My first car was a 1984 Jeep CJ7, a pretty sweet ride for a dirt poor teenager in the 90s. I was working midnights at a gas station and loaned it to my brother who was taking a date to a party. I got a call around 1AM from my brother who told me he left the keys in the Jeep and it was stolen. I was devastated. I was still on the phone with my brother when the thieves pulled my Jeep into my gas station to fill up on gas. As luck would have it, the gas gauge on my Jeep was broken and always read “empty”, and I worked at the only 24 hour gas stations in the area. I pressed the silent alarm and… proceeded to fill up my Jeep (it was a full serve station). When the thieves were out of the jeep, I saw an opportunity to slip the key out of this ignition and into my pocket. They paid for the gas, and argued amongst each other who had the keys last. The delay was enough for the police to arrive. I had to explain the story to the officer half a dozen times before he understood. The thieves had this stunned look of disbelief on their faces I’ll never forget. The cops were belly-laughing telling the story to dispatch, all the while the thieves sat in cuffs in the back of the squad car. The story made most of the major newspapers the following day.
Work in a call center for a bank. Had a customer today furious that the ATM ate his card, machine that gives you cash. Demands I walk over to retrieve it. After being an absolute wanker for a solid 10 mins and refusing to give me personal info cause he thought I was lying about ‘really’ being from the bank (even though he called us), this is roughly how it ended:
Him: you need to give me my card immediately.
Me: I can cancel it and send you another but I can’t give you the card from that ATM.
Him: fine give me one now or I’ll sue you.
Me: whips out the sass OK sure so without being able to ID you there could be one way. Push the GO button on the ATM pls.
Him: done. Nothing.
Me: ok silly me it needs to know who you are. Put your hand on the screen so it can check your finger prints to check you’re you. Did it come out?
Him: no. Nothing.
Me: did you push go?
Him: oh, no. Let me try. No, nothing.
Me: OK, this ATM could be old. Let’s try something different. Go to the app on your phone and open it for me.
Him: OK. Its open.
Me: OK give me a sec. …..OK is the card printing from it? It normally comes from the bottom but it depends on the phone.
Him: I’m checking. Doesn’t seem to be so.
Me: what about the side?
Him: um. Nah. I have an iPhone, does that matter?
Me: what version?
Me: oh those have a bug at the moment. You might need to reset it the phone. Give it a go and I’ll wait here for you.
So this happened with my granddad, not me. But I find it an amusing story and I just discovered this blog today so here you go!
My granddad lives in a packed-in estate of terrace houses. To access the main road from his house (which is on a dead-end street), you have to drive through three other streets, so it’s quite a distance, maybe just over a five minute walk. Now the houses in this estate don’t have any driveways so people park on the street, and it’s kind of an unspoken rule that people park half on/half off the pavement (important) so there’s still enough room for a car to drive through. If someone parks fully on the road, you physically cannot park opposite them.
Onto my granddad, he’s an eighty-something year old disabled man with too many medical problems to count. He can walk, but only with a walking stick and not very well at that. He relies on his car, and being able to park outside his own home.
Incoming a-hole neighbours. This family (who live on the opposite side of the street to my granddad) have a car, a van, and three motorbikes. Aside from their kids driving about on the bikes at 2am, these guys decide that they absolutely MUST park their van outside my granddad’s house because they need another parking spot. My granddad also went out a lot to various doctors/hospital appointments, and to tend gardens. (He’s retired obviously, but was a gardener for most of his life and still loves his plants.) Perfect opportunity for them to steal his spot.
Several times he has to knock on their door to ask them to let him have his parking spot because he’s an old man who can barely walk, never mind trying an extra five minute (more like 15 minutes at the speed he goes) walk from the main road to his car. Nope was always the answer.
Now, my granddad has begun to dislike these asshats, so he does what he knows best. Petty revenge. Rings up the council (or whoever is in charge of these things), flashes his blue disability badge, and asks them to paint a disabled parking spot on the road outside his house because he has trouble getting a spot. Sure thing buddy.
A few days later, they’re out painting his little disabled parking spot. I’m not sure if you guys have seen them before, but they’re fully in the road. Now let me remind you how people park half on and half off the road in this estate. My granddad knew he could park half on the pavement, but of course that’s wasting half of his disabled parking spot! So he decides it’s best to park fully on the road from now on.
Cue angry opposite-neighbours. Later that evening they returned home to see they couldn’t park outside their house at all and they were pissed. They ended up ringing the council to complain, but because my granddad was a blue badge holder and the spot was outside his house and council-approved, they got nowhere. Now they have to park both their car, and van on the street.
My granddad had the biggest grin on his face when he told us about it.