Jerks That Deserve To Be Taught A Lesson

My stepbrother was getting married to his girlfriend. I was really excited for them since his girlfriend was also my best friend. She asked me to be the maid of honor, and my biological brother was the best man. We were all close, except for one person at the wedding party - my stepbrother’s best friend. He was one of the worst people I’ve ever known. I was never fond of him since he was a creep and would try to pull a move on me when my stepbrother wasn’t around. I never told my stepbrother because he was pretty protective over me and would have been mad. I also didn’t need anyone to stand up for me. Anyway, this friend stopped bothering me after he finally got a girlfriend. It didn’t last long, though. The planning of the wedding was quite stressful, but nothing crazy happened. Almost everyone we knew was invited. It was going to be amazing! Or so we thought. Everyone can barely contain their joy when the big day arrives. Everything went well, and the ceremony was beautiful. It was finally time for the reception. It started off good, but then things took a turn. The bride and groom, as well as the wedding party, were all seated at the front of the venue. The guest was sitting in front of us as their tables faced ours. Everyone enjoyed the food in between giving speeches.

Then, my stepbrother’s best friend suddenly takes the mic, stands up, and tells us that he has something important to say. We were all confused, but we let him continue with his speech. I wish I had stopped him. He asked his girlfriend to stand up. I already knew what was about to happen. He starts talking about how much he loves her and how they are soulmates. I could tell she was uncomfortable with what was happening even though she was smiling. Then he kneels, takes a ring out of his pocket, and proposes to her. She says yes. My best friend, the bride, looked like she was about to cry as they went around showing everyone the ring. My brother and stepbrother were having a quiet conversation. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. My mom finally stood up and told everyone that it was her son’s wedding and that everyone should stop talking about someone else’s engagement. The room fell into silence. All of a sudden, a banshee scream pierces our ears. The girlfriend started crying and yelling that my mom had spoiled her special day. My stepbrother’s “best friend” joined her and claimed he did nothing wrong. We kicked them out. Even though my brother lost his best friend that day, he didn’t seem to care. The guy acted like an idiot and, in so doing, lost all his friends.

One day my wife needed some things from the grocery door. I wasn’t busy that day and offered to go for her. I wanted to do something for her so she could relax after all her hard work. I brought my stepson with me so she could get some proper rest. It was also an opportunity for me to bond with him. However, it would be an afternoon we’ll never forget. We ran all the errands, and everything went smoothly. All that was left to do was go to the grocery store. My four-year-old son was full of energy and was running around laughing and talking to everyone in his path. I didn’t mind it, though, as long as he stayed within eyesight. I was making my way down an aisle searching for canned corn when my son jogged up to an older lady at the end of it.  My son approached her and sweetly exclaimed, “Hi, I’m Ryan, and I’m four!” He is adorable. The lady glanced down and said, “Well, hi there. You shouldn’t be running around all by yourself. Let’s go look for your parents.” I didn’t think much of it and assumed she hadn’t noticed me. I called out, “Ryan, come to her, buddy!” He excitedly ran back to me and started spinning in circles. I was still looking through the shelves when the lady walked past me and stopped behind me. After all, it was a grocery store, so I didn’t pay much attention to her gesture. I turned my trolley around and was about to make my way to the cash registers when the lady walked into my way. I excused myself as I tried to step around her, but she blocked me with her cart yet again. I thought she was confused and excused myself again, but the same thing happened. Then I say, “Oh, sorry, we’ll get out of your way.” Then she says, “No way! You’re not leaving with that child!” I was confused, “You mean my son?” That’s when the lady said, “You’re Mexican and that boy is white. He is not your son! You probably only know his name because he said it to me!” Exasperated, I said, “Whatever, lady, can you move, please? My wife is waiting for us at home.” Then the lady upped her game by saying, “Stop lying. You’re probably a pervert, and you’re not taking him anywhere.” Throughout the entire conversation, my son had been holding onto the back of my leg because he was getting scared. I have always had a short fuse, but that day I was running on little sleep and was getting angry. I said, “He trusts me, so can you go away, please?!” My son started to explain to the lady that he wasn’t going anywhere with her. What she did next still makes me angry when I think back to it. I couldn’t believe what was happening. She grabbed my son and started to run. My son was screaming at the top of his lungs as she said, “Don’t worry, honey. He won’t hurt you now.” I snapped out of my confusion and started running after her. While I ran, I yelled at people to stop her and that she was kidnapping my son. Luckily, a worker stopped her at the exit. She dared to claim that my son was her grandson. My son was crying and reaching out to me. He began slapping the lady's face, and that’s when she let him go. The manager showed up to see what was going on. The woman spoke before me, saying, "This pervert is kidnaping my grandson, and I was simply trying to get away!" " That's my son, you crazy psycho, I yelled. The manager wasn't sure who or what to trust. I don't blame him; he was put in an uncomfortable position.

So, as proof, I took out my phone and showed him photos of my son and me from about a year ago. Her answer irritated me. Still refusing to give up, this woman claimed I was fabricating them. How exactly would you go about doing that? I'll never understand, but who cares. Unfortunately, two other women were on the psycho's side and said that I was trying to abduct my son and that we couldn't possibly be related because of our different skin colors. One even called the police, which I welcomed since I knew they could examine the security footage. I still contacted my wife to ask if she could come to the store to resolve this issue sooner. She sped to the store as soon as I explained what was happening. She arrived there almost at the same time as the police. When my wife entered, the crazy women began giving the police their statement. As she entered the room, my son immediately yelled, "Mama, help." When she saw this woman holding my son, my wife, a true mama bear, erupted into a rage. " Let him go this second!" she shouted. The woman said, "Sorry, sweetie, I was just trying to protect him from this pervert over here." "Yeah, we saw him kidnap him, but this lady saved him," said another. Baffled, the cop studies the woman. He enquires, "I assumed this was your grandchild," "I don't know who that person is," my wife said. The woman finally owns up, " I know he's not my grandson, but I was just trying to protect him from that filthy pervert over there, okay?" "Yes, I saw the entire thing, he grabbed the child and tried to run with him, but this lady stopped it," the other woman added. "Who are you talking about?" my wife asks. The three insane women all pointed at me. My wife responds, "Oh, you mean my husband"?The women were stunned. They cried out, "Husband?!" " Yeah, who do you think phoned me and got me here so quickly?" my wife exclaimed. We each showed photos on our phones of ourselves to prove that we were a real family. The officer gave us our phones back after giving us a sign of approval and making some quick notes. For some reason, the three women insisted on claiming that everything was a lie, that my wife was involved in the kidnapping, and that we should be arrested. My wife lost her composure and used some expletives that I won't mention here, but she definitely made her point. That moment finally sealed the insane trio's fate. " Do the cameras here work, sir?" the officer asked the manager as he turned to face them. The officer requests a review, and the manager agrees. The three women's faces grew pale. When I pulled into the parking lot, the police looked at the outside camera and witnessed me get my son out of the car and walk up and down the aisles. They saw the moment the woman grabbed my son and started running. "Would you like to press charges?" he asks on his return. "Yes, I would," says the lady. The officer's response was harsh. "Why would I ask you that question?" he asked, looking at her. " Shut your mouth and sit down." He returns my stare and asks the same question. " Absolutely," I said. One lady was charged with attempted kidnapping, false imprisonment, false reporting, and endangering a child. The other two were also accused of filing a false report. To make matters worse for the first lady, my son is prone to bruises, and she left some horrifying marks on him from where she was holding him—but he's alright! This added a child abuse charge to her record. The officer will contact me in a few weeks.

I noticed my shed door was open, and the padlock I used to keep it locked with was broken one day when I returned from work. And I had a ton of bags filled with soda cans. I've accumulated a lot of soda cans over the period of about a year because my pals and I tend to drink a lot of soda. And because I like big payouts, I was going to cash them in at the bottle dump soon. Where I live, a can costs 10 cents. But other things were missing from the shed beside my bags of cans. My gardening shears, a steel rake, two shovels, a two-gallon gas can, a cheap power drill, an electric hedge trimmer, a tiny electric chainsaw purchased secondhand, a machete, and three other items were also taken. I have no idea why they took what they did, but I assume they believed they could sell them for a profit or something. When I looked over the video from my camera to see whether It had captured anything, I saw something disturbing. With one of their dad's big claw hammers, my three nephews—ages 16, 15, and 14—broke into my shed. The hammer is bright yellow and black; their dad has many of them, so I knew it was them. They simply needed a couple of blows to break the cheap lock. They started by breaking into my shed and taking anything they could by hand. They had to make many trips to collect all the cans. And when they were finished, they even made no effort to shut the door. First, my sister and brother-in-law denied that their children had stolen anything from me. I then went to their home and showed them my security camera footage. There is a sad reason why I never disclosed to them that I had cameras installed. My nephews have robbed me before, so this was nothing new. Snacks and food came first; then, they moved on to DVDs and video games. Then, after that, pretty much anything else they believed they could smuggle out. Every time I forced them to return something they had taken from me, I was made to feel awful before receiving the fakest declarations of regret. Moreover, they were never in trouble with their parents. When my nephews snuck into my home last year and stole three six-packs of my favorite blood orange ale from my fridge, that was the final straw. But that isn't the worst of it. The worst aspect, though, is not that. They entered using my secret spare key, and they also used one of my restrooms, not only without flushing but also peeing all over the floor. And I do not doubt that it was deliberate. When I questioned my sister and brother-in-law about my nephews stealing it, I discovered the drinks they took were hidden in one of their bedrooms. When I wanted them punished, I was essentially given an equivalent justification to "Boys will be boys." I installed the cameras without telling anyone. My sister and brother-in-law were furious after viewing the video of my nephews stealing from me. But they were even angrier that their boys skipped school to rob me. Their lads skipping school to rob me, however, actually made them more furious. They had been going to the Bottle Drop multiple times during the day to cash the cans. They spent the money on junk food and video games after that. Actually, the amount in question was close to $200. That, together with the broken padlock, convinced me that my sister and brother-in-law now owed me $200. My sister and brother-in-law became furious at me for wanting the money back because I knew they had three children and a mortgage. I stated that it was either that or I would go to the authorities and file charges. They told me to leave, and I told them they had two days to figure out how to pay me back before I went to the authorities. Everything else my nephews took was returned to me, including the machete and gas can. My phone overflowed with messages from my sister and brother-in-law throughout the following few days. Both spoken and written.

Because it was immediately following the holidays, and they have three children and a mortgage, they initially scolded me for being heartless. After that, they began to gaslight me and even threaten me. All of this would be repeated in a loop. All of this would be repeated in a loop. My nephews phoned from a different phone and began sending me messages of their own, which resulted in even more phony apologies and gaslighting. Even my oldest nephew texted me a photo of himself pointing the middle finger at me while holding a Soda can. I suppose they weren't taking my threats to contact the police seriously. My sister and brother-in-law refused to discuss any kind of means of compensation for what my nephews did when I last spoke with them. even after I advised them to sell the video games they bought with the money from the cans. They then had the gall to claim that I had tempted my nephews by keeping the cans in my shed in the first place. That morning, I went to the police station to file the report. A copy of the video depicting my nephews robbing my shed was given to them. They broke the lock, so I gave them the pieces. showed them all the texts and screen captures that served as additional proof. I let the police know that I thought it was concerning that my nephews had taken the machete. However, they categorized it as a tool. especially considering how many other tools they took. However, my nephews were apprehended and detained on Saturday. Officers arrived at their home and forced my sister and brother-in-law to let them in because they had a warrant. All three of my nephews, who were previously arrogant little jerks, reportedly started sobbing when they were put in handcuffs. I know this because a neighbor who is somewhat friendly with my sister was around to witness it. But it didn't end there. My sister and brother-in-law started blowing up my phone again after the arrest. Their children couldn't leave until Monday morning. The boys are currently facing larceny charges, malicious mischief, and harassment. Since there have been accusations about my nephews for a while—but nothing has been proven as of yet—the authorities took the entire situation quite seriously. Bags of cans have been disappearing all over the area over the past two months. I'm not sure if my nephews were involved or not. Though they are likely suspects. Let's hope other neighbors with security cameras step forward with more footage when word of their arrest spreads. Also, my sister and brother-in-law visited my home. I refused to let them in and informed them that they were the ones who were enabling their children's behavior by failing to hold them accountable. They continued to shout and bang on my door as a result, and I eventually threatened to call 9-1-1 on them as well. And because I've already done it, they know I mean it now. So they left without any further issues. However, they reverted to blowing up my phone.I decided to save all of their messages because I've chosen to take them to small claims court over this. I already replaced the damaged padlock with a much better one and didn't really need or want the money. Children need to learn a lesson, but they're not the only ones. I'm hoping that they will have learned their lesson by the time I'm done and won't mess with me ever again. My family is totally in support of this. Including my parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. All of them are with me because my nephews have also stolen from them. And several followed suit after I banned my nephews from my home.

I was slowly closing down on a few vehicles in the right lane while driving on the highway's passing lane. Another car pulled up behind me, moving quite fast, but I knew the speed limit was set to decrease ahead. I slowed down, the car behind me close on my trail. The car floored it and overtook me after I pulled into the right lane while honking its horn.

The driver cursed at me and gave me the finger as they passed, with the passenger's torso partially out the window. It turned out that the vehicle I parked behind was driven by an unmarked state trooper who pulled them over right away. Justice had been served.

I went to dinner with my wife's father before we got married. My father-in-law offered to cover the bill after supper. My wife asked that the leftovers be packaged for her to take home. "Well, you'll just end up leaving them in the fridge, then they'll just get thrown out, blah blah," her father said, being difficult." Listen, it's not your fridge. Just let her be," I told him. " Don't tell me how to bring up my daughter," he yelled in a fury. I yelled back at him, telling him not to speak to her in such a nasty tone. As a result, he tossed the bill at me and exclaimed, "Okay, then you pay!" Then he stormed out. At that time, we were all angry, and my wife asked, "Why did you have to start something?!" We waited for quite some time after I paid the money and requested the receipt. The tension grew by the second.

Her father was impatiently waiting outside. " Can I just get our bill and leave?" I asked the waitress. " Oh no, sir, you have to wait for the manager," they retorted. I discovered the lovely, satisfying truth at that point. It turned out that they were holding a contest in which every bill was a winner of some reward. Typically, winners would receive a free appetizer or drink. We had, however, just won the GRAND PRIZE that evening, which consisted of a trip for four to Florida. And here's the catch: whoever pays receives the prize. I had won because her father stormed out like a child.

I work as a paramedic in a neighborhood with many HOAs and apartment buildings. Due to assigned parking spaces and no-fire zones, we hate responding to apartment complexes. We have to obstruct the road if we can't find a place to squeeze in. My company also makes use of first-responder vehicles and ambulances. We try to leave enough space for the ambulance to fit since, as implied, the first responder generally arrives first. A call comes in from the apartment building. I'm the first to arrive. Through some miracle, there is a spot just two apartments away as I near the address. I can now clear the road so the ambulance may pass. As soon as I park, this guy comes out screaming I can't park there. I give them the "are you serious?" look and tell them it's a medical emergency. He says he doesn't care and that I can't park there. I gather my belongings, lock the car, and go on my way. I tell him that the authorities are already en route, as he screams that they will be called.  While I am still inside with the patient, an officer arrives and orders him to essentially "pound salt." When the officer enters the flat, this man has a temper tantrum. He walks into the apartment and comes into the room where I'm treating the patient. He launches into a rant about how I need to move my car. "Get him out of here," I say as I turn to face the officer. The policeman seals his fate.

The patient is questioned about if she wants this guy removed from the flat and whether she ever permitted him to enter. "Get him out. He's trespassing," said the patient. The all-clear goes off. The officer gives him one last chance by ordering him to leave or face being arrested. " I am on the HOA committee. I can go wherever I want!" he shouts as he pushes his luck further. Now it is necessary to call backup. At least the cop drags the man out of the room. He is taken out of the apartment by the ambulance, which has PD support, so we can safely transfer the patient. I was in the ambulance's back, so I'm not exactly sure what happened after that. As I got out, one of the officers came over and apologized, saying, "Sorry, but we need another bus. He needed to be tazed." According to PD policy, if someone is tazed, they must be taken to the hospital by ambulance since the barbs on the taser spikes require surgery to be removed. They wait for the second ambulance to fetch him. I resume my duty. He was accused of trespassing, assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, and interfering with government operations, which I learned about a few weeks later. All over a parking spot, I would have only occupied for 20 minutes if he hadn't caused any problems. I never received a call to testify, so I can only assume that he accepted a plea deal

I used to travel frequently, so I regularly received upgrades using miles to business class, first class, or just better seats. I arrived and boarded the plane after most of the passengers because the flight was a connection for me. Since I had been upgraded, I noticed someone sitting in my seat as soon as I entered the aircraft. Having someone on your seat is not uncommon if you regularly fly. However, this particular encounter will remain in my memory forever. I apologized as I told the person they were in my seat. "Let's just swap seats so I can sit next to my wife," the man in my seat says dismissively, without even looking up. Let's exchange seats so I can sit next to my wife, the man in my seat says without even bothering to look up at me. He dismissively flicks his hand in my direction. I ask him what his seat is.  He says a number while chuckling. He stated a specific seat number, but I can't recall it. It was in the last row of the aircraft, though—an aisle seat just outside the restroom. I have, in the past, had to sit in those chairs. Remember that I was given a seat in the first-class/business-class area. I've traded seats with people countless times in my life without giving it a second thought, including first-class seats. However, the expression on someone's face when they unexpectedly ride in first class is priceless. This was not one of those occasions, given how this guy acted and what he was expecting. So I say, "No. I'll just take a seat at the place I was given." As it was her sister's property, she claimed, it was now hers, and she was the rightful owner. She's had three husbands and no consistent employment since I've known her. Until she divorced them, she squeezed as much as she could from each one. I walked for about 10 minutes the following morning to get to school, and as I was leaving, I noticed her car and a moving van parked outside. She claimed she was moving into "her" house, but that's not the worst part. Then, in a sickly-sweet voice, she offered to let me stay there until I finished high school in exchange for a "fair" rent. When I went inside and called my brother, he again came with the family lawyer, police, and all the necessary documentation and got her evicted. I missed what happened since I was at school. That evening, Mark handed me a business card (for a policeman, who I guess helped with all of this) and told me to phone that number right away if I ever saw aunt Karen on the property or close by. I am aware that the movers charged her to load her belongings into the van, go across town, be turned away, and then return to her apartment, for which she had not yet given notice. I used to bring our dog out in the yard to let her play in the fenced backyard while I was at school, but I became so afraid that I didn't like letting her out there. I started to lock her in the garage and clean up after her messes when I got home in the evening. Karen later moved to Colorado, where she eventually fell in love with and married the man who called to inform me that she had passed away and that he could not find any family members to attend the funeral. I decided not to tell him about her and kindly apologized for my unavailability to attend. He said Mark the same thing. I don't think she has any living relatives but me, Mark, and Mark's little kid. Mark gave me his half of the house as part of the agreement where I sold him my share of the business, but I continued to sleep in my bedroom. Even though I am 20 years old, own a big home, and have a lot of money in the bank, I still miss my parents and think about them often. I would do anything to have my parents back, even though I have all these luxuries. I used to travel frequently, so I regularly received upgrades using miles to business class, first class, or just better seats. I arrived and boarded the plane after most of the passengers because the flight was a connection for me.

Since I had been upgraded, I noticed someone sitting in my seat as soon as I entered the aircraft. Having someone on your seat is not uncommon if you regularly fly. However, this particular encounter will remain in my memory forever. I apologized as I told the person they were in my seat. "Let's just swap seats so I can sit next to my wife," the man in my seat says dismissively, without even looking up. Let's exchange seats so I can sit next to my wife, the man in my seat says without even bothering to look up at me. He dismissively flicks his hand in my direction. I ask him what his seat is. He says a number while chuckling. He stated a specific seat number, but I can't recall it. It was in the last row of the aircraft, though—an aisle seat just outside the restroom. I have, in the past, had to sit in those chairs. Remember that I was given a seat in the first-class/business-class area. I've traded seats with people countless times in my life without giving it a second thought, including first-class seats. However, the expression on someone's face when they unexpectedly ride in first class is priceless. This was not one of those occasions, given how this guy acted and what he was expecting. So I say, "No. I'll just take a seat at the place I was given." He now finally turned to face me. " Well, I want to sit with my wife, so I'm not moving," he replies. " Well, I'm sure whoever is seated way back there would be more than delighted to trade seats way up here so you can sit back there with your wife, " I respond. He didn't like that at all because there wasn't much he could say at that point without sounding arrogant. I grew irritated as he just stared at me, and I said, "Move." "I am not moving," he declares. I pressed the call button. "Yes sir, how may I help?" asks the flight attendant as she approaches. I give her my ticket and inform her that he is taking my seat. She requests his ticket, looks at both tickets, notices his seat number, and gives him a look. "Sir, you need to sit in your allotted seat," she says. " I want to sit next to my wife," he responds. I didn't miss a beat. I repeated that I was certain that whoever was seated next to him in that row would be more than pleased to move over and take a seat up here. Boy, oh boy, that clearly angered him. "Ma'am, would you like to move seats so that you can sit by your husband," the flight attendant asks the man's wife. His wife refused. "Well, sir, you have to sit in your assigned place, so kindly collect your belongings," the flight attendant says in the familiar voice that makes it clear you have no option. It was a sad and pitiful sight to see this grown man behave like a baby, grab his belongings, and then sulk to the back of the plane. His wife did not go with him to the back of the aircraft; she instead sat next to me. No. I was delighted with the fact that we didn't exchange words or even a single glance. Imagine condescendingly assuming someone will give up their first- or business-class seat to take a seat in the very last row of the aircraft near the restroom.

My pampered aunt Karen passed away recently. When her husband called to invite me to the funeral the following weekend, I declined. My older brother Mark also did. My mother's older sister, Karen, often meddled in my mother's and her children's affairs. She was never fond of my father and tried to convince my mother that she had made a mistake by marrying him. The name my parents chose for my older brother didn't sit well with her either. The day before I was born, my great-grandmother passed away. When Karen learned they were naming me after her, she flipped out. She said she planned to give that name to her future child and told my mother not to use it. Then she tried to convince her it was too traditional and that others would make fun of me. She chastised both my brother's and my choice of friends. She even made a fuss when I began playing softball because "proper ladies" didn't participate in sports, and if her daughter tried to, she would pull her off the team. Spoiler alert: she never even had children. My parents drove to California the day after my 16th birthday on business. My father mentioned that when they returned, he would take me to the DMV to get my driver's license. He never got the chance because they hit a patch of ice on the way to California. They crashed and unfortunately didn't make it. After that, I was in terrible condition; I didn't even want to go to my high school graduation since my parents couldn't be there. Everything was divided equally between my brother and me. My brother informed Tim, my parents' production manager, that he would take over in a few weeks. Tim was responsible for managing everything until that point, while he took over and learned the basics. Although it was guaranteed summer employment when I was growing up, I had no interest in the company other than that. I didn't get involved and kept getting profit checks until I sold my share to Mark.

Mark instructed Tim to reassure the staff that their jobs were secure and that no significant changes would be made. Afterward, aunt Karen appeared and started organizing her things in my parents' office one day. She said that Tim was fired after he confronted her about it and that she no longer needed his services. After receiving a call from Tim, Mark sent the family lawyer, several police officers, and the required papers, then went down to have her removed. As it was her sister's property, she claimed, it was now hers, and she was the rightful owner. She's had three husbands and no consistent employment since I've known her. Until she divorced them, she squeezed as much as she could from each one. I walked for about 10 minutes the following morning to get to school, and as I was leaving, I noticed her car and a moving van parked outside. She claimed she was moving into "her" house, but that's not the worst part. Then, in a sickly-sweet voice, she offered to let me stay there until I finished high school in exchange for a "fair" rent. When I went inside and called my brother, he again came with the family lawyer, police, and all the necessary documentation and got her evicted. I missed what happened since I was at school. That evening, Mark handed me a business card (for a policeman, who I guess helped with all of this) and told me to phone that number right away if I ever saw aunt Karen on the property or close by. I am aware that the movers charged her to load her belongings into the van, go across town, be turned away, and then return to her apartment, for which she had not yet given notice. I used to bring our dog out in the yard to let her play in the fenced backyard while I was at school, but I became so afraid that I didn't like letting her out there. I started to lock her in the garage and clean up after her messes when I got home in the evening. Karen later moved to Colorado, where she eventually fell in love with and married the man who called to inform me that she had passed away and that he could not find any family members to attend the funeral. I decided not to tell him about her and kindly apologized for my unavailability to attend. He said Mark the same thing. I don't think she has any living relatives but me, Mark, and Mark's little kid. Mark gave me his half of the house as part of the agreement where I sold him my share of the business, but I continued to sleep in my bedroom. Even though I am 20 years old, own a big home, and have a lot of money in the bank, I still miss my parents and think about them often. I would do anything to have my parents back, even though I have all these luxuries.

I work in a wealthy neighborhood for a major grocery chain. Although many of our clients seem to be typical Karens, the majority are incredibly kind and wonderful. I was racking carts when I overheard a woman on the phone speaking behind me. She remarked, "I cannot understand why they come to our country. They barely even speak our language. I'm behind someone who is probably a terrorist right now!" I see her strolling behind a young woman in a hijab with a small child in the window's reflection. She is following a young mother with a young child wearing a hijab, as I can see in the window's reflection. The young lady just placed her son in a cart, and I can tell she has tears in her eyes. I've about had enough as I spun around. "Oi!" I exclaim as I round back to face Karen. " That offends me to a bloody extent! I'm not or have never been a member of the IRA just because I'm Irish. I cast my gaze on the girl as well as Karen. Both were at a loss for words, and Karen only managed to point toward the young lady.

I say, "You saw that, didn't you?!" This time I addressed the young lady. "This woman just called me a damned terrorist! I might speak Gaelige and wear a Catholic cross! And bloody proud to be Irish, but I am not a terrorist!" My manager then arrives to see what the commotion is all about. I retort, "This woman just called me a terrorist!" " You saw her call me that, too, right?" I asked the young lady as I turned to face her. My manager glances at the girl and realizes what's going on right away. No matter who it is directed at or the reason behind it, he tells Karen that she must leave because such behavior is unacceptable in our store. Karen turns around and leaves, still unable to respond. I turn to face the young lady and say, "I'm sorry for the yelling, ma'am, but I'm proud of who I am! Please tell one of my coworkers or me if you need anything while shopping." The woman gives me a big smile and wheels her cart away after thanking me. My manager then remarks, "Entertainment Tonight: $0. Teaching Karen a lesson about discrimination: $0. Just seeing a young woman walk away with a grin like the Cheshire cat is priceless."

It was pouring outside. I was nearing a freeway with my large rig, indicating and smoothly changing lanes. All the while keeping an eye on a car crowding me from behind. He gunned it to try to pass me as soon as he reached the merge ramp, crossing into the no-drive section. I had already started to merge, so the issue was that my cab was 60 feet in front of him. He was using the lane that half my rig was in. When he realized he couldn't pass me, the guy lost it. The road shook as he sped back into his lane. He started blaring his horn and flashing his lights. I kept cruising along, entirely at ease. I was completely at ease while I traveled. I was keeping an eye on the traffic in my driver-side mirror when I noticed a break, and I knew what was about to happen. This man honked continuously as he swerved into the left lane, accelerated, and pulled up next to my cab. He swerved my way and cut me off.

