People Are Revealing Their Best "You Have No Power Here" Moments

Pretty late to this party, but here goes. Back in 2006 me and the old lady lived in Costa Rica for 6 months (basically an extended honeymoon - we were young & broke and it seemed like a fun idea, plus we could escape the Canadian winter, as we flew down to CR in September).

At the time I was working online as a publicist, and would work a couple hours a day from the laptop so we could get by / pay rent in CR, without totally depleting our savings. Thing was though - our little condo in Tamarindo had no proper office chair, or a desk.

I was literally sitting on an upside-down laundry basket and balancing the laptop on my knees. It sucked. And since there were zero furniture stores in Tamarindo, the next closest town with anything resembling office furniture was a place called Santa Cruz.

So we took our shitty rental car and headed out down the road to Santa Cruz. Being the tail end of rainy season in CR, the roads were absolutely riddled with the biggest, most immensely-destructive potholes that could possibly, physically exist. I've never seen anything like it since (and we've since been to 30 other countries, many of which also had shitty roads - but never to that extent).

So needless to say, it was only a few minutes before I blew a tire. In the middle of nowhere. So out of the car I get, and start jacking the car up, and putting on the spare. (Unrelated, but of course, the precise moment I step outside after the tire goes flat, it starts pouring rain. And yes, the moment I eventually get back IN the car, it stops. Anyway...)

As I'm jacking the car up, and getting soaked, out of the corner of my eye I spot an elderly man walking down the road in the distance, heading toward us. (Keep in mind, this is the middle of nowhere - easily 5 KM's in either direction from any actual "thing" like a roadside stand, house, etc. So it was kind of weird.) Anyway, he eventually reaches us and attempts to communicate.

It was early on in our trip, and we spoke zero spanish. Likewise, he had zero English. So finally, after a minute or two of gesturing like an idiot, and then resorting to pointing at various words in my shitty English/Spanish dictionary - we eventually determined that he was asking if he could have a ride to Santa Cruz, and in particular to be dropped off at the police station.

We agreed. So I finished installing the spare tire, we all hopped in the car, the rain immediately subsided, and we continued down the road to Santa Cruz - awkwardly trying to make "small talk" for the next hour or so until we reached the town.

As we were dropping him off, we gave him enough money for a bus ride back to Tamarindo to save him from literally having to walk or hitchhike. (He hadn't asked, and he seemed very touched that we'd extend him this courtesy.) He refused initially, but finally relented - but only if we would take, in exchange, the only things he had in his pockets.

This happened to be an oddly small Philips screwdriver, an Allen key and some other small tool (I forget at this point). We said our goodbyes and wished him well, and then proceeded to find a desk & chair set somewhere in town, had dinner, and then drove back to Tamarindo.

Later that night, I excitedly went about setting up the new office set. The desk was fairly straightforward and basically just unfolded into position. But the chair didn't come with the required tools to assemble it. It had a few little baggies of screws... but I couldn't find any screwdrivers or "multi-tool things" that this stuff often has for setup.

It turns out that some screws needed an oddly small Philips screwdriver, while a few of the others needed an allen key. In both cases, they precisely matched the sizes of the screwdriver & allen key the old man had given me.

I was floored. Astonished, I set up my new chair. And funny enough, CR is where I had a pivotal business "moment" that has since evolved into an established company with several employees, etc. years later.

All because of a screwdriver and an allen key. To this day, one of the craziest sequence of coincidences I can recall.

Username: ChrisRempel

My mom's funeral. First, a little background. I was born and raised a Jehovah's Witness. I went my entire life until I was almost 21 when I got married and moved out of my parents' place at which time I never went back. For those of you who don't know, despite some being nice people, JW's are a cult.

Not only that, but even my friends I grew up with said it seemed like the elders (basically, the priests who are in charge of each congregation) just seemed to have it out for me when I was in high school. When I left, it wasn't so much the doctrine that repulsed me, it was the people. It wasn't until I had been out for a while that I realized how nuts they are.

When a person leaves, they typically lose all their friends and family. When I say lose, I mean the guy who was my best friend would ignore me when I saw him out in public.

I totally lost all my friends but some of my family would still talk to me, mainly my parents because I controlled access to the grandkids. At their services they always go one about how people who leave are evil and just have their lives fall apart when they leave.

I didn't fall apart. I moved to a bigger city, worked my butt off in IT for a decade climbing the ladder until I dropped it all, went back to school, and became a nurse so I could do something more meaningful with my life. Also, if you've never been to one, JW funerals are very long and boring. Whoever does the service talked about my mom for about 3 minutes and almost an hour about JW beliefs.

My kids got upset and said it seemed like they used her death as a commercial for their cult. Also, my mom converted for my dad after they got married. None of her family ever did. Ok, now that that's out of the way......

Dad, being the good little JW that he was, had planned a nice proper JW funeral for Mom. JW music was playing as soon as you walked in the place. Most of the old congregation is there with men in suits and ties. There is no doubt what the religion of the people there is. One of the elders I knew from back in my time there is going to be doing the service.

My mom's big huge family is there too and they're almost all looking around like WTF? Then I come in wearing a black button up shirt and some slacks and a full beard (if you're a male in the JW's anything more than a mustache is banned).

I wore suits and ties in the first part of my life and refuse to now. I don't even own any. Not a single JW there says even a word to me. Not long after I get there the service starts.

Blah blah blah long and boring but I knew it would be and prepared. As the service was coming to an end I stand up and walk to the podium. I kindly but firmly tell the guy there that I'm going to say a few words before we leave.

The first words out of my mouth were "Ok, now for those of you who don't believe in all that crap" and then went on to give a kind and loving sermon without saying a bad word about anyone the entire time I was up there. In fact, I never even mention the JW's at all. If there is one thing I've ever been good at its writing nice things about people.

I literally had people laughing and crying at the same time and when I was done I played a Vince Gill song about going to heaven from my phone into microphone (Mom always love that man). The entire time I'm up there there is a good chunk of the room staring daggers at me. How dare I do something like that?

I'm not dressed respectfully enough for a funeral, I have a beard, I'm not using her death to glorify Jehovah, I'm not accepting my place as this evil outcast because I left the cult, I'm making them listen to my words, I'm playing normal Christian music around them, and the absolute worst thing of all, I'm making them look like a crazy cult who just used my mom's death as an advertisement.

Not only that but I did it lovingly, politely and with a smile.

Username: rhett342

Here are a few interesting stories, these stories have made me believe that if you want to find something, you will.:

This happened two summers ago in my summer town. We got out of the house to go downtown with a bus. Sitting at the back seat of the bus we waited 20-25 minutes to get to downtown and then we exited the bus.

We spent hours walking around, eating, having fun etc., and then went back home. So once I got home, I put my hand on my pocket, and I get that mini heart attack that we always have when we think that we lost our wallet/phone (wallet in my case), I checked my other pockets, and nope, it wasn't anywhere.

So I started to panic, wondering where it can be, thinking that its gone, the only thing I could do is check back at the places we sat in downtown. I stop being lazy and get my ass to the bus stop, once the bus has arrived I get in and walk to the back seats as usual.

And to my surprise, my wallet was there for the whole time, all these hours, its amazing that nobody has seen it or took it. I was really happy.

This other story happened last summer, at the Ultra music festival in Europe (Split, Croatia), it was my first time in Croatia so I couldn't really communicate much and I was just a foreigner to the place (which does make things harder in terms of some stuff).

This was the first day of the festival, me and my friend go inside the stadium, we start dancing and jumping, raving*. And we decided to walk to other areas also, okay just for the information, there were over 200,000 drunk and dancing people.

While we were trying to walk through the crowd, I put my hand on my pocket, and again I had the classic mini heart attack :) . I had lost my phone, it had already fell out once at an earlier emptier hour in the festival where there was still sunlight and the person behind me gave it as soon as he saw it, but now it was dark and everyone was drunk.

At that point I knew that I was not going to enjoy the rest of the festival, it was the biggest buzzkill. I grabbed my friend's phone, he was telling me to forget about it, but I don't like to give up on things, and knowing that I wont enjoy the festival anymore,

I might as well do something that might benefit me. Using my friends phone, I open the flashlight and start walking around, literally everywhere I have been in the stadium. Some girls thought I was recording them, so I got smacked a couple of times :/ .

And some other nice people actually understood what I was doing and tried to look around on the floor and shit, I thanked them and moved on. I was trying to use that bright light synced to the music to look around everywhere whenever it beamed.

An hour had passed, I haven't seen my friend and we had no form of communication anymore since I took his phone. After some more time, I found my friend in our meeting spot, gave him his phone and told him to go have fun, and that I was gonna look around more.

Okay, I was about to give up, I checked everywhere countless times, and my phone was gone, my mom was going to kill me for it (because I hadn't listened to her advice of getting that belt bag around your waist), so Im waiting there looking hopeless.

Suddenly this guy comes up to me, and gives me my phone. I was so fucking surprised, and it really was an insane coincidence that he saw me and gave it to me. He told me that he opened my phone and looked at my pics, then he detected me. I was so thankful and happy, my festival had came back, now I could have had fun, and a huuuuuge relief. Moral of the story, don't keep a password on your phone.

Username: caesar121

I met the **only other person** born on my exact birthday (day *and* year) in the very same really small town hospital in which I was born...while at a party, **300+ miles away** from said podunk town...**21+ years after** the fact.

He stayed in the small town, and my military parents left there when I was a baby, and we met while at a party 21, (almost 22) years later. We just kept learning more and more the longer we chatted, and some approximation of the following conversation occurred (with just my side of the conversation to make this impossibly long story not take all day to write...or read):

“Where are you from? Whoa!!! I was born there!!!...Wow!!! I’ve never even met another person who’s even *heard* of [Bumf@ck Nowhere], but you’re *from* there?!?! That’s cool. Yeah, I went back once, but I don’t know much about. What’s it like now? Blah blah blah.”

“Yeah, so same small town? Wow, weird, huh? We maybe would have met if I stayed, I mean, small town, only one school to ever choose from. Amazing!! Wait, WHAT?!?! You’re how old?? I’m the same age!!! Weird, we’re the same age and both from [Small Town Nobody Has Ever Heard Of]!!!.”

“We probably would have gone to school together! What? Class of 19##?? I graduated in ##!!! So same graduating year? OMG, such a small world!!! Blah blah blah.”

“Oh, wow! Your birthday is next month? So is mine. Ok, how much weirder can this get? What’s your actual birthday? NO WAY!!!! **WHAT. THE. F@CK?!?!?** This can’t be real. You’ve got to be messing with me. Did my boyfriend put you up to this??? I don’t believe you!! No, you’ve never met him. Wow. Just wow!!

My name came first, alphabetically and in the baby announcements in the local newspaper. My mom clipped and kept the heading and my pic. His mom clipped and kept the heading and his pic, with my pic in between, so **I‘m in his baby book**.

I just dug up his copy his mother faxed (dating myself) to him the day after we met, which he then gave to me (I love looking at it every 4-5 years, when that perfect opportunity comes up to retell this story. Thanks, Reddit).

My mom remembered his mom from after we were both born. I was a 2nd child and was born, a little over an hour after she was admitted, mid-morning in the 28th. He was a first child, and his mom was admitted the night of the 27th. But, both started to get near D-time right around the same time.

I think my mom said the two of them ended up sharing an OB nurse, a borrowed ER nurse and the only OB doc on staff...it was apparently a chaotic morning in the small town L&D Department (aka, one L&D room, with a backup ER room they could requisition for that less than one time a year they had 2 women delivering at the same time) with the OB nurse, who knew what she was doing, bouncing between them, and the ER nurse just doing whatever she could.

If I recall correctly from my mom’s retelling, again, *small* town, the hospital did have two, adjoining but private, postpartum rooms, but, of course, one was occupied from a birth on the 26th. I beat his entrance into the world by 23 minutes, so my mom got the then available room, and his mom had to wait in L&D until they booted the mom and babe born 2 days earlier. For the rest of their stays there, they were the only mommas and babes there.

At the party where I met this rando, the depth of the coincidence progressed quite gradually at first, then faster through the last few revelations, with a proportional progression in our volume.

It started out as just the 2 of us, but we had a bit of an audience by the end and kept having to retell the earlier parts every time new people joined....or, conversely, I was loud and repeating myself because I was drunk...I prefer the former explanation, but I’ll go with it was a combination.

So, it’s 20 some odd years later, and this is still miles ahead of the next strangest
coincidence in my life.

Username: Texaskate

I'm expecting this to be buried, but strap in folks reading.

I work in IT at my company's HQ. We support probably over a hundred users that have medium-profile articles written about them, and their assistants & interns.

For those unaware, Microsoft ended support for Windows 7 in January this year. For folks in the industry, we knew well ahead of time and upgraded all machines to Windows 10 accordingly.I've been involved in W10 upgrade projects at other companies since 2017- across the board upgrading to Windows 10 has been **non-negotiable** once IT decides to make its move.

Current company decides at roughly the end of 2018 to start moving all remaining W7 machines to W10. Emails are sent to ALL employees, signed by CEO/CIO. This is coming from the top guys in our *entire industry*.We're having global IT meetings on Zoom every 2 weeks to discuss progress. Our office's remaining W7 numbers are going down- we're still sending emails every couple of weeks as a reminder to those who haven't switched that they need to coordinate with us to get it done.

Cue Mr. Bigshot who is *clearly* exempt. With 7 months to go, he starts emails my manager saying he can't move to W10 because his current setup is too specific, W10 is a pos etc. Manager replies stating this is non-negotiable, gives him the January deadline.

After he gets the next reminder email, Mr. Bigshot contacts his boss, says the same thing. Boss points out that the rest of their team has managed the switch, and that the top level of the company is asking this.

Next reminder and he heads down to our in-house IT assistance and tells us he needs to speak to our manager and get exemption because, well, he's a Bigshot. Manager states exactly what was said in previous email.

We reach 2 months out. In our global IT meeting, we're told we can inform users their machines will be cut from the network if they don't make the switch. We're given the full backing from the top of the company to cut people off once January 14th 2020 hits.

Bigshot emails one of my coworkers to come up and speak to his admin. Admin explains Bigshot's exemption status. Coworker explains the cutoff threat.

It's the new year. Bigshot goes to the head of his department stating he is exempt. Dept. head asks CIO if there are exemptions. CIO is very clear.

It's Jan 14th, 2020. Coworker who spoke with Bigshot's admin pulls the plug. Bigshot's network access is gone. I'm at the in-house IT area. Bigshot's admin comes down and shows me the laptop, explaining he can't connect to the internet.

I take one look at the machine, put on my "I haven't heard that name in years" face, and act super surprised that there's a computer still running W7, given how much of a security risk it is to the entire company, and that we've made IT's position very, VERY clear over the past 12 months.

I tell her I HAVE to take the computer and upgrade it immediately. It's going to take the rest of the day and he'll get it back tomorrow. I call coworker over, and hand him the machine. Admin heads upstairs and explains to Bigshot.

Bigshot immediately tells dept. head, who chastises him. Dept. head calls my manager to apologise for the patience our team has had, and gives us his full backing.

I checked our tickets today- we haven't had a ticket from him in 9 months.

Username: BaronIbelin

Back in college, I managed some small restaurants. Became friends with a lot of the employees.

One girl was really nice, just out of HS, supporting both herself and her younger siblings because her parents were basically worthless. More neglectful than abusive, but those kids lived in a literal shack in the mountains and basically only got clothes or food if big sister bought it for them, plus she had to pay all her own expenses living on her own, and we made just over minimum wage.

Life gave this girl nothing and she made it work anyway, and kept smiling and helping others. Truly inspirational. But she had bad luck with guys. One guy she dated for awhile seemed decent (I met him a few times) but then went psycho after they broke up. By “psycho” I mean he knocked on her apartment door in the middle of the night, pushed past her, ran to the bathroom, locked himself in, cut himself, and spent 45 minutes screaming incoherently and covering her walls and ceiling with obscenities written in his own blood. When she tells him she’s called me for help (and I’d called the police), he starts sobbing, tries to flush his clothes down the toilet, then slams open the door and, while naked and bleeding, smashes his way out of her window and runs off.

So seriously, the guy needed help, and was clearly a danger to himself and others. One night shortly after that, her car was parked at my apartment for some reason. I think it wasn’t starting again, and I’d driven her home. She would never accept any overt charity, but would eat if I was eating. Since I once discovered her trying to survive a month on a ten pound bag of frozen tater tots (she was saving money to get her little sister braces for Christmas), I’d usually “happen” to making food whenever she stopped by.

So anyway, psycho shows up at her place at zero dark thirty, doesn’t see her car, drives around, and finds it at my place. Now, I couldn’t afford my own place back then. I had two roommates. Both big tough guys, basketball recruits from the inner city, both the first in their families to go to college. Another inspirational story there. Great guys, not a threat to anyone, but not people to mess with. And I’m a pretty big ex military guy myself. Psycho was a scrawny 5’4.

He shows up and starts crying and reciting poetry under a window, but gets the rooms mixed up. He spends an hour loudly professing his love to my roommate, who has no idea who he is, but can’t convince him he’s in the wrong place and his “love” isn’t there. Finally, my roommate realizes psycho is calling him my name (our names are really close, so it took awhile).

He wakes me up, which wakes up our other roommate. At this point it’s around 4am, it’s exam week, we all worked that night, were up late studying, and have morning exams. We’re not amused. Other roommate looks at the guy who kept getting serenaded and starts repeating: “bro, you can’t kill him, it’s not worth it, you can’t kill him bro.”

Psycho starts pounding on the door and screaming. We open it together. I’m still mostly asleep and not processing. One of us asks: “what do you want?” He puts on a belligerent tough guy voice: “none of your business. I’m here for [girl], she’s mine, my true love, and she’s coming with me.”

My pissed off roommate: “she ain’t yours, and she ain’t here. Go away.”
“You’re lying!”
“I don’t lie. Leave.”
“She ain’t here???”
“No. Like I’ve been saying for the last hour.”
Pause.
Psycho, threatening: “well, I’ll be the judge of that, now won’t I.”

He squares his shoulders and starts forward like he’s going to push through all three of us. My sleepy brain is finally catching up and remembering who he is and how much I despise him. Calm roommate puts his hand on angry roommate like he’s going to have to hold him back.

And psycho suddenly realizes he’s about to push into three angry, surprised, not even slightly intimidated people. The smallest of us has roughly 12 inches and a hundred pounds on him, and none of us has moved.

Just before contact, something clicks in psycho’s brain. He finally “reads the room,” and jumps back, stammering. We’re all just staring at him, more incredulous than anything. He stammers some, then my roommate jerks his head a half inch toward psycho, who flinches so bad he falls over. He scrambles to his feet, starts crying, and runs off. We hear his car peel out. Somebody starts laughing and then none of us can stop.

He apparently assumed the girl has moved in with us. We saw his car (pretty distinctive, a falling apart, late 80s mustang) parked around our place a few times, but none of us actually saw him again, and he left her alone.

I’ll always remember his face when it dawned on him that he couldn’t force anyone to do anything, and that he didn’t scare anyone. Priceless. Hate bullies. I do wish I’d been awake enough to say something memorable though. I hope he eventually got help.

Username: [deleted]

In high school, there was this teacher that I didn’t really get along with but didn’t necessarily dislike. She wasn’t a bad teacher but she definitely didn’t put in a whole lot of effort into the class.

She was always late with grades and didn’t give us the best material to study for tests. This was an AP class, where at the end of the year we take an exam administered by The College Board for college credit.

I had a fat A in that class and was pretty much one of the few students with their shit together. One day I basically complained about her (subtweeted) on Twitter about how long she was taking to upload the grade for an assignment we did five weeks prior.

(Side note: after an assignment is due, she marks everyone’s grades as a zero until she grades it to put in the correct grade. I don’t know why she did this but she was bringing my average down to a 87 instead of the 94 I should have had, so don’t judge lol.)

I didn’t even name call her or anything. I just basically said she needs to hurry up with them grades. She ended up seeing the tweet through a retweet and didn’t like it.

The next day at school, in front of the entire class, she told me that she wanted to have a parent teacher conference at the end of the day because of the tweet. It was a little embarrassing, but I wasn’t exactly red to the ears.

I call my dad during lunch and tell him about it. When he got there after school, I showed him the tweet and explained the situation. He looked a little upset so I didn’t really know what he was thinking until we got in the room and sat down.

When we got there, the teacher tried to play the sweet, innocent teacher and explained the whole thing to my dad from her side. “Your son was rude to me on the internet where many of my students can see. He called me lazy and is being very inconsiderate of the many responsibilities I have here at school.”

She talked for a few minutes basically explaining the things she does at school like teaching this class and being in charge of the school dance team. After a while my dad cuts her off and asks her how I’m performing in her class.

She then explains that I have the highest grade in the class and tries to divert the conversation back to the tweet and how disrespectful it was.

My dad again cuts her off to say “You really made me take off from work just to come talk to you about something my son said on his Twitter? Kids like to vent on the internet. He didn’t even say anything bad.

In the first place, why do you even follow my son? If he were doing poorly in class maybe I would have been mad too, but he has the best grade in your class, so why are we here? You even had the nerve to try and embarrass him in front of the whole class.”

The parent teacher conference ended shortly after that. She couldn’t get him to punish me how she wanted, so she basically backtracked and started praising me, hoping we could get along better.

My dad wasn’t having any of that, and I honestly never felt so stood up for in my life lol. I’ll never forget the 180 in her attitude either; she was at a complete loss.

The principal got wind of the situation and wasn’t very pleased either. She didn’t get fired but she wasn’t allowed to teach that class anymore. On top of that, she was forced to get training.

Username: YetiAlmonds

I found out my parents wanted to send me to a different secondary school from all my friends, for several reasons that made sense to them, but little lonely me who didn't have many friends was not happy AT ALL to be losing those I had.

And then, I found out that not only would I have to start all over again, but this school had lessons...on SATURDAYS.

Well, fuck that. I hated school at that age, weekends were my refuge, and now I was even losing some of that? Nope. I cried, I begged, pleaded...but their minds were set.

And then...and then someone let slip that this school had an entrance exam. It wasn't difficult, I was pretty sure I could pass it, but my parents clearly assumed it was a given, clearly having forgotten that I had free will, or assuming that I was so used to doing what I was told that I'd just do it.

WRONG. In my very first act of childhood rebellion (aged 11), I went and told them that if they made me do it, I would fail the entrance exam on purpose.

You could see that it had not even occurred to them that this could happen. I still remember the moment of pure, unadulterated surprised Pikachu face before the sputtering, shouting, threatening (not violence, just grounding, loss of privileges etc) began.

My favourite exchange involved my Mum telling me that I WOULD pass that exam and me responding, "No I won't. You can't MAKE me," and rendering her, for one of the first times in our relationship, speechless.

The whole thing was as revelatory for them, especially my Mum, as it was for me. I learned to stand up for myself, and that I had free will, and they learned that I wasn't some obedient little girl who would participate without question and was not just always going to meekly fall in line.

The change of school thing was dropped. I didn't really even get punished too much, because I hadn't actually done anything wrong and my parents (who may have come off sounding terrible but were in fact wonderful, just unaware of the stubbornness they'd gifted their daughter) felt uneasy about teaching me that exercising free will was wrong, particularly as my mum was a teacher. I wasn't allowed a riding lesson that week, and that was it.

Funnily enough, I now think I probably would have been better off changing schools. The reason I didn't have many friends was that I was bullied at school - quiet, academic, wore THE MOST ridiculous glasses (adult-sized, on a 7yo's face, because my sight was so shit that they didn't make lenses the strength I needed in child sizes in the 80s 🙄) - so a new start in a new school where no one knew me would have been an opportunity to start over.

But the fact that I'd been bullied made that seem like a horror instead of a good thing and I didn't have many friends but those friendships were hard won and close because we were all the outcasts for various reasons (kids SUCK). That school (despite the Saturday lessons) catered for more of my interests and favourite subjects too.

Thing is, if my parents had sat me down and talked to me about it, pointing out the positives of a new start and that the school had a curriculum that I'd love, and reassuring me they probably could have talked me into it.

The mistake they made was simply trying to steamroller me and ignore my feelings and thoughts. So there's a parenting tip for you.

If this story ever comes up, my parents deny it, or say I'm misremembering or embellishing it, but I'm honestly not. It was such a moment of revelation to me, such a formative experience that it's imprinted on my memory, the day I learned that I had free will even if it contradicted my parents.

Username: ruthh-r

My ex girlfriend was really unstable, I wasn’t thinking I personally could fix her, I thought with support and her willingness to get better I’d just be support but not was I wrong.

She was manipulative and whiny, I’d taken care of my parents for as long as I can remember so to me it wasn’t an uncommon idea of managing another person, there situation, trying to manage their view if need be. My parents really did require this so even though I knew it was unhealthy in some ways I knew I could be effective too towards good even if it was a side step instead of a full step forward.

So said girlfriend is insecure, months into our relationship she started telling me she didn’t think I loved her, which really was on her, I was doing the right things, I was commented and even so I’m the ways she wanted. I would get frustrated and would constantly reassure her that I loved her.

Twice she left our place to walk home about 4 miles away. I’d try to get her back in because it was always night when she did this. I didn’t want her to carry things that far, didn’t want her to be on the side of the road and get hit or picked up by some creep.

She was tiny and very attractive in physical form and charm. I’d offer to drive her home, literally an eight minute drive and she refused. She would leave me scared for hours and wouldn’t let me know she’d gotten there safely so I’d have to message her brothers in the morning to confirm.

To me theses were not excusable incidents and I wanted to sit down and talk more about why she thought these things and if I was doing something to cause any of it or if she was just wiggy.

We talked she said it was her and that she knew it was wrong but she wanted me to “chase” her, she took me not physically getting her into the car and taking her home as me not caring. I tried to explain I’d never physically force her to do anything, aside from stopping her from actively hurting herself and calling for help.

She thought that wrong of me. I knew then we couldn’t stay together, there was no hope for us doing well if she honestly expected me to treat her that way.

I was going to tell her the next day once it was daylight out again but that night she did the same, packing, leaving, won’t let me help drive her home. She was manipulating me to try to talk her off her ledge and it wasn’t fair in the slightest.

She started walking and I was asking her to please come back that we had just talked about this and she couldn’t punish me for not physically wrangling her. She kept walking. I yelled to her that I was done, there’s no way I’m putting up with being treated this way.

She drops her stuff and runs to me, begging me not to leave her and I just looked back and said you were the one leaving me. You have no say anymore, absolutely no power over my sense of responsibility, or my want to help, you have no power here.

I told her I would still drive her if she wanted so she wouldn’t have to walk as a curtesy but that I was done and going to go to bed soundly and not worry about her. She made her choices, I didn’t. It was so freeing to just go I can’t care about you like I had, you won’t let me, you punish me when I do try to love you I’m healthy ways.

So glad to be out from under that and with the love of my life now. He’s supportive and realistic, he strives to lead a kind life. He’s my number one cheerleader and I get to be the same for him with no hiccups.

It was wonderful to deny her the power to harm me anymore.

Username: yeolenoname

When I first graduated from law school I took a position clerking for a judge in South Carolina. My judge conducted a lot of criminal court, and we would hear everything from simple drug violations to violent sexual assaults to home invasions and triple homicides.

It was often really sad and disheartening, but always incredibly interesting. Judges and juries have a difficult job. One of the courthouses we frequented actually had a therapy dog that would sit with juries while they deliberated particularly difficult cases.

And while things were often emotionally draining, there were a few moments where I sat next to my judge on the bench biting my lip to stop myself from laughing in open court. This is one of those moments.

On this particular Monday we were doing bond hearings and pleas. We had heard maybe 5 or 6 at this point when Defendant X came in. My judge was a bit of a hard ass and didn’t allow any shit in his courtroom.

We went through the hearing with both the prosecution and the defense presenting their respective arguments. I can’t remember what exactly this guy had been charged with, but I do remember him being very unhappy with the outcome of the hearing.

As he was being escorted from the courtroom by the deputies, he started talking trash and generally being loud and disruptive. Initially my judge tried to ignore him - we had a long list of items to address and he wanted to keep the docket moving.

After the door to the courtroom shut, we heard a huge ruckus in the hallway - screaming, yelling, profanities, shuffling and thumping noises. Judge called for the defendant to come back into the courtroom. This was not a good sign.

The deputies essentially dragged the guy back to the podium, all the while he’s struggling, resisting, and hurling profanities in open court where dozens of people are quietly watching. Judge asked him what happened in the hallway. He started into a long tirade about how he’d been treated unfairly, etc etc. Judge let him finish and then asked the deputies.

The deputies said that Defendant X had tried fighting them (despite being handcuffed) and had spit on two of the them. Judge held him in contempt of court, tacked an additional 30 days on to his sentence, and told him to have a great day.

Rather than reading the room and going quietly with the deputies, Defendant X once again gets to the courtroom door and starts scuffling with the deputies and loudly complaining about “this bullshit.”

The great thing about contempt of court is that each outburst is a separate violation. Judge calls out from the bench “make that an additional 60 days.”

Defendant X cries out: “You can’t do that!” Judge says: “Do you see this robe? It means I can do that. Make it an additional 90 days.” Defendant X yells: “Are you fucking serious?” Judge says: “120 days - We can do this all day. I’m getting paid to be here and I can get lunch delivered to the bench.”

Defendant X finally seems to get the point and goes with the deputies. We heard later than he got tazed at jail intake for trying to attack a female officer.

Definitely not the craziest thing I’ve seen in court (you would be surprised by how many amateur rap videos are admissible as evidence); however, he was definitely one of the more stubborn defendants I’ve ever encountered.

Username: punkinpoppin

Happened to me on the first family vacation after my dad kicked me out. A little bit of backstory- my dad kicked me out of his house at the end of my junior year of High School, when I was almost 17.

My mental health was getting really bad, and because of it, I was missing a lot of school and failing most of my classes. By the time I started seeing a therapist and taking medication, I guess I wasn't getting better fast enough for my dad, and he kicked me out. I've been living with my aunt in the city ever since.

Now back to the main story- everyone on my dads side of the family gets together once a year for a big vacation, whether it be camping, getting a hotel/airbnb in another state, etc. This year, the family had chosen a place down in Oregon, and found a huge airbnb house that would fit all 15 of us.

Being that at the time I wasn't on speaking terms with my dad, the whole trip was communicated to me through my younger sister, of whom asked every little question she could so that I wasn't left out. My younger sister informed me that our older sister was going to be picking me up and driving down there, because my dad refused to even let me in his car. Thing is, we didn't tell my dad any of this. Everyone in the family was expecting me to come... except for my dad.

My older sister and I leave and show up just when our Great Grandmother is starting dinner. At that point, everyone else has already arrived, and dad is none the wiser that I'm going to be there.
When we go inside, theres a cheerful chorus of "Hi!" And "Hello!" From our aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents.

My dad rounds a corner with a smile on his face, which immediately drops as soon as he sees me.
Dad- "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Me- "What do you mean?"
Dad- "Dumbass, you weren't invited."
Me- "Yes, I was, actually. Everyone here knew I was coming. Younger sister told me all about the trip too."
Dad looks at my younger sister and his face turns beet red with anger.
Dad- "Well I dont fucking want you here. Get out."
Me- "Sucks to suck, Older sister drove me here, I'm staying."

At this point, my dad and I are glaring at eachother with intense anger, and my uncles are trying to calm my dad down and confirm that they did indeed know that I was coming.

Dad- "When you left, I made it clear that you are no longer part of this family, and I want you to GET THE FUCK OUT."

Thats when we hear something loud drop in the kitchen. We all turn to see my great grandmother walk in, covered in spaghetti sauce. She proceeds to walk right up to my dad and corner him.
Also, Great Grandma is very small and soft spoken, and she rarely ever gets angry. So rarely that this was actually the first time I had ever seen her angry. She then proceeds to berate my father.

GG- "[dads first and middle name] you do not get to choose who is and who is not in this goddamn family. If it weren't for me you wouldn't even be alive today to see the three beautiful young girls you made. As long as that young lady right there *she points to me* isn't out murdering people and selling drugs on the streets, she is a part of MY damn family, whether you like it or not. I'd rather have her here than you after what you did to that poor little thing. So either you leave, or you build a bridge and get over it."

At this point I'm trying to hold in laughter, watching my 5 foot tall, 86 year old Great Grandmother yelling at my over 6 foot father.

My dad is in shocked silence, not exactly sure of what to say next. Instead of speaking, he turns around and walks out the back door to the yard.
My Great Grandmother walks over to me and takes my hand.

GG- "Don't worry, honey, you'll always be welcome, no matter what your grumpy ass father thinks," she leans in closer to me "and between you and me, you're my favorite, so nobody here can tell you that you can't be here." She turns around to face the rest of our family "Can someone help me clean the kitchen, please? I may have spilled spaghetti everywhere."

There have been two family vacations since, and my dad and I are getting along better now. He's still an ass, but he realizes that I'm an adult now, and he can't harass me like he did when I was a child. I brought my girlfriend to the previous vacation after coming out, and my Great Grandmother was more than excited to find out her favorite grandchild is a lesbian, seriously.

Anyways, don't piss of Great Grandma, she holds more power over this family than my dad ever will.

Username: Saltyspacemom

I'm retired now, but I worked for 34 years as a programmer. For 21 of those years, I worked as a contractor, because there was a substantial pay premium.

I was 35 when I took my first contract. On that job, an old hand at contracting told me about the value of "fuck you money." I had been earning a salary of $35K/year and the contract was $35/hour, which represents a *doubling* in my income (leaving aside benefits).

My advisor told me to refrain from spending my extra income until I had saved up 6 months of expenses. "That way, you never *need* a job. You have the option to tell your boss 'Fuck you, I quit.'"

I took his advice. It came in handy twice. Once was when I was having an on-going fight with the tiny firm's only other coder. He insisted that I write code his way, esp. that I *not comment* my code. I feel strongly that comments are helpful, as evidenced by how often I had to go to him to ask him what was going on in a particular bit of code.

He hadn't written *one* comment in a couple years of developing the application. The third time he told me to remove my comments, I said "It's not working out here, why don't I just get another job." I had a rarified skill at the time and would have been difficult to replace. He backed off. Eventually he started commenting his code, having looked at mine and seen the value.

The other time was when I was working a contract that prohibited working more than 40 hours/week, I suppose so they could budget my expense. My manager gave me a project that had been scoped out as 4 months work. "We need you to do it in 2 months. Continue to bill at 40 hours, but keep track of your actual hours worked.

You'll get paid vacation time for all the extra hours you put in." I worked my ass off and got the app done on time. I kept track of my hours by sending myself an email when I arrived at work each day and when I left each day - copying my personal email address.

It was a cover-your-ass trick that I picked up while contracting. I averaged 65 hours a week during the 8 weeks, so I was owed 5 weeks of vacation time at the end of the 2 months. Paid vacation was a rare privilege for a contractor, so I was really happy about it, and planned a 3-week vacation.

I went to the manager and told him that I was going to cash in some of my accrued vacation time, taking a 3-week vacation. He said "It turns out that the company has a policy against saving up overtime for a later paid vacation, so your vacation won't be paid. Have fun."

As though he hadn't just committed a huge breach of ethics. Late on the Friday afternoon before my vacation was starting, I emailed *his* supervisor and the president of the company, explaining what had happened.

I mentioned that I had incontrovertible records of how many hours I worked during the two-month crush. Then I walked into my unethical manager's office and told him "My vacation starts Monday. I'll be gone 3 weeks. This is my 2 weeks notice that I'm quitting. Fuck you very much." And I left.

I could do that because I had money in the bank. I got an email over the weekend from my manager's manager asking me to not quit, saying I would be paid for my 3 weeks of vacation and the additional 2 weeks of earned vacation to be taken whenever I wanted.

I didn't reply. I went on vacation, got a new job when I got back, and replied to the email saying no thanks, but you owe me money. I ended up getting paid for the full 5 weeks.

I found out that software ran bug-free for 5 years, when the company got in touch to ask if I would be willing to make some enhancements. Sure, I replied, and asked for 50% more than my current contract was paying.

They were happy to pay. The unethical manager was gone by that time, I never knew why and didn't care: I was getting paid. My point: no bridge was burned. The company recognized that my manager's failure to keep the agreement was an ass move.

It's now personal finance 101, that you need to put away that 6 month rainy day fund. It was a new idea when I heard it in 1987, new to me anyway. It's very empowering.

Username: TrumpLyftAlles

I was installing fire alarm and detection in a mall soon to be open.
As I was checking every detector I entered a store that was being built by a small company from Germany. They were 5 ppl all on site in that store.

As he saw i testet the detector he demands i walk over to him.
A bit odd and rude but I let it slide thinking it was due to his lack of English skills.(I'm not the best English speaker myself but 10 times better than him)

Then he demands i move a fire alarm button because its in the wrong place.
I look att my drawings and no its in the right place.
One thing to know changes to the drawings must be approved by the site supervisor.

Looking at his drawing it says in my language something to the effect "drawing proposal".
I translate it to him and explained that they haven't been approved therefore should not be used.

Now he blows up on me, being really rude and condescending. I should just do as he told me and move the fire alarm button.
So i said the person in charge of fire alarm is close by and ill call him over to solve the problem.
He arrived in the store 2 minutes later. The German guy started to berates him.

He looked at the German dudes drawings and ours and told him- we are spot on were we should be with your button. Your drawings are useless get them approved first.
We will move nothing we ain't got time, the site supervisor hasn't approved the changes and he will have to pay to make the changes happen.

Now the German guy gets furious starts to shout every word thats not in the bible. Then he grabs a wire cutter and say if you wouldn't to it I do it.

Takes a wirecutter and storm of to the button and place the wires between the cutter.

The man who was responsible for the fire alarm now raised his voice and say but in a calm way- just so you know before you cut that, the fire alarm is live an connected to 911(or our equivalent).
It is also connected to the big ikea and the big mal on the other side (we build a mall between 2 mall's making it one huge mall).

You will be on the hook for all lost revenue of Ikea and 200 stores for the whole day, cost of the whole fire department for an malicious fire alarm, fines from ikea, other mall and owners of this new mall.

You will pay for all workers lost wages due to not be able to work until fire department has cleared the building about 1.5-2 hours times 500 workers. Also if the mall wouldn't be able to open you would be on the hook for that, and they have spent huge amount on advertising the opening date.

With all this consider the total amount would probably be more then your company makes in 10 years and i know you dont have an LTD. So in the long run you personally would have to pay if you're company can't.

Now we see him remove the wirecutter form the wires so slow it looked like he was defusing a bomb. Then he turned around sweating bullets and white as a sheat. He had cut half way through the first layer if insulation. The man who was responsible for the fire alarm just said we will be charging you for replacing that cable later.

The German man didn't say a word and walked to the nearest bathroom, as we passed it we heard him throwing up.

Username: kebabmoppepojken

This happened two years ago when I was in a psychiatry. There, our therapist would make up lies

(Like that I was plotting to kill myself with two girls whom I shared a room with and we did so over our phones, even though I didn't even have one of their phone numbers and I hated this one girl and she hated me and constantly started drama with me.

Also, we offered to let them search our phones to prove that we didn't do this. But our therapist refused and just continued on telling our parents as if this was factual. With no proof whatsoever, except that we knew of each other's existence and lived in the same room.)

And before this, I had self-harmed a few months back, when I told my therapist, instead of being concerned if it had gotten infected, since I cut my arm open with a *pen* she asked if i had told other patients.

I told her that my roommate (let's call her R, which was the girl i was ok with) had noticed, since patients had to shower with another person in the bathroom (in one bathroom were two showers, and in another bathroom there was a shower and a bathtub.) and when she asked me, I told her the truth.

When my therapist found out, she was telling me "You can't just do that! You can't just tell other patients!" and went on and on about how wrong I was (R was 14-15 at the time, and I was 11) and after that I didn't tell her again.

Anyway, later she also made me give her my phone for a week or two, and every Wednesday I had to get a 'check'.

Which was a nurse (all female, because otherwise it'd be even more creepy) taking me to the bathroom and making me take off all of my clothes and checked to make sure I didn't self-harm again.

Like, I get what they were trying to do, but I wasn't the one destroying a fucking calculator to cut myself with, and yet I was the only one being 'checked.'

But here comes the great part... Each month the director of the clinic came to visit each and every patient, in the psychiatry at least, and asked us about things that we liked, disliked and thought about our life in the hospital and basically made sure the nurses and other doctors were doing their jobs properly.

Well, in the last week before I was released early, it was again the end of the month.

The entire staff of that part of the hospital (child psychiatry) comes with him and write things down. And I told him everything bad the nurses did (like one of them tell me i couldn't have a rubber band to stop my urge to cut, even though my doctor told the nurses to let me do that when I need to and the nurse said that I was just 'seeking attention')

And I named the names, too. I wasn't keeping them anonymous. I told him everything the doctor did (she helped my therapist tell my parents the lies and was 100% okay with the weekly check.) and I told him all my therapist did. He looked back at her and then back at me. And some of the other doctors looked at her.

When I was done, he walked back out of the room, along with the rest of them following him. And my therapist just gave me that death glare. I'm really proud of myself for that.

Username: Kyushi_Kitsune

Barber here with all the power over shitty clients. We had a guy call in for an appointment requesting an “attractive female barber”. We don’t do that, sir.

They let him know this isn’t the place for that. Dude hangs up, hours pass by and by then, I’d forgotten about the front desk telling me about the weirdo over the phone. I got off lunch later in the day and walked up to take a walkin. I’m scanning the computer for a name, and all I can hear is, “I want her! I want her.

The one in the green dress. I want her to cut my hair!” Cue me turning around to see a man in his 60’s arguing with the front desk. I shrug him off and call the name on our books. “That’s me!! I’m *****!!!” I did NOT put two and two together.

That was the guy on the phone, little did I know. I walk up to take him while my front desk girls are staring at me with dread. At that point I’m confused but my dumbass doesn’t think much of it at all.

Cue haircut time. Homeboy is rambling on and on about random shit. Eventually he tells me he likes hanging out with “young attractive women because life is too short for fat ugly women.”

Little does HE know, I was an obese teen who lost so much weight I needed a tummy tuck at 22. I didn’t grow up with a Fashion Nova body lmao. (Thanks Dr Omidi) anyway, I’M SO DUMB IT STILL DOESN’T CLICK.

At this point I’m furious and determined to fuck up his hair. I proceeded to tell him “you’re so fucked up.” And boyyyyy I could not stop now! I wanted him to go home and explain to his wife what I was about to do to him.

In the span of five minutes he continues to tell me about how his wife won’t have sex with him despite that he bought her a car and asks me if I’d have sex with someone for a car. I say, “No, why should she? She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. And I have a car already, don’t need another.”

By now, I have almost finished shaved around the sides and back with my #2 clippers. No scissors yet. I did not comb the length to meet the clippers and instead just scooped outwards...Think of a bowl cut before the top length is cut and blended to the sides. But on purpose. A purposeful bowl cut.

Cue the moment I get to be sadistic. Homeboy is getting pissed off by my 5’1 sassitude. Eventually he goes, “So do you wear tight dresses for men to stare at you?” I say, “I wear them so I can stare at me. And I’m done having this conversation with you.”

He says, “Well, I’m not done talking.” BOIIIII YOU FUCKED UP. I AM THE BARBER. YOU IN MY CHAIR NOW. With a huge grin on my face, I loudly say, “You ARE done talking because I’m done cutting your hair!”

And rip off his cape, spinning him around to face the entire barbershop behind us. He thanks me, tells me I am lovely, and does the walk of shame up to the front.

Big bird did not have the balls to give me any sort of shit but boy did he chew out the front desk gals for not giving him a refund for his bowl cut. He was fired as a client by my manager and we have not heard of him since.

Moral of the story: do not be a dick to your barber. Or I will make you look like big bird.

Username: pinkbattt

I work in the furniture department of a retail store, my good friend is the furniture manager there.

We had a customer come in at 8:45 (we close at 9) and walk around the whole furniture department on video chat with his wife saying "do you like this one? Do you like this one?"

And shooing me away when I tried to help them for 15 minutes. Unfortunately it's not our policy to kick people out at closing, we have to let them finish shopping.

So finally he gets off the phone and I approach him. He had a very short attitude with me but whatever, I've got thicker skin that that.

He points out a set and a table that he wants and I let him know after the Covid shutdown our manufacturers have been having trouble keeping us in stock so I'll need to check what we have. We don't have any complete sets in stock (ex.

A sofa but no matching recliner or vice versa) but I did see behind another box was the table he wanted. So I let him know we didn't have the stock in and he wasn't happy but said he'll think about it. It is now 9:10 and he asks about another sectional sofa.

I go check on it and we have it in stock, while I was back there I dug out that table that he wanted and realized I messed up, there's a tag on it saying it was already purchased and waiting for customer pickup. I come back to let him know and see that my furniture manager is also speaking with this man.

When I can interject I apologise for my mistake and let him know that table has already been purchased and is waiting for the customer to pick it up. He immediately says well why don't you just sell it to me since I'm actually here to take the damn thing.

This is when my manager pipes in and says sir that item has already been purchased, also our store closed 15 minutes ago (and I shit you not as he's saying this half of the lights go out as they're programmed to do after close) and I need to close the store so if you've decided on an item we will gladly load it up for you but otherwise I really need to ask you to come back another time.

To this he responds "so you won't sell me a floor model (another point of their convo it's against our district policy) and because this guy (pointing at me) fucked up I can't have what I want?" My manager responds with "Sir my associate and I apologize for the mistake but do not speak to my employees that way.

Now would you like to purchase the couch or not?" Customer says "Who are your guys managers?" Manager says with a glint in his eye "I am the manager of the furniture department and also the closing manager tonight. I am the person in charge." Customer calls his wife and then promptly leaves.

He actually came back a few days later (I wasn't working but I came in to get some groceries) and settled on another model.

What my manager failed to mention to him was that we got a furniture shipment in that morning with the first set he was interested in.

Moral of the story: if you're a dick retail employees will give you the bare minimum service. Show a sliver of human respect and most of us will gladly take the extra step to help you.

Username: DonughtLord

When I was in my teens, I worked at a restaurant that I was involved with since I was born. My dad had been a cook there for about 20 years and the owner had literally known me since I was in dippers.

The restaurant had a family feel to me since everyone knew me and talked to me like uncles and aunts I had never met before. The only person I wasn't too familiar with when I started was the GM since he was fairly knew.

I worked there for about two years and the whole time the GM did not like me, he felt the kitchen gave me special privileges and that I was scheduled for more hours than I should be. Anytime I would eat during my break he would ask me if I paid for my food and I would have to show him my receipt.

It was not a good relationship and it seemed he was looking for any chance to fire me. He also would demand that I call him "Mr. *Last name*" because I called the owner Mrs. *Last name* and the kitchen manager I also formally referred to since she had been my fifth grade teacher and it just never felt right to call her by her name. He felt that I didn't respect him because of that.

One day I was scheduled in the gift shop by myself and close to closing time he came in and started saying he caught me on my phone. I got defensive and said my phone was on the wall charging, which it was.

He kept on going "no I saw you on it" and I started getting really mad since he was lying to my face. He knew I would get mad and say something dumb, which I did and he took the chance and fired me.

I went to the kitchen and told my dad I was fired, and went home. When he got home he told me that the owner said for me to go at my scheduled time the next day and that I was not fired.

