Category: Bad Behavior

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It’s All Greek To Me(an)

| Greece | Bad Behavior, Employees, Language & Words, Tourists & Travel

(I am on a conducted tour to Greece with some older men and women. When we stop at a restaurant, being rather old-fashioned Swedes, the older people on the tour want to be served meatballs and mashed potatoes. The restaurant complies. A young waiter serves them their food and speaks to them with a huge smile on his face.)

Waiter: *in Greek* “So, meatballs and mash just like in Sweden, huh? Should I chew the food for you as well, you babies? F***** simpletons, the lot of you.”

(He continues to make rude and derogatory comments to them the whole time, but since he is smiling, has a polite tone and the old people don’t speak Greek, they just think he is a charming young man. Unbeknownst to him, however, I happen to know Greek, so when the waiter comes to me…)

Me: *stands up and says in Greek* DON’T YOU SAY ANOTHER F****** WORD, OR I’LL BEND YOU OVER THE TABLE RIGHT HERE AND NOW, YOU PUNK!”

(The color drained from the waiter’s face and the owner, who stood nearby, almost died of laughter.)

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Doug Himself A Hole

| Endicott, NY, USA | Bad Behavior, Criminal/Illegal

(It’s Halloween, 2013. I am with my parents, handing candy out to trick-or-treaters. At about 6 pm, the phone rings. We don’t recognize the number, but assume it is a telemarketer, so I just pick up and immediately hang up, so we wouldn’t have to deal with the ringing. Less than a minute later, the phone rings. Same number. I repeat the process of picking-and-hanging up the phone. Almost immediately, the same number calls back. Somewhat annoyed, I answer finally.)

Me: “Hello.”

Telemarketer: *speaking with a very thick, almost cliché Indian accent* “Hi! