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Credit: freepik<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n3. Course of Action<\/h2>\n I was 13 when this happened. My mom had made a reservation at a hotel for a trip, but when she got there the lady said there was some error with the reservation and that my mom’s payment didn’t go through, so the lady offered us a double bedroom for a discount.<\/p>\n
Rather than just taking the room, thanking the lady, and leaving, my mom decided the best course of action would be to scream, in the middle of a hotel lobby, “NOBODY IS GOING ANYWHERE TIL I GET MY F*CKING ROOM!” She then proceeded to pester the lady, who clearly couldn’t do anything about it, until eventually, she called the police on my mom for public disturbance. Mortifying.<\/p>\n
reddituser<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\nCredit: freepik<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n4. He Hates Banks<\/h2>\n My dad is a union tire worker. He is gruff, logical, and curt. He doesn’t appreciate people. He hates banks, conservatives, and corporations.<\/p>\n
One day, we went to Wells Fargo. He was depositing $3000 in cash. He deposited the cash at the teller and we turned around to leave. At just that moment he remembered that he wanted to go to the junkyard to pick up tires or something. He turned back around and went to the same cashier. He said, “Oops. I forgot I needed some cash to get some stuff. Can I get back $200 of that cash?” The cashier said, “Sure! Just a second”. She then went to the drive-thru area and talked to another cashier for a second. My dad was annoyed that she left, but waited like a champ. A few minutes later, she returned to tell my dad that because he didn’t have $200 in his account prior to the deposit that he would have to wait 24 hours before his deposit “cleared”. He instantaneously burst into a fit of rage, screaming expletives about how much bs it was that “cash” had to “clear”. They somehow got him corraled into the manager’s office where a long screaming match ensued and the cops were called. Before the cops could get there, my dad put his arm on the manager’s desk and “swept” the desk clean, including his computer and everything else on the desk. We then left immediately. I assume that they closed his account and sued him, but I have no idea how it ended.<\/p>\n
I was around 10 at the time, but I’ve never gone back to a bank with my father.<\/p>\n
brvheart<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\nCredit: freepik<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n5. Miserable Life<\/h2>\n I worked at Best Buy. I stopped in with my mom one day because she wanted to buy me the Star Wars DVD box set for my birthday.<\/p>\n
I had a huge, HUGE crush on the girl that was working the customer service counter. Well, the DVD set rang up $10 more than it was priced, and my mom deliberately didn’t say anything until after the transaction so she could claim the effing $5 Michigan Scan Law bounty.<\/p>\n
My crush didn’t know how to process it and the manager was busy, so my mom tore into her about how it was her job and how she should understand how to do things.<\/p>\n
At my job.<\/p>\n
To a girl I liked.<\/p>\n
My life was miserable for a while afterwards.<\/p>\n
medullah<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\nCredit: freepik<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n6. How You Get Things Sorted<\/h2>\n One time my Grandad got a sausage roll at a football match during halftime, when he got back to his seat he found it was overdone, the pastry was quite burned. The man was irate. He didn’t take it back straight away as the second half was about to start, but he spent much of the second half angrily lamenting his savoury snack letdown. So he takes it home, calls the customer service number on the back (I assume he had a few choice words for the poor soul on the other end but I wasn’t present for this), and keeps the remainder of the sausage roll in the freezer for the next couple of weeks.<\/p>\n
Skip ahead to the next match day, my Grandad tells me we’re heading out early so he can have his sausage roll replaced. The customer service line told him to go to Kiosk 3 at the front of the ground next to<\/em> the ticket office. When we arrive, however, the shutters are down at the food place. The old man looks around growling and turning red in the face, stamps right over to window number 3 of the ticket office and slams his frozen burned sausage roll down like a flaky gauntlet. At this point, I’m trying to convince him the ticket office was a completely different department to the catering concession but my Grandad was having none of it. The lady working the ticket window continually attempted in vain to convince him the same, they sell match tickets, not hot snacks, but this just got him angrier and angrier. Across comes a colleague behind the glass, now there are just two people to rage at. Then a head steward comes to attempt to diffuse the situation and my Grandad begins to wave the burnt sausage roll in this man’s face, I was actually surprised he didn’t whack him with it. At this point I’m mortified by the whole affair, wishing I’d have stayed back at the house until nearer kickoff.<\/p>\nEventually, after an hour or so, the shutters come up on the food concession. The fella at the counter goes ‘You must be Mr Alaginge’ and calmly resolves the situation, dispatching a freshly baked sausage roll with the steady hands of a surgeon. My Grandad is completely satisfied with the result of his hour of insolent rage. As we’re walking away he turns to me and says ‘that’s how you get these things sorted.’<\/p>\n