car pulls up and flags me down.)

Driver: excuse me! Is this the library?

Me: (turning to look at the building which clearly says “conference center”) No, sir…

Driver: do you know where the library is?

Me: I think it’s further down…

Driver: but how much further down? Is it this next one? How far do I go?

Me: I’m sorry, sir, I’m not a student here. I don’t really know.

Driver: (suddenly angry) You don’t go here? Then what makes you think it’s further down? Huh??

Me: (taken aback) um, well-

Driver: (speeding away) What makes you think that??