What I didn't know was that the GM was not informed of this decision, and what I knew even less about was that the GM had actually been under the owners watch for stealing alcohol.

So I got to work the next day and instantly the GM sees me walk in and looks both confused and mad but before he had a chance to tell me anything, he was called into the office by the owner and the kitchen manager. That was it, that was the meeting where they fired him. He was allowed to finish his shift and he tried to act casual but I had found out through the kitchen that he was fired.

His shift ended before mine and I knew he would walk into the gift shop last before he left so I intentionally pulled out my phone and started playing angry birds. He walked in furious and shouted "GET OFF YOUR PHONE"!...

It was my time, I won, I knew it but he didn't know I knew it. So with the confidence of knowing he was no longer my boss I responded, "What are you gonna do?... Fire me?"

Believe me when I tell you, I've been searching for that high ever since, the look of anger in his face. The realization because he knew I knew. The two year battle..

I had won and you best believe I enjoyed every last second of him walking out the door.

Side note: I also had hooked up with his daughter but trust me that had nothing on that feeling.

Username: Irwin911

One morning a few years ago I stopped at a gas station to fill up. There was only one other car there, at the next island of pumps over.

The only reason that I noticed was that the guy parked with the gas tank on the wrong side of the car. 16 gas pumps, he's got them all to himself and he parks on the wrong side. But hey, whatever.

I followed him in to pay, and there were only the two of us in the store, plus the young guy working. To set the scene, the other guy getting gas had the look of the stereotypical washed up high school athlete; the guy who loves to crush beers and relive his glory days of being the 2nd string quarterback. The guy behind the counter was a young guy of east Indian descent.

As he was paying, the guy working behind the counter said "Hey man, next time please be sure to park on the side of the tank. Since the hose is pulled so tight there's a chance the pump can pop out and spill gas."

It was said in a completely pleasant "Oh hey man, fyi" tone of voice. It sounded logical and made sense to me and he wasn't rude or impolite about it in the least.

The guy in front of me LOST IT on him! It was as if every bit of rage in the guy's life had built up to be released at that exact moment. He started swearing at the guy, belittling him, used a few choice racist terms, told him to mind his own business...

The word 'overboard' doesn't even describe how white hot insane this guy got. The entire scene went from every other forgettable moment in a gas station to 'Holy shit, is someone gonna die here?'

The guy behind the counter looked seriously scared. Mr. Rage immediately became the male Karen and demanded to speak to the guy's manager.

While the guy went in the back room, I just stood there in shock. Everything escalated from 0 to 100 and I was still trying to process what the hell was going on. The store clerk came out of the back office and got back behind the counter. He handed the guy a business card and told him that it was the store owner.

The dude whipped out his phone and dialed the number. The entire time he was staring the guy down like he wanted to jump down his throat. It was so quiet and awkward that you could have heard a pin drop. I was thinking 'shit, how's this gonna go'.... when suddenly, I heard a cell phone ring.

The guy behind the counter, still keeping dead eye contact with Mr. Rage, calmly reached down behind the counter. He picked up his cell phone and slowly answered in the sweetest, cheeriest voice, "Hi, this is [name], owner of Shell store #123, what can I do for you today?"

Mr. Rage hung up the phone and stormed out of the store without saying another word. I was still in shock and then just yelled "Holy shit dude! That was epic!"

He told me that he deals with a half dozen assholes like that a week and that guy probably wouldn't even be the last one that day.

As quickly as that whole thing ramped up, it was over. I paid, told the guy to have a good one and walked out the door and left.

Username: [deleted]

I won't name any names to protect the individuals involved.

I work in academia, an industry that depends heavily on publication of our work. It is the so-called "publish or perish" world. We publish in academic journals and pay quite high publication fees of several thousand dollars for the privilege.

Some of these publishing firms are leviathan monsters with hundreds of journals under their brand and the largest of these firms make multi-billiion (yes Billion with a B) dollar annual profits.I had the good fortune of publishing my work in one of the top journals in my field.

I instructed my university accounting office to pay the fees, which they did. About 2 months later I got a nasty email from the collections office of that journal insisting that I pay off the bill of another individual in my school who had also published there after me.

I politely wrote back explaining that we are a university with over 40,000 employees and that there was no way I could have any influence over whether another academic paid their publishing fees or not.

When I asked why they were bothering me they actually had the nerve to say that it was because I was the last individual from my institution who had paid a bill to them.

I responded that that was backwards logic and that I was sorry but I couldn't help them. Their response was cold and legalistic and could have come from the collection agency for a used car dealership.

It said that if I didn't make sure that bill was paid they would come after me personally in court if necessary. It was signed off by a guy in the collections department of the journal.

Well, this was patently absurd and I wasn't concerned because I knew they had zero case against me, but I was pissed off. Firstly because I had paid my bill on time.

Secondly because it is stupid to use threats against somebody who was a fairly frequent contributor of articles to that journal. Thirdly, because it was so unprofessional and unbecoming for a top-tier academic journal.

I was pretty sure that this was just a loose cannon who didn't have the support of upper management, but he forced my hand because I couldn't let a threat of improper legal action go unanswered.

Unfortunately for him, it turns out that I went to college with the CEO of the parent company that owned this particular publishing firm, and I decided to drop him a brief note by email expressing my displeasure -- I had his personal email because he posted it on the alumni directory of my college.

I immediately got an email response saying that he was currently in the air on a flight but would take care of it when he landed.

The next day I got about a half dozen emails from up and down the management chain of that journal finishing with one from the direct boss of the loose cannon in collections apologizing profusely for the irresponsible actions of their recently hired employee and declaring that he would not be bothering me again.

Username: eelsinmybathtub

Took maternity leave after the birth of my third child. I was in an extremely toxic work environment and we were finally in a position to allow me to stay home with my kids (plus with daycare being so expensive, it was kind of a wash).

I really wanted to quit, but the work I did was important to patients, so I thought, “I’ll give it a solid try and maybe quit in a few months—I don’t want to leave suddenly and leave them understaffed, even thought I hate it there.”

My husband agreed that I could quit (financially) but of course wanted me to make my own decision too. So I went in armed with that knowledge.

First day back from leave. I had a meeting with my boss about an hour after I got in to catch up. This is my third maternity leave, so I know how these things go.

Usually bosses are supportive and kind and try to help you smoothly transition back to your job because they know you’re emotional and tired and they aren’t garbage humans, right? Wrong.

My boss doesn’t even ask me how I am or how the baby is. She picked right back up with the toxic bullshit I dealt with before leave—nit picky criticism of my every move that came from my coworker who hated me.

The boss was way too busy for her number of direct reports so she got all her feedback on my performance from one long-time employee who didn’t like me or anyone else who hadn’t been there for 20 years.

The first thing the boss wanted to do was make my schedule less flexible (with a newborn at home) and the next thing she wanted to discuss was how my coworkers didn’t like my attitude at a small informal office meeting we had the day before my leave.

I was appalled and I just said, “I’m pretty sure if you’re not happy with me by now (4 years in and never a bad performance review) you’re not ever going to be, so I’m quitting”

The look on her face was one of such shock that I felt immediately awesome. Sometimes when I’m sad about the state of the world or Covid or when my takeout order is wrong,

I just imagine the look of panicked shock that came across my abusive boss’s smug face when I quit on the first day after maternity leave and I legitimately feel better. You guys, it was delicious. Better than sex. Better than *cheese* even.

My boss and senior coworkers treated me like shit for years because I think they thought I would never quit and they had all the power.

Then I flipped the script and in an instant they were powerless and it was one of the best moments of my life. Right up there with my wedding and the births of my kids. The level of relief and elation I felt walking out of there almost made the abuse worth it...almost.

I also found out that dysfunctional narcissists don’t like having their power taken away when no one said goodbye or best wishes and I heard months later from a work friend that my boss hadn’t even sent an email announcing my departure from the organization that I’d worked at in some way or another for 10 years. Lol

Username: graycomforter

I work for the local government. A woman called, cursing and screaming, because a local agency had put a lien on property she owned since she had failed to maintain it in any way, forcing them to step in and handle it after numerous complaints from neighbors.

They then sent her a bill for a few hundred bucks. She swore up and down this this was all our fault, since she *never* owned that property.

Why did we, the government (since, of course, “The Government” is all one vast, closely inter-connected network of entities with a single hive mind, and not one of us ever acts without another one knowing), send her a bill for a property she didn’t own? We looked it up, and told her that we had her name registered as the owner.

GAAAAHHH, she went. *She* certainly had nothing to do with that. We had put her name on it by our own act alone, either by mistake or maliciously. How dare we, we were all *bleep*, we could all go *bleep* ourselves, she was going to sue us and this shit was going to be on the news.

She asked us why we would put it in her name. We looked up the deed for the property. We had put it in her name because she had signed the deed for it.

She paused for a moment, then just kept screaming that *we* needed to remove this bill (we didn’t issue the bill, that wasn’t our department, the department that issued the bill had given her our number after she screamed at them about how they needed to rescind the bill because she “didn’t own the property”), *we* needed to remove her signature from that deed, *we* needed to fix this for her because she’s not paying this goddamn bill.

She said she *did* sign a deed around that time, but it was for a *different* house in the same area. That’s right, it was for the house next door. We look up the house next door.

We trace the ownership of the house next door. She has never been listed as an owner of the house next door. Then she tries to say she meant the house on the other side. Same result.

At this point, her only defense is the “Walmart Customer Service Desk Tactic”, which people who use it often think works in government offices, but in fact does not.

This is when you ignore any and all facts and policies and law, and simply keep screaming at whomever you’re talking to, using the principle that “The Customer Is Always Right” and assuming that they’re going to kiss your ass and give you whatever you want. But that doesn’t work.