He slammed his brakes and pulled into line in front of me, and then everything fell apart. He lost control of the car. It abruptly swerved sideways at 45 mph. I had already slowed down and was far away from him. His car spun until it faced me, then drifted back up and into the ditch. It plowed the earth like a farm tool in front of every one of us on the freeway. I paused. The left lane had come to a halt. We just stood there watching as this guy slowly got out of his damaged car. Other drivers got out to assist while others were on their phones. I just walked out of there calmly. I just got out of there nice and calmly. It was immediate karma.

A few years ago I had a side hustle on my days off. My job had a rotational schedule where I worked two weeks then got two weeks off. I made plenty of money at my job, but it didn’t hurt to make a little extra cash. I was in essence a tour guide. But for the region I lived in. I didn’t have any planned tours but usually just took people to see neat places that they would not know about or think to go to. I was adamant about getting paid up front. And customers signed an agreement saying that made guarantees to protect my truck from messes or damage. Never had any issues fortunately, and people always enjoyed the places I showed them. Except for one family. They seemed friendly enough when I was having them sign a contract and collecting my fee. I should mention my fee was $15/hour + $75 ($35 if it was a half day). This covered a tank of fuel, plus paid for my time shuttling you around. I also kept a cooler with free water and some limited snacks. You were paying for my knowledge of the region, plus knowledge about the area’s history and such. Plenty of times I had customers tell me, “I’ve never seen so much cool stuff in one day”. You could maybe find something cheaper, but I didn’t care. Once money changed hands with this family, the attitude changed. They began treating me like I was a second class citizen. But I had their money, so I didn’t care. I drove them around to some of the most beautiful scenery you can find. It’s rare people are left speechless by these places and never have I seen someone not be impressed. Until now. Every place I showed them they just seemed disappointed. One of the places was a ski town popular with a lot of celebrities (not Aspen), and they were just like “Eh, it’s ok”. I can’t deny I was a little offended by their indifference but whatever. They were never outright rude during the day, but were surprised when I didn’t buy lunch for them. As I said, you’re paying for my time, food is on you.But when I got back to town and dropped them off at their hotel, it got interesting.

The wife says, “You can just park in the back and leave the keys at the desk. Tell them they are for the Smith family”. Me: “I’m sorry, what”? Wife: “This truck, just park it in the back. We might use it later”. Me: “This is my truck. I’m not leaving it here, that’s not part of the deal”
Wife: “Oh please, there is no way you can own a vehicle like this. It obviously belongs to your company”. Me: “I do this job by myself, on my days off from my regular job. I assure you, this is my truck. I can show you my name on the title”. Wife: “Young man (I had just turned 30) If you don’t do as your told I will be forced to call your boss”. Me: “You mean me? I am my boss”. Wife: “Okay smarty-pants, get your boss on the phone, right now”! I thought about just driving off, but then had a better idea. I called my supervisor at my real job. We’ll call him Dan. Dan has been in the oilfield for 14 years and could have quite the potty mouth. Good supervisor, he knew what I did on my days off and even sent people my way a few times. He answered and I just said, “One of my clients is demanding to speak with my boss, so here she is” and handed her my phone. The wife, sounding smug, said “I tried to tell your driver to leave the truck here so we could use it but he lied and said he owns it”. I could hear him yelling “ARE YOU (BLEEPING) STUPID”? I didn’t discern anything else but I know he gave her a good thrashing.She just walked to the window, handed me my phone, and said, “He wants to talk to you” then walked away. Boss: “That fix your problem”? Me: “Yea, thanks Dan”. Boss: “Anytime brother”.

I’m currently eight months pregnant with my first child. I work as a secretary on the inpatient ward of a hospital, second shift. I started working here when I was 19 to support myself through college. So, my coworkers are like family. When I was four months pregnant, I told my coworkers, who were happy for me. All except Patty. She didn’t say anything.After a while, she started being friendly with me asking about the baby, my health, and my plans for the future. I told her that my boyfriend and I were getting married and moving in together to be a family. Patty didn’t like this for some reason, and started asking me about my opinions on adoption. I said NO, I’d never give my child up for adoption. For a few weeks, Patty gave me the silent treatment. Then one night, after visiting hours, a couple in their 40s showed up. told them that visiting hours were over and that they could see their family member tomorrow.

What the woman told me made my blood run cold. She said, “Oh, we’re here to see YOU! We’re so excited to meet you and want to thank you for choosing us to give your baby to”! I was dumbfounded and shocked—until the woman tried to touch my six months pregnant belly. I screamed so loud all of the nurses came running. The couple tried to explain to security, nurses, and me, that their sister-in-law told them that I was a young unwed mother desperately trying to give up my baby for adoption and choose them. She said that their sister-in-law promised them my baby, since they have been suffering from infertility for years. I told them that I had no intentions of giving up my baby and to never come near me again. I also told them that I don’t even know their sister-in-law, but they kept insisting that I did. The next night Patty comes charging up to my desk, screaming at me. She’s yelling and asking how could I treat her brother and sister-in-law like garbage, after she helped me with my “mistake”. I called security and Patty, her brother and sister-in-law are banned from coming near me or contacting me at work.

I moved cities six months ago, and my new job site has a 12-hour shift system (8 am to 8 pm or 8 pm to 8 am). And since I have a very high metabolism and am a total foodie, I have been packing a lot of food from home. (breakfast, two snacks, lunch or two dinners, and baked goods for tea time). I usually eat with my team of four people, and they get their meals from the on-site cafeteria. I share my meals with them, because I love feeding people and I pack extra. But then I got a call from another co-worker, one whose husband is part of my team. She works in our opposing shift.

This lady was aggressive from the get-go, demanding that I stop bringing my elaborate meals and that I should just get what the cafeteria is serving like everyone else. I was firm and said that I was not going to change my habits and that she doesn’t have a right to demand that. Then she went on a rant about how her husband has been comparing her to me (cooking, presentability, cheer is what she mentioned) and complaining for the last six months. I admit I felt bad for her. So I said that those kinds of issues should be discussed with her husband, not with me. But I said again, that I will continue bringing food from home. Then she called me the b-word and hung up on me.

I saw this woman on the side of the road who had a flat tire and was clearly having issues changing it. So I decided to halt my run and go see if I could help out. I strolled over and offered my services to her—she accepted, but she backed away a pretty far distance. I proceeded to change her tire and helped get her on her way. As soon as I finished, I proceeded to extend my arm for a handshake. Her reaction was chilling.

She said, “Back away, I have 9-1-1 on my phone right now and all I have to do is press call”. I don’t know if she thought I was going to attack her or something, but you don’t just do that to someone who just helped you change your tire. Flabbergasted, I ran away and I haven’t seen that woman since. I don’t understand what she may have been through in the past, but if it was that uncomfortable for her to accept help from a stranger, then she should have just thanked me for offering but still graciously declined. Instead, she accepted my help and then threatened to call 9-1-1 on me.

My younger sister went through a pretty rough time as a young adult, drinking and doing other stuff and generally being wild, she ended up getting pregnant and giving birth at age 18 when I was just a few weeks away from turning 21. She did not want the child after giving birth, she refused to even pick up the child and would leave her sitting in dirty nappies. Despite never wanting children myself either, I stepped in and adopted my newborn niece as my daughter. My then-boyfriend who I’d been with for three years gave me a disturbing ultimatum. He said it was him or her, as he didn’t want children either. I picked her and he left me, which resulted in me suddenly being a single mother. The first few years were rough as a single parent, barely making ends meet, but I managed and my sister had nothing to do with us. I never once hid the truth from my daughter that she was adopted, but always assured her I loved her so much and was her Mummy. When my daughter was six, my sister was finally clean and wanted to have access to her. I allowed it but stressed she would just be an aunt to her and she accepted this, though it’s clear she struggled with the concept and sometimes acted more like a mother which I always squashed quickly. Now, my daughter is eight and I’ve been offered a job in a different country, the pay is almost double my current salary and the company is helping us find a home.

They’re even putting my daughter in an international school and after-school care, so of course I’m going to take it. This resulted in my family having a meltdown about how I can’t do this and how it’s cruel to take my daughter away from her family and how it’s not fair to my sister. My sister has told me she won’t allow me to move away with her and that she’ll fight in court to get my daughter back. I’ve talked to lawyers and it seems she doesn’t have a leg to stand on, as my daughter is legally my daughter, but the rest of my family is telling me I’m being extremely cruel and if I cared about my sister I’d turn this job down. I left home at 16 and finished my education. My sister meanwhile is the golden child who gets away with everything, she even now lives with our parents and doesn’t work. My daughter, while sad to be leaving her school and friends, is excited for the move. I’ve been teaching her about the country every night before bed and we’ve gone to some authentic restaurants to try food from there. I’ve also promised her we’ll fly back at least once a year to visit and she can facetime/call her friends. I feel like my family is angling for me to eventually just hand my daughter back over as if I was just a temporary filler for my sister—which will obviously never happen.

It was getting near closing time and I was cleaning the self-checkout machines while my manager was topping up the coins and receipt paper. This woman, just shy of 50, came up to the checkout and just stood there with her mostly empty cart. I was waiting to see if she would walk up to the actual register for service, but no; she just stood there. I finally asked her, “Do you need help?” She replied, “No,” and kept standing there. Then, she started giggling loudly to herself in a way that made other people around her uncomfortable. I just kept cleaning and my manager continued filling the machines, all of which were devoid of customers. Finally, the woman spoke loudly, to no one in particular, saying the rudest thing ever: “Do you want to work or not?” I let out a long breath, then dropped my cloth and spray bottle down. Suddenly, my manager stepped in and replied loudly, “She does have work!

She’s cleaning right now.” Then she motioned for me to keep cleaning. Well, the woman giggled again, really loudly and snottily this time, and said, “I want a checkout.” My manager replied, “You had your chance. She asked you if you wanted help. You said no. And now, you’re going to have to check yourself out.” The lady started freaking out and demanded to see the manager. My manager destroyed her with one sentence: “You’re looking at her.” The woman sheepishly checked her own items out while we both watched her. And then my manager giggled loudly, just like the woman had done. It was glorious.

My buddy and I were having a drink on a large wooden patio at an ocean-side bar/restaurant. A middle-aged couple was sitting next to us. Our tables were next to each other, and they were relatively close to us. As my buddy and I were just taking in the view, he caught eyes with the dude and said something innocuous like, “Good evening.” The guy retorted, “Mind your own business and keep your eyes to yourself.” My buddy and I looked at each other with a “Did that just happen?” expression. My buddy looked back over at him and said something like, “Relax, buddy, sorry to bother you.” At that point, we were a little put-off. We got back to our drinks and enjoyed the sunset. Two minutes later, the guy pulled out a ring for his partner. It was a large diamond. She was excited, and he had a sufficiently smug, self-satisfied look on his face. She went to hand it back to him. Then disaster struck. When he grabbed it, he fumbled. It fell to the deck, rolled an inch or two, and then promptly disappeared, falling between two slats of the deck.

I felt bad for the woman. The guy’s face went white and then immediately red. He was barely able to maintain his composure. It looked like he wanted to strike his lady friend. The dude looked over at us, and now we were looking straight at him. We just smiled casually. He called a waiter over and started discretely explaining what had happened. He wanted someone to pull up the deck slats. However, that was NOT going to happen. The waiter was cool as ice. Despite the guy raging at this point, the waiter flatly told him something to the effect of, “Look, man, you can come back tomorrow and talk to the manager, or pay your bill and leave now.” The guy sat down. His lady friend was visibly shaken. While enjoying our drinks and the sunset, my friend and I remarked about how karma, while certainly inspiring, is almost magical when it’s instant.

I’ll start this off by saying my ex is vindictive as heck. We’ve been fully divorced since about right before the pandemic started. We sold the house we shared and I didn’t have to pay her alimony because she cheated and we’re in an at-fault state. It was messy since D-Day. All of the stereotypes. First the sobbing and then trickle truths saying “I love you”! “It was just one time”! “Ok it was two years”. Then the gaslighting, followed by “I’m going to take you for everything”! before packing her stuff and walking out. I feel like I never really knew the woman my ex was in all the time we were together. We were married for five years and together for seven. And in two of those five married years, she had affairs with three other men. The final one being a foreign businessman of some sort from what I could find out. Yes, I got tested and was thankfully negative. Yes, she got pregnant by the final dude, and no I didn’t sign the birth certificate because I found out about all the affairs before the baby was born thanks to a call from the first dude. My ex tried to go full scorched earth on me. But since we live in and were married in an at-fault state, she lost. We didn’t pay equally into our house, and the equity was divided 70/30. So I got a pretty good cash payout when I sold our marital home to put as a down payment on a different house closer to my job. It’s a bit of a downgrade. But suits a single guy in his thirties like me just fine. My ex did show up to my house once. But I refused to let her in. She yelled at me that I’d financially ruined her in the divorce. I said that she was fully willing to do that to me first. Then, the woman had the audacity to say it should have been my life that got messed up, and not hers. I laughed so hard and said it was karma. She yelled that she’d sue me for what was rightfully hers. I said if she was gonna sue me, then to go ahead and sue me. It’d end up the same way in court, because she has nothing but a false sob story. She was the cheater, not me. I’m no angel, but I didn’t do anything to her. And she was the one who ruined our marriage. Then she took it up a notch. She then said she’d tell everyone she could that I abused her. I said I’d sue her for defamation if she did, and I was recording our interaction and had those words saved to my phone. She went wide-eyed and her jaw dropped. The look people are calling the surprised Pikachu face. Then I asked why she was there, if not to just try and make trouble. Because she had a new man in her life that knocked her up. She just huffed at me and said he isn’t around much, and she’s stuck in a tiny apartment living off his child support till he comes back. It was immature of me I know, but I did the bit of playing the world’s smallest violin. She raged at me and then got in her car to leave. Haven’t seen her since. But as soon as I got her out of my life, I had to deal with an even more annoying problem. There is an HOA in my neighborhood. But I was not legally obligated to join it because the last owner of my house was not a member. I made sure of that through a real estate lawyer as well. The HOA had no grounds to force me to join and they were not happy about it. The HOA president would show up with forms every week for the first month demanding I sign them. Then she threatened to take me to court. To which I had to get a C&D sent to her from my lawyer to make her stop that. So she started harassing me by looking for any infractions she possibly could to report to the city. An inspector came out several times and found nothing wrong.

In fact, I offered one of them a burger while grilling, and they graciously accepted. Did I mention the HOA hates barbecues and parties that aren’t approved in advance? Well, they do. And I like to grill when the weather is good. And my neighbors actually love me for it because I invite them over. I had the authorities called on me several times for noise complaints because I was playing music on a Saturday afternoon while having my friends over. The HOA president I caught trespassing once when she was trying to peer into my windows. I called the authorities, but she denied ever doing it. So I got cameras. She hasn’t trespassed since. But I still got repeated passive-aggressive letters saying my cameras were not an approved addition to my house. Some months ago I started getting letters for fines in the mail. And when I contacted the HOA, their representative claimed they had it on record that I’d joined, and needed to pay all fees effective immediately. I told them that was not possible. Then they emailed a scanned copy of the forms, and they had a signature on them. But it was not mine. That’s when I made a chilling realization. It was very similar in some ways, and I recognized right away as being my ex’s handwriting. She knew what my signature looked like. But it was a loose imitation at best. I got in touch with a lawyer right away over the forged signature. But the HOA still demanded to go to court. And it took seven months before that happened. Meanwhile they were stacking unpaid fines against me weekly, and were threatening to put a lien on my house. We went to court and the HOA president looked very smug. But my lawyer pointed out how the signature wasn’t the same as mine, and was very inconsistent in the various forms. I’d never allowed the HOA president in my house, and I’d never requested the forms. The idiot HOA president actually slammed her palm on the table and said it was still binding. But when pressed where the fraudulent signature came from, she admitted my ex-wife called the HOA and they sent her the forms, then got them back in the mail signed. Then she actually claimed she’d thought I’d signed them. The judge looked at her and asked if she was serious. She confirmed she was. The judge then asked how a woman I was no longer married to, that had never even lived with me in my current residence was supposed to have any bearing on whether or not I joined her HOA. She went quiet and I could see the “Oh no” look on her face as the hamster wheels were turning. She seemed to finally mentally put the pieces together. My lawyer then counterclaimed that what the HOA did was blatant fraud, and actions must be taken. And they were. I countersued the HOA for the emotional distress of the harassment I’d gotten since moving in. Which I had lots of proof of. That won me about ten grand after lawyer fees, which I decided to put towards my mortgage. The HOA president was removed from her throne. I like to think she was kicking and screaming. She was also slapped with a hefty fine. I’ve seen her outside a few times, and she always looks at me like I am the devil. The HOA itself had to pay all of my fees too. I wanted to go after my ex for forging my signature. Unfortunately, not long after she forged my signature on those forms, she apparently left the country to be with her third affair partner. She’s somewhere in Europe from what I can see of the final posts on her FB before she disappeared. So I can’t do anything against her unless she ever returns to the US. So that was a wash. I’m not getting letters from the HOA anymore, though. And the new president has promised to keep things completely cordial from now on. I still don’t feel like I got much of a win in this though. Other than the 10k payout, it all felt like a huge waste of time.

This is my friend’s tale about how she turned the tables on a home invader. At the time this happened, my friend was rising her child by herself in a suburb of in Texas. The area they lived in wasn’t particularly safe, with wild beasties of both human and animal kinds so my friend armed herself with a small pistol and took some safety classes to protect her small family. The years go by, her child is now five and there was a series of break-ins in the neighborhood. My friend hired a security company to install security cameras around her home. One day while reviewing footage, friend noticed a strange man lurking around the house. He seemed to wander around a bit and then wandered away, so friend shrugged and carried on with her day. Nothing to worry about right? Turns out—she was wrong. A few days later, my friend was working in her home office and saw the same guy walking down her driveway, opening the gate, and entering her backyard. My friend realized the kitchen door was open, and her child was playing in the living room. My friend grabbed her pistol from her purse and ran to the kitchen and got there as the guy calmly walked through her backdoor! The guy sauntered in, looked and looked around the room—to see my friend standing there with her pistol pointed at him. Guy froze. She yelled: “Who are you and why are you in MY house!? The guy gulped, grabbed his phone and DIALED 9-1-1! He said: “Help!

I’m standing in this kitchen and some crazy lady has a pistol pointed at me”! My friend was stunned but didn’t put her pistol down while calmly telling her child to go play in their room then stood there, not moving while staring down the guy, who refused to leave! The guy said: “You are gonna get it when the authorities show up lady”! She told him to get out of her house. The guy actually stayed standing there until the officers came into the kitchen! The guy saw the officers and started screaming, “Cuff her, she’s crazy! Look, she has a pistol on me”! My friend put it down and started shaking. “This is MY house! YOU broke in”! The officers then stopped and stared, looked at the guy, and asked: “You broke in”? The guy said: “Well her door was open, and then she pulled a pistol on me! That’s not how it works! Cuff her for having a pistol”! My friend said: “I have a license and this is Texas you idiot”! The officers detained the guy—who was STILL howling about my friend. She gave the officers a copy of the video of him sniffing around earlier in the week.

My sister, who is in her mid-30s, is probably the worst case of entitled I’ve ever seen. She’s always the victim, can do no wrong, and the world owes her for her imaginary suffering. This time, however, she’s reached a new level. She’s recently confessed to our mom and I that she’s started dating someone behind her husband’s back. To be honest, her husband is also a ginormous dirtbag, but just leave the guy, okay. I don’t think anyone deserves to be cheated on, and even though he totally sucks, an affair doesn’t constitute some kind of just punishment. It’s messy, gross, and not worth it, save everyone the extra heartache. Now, we lost our grandma at the end of August. It hasn’t even been a month since she passed, and since she was terminally ill, we did have time to discuss some things and make arrangements for others. She lived in an apartment that’s attached to our mom’s house, and we had talked about me moving into it after grandma passed. Everyone thought it was a good idea because my grandma had things like no-slip railings, kitchen tools/gadgets for arthritic hands, etc. I am also disabled and could benefit from the same equipment. Well, I come to find out my idiotic sister thinks it’d be a cool idea to have her marital affair move into our mom’s property instead, so she can use our mom as some kind of cover for her affair. I am absolutely repulsed and livid. We were all just starting to let my sister come around again, because after grandma passed, she seemed like it had really affected her.

We really believed that she was really turning over a new leaf, but it’s all because she wants her boyfriend to move in. I don’t think anyone is going to go with the idea. I just can’t believe that she even thought it would be a viable option and something that she could even suggest to us, why does she just assume that we’ll help her cheat on her husband? I want no part of it, I will not be an accomplice. Also, her justification for suggesting he move in is because “Sister (me) doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush to get up there”, like yeah? Well, here’s the reason why. I found our grandma, deceased, LESS THAN A MONTH AGO, in that house. Sorry I haven’t been in a hurry to erase grandma from her home. Sorry I haven’t been sorting through all of her belongings and getting them ready to be rehomed or donated. I wish I could keep every trace of her, and the fact that I have to get rid of anything at all hurts. I’m sorry I haven’t done it yet, but maybe try having a little empathy. Because of this, I’ve decided that I’m kicking my sister out of my life again. Each time I think she’s capable of changing, she shows that she’s still the same horrible, selfish person, and I’m done falling for the charade. Have fun with the inevitable divorce proceedings. Good luck explaining all this to your kids too.

One night, my sister, my now-ex, my friend, and I decided to go for some curry. Since it was late, we called up the curry house to make sure they were ok with us coming down. The owner answered and said it would be no problem. As soon as we got there, we were greeted by the owner and were seated. However, it quickly became pretty obvious that the guy serving us didn’t want to be there. We brushed it off. It went from bad to worse. He then started throwing our plates down and was being obnoxious, so we had a quiet word with the owner. Well, he proceeded to be even ruder, but we couldn’t do much. We left the restaurant and shrugged the whole thing off. As we were driving back home, though, I saw the server driving behind me, right on my tail.

He must have seen me get into my car and decided to follow me. He pulled up beside me when I was stopped at some traffic lights. He was swearing and showing me a rather impressive display of hand gestures. We ignored it, but I admit he was starting to aggravate me. The lights changed green, and he sped off like a lunatic, trying to run me off the road and swerving all over. Sadly, he failed to notice the cruiser that had pulled up behind me at the lights, so on went the lights and the sirens. They pulled him over and booked him right then and there. We glided off into the distance, barely able to contain the euphoria from the instant karma. I never saw him at the curry house again. I assume he got fired!

This just happened. A guy walked in and asked me, “What’s the $8 lottery package that my wife always gets?” I looked at him, but I couldn’t place him. In fact, he didn’t look remotely familiar to me. He was not wearing his mask, mind you, but so far, I’d been pretty good at recognizing the people I’ve only ever seen with masks on since we bought the store. However, I had no clue who this is.

So I asked, “Sir, did you just ask me, a complete stranger, what your wife’s preferences are?” He reiterated, “Well, she always gets an $8 package.” I told him, “The lottery doesn’t have an $8 package.” Then, he asked, “Well, what are the standard games?” So, I rattled off all the games until we figured it out. I handed him his purchase and said, “OK, here you go, sir, and may I highly encourage you not to tell your wife that you asked a complete stranger what her preferences were.” I thought that would nip it in the bud, but he just wouldn’t quit. He still seemed to think there was nothing amiss and replied, “Well, she’s in here all the time.” I still said, “But she’s not here now, and I don’t know who she is.” So, he clarified, “Well, I come in with her sometimes.” To end the situation, I said, “OHHH! Well, I have a pretty bad memory so that must be it.” What was unsaid was, “It couldn’t be that I see a few hundred people a day and you’re all just faceless blobs in my memory if you don’t come in here pretty much every day and actually have meaningful conversations!” Sheesh.

Some years ago, I worked an extra part-time job in the evenings at a small national retail chain in the U.S. that specializes in woodworking tools, supplies and machinery. The vast majority of our customers were great, but every so often we would get one that was a real peach. On the night in question, it was 15 or 20 minutes before closing. I was at the front counter where the registers are, doing busy work to fill the time before I locked the doors. The sales floor was completely empty, except for me. I heard the doors open and looked up to see a customer walking in. “Hi! Welcome to our store!” I said to him in a genuinely friendly tone. Fish-eyed, he turned his head to glance at me. He made momentary eye contact before walking past without saying a word. Strike one. A few minutes later, I saw him walking up to the counter, so I asked, “Hey there! Did you find what you were looking for?” Again, without a saying a word, he tossed a few packs of euro hinges on the counter. Strike two. Then, I asked, “OK! Have you shopped with us before?” I needed to know as it was part of my job to enter our customers’ information in our computer system if they’ll let us, and if they’re in our system, then we ring them up under their account. Rather than answer me, he tossed a postcard-sized piece of paper onto the counter. Strike three.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Now, if someone’s in our system, and they give us the month of their birthday, we send them a birthday coupon every year, good for 10% off of everything in a single purchase. There are a few exclusions and conditions clearly printed on the coupon. I picked up the piece of paper he’d thrown in front of me, and it was indeed his birthday coupon. I used the information on it to pull up his account, noted a key piece of information on the account, and gleefully told him, “OK, sir. I see your birthday isn’t until next month, and unfortunately, the birthday coupon is only good for a single purchase during the month of your birth.” As I said this, I was holding the coupon up and pointing to the text I was referring to. I am 90% certain I had my best customer service smile on my face at that point. After standing there and staring at me for a few seconds, he let out a snort of what I presume was disgust, then he turned on his heel, and started heading for the door. “Wait!” I called after him. “You forgot your birthday coupon!” Without stopping or turning, he made a dismissive wave of his hand, went through the door, and disappeared into the night. Adios and good riddance. At this store, our manager was a super-cool guy who encouraged us to bend over backward to help customers, which I gladly did. Customers came in all the time trying to use their birthday coupons early, and it was never a problem. We’d happily give them the discount anyway, with a friendly reminder that it was supposed to be used during their birth month. But hey, Ihe wanted to act like that. He couldn’t be bothered to show me even common courtesy, nor would he speak even one word to me. That was his choice.

We have been looking for a car for our youngest. Looking through online ads, we came across an ad for a luxury car that only asked for about 1/3 of what this car blue books for. The says the car just suddenly stopped starting. My husband is a mechanic so we decided to look at it, just to see. Immediately, he sees a couple potential problems as to why it doesn’t start. The car has new tires, the body is nearly perfect, and the interior needs a few easy fixes. Still well worth way more than owner is asking, even with paying for repairs to get it running. Of course, we bought it. My youngest is ecstatic about getting a luxury car for graduation. My husband gets the car running—it was an even easier fix than he originally thought. That’s when we met the crazy lady. It’s time for plates and registration. Off to the DMV we go. We come out with the temporary tags and as my husband is putting them on the car, this lady walks up. She says: “Excuse me”? But I was on the phone, so I ignore her. Again, she says, more rudely this time, “Excuse me”? I reply: “I’m sorry, do you need something”? She says: “Yes! That car”. I say: “My car? What about it”? She asks: “Where did you get it”? Me: “We bought it a few weeks ago”. She says: “That’s my car”. My husband says: “No, it isn’t. Now get away from us”. She says: “Yes, that is the car I was going to buy from [previous owner] and you stole it from me”. I say: “Lady, I paid [previous owner] what they were asking and nothing was said about you. Leave. Us. Alone”. She claims she had an agreement to buy the car from the previous owner. She says “You came in and MADE her sell it to you. I want it back and I want it now. I had to buy that piece of garbage over there instead. Now, you take the piece of garbage and give me my car”. I told her whatever, and to get out of my way before I run her over. She says: “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already reported to the authorities that I have found my stolen car and they are on the way”. My husband asks: “Are you nuts lady? You can’t just report a car stolen because you missed the chance to buy it”. But there was something this insane lady didn’t know. We were actually waiting on the previous owner to show up to get her plate and registration because there was a mix-up with the title (DMV’s fault). We had to wait to get that fixed before we could title, register, and plate it, so we were still using the correct plates. The previous owner can then turn in her plate and get a refund for the months not used.

Two cruisers pulled up about five minutes later. The previous owner pulled in right behind them. As the two officers are getting out and asking who called, the previous owner walked up to me and my husband, asking what is going on. She hadn’t noticed the crazy lady yet. The crazy lady immediately started yelling how she had paid for this car and we forced the previous owner to give us the title instead. She wanted us taken away and her given the title and possession of the car right now. One of the officers walked over to us. I grinned because it is one my friend’s sons. He grew up with and was friends with my oldest son. He said: “Hey. Want to tell me what is going on”? I replied: “I don’t really know. We bought this car a few weeks ago from her [pointing to previous owner] and while we were waiting for her to show up to get her plate, this woman started screaming at us about stealing the car. Something about they [pointing between previous owner and crazy lady] had an agreement about the car but she [previous owner] sold it to us instead and now she [crazy lady] is demanding we take whatever car she ended up buying and we give her this one”. The previous owner says: “Oh my god. This is exactly why I didn’t sell her the car in the first place. She is my neighbor and she is INSANE! She asked me about it when I decided to sell it and I told her she could buy it, but she wanted me to get it running again but still sell it to her for the low price. I told her I didn’t want to deal with it and that is why it was low”. “If I got it running again, I might just keep it, but I would definitely raise the selling price to at least double. She has called me a few times asking if I had it running yet and I have told her no but she kept telling me to call her when I did”. The officer then (going with procedures) checked all of our IDs, checked the bill of sale, previous registration, and ran the VIN. Everything checked out. The officer said: “I think we’re done here”. Then he turned to the crazy lady and said: “Ma’am, what you have attempted here is against the law. Actually, you made a false report which is against the law and I could cuff you, but I’m not. I’m sure you’re just upset and made a bad judgment call so we will let it slide”. Her reaction was unbelievable. She screamed: “No! It wasn’t a false report! That is MY car”! He said: “Ma’am, stop. Just stop. I could also charge you with attempted car theft but we’re all just going to walk away now”. She said: “No! I’m not just walking away. This isn’t happening. [Pointing at previous owner] You owe me [amount twice what we paid for the car] And I will get my car back”. Officer #2 said: “Ma’am step over by the cruiser. We need to have a talk”. I gave the plate to the previous owner and Officer #1 told us to have a nice day. My husband and I went ahead and left while previous owner went into the DMV. The crazy was still ranting at Officer #2 about allowing us to take the car. Well, there was a happy ending. The previous owner texted me later that the crazy lady was in the back of the officer’s car when she left…still yelling.

This happened a couple of times over many years when I was a cashier. Every time, I would scan her 1,000 items and hit total, then she decides to start digging in her purse to find her checkbook. After a few minutes, she finds it, and then starts to slowly fill it out. Of course, a line has built and people looked like their life was slowly draining out of them. I felt it too. I ran the check through the register (it scanned it or whatever) then put it in the bottom of the cash drawer. I hand her the receipt then she held her hand back out. I am not entirely sure why, because I wanted her to go, not give me a high five. She just went ahem at me and said “Where is my check”? I looked at her confused, “In the drawer, where I just put it after the transaction”. “I want my check back,” she yelled. “Ma’am we have to keep the check in to deposit in the bank, in case there are any transaction errors”. She was shaking her head no the entire time, “No, I have to get it back, otherwise somebody could steal my identity”. I tried to assure her that from the register we put it in the safe at night, then in the morning, and the armed guard takes it to the bank for deposit. She would not accept it and said that if she could not get it back then she would return her purchase and get it back to buy things elsewhere. This must have been a power play for her, but she messed up. You see I was on my last week at that job.

I asked for her receipt, which I got, pulled up her transaction, and hit void previous transaction. I grabbed her check, the receipt, and the void receipt, then handed it to her, “There, I have voided the transaction and returned your check. Good luck at the next store”. I then started removing her items from the bags and making a stack beside me on the floor. She looked dumbfounded, jaw dropped. “NO, I purchased those, those are mine”. I kindly, with the most customer service voice I could muster replied, “You told me that if you could not have your check back, you would buy things elsewhere, and I had already told you we were not able to give it back, so I voided your purchase and now you have your check back. ” I looked at the next person in line, “I can help the next person”. That beautiful customer stepped forward, right next to the lady, and started a conversation about some cereal she bought. By that time the manager had come over, and the lady began yelling at him. He ended up ringing her items back up in the aisle next to mine and she paid by check but was again unable to keep the check. I could hear it all well, in fact, half the aisle was watching their show of an interaction. The BEST part was when she was demanding her check back (again) he asked if she wanted him to void it out so she could go elsewhere. She nearly exploded, ripped the receipt out of his hand, threw the bags in her cart, and breaking things by the sound, and stormed out yelling. The cherry on top was that on her way out she turned back to yell more at us and ran into the door frame with her cart. Laughter erupted from a few kids nearby. What a great day.

So this was a few years ago when me and my wife (both Mancunian) were doing a mini world tour as part of our honeymoon. We were in Iceland and had been really disappointed to find out that the blue lagoon is manmade and is basically just a large outdoor swimming pool of water runoff from the geothermal plant. So after some light googling we found a place about an hour and a half drive from Reykjavik called the Secret Lagoon. The place is amazing and exactly what I expected from a natural hot spring, basically a large pond pouring with steam, a river running next to it also pouring with steam, and then a load of smaller bubbling pools of water and mini geysers that would blast water into the air every 10 minutes or so. The place is on somebody’s land and they’ve built changing rooms and a shower area and charge about £12 to get in. Between the pond and the river there is a roped-off area of small, deep pools that has a sign saying “Warning, water is over 90 degrees. Do not enter at your own risk,” which is probably a bad translation of no entry, we accept no liability. Anyway me and my wife were leaning against the side of the pond closest to this and notice a guy wander up, read the sign then step over the rope. As he’s walking up to one of the small pools the lifeguard is running over and shouting, “Stop stop, you can’t go in there,” then American accent replies: “Whatever buddy, I can do whatever I want”. By this time the lifeguard has reached him and tries to explain to him that the water is “between 90 and 110 degrees” and that he walked right past a do not enter sign, to which the American responds: “No, it says enter at my own risk, so I am, and it’s not very risky, it’s hotter than 90 degrees in Nevada every day”.

This utterly perplexes the lifeguard, who has absolutely no idea what the heck the American is talking about. So I shout over “Oi mate, it’s Celsius not Fahrenheit”. Now the American looks confused and says, “I don’t know what that is, I’m going in”. For reference, 90-110c is 194-230f. Then follows about five more minutes of arguing between the American and the lifeguard before the American obviously thinks forget this. He takes the two steps further to the pool and goes to put his foot in. Fortunately for him but unfortunately for Darwinism, he only manages to dip a toe before screaming in pain and hopping back to the changing room in a huff. Lifeguard sighs and goes back to his chair. What an idiot.

This happened years ago, just thought about it. I was living in Colorado, had just had a baby a few months ago, am married, and have an autistic five-year-old. My husband works in the oil field, regularly gone between a week and three weeks, with no notice—though the money was good. My brother is one of those guys who believe women should always wear skirts/dresses, and have no opinion. His wife is cool with this. I, despite being raised with him, am not. I have a brain. At the point of this phone call, I hadn’t heard from besides a “congrats” text for months. He asks if I’m busy and I say no, what up? What he asked was so ridiculous, I nearly burst out laughing. He replies: “Can you come to Florida, take care of the kids and wife for a few months.

We are moving and wife is pregnant. She can’t lift and the kids are wearing her out”. I said: “You are joking, right? I have a baby, a five-year-old, and my hubby works in the oil field”. He says: “Have friends help. I need you here”. I said no. What followed was a shocked silence—probably because he’s never had a female defy him. He said: “Then what good are you”? and hung up. I didn’t hear from him again for roughly six months.

This story actually begins two years ago. I work at a university doing somewhat specialized technical and project support type stuff for a large department. I’ve got this co-worker we’ll call Stephanie. Stephanie is one of those people that demands everything now because she’s Very Important. A couple of years ago I ran afoul of Stephanie because I was out of the office on leave—that had been approved by my supervisor and the department, mind you. I was out for two weeks taking care of my mom after she had surgery due to cancer—which I was very open about because I didn’t want to deal with people asking how I enjoyed my vacation. There’s no way Stephanie didn’t know why I was out. She went to my office and was told I wasn’t in, and she was upset because I needed to help her now. So she called my personal cellphone. We have a list of people’s personal cellphones in case of emergencies like, y’know, a campus shooter, not “I need something done”. And she called again. And again. And again. Finally, I picked up and she ripped me a new one because I needed to answer her Very Important Question. I told her I was out on leave to care for my mom and her response was something to the effect of “It’s not my problem your mom’s sick. I need this taken care of now and you’re holding things up. I’m going to report you for never being at work”. Never mind the fact that other people could have helped her.

Or the fact that this was the first time I used any leave in ages. And she did, in fact, report me to the Dean to whom I sent my approved leave forms and my call log showing she’d called me I believe ten times in a row. Stephanie got a tiny punishment for that incident. Fast forward to now. I’m leaving for my dream job…hurray! I sent an email out to the department mailing lists saying “Hey, I’m going, it’s been a pleasure”. The thing is they’re not sure they’re going to fill my role in an effort to save money, which people are pretty upset about because I support a lot of things. However, because most of my coworkers are logical and awesome people that anger is directed at the college and not at me. Stephanie is not logical. So, I get a Facebook Messenger message from Stephanie, who I’m not FB friends with. I accepted the message out of morbid curiosity mostly. And the entitlement continues folks. I’m selfish for leaving my job because of all the department has done for me. So apparently I owe it to them to stay or something—haha what? I especially like that her spelling degrades as the messages go on. I’m sure she was just on mobile or something but I’d like to imagine she worked herself into such a rage that she couldn’t type. I won’t miss Stephanie.

This makes me hurt a little, because up to this point my sister was the only one I could mildly get along with within my family, but I guess she is my mother’s daughter so the entitlement shouldn’t have been a surprise. My sister and brother-in-law are both essential, a law enforcement officer and doctor. So, they’ve needed someone to watch their kids now that school is canceled and a lot of daycare services aren’t around. Even then the youngest one had been kicked out of two of them and finding a new one is difficult due to that. So I’ve been watching these kids 4-6 times a week depending on their schedule, anywhere between 7-12 hours a day. I was told to wait until they got paid, then told to wait for the stimulus check to come in and they’d pay me for it. At that point (and I do have the text) it was going to be $85 a week, regardless of that 4-6 times a week. Well, they got the stimulus check-in. My sister gives me $55 and tells me that this was for the babysitting. I told her this wasn’t what we agreed on. I was told that I should be grateful because she has been feeding me. No, she hasn’t. I bought my own food and tended to have to buy the food that these kids were eating for lunch. I was told it was just like “hanging out having fun” playing video games with my nephews. No, it was not.

She knows her kids better to know they’re monsters. They are both destructive. It’s a hassle since I have to chase one of them around all the time to prevent them from climbing shelves, or from getting out the front door because these kids were never taught to mind. I refused to bring my gaming laptop for the older one to play anymore. I told him specifically if he wanted to play on it, he could only touch the wireless mouse and keyboard and play it at the desk, but not to touch the laptop. So what does he do after getting bored with one game he begged me to let him play? Pick up the laptop and run with it and drop it. I screamed at him—not my best moment—and he had the attitude of a teenage valley girl of “Whatever. Accidents happen, that’s why they’re accidents. If it breaks, you can just buy a new one,” to which I told him HE would be the one to replace the $1,600 computer. But since that day, he’s been whining about me not bringing it over for him to play with. I have to deal with these kids assaulting me all the time and not being able to do a thing about it. These kids are MONSTERS and the only reason I agreed to do this was because she was my sister and she needed the help, but I was supposed to be compensated for my time away from MY own work. I work commission-based jobs at home, but I can’t work on it around them as there’s no pause for me to do it less the younger one would probably run away and get hit by a truck. I know it’ll probably be terrible of me if I just don’t show up for the next few days until they start paying me what they at the very least owed me, but on the other hand, I really just don’t want to be around those kids.

So, my boyfriend and I moved into an apartment in August. It’s older so the floors are super creaky. According to our lease, we’re obligated to cover 90% of any room with carpet (except bathroom and kitchen) to help with noise. It turned out our apartment was previously managed as a dorm by the local college, so the floors already have a layer of super thin cheap carpet. We also laid down more rugs to help with noise cancellation. Our downstairs neighbor moves in about a month later, and within a month of that, starts banging on her ceiling when we get too rowdy. The first couple of times, it happened super late in the living room—our apartments have the same floor plan. We were moving around after midnight the first time. Later she came to talk to us and asked us to keep it down at night. Sure, fair enough. The next time, was when we walked in from the airport at 10 pm. She came up, banged on the door, and talked over my explanation. I told her I was sorry and asked when she was hearing the noise, assuming it was just the cat running around at night. No, she tells me that she knows it’s not the cat, she knows it’s us, and she doesn’t live alone. Okay, weird but whatever. We started going to bed earlier as we settled into the apartment and our jobs, but the banging only continued. For months, she would hit her ceiling/our floor whenever we walked around. Bed at 10? BANG. Wake up at 5:30 for work? BANG. Sitting on the couch but decide you want snacks? BANG. Around Christmas, she comes up to our door again. My boyfriend answered and this time, I recorded. I’m so glad I did. This woman came up and looked my boyfriend in the eye and said “You have to stop following me”. Uhhh? What? She says: “I know it’s not the cat or the dog or your girlfriend, because I know your footsteps. I don’t know how you figured it out, but you’ve figured out how to listen to where I am and you’re following me around my apartment and I’m sick of it”. My boyfriend calmly responded that she sounds crazy and that we don’t care about her. She again reminded us that she doesn’t live alone. Her boyfriend is a small Latino man in his 60s who is very polite and has never said a word to us. Cool, she’s insane, whatever. The banging continued with us stomping every time we heard it. She didn’t like that, but it made it more fun. We’d already explained the situation to the landlord and the super and they were on our side. Our town was the first in the US to be locked down under quarantine, so for the first few days, the banging gradually increased until one day this woman lost her mind. I’ll admit that we’re early risers on the weekends. On this particular Sunday, we ended up waking up super early, but not doing much for the first few hours. We drank some coffee and sat on the couch until almost 11. At that point, we decided to get up and clean the apartment. That’s when she lost her mind.

She had to be running from one end of her apartment to the other. She’s banging her ceiling so hard that we’re convinced she’s damaging it. At one point, I hear what sounds like muffled yelling after she followed me into the bedroom. We had plans that day, so we ignored her, finished cleaning, and started to leave. She must’ve been waiting for us to leave, because for the first time ever, she walked out of her apartment right as we go to her landing. I was holding the dog while waiting for my boyfriend to come down as she starts to descend the stairs. Of course, she decides to turn around and say something. She says: “Tell your boyfriend to cut it out”. I say: “Cut what out? Walking? You’re hitting the ceiling because of me and the dog moving, not him”. She continues to spew some other dumb stuff as my boyfriend gets down to me. She proceeded to stay exactly three steps ahead of him, slowing us all the way down the stairs. She tried to block us going out the door at the bottom, but backed off when he just didn’t stop moving. She’s continuing to yell at him all the way to the parking lot. Of myself and my boyfriend, he’s typically the hot head while I’m the calm one. Amazingly, he kept his calm the whole time, calling her only a crazy lady and ignoring her as he walked past her and her car to the dumpster. As I passed her car, she decided to continue talking at me, and I was just furious that I couldn’t engage. She said: “I’m serious, it’s done”. I replied: “Okay, what do you want us to do, crawl? I already told you we have a 60 lb. dog, and we’re all just walking around”. She was talking over me, saying: “And you need to remember that I don’t live alone”. I was like…okay…neither do I? You see my boyfriend right there, so what’s your point. By the way, that’s the third or fourth time you’ve said that and that could be taken as a threat. She says: “You think it’s a threat? Fine, it is”. I said, “Cool, I’m calling 9-1-1”. She goes: “Okay me too”. So, we both call the authorities, and they pull up. They talk to her first and then come talk to us. I don’t know what she told them, but when they came to talk to us, I told them everything she’d said and done for the past six months. The officer explained that it was a civil matter that would have to be dealt with by the landlord, but ensured us that they explained to her that it is perfectly acceptable to WALK AROUND YOUR APARTMENT AT 11 AM ON A SUNDAY. They also told her not to knock on our door ever again and that she’s not allowed to bang on our floor over footsteps at any point. For a couple of nights, she got back at us by banging at 1:30 am to wake us up. We had already reached out to our landlord again and this time, he told us he’d see what her problem is. That’s still not the last of his troubles with her though. We ended up talking to the people that live below her and telling them about the banging. It turns out, they’ve heard it this whole time and had no idea what it was. Now that they know, they’ve also reported her to the landlord. The banging has stopped, we don’t expect her lease to be renewed, and we may end up in a better apartment in the next couple months.