You simply can’t say “No, I don’t wanna pay the bill for that house I bought”, make it out to be a confusion that’s all our fault, and walk away with a credit on your next tax bill. It doesn’t work that way.

We told her that she had not disputed her ownership of this property for years, had paid taxes on it, and that we cannot simply remove a bill from another department, nor can we just “call that other department and tell them she doesn’t own it”. She hung up on us and we never heard from her again.

Username: Karnakite

I was a crew chief on an MH-47G, Chinook Helicopter in the Army. We were training for a mission with some Regular Army guys preparing to jump out of the back attached to a static line.

Weather wasn't great that day and we'd been pushed to the right (delayed) several times already. This full bird Colonel comes on board asking why his troopers aren't jumping. The Pilot in Command, a Chief Warrant Officer 3 (CW3 is a much lower Rank than a 0-6 COL in the Army) explains that while the weather is technically legal to jump at the jump site, it's not legal at the airfield to fly. (Low clouds and gusty winds).

Weather doesn't improve and kinda just stays in the same poor condition. We've been sitting there for over an hour on the APU.

Starts to look like Weather might improve so the pilots start the engines and the blades start spinning. We load the paratroopers on the aircraft and start getting ready to taxi.

We taxi up to the hover pads, go through the 'Before Takeoff' checks and then do a hover power check. The tower comes on the radio with updated weather and it's gotten worse. The pilots land and discuss it for awhile.

The Colonel is plugged into a headset, but couldn't figure out how to talk on the ICS. He's pissed at the whole situation.

He finally figured out how to press the talk button (hint: it's the only button on the cord) and he irritably asks what the hold up is.

Pilot: "Sir, weather has deteriorated and we are close to the end of our duty day. It looks like we're going to have to cancel the flight."

Colonel: "Like hell you are! I need to get these troopers qualified tonight or they'll go un-current and we won't be ready for [insert some training mission they were scheduled to attend]. I need you to take off right now. I'll accept all the risk."

Pilot: "Sir, we aren't flying tonight. I'm sorry." Colonel: "Mr. Peterson, I am giving you a direct order to takeoff. I'll accept the risk. You need to takeoff immediately."

Pilot: "Well sir, you do outrank me. I'll takeoff, but after we takeoff if I feel it's unsafe we'll have to terminate the mission."

Colonel: "Understood." The Pilot proceeds to come up to a 5 foot hover, then turns to the Colonel and says, "Sir, it's unsafe and we are returning to parking. You may outrank me on the ground, but I'm the Pilot-in-Command of this aircraft. If you have a problem with my decision you can take it up with my boss."

We taxi back into parking. The Colonel is fuming. He storms off the aircraft as soon as the ramp goes down.

Our CDR backed him up completely. The pilot became a bit of a folk legend at JBLM. He didn't have to buy drinks for a month after that.

Your rank doesn't amount for much when your on someone else's aircraft.

Username: IMall0y

I go to a SUNY school in New York, with a very VERY high acceptance rate (80+) (and I am privileged to come here and pay them for my education none the less) I met this kid (let’s call him “Dave”) first week there, me and my roommate hated Dave, always coming in and preaching for days about how strong he was or how good he did in high school, even claimed to be the Valedictorian of his tiny hometown HS.

My first roommate dropped out sadly, and then came my new one second semester I have known for a long time.

We always helped each other with homework and he is BRILLIANT, I’m talking Mensa smart, very humble and sweet though.

Dave and he met quick, and would give him a lot of crap for being homosexual, my roommate didn’t want to beat him up, and loose his full ride scholarship, so we just dropped it and let Dave blabber on about his football team in HS and his *fake* achievements.

One day, I’m working on my common application to transfer schools for a bachelors after my AS here, and in seeing this, Dave laughs and proceeded to mock my HS grades and SAT scores, saying that he got into MIT, Harvard, Yale, duke, Brown, and a ton more of crazy big names. My roommate chimes in “so you came to a SUNY state school, over Harvard?

Aren’t you and your parents loaded?” (They are) Dave said “no, but I came here for the construction degree” my roommate then says “okay” and pulls out HIS HS acceptances letters he keeps for moments like these (must have a lot lmao) my mf roommate got into Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Cornell, Princeton, half of the SUNYS in NY, a bunch of places in California, even schools he would commute to far upstate NY like Colgate University oh, and did I mention he was the Valedictorian?

And goes “where’s your letters or proof?” Dumbfounded, Dave continued his lies and left later on before he left, laughed at my lists for schools.

Now, I have acceptances for transfer to 2 ivys, SUNYs, and some places upstate NY, (all the schools I applied pretty much.) and shoved them into Dave’s fat face.

All I said when I pulled them out to show him was “Some people don’t need to play football to actually go to Harvard, try reading a book and volunteer, and maybe you can join me”.

I swiped my letters back and left. We also found out he did not get into any other schools besides the one we currently attend, and that’s okay, just don’t lie and put yourself above me if you consider me your friend.

BTW, my roommate came here because he got a full ride, and guaranteed spot at Cornell’s Vet school when he graduates on a full ride, Kids a mf genius but humble, and I love that energy around me.

Fuck you dave, you can lick my Ivy ass when your on the streets of Boston telling gay men they aren’t smart enough for Vet school. 🤣🤣

Username: [deleted]

Gonna be long, but I will never forget this one. My third week at a pizza shop, we had a 2-foot deep snow storm.

Both me and the other delivery driver had been in accidents, so we had decided to call off any more deliveries for the rest of the night.

But there was one last order, and the other driver was willing to take it, so we sent him out with the 18” veggie.

The order was taken at 6 pm, and was quoted an hour to an hour and 1/2, on account of the freaking blizzard outside. At 6:55, the phone rings. You’ll never guess who called , 5 minutes before the earliest time we gave her, and screams into the phone, “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PIZZA?!?!”

This lady is giving me hell over the problem, and I’m too petrified to do anything, so I just looked at my manager (let’s go with Adam for this) with a look of, ‘help me.’

Adam tips the phone out of my hand and starts dealing with her for me. Here is the best I could remember of his side of the conversation (not perfect, it’s been a few years);

“Hello ma’am, I- miss, please, I-ma’am, your talking over- ma’am, I’m trying to - ma’am, please calm do- ma’am.” It went on like that for a little while, until eventually he says, “certainly ma’am, we WOULD have given you a courtesy call if your pizza was going to be late, but we are still five minutes away from the earliest time we gave you.”

At this point, we all look out the window to see a moving sheet of white it’s snowing so hard. And then she crosses the one line you never, EVER cross with Adam.

She threatens us, claiming “IM GONNA CALL CORPORATE AND GET YOU ALL FUCKING FIRED!!!” Adam’s face immediately flushes bright red with anger as he takes a deep breath and responds,

“Well ma’am, here’s the deal. You called before the earliest time we gave you, have insulted me and my staffs intelligence multiple times, have been screaming obscenities over the phone, and have now threatened us, so here’s what I’m gonna do.

I’m gonna call the delivery driver, tell him to turn around, we are going to eat your pizza, and you can order from some place that will take this crap.” And HANGS UP ON HER!

We all thought it was over, but Adam knew better. He stood there, holding the phone, waiting. Ring ring ring.

“Hello, random pizza shop! This IS the general manager! My name is Adam Indigo, corporate’s number (blah), you’re gonna want to talk to Peter Schopenhauer , he’s in charge of customer relations.”

This lady starts trying to rail on him, so he cuts her off and says, “look lady, you may care about the safety of your pizza more than my employees, but I don’t.

Call and complain to corporate all you want, but we’re a franchise. The best they can do is offer free coupons, which I don’t have to honor.” Then he HUNG UP ON HER AGAIN.

Username: [deleted]

This is going to be a long one...9 years ago, 14 year old me used to sell newspapers on people's doorsteps in the weekends.

They assign you a perimeter to do selling in, and so you have a certain number of potential customers, being the number of households within your perimeter. This dictates how many papers you get, and also how many you need to sell to break even.

With this being 2011, the web based version of the news were becoming more and more popular, and so the printed version becomes harder to sell, and the price per paper therefore increase. You probable get the idea, that this makes it harder to break even.

One day, having visited all of my regular customers, I embarked on my weekly "adventure" consisting of covering most of the remaining areas of my perimeter in hope of selling a paper at one of every tenth to fifteenth door I knocked.

The ones in between could be ranged all from politely being turned down, to coldly having the door shut in the face, all the way to having to listen to a five minute monologue explaining why they would absolutely not be buying any paper from a fourteen year old boy.

This story is about one of the latter. To contextualize, this happens in Norway at some point of August, 2011, and in the previous month there had been a terrorist attack in and around Oslo.

This is naturally front-page-material, and is what meets this, and every other person when they open their door and I stand there and present them the paper.

This person decided to solve the awkward situation by shouting that the attack was for some reason my fault (yeah, screwed up, I know), and gave me remark upon remark about how he loathed me.

I was, as can be expected, completely blown away by this man's sheer wrath over a piece of news written by a journalist I had no relation to - at all. Saying that I was perplexed would be a huge understatement.

After I had gotten to my senses, and my brain managed to convert this man's accusations into twaddle, I attempted to just turn around and leave.

"Hey, stop, I'm not finished with you" he said, as he spun me around by grabbing my shoulder. "You're quite brave, boy, having the nerve to turn up here with this shit-" (as if I knew HE lived there) "-and turning your back to me like that!" he shouted in the sense that I was his son, and I had done some outrageous violation of his house rules, and proceeded with ignoring him.

So I replied "All I asked you was if you'd like to buy a paper. And given that you've just threatened me, and laid your hands on me without my consent, either let me leave, or I'll call the police"

I will never forget the spark of fear in his eyes, nor the way his face instantly turned gray as ash!

Username: norwaiian

I was waiting tables at a very busy restaurant where’d I’d worked for years. Two attractive young women were seated in my section (to be clear I was young too.

They were about my age). I loved my job and was a very attentive waiter. I kept their wine glasses full for the entire duration of their meal which they ate at a leisurely pace.

After they’d finished their food they had a few more glasses of wine. At this point three or four tables get seated in my section so for about 15 min I’m running like hell to get everyone’s order in.

I stopped by the young ladies table in the midst of this to see if they needed anything and one of them said “The check,” in a tone that seemed a little abrupt. I got their bill told them I hoped they enjoyed their meal and went on about my business.

They left and I noticed that they’d left $1 on a $140 check. Fuck that. I knew I’d gone above and beyond and I figured they’d gotten pissed about not getting their check the moment they wanted it.

I saw them walking away so I jogged up to them and when I got about 15 feet away I said “Excuse me miss,” in an ultra polite voice.

They turned looking confused and I tossed their dollar on the ground between us, said “have a good night,” and jogged back to the restaurant. I saw the dollar as an insult and felt they could keep it.

A few minutes later I noticed they’d returned and were talking to the manager. They told him I’d said “Excuse me bitch,” which was ridiculous.

The whole point was to build to that surprise moment when the dollar hit the ground, so calling them “bitch” would have ruined that. Plus I would have lost the moral high ground. As they complained, I continued to worn busily in my packed section.

They began demanding that my manager bring me over to apologize. He repeatedly told them that I was busy with other customers and that he’d talk to me after my shift.

They really didn’t like that. So then (and this is my favorite part) they told him they were off duty police officers so they said it would be in his, and the restaurant’s, best interest if he brought me over. My manager was a sorta antiestablishment type so this ruffled his feathers. He told them their job was irrelevant.

Cops don’t get special consideration here etc. Then one of them said “You’re his friend. We know you’re not gonna do anything to him.” And they left. They were right about that last part.

He and I discussed it after over a beer and that’s how I got a lot of the detail about what they told him. He said he never believed I would have called them “bitch.”

He said the told him they’d be “following up” in this fake cop-like way. We laughed about that. Anyway, moral is don’t be an asshole and tip your servers.

Username: Brand_new_beach_hat

I used to be lead designer for a clothing brand and let’s just say it was run by a gang of entitled, wealthy, white executives.

I won’t get into the details but there was a younger guy who kissed ass for years to get an executive position that he was entirely unqualified for (over others who were obviously more deserving) and let’s just say this guy made my life hell.

I would design the biannual catalog for the entire company and it was already a nightmare because the executives were always getting hammered and running well behind schedule every season but when this kid started getting “power” it just got so much worse.

I had been working their for years and let’s just say I was fed up with the culture of the entire company.

The president and ceo was caught several times getting wasted at company parties and making racists comments to any of the POC on top of the discrepancy in pay between white and minority employees.

Anyways, I had been on several interviews toward the end of my tenure their and I was just over it at that point.

On one occasion the executive kid didn’t like my response to one of his last minute requests and went to my marketing director who opted to write me up thankfully I was already on my way out so I didn’t care it just kind of made me laugh.

A few days later I accepted an offer at a new job (my current position) and really nothing could phase me at that point.

I stayed on for an extra week as a courtesy just to help the company get the catalog out and my last day was literally the day it was sent to the printer.

Not an hour after I hand delivered the hard drive with the catalog over to the printer did kid executive run to my desk asking for an entire section to be added and I just looked at him in silence and set a timer on my watch saying “you have two minutes”.

I will remember look of shock on his face for the rest of my life as it flashed from anger, to depression and then paranoia. What was he going to do, yell at me or have me written up? I was leaving forever in 2 hours.

He then prompted to speed through his request in two minutes as I said “there’s no way to add that the files have literally been handed off to the printer.

If you’d like to pay the exorbitant fee to resubmit everything you’ll have to take it up with the marketing director.”

And he just walked away in shame. Those two minutes made up for the years of hell I suffered at that company.

Username: EveryShot

In high school my mother had become very abusive and my father was overseas in Afghanistan on contract.

I argued with my mom frequently and she would just hit me, break my things, and storm out in order to win arguments.

I worked at a fast food joint about two miles down the road from our house and got off close to 11pm. I called her to get a ride like six times and she ignored all of them so I had to walk home alone.

When I finally made it home I unlocked the door, went to the kitchen to make something to eat and I was going to head upstairs to shower and go to sleep.

She heard me in the kitchen and screamed for me to go to her room presumably just to yell at me.

I walked in and was instantly berated by questions and accusations about how I pretended to go to work and came home super late.

Long story short, I argued with her and she got mad at me, she got up and fought me with her tits out (which is traumatic in and of itself) and she kicked me out of the house after I shoved her off of me and called her a whore for cheating on my dad the whole time he was gone.

As I sat on the sidewalk outside of my house I could see the light in my room turn on from my window and I knew that meant she was going to break all of my stuff.

After about ten minutes she stormed outside with my bong in her hand, without saying a word she sat it down next to me and smashed it with a hammer, looked at me and said “I’m calling the cops, you better make up a good story.”

And then walked back inside and locked the door. (The fucked up thing about that is two weeks before that she had told me it was totally fine to smoke weed as long as I didn’t do it inside) after my sisters argued with her she finally let me back inside by this time it was about 2:30am and I walked into my room to see my Xbox on the floor all mangled and bent and my TV smashed to shit.

The rest of my room was torn apart but that’s all that was broken. The next day I went to school and told my friends what had happened.

During my lunch period I went online and ordered the same exact bong, one of my friends said he would bring me a TV after school and all I had to do was see if by chance my Xbox still worked.

So after that whole event not even 48 hours later I had replaced the bong and the TV and discovered that the Xbox miraculously worked and I felt like I had staged the biggest “Fuck you,” of my life and she was devastated.

Username: Breland61

A few years back I worked as a hostess in a diner that was a very popular brunch spot on weekends, especially Sundays.

Sunday came and I had over 2 pages filled with the names of people who had their names in on the wait list, and were now patiently waiting for their turn to be seated.

The restaurant was packed with people to the point where you could barely get to the door.

It wasn't uncommon for people to come in when we were packed and rudely demand to be seated regardless of the long wait.

This one day though, a man who looked to be in his late 50s came in with a high and mighty attitude, as if we were all here to appease him and we should feel obligated to meet his every need.

The man came up to my hostess stand and condescendingly demanded to be seated right away with the few other people he came with.

I politely told him that we were completely full at the moment and that there were a lot of other people who were waiting for their turn to be seated, and that by the looks of it it would be about an hour wait.

He laughed and got really close to my face as if to challenge me, and he asked "do you know who I am?!" I backed away and said no.

He scoffed and said, "well, I also know the owner of this restaurant, and he would be really disappointed to know that one of his workers wasn't complying with my requests, don't you think?"

The owner of the restaurant was actually a really nice old man who managed outside of the restaurant and came in every now and then to check up on us to say hello. Sometimes he'd stay a while, other times it was a quick pop in.

Today happened to be one of the days where he decided to stay a while and help us out. I doubted he would associate with someone like the man who was treating me so disrespectfully.

I looked over and the owner happened to be behind the retail counter watching the exchange between me and the rude man with his eyebrows raised in surprise. He walked over behind the man and startled him saying "you know, I don't think we've met.

My apologies if I've forgotten you, but all my friends know I would never disapprove of my employees doing the right thing and fairly seating everybody according to the order they came in. That would be unfair, don't you think?"

The rude man blushed and after a moment of silence, muttered under his breath "yeah, whatever" and quickly walked out. Karma's a bitch!

Username: valeriefoley25

Not sure if it fits here. Fun story: I used work overnights at a grocery store. I finished up a shift at 730am morning. I go to sleep and wake up, ready for my day off.

I lived in Colorado so I used to smoke a decent amount of weed on my days off if I wasn’t needing to do anything, this was one of those days.

I go out to my car and start to smoke a bowl. I wasn’t allowed to smoke in my place because I lived below a business and they didn’t want the the smoke getting into where customers could smell weed.

I am having a good time relaxing and listening to some tunes, I see a cop come down this little alley way and I don’t think anything of it because it’s legal in Colorado.

The cop walks by my car and then comes back to my car and starts asking me a few questions. He asks me “where do you live?”

I point to my door like 15 feet away “right over there sir” keep in mind I have a little bong in my lap.
He asks“Where have you been the last few hours?”
“I work over nights and just woke up a bit ago”
He asks me “can you please step out of your car”
“Okay, can I ask why?”
Him “sir, just please step out of your car”

“Okay” I get out of my car to just move this process along and don’t want my day off to be ruined.
I ask him again, why am I being asked to get out of my car.

He motioned for me sit down against my front car wheel. The guy still has not told me Why I am being asked to step out of my car.

After I sit down. I ask him once again, why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me get out of my car?

The cop: “ someone just stole from the Safeway (grocery store) across the street and you got the description” I was shirtless, barefoot, and wearing gym shorts.

I laugh “what!? I work at Safeway. I been working there off and on for like 8 years. I wouldn’t steal from my employer and walk across the street to my house” you think this would be the end of it.

His partner is apart of this situation at this point, he calls the store across the street. The acting manager comes across the street( I just worked with this guy on a project at my store for like 4 months) comes up and sees me.

“What? That’s ******. He is awesome. It’s not him” manager walks off and goes back to his store.
The cops let me go, the partner of the first cop tells me sorry.

I than continued to get baked again in my car since my buzz was ruined

Username: theslenderman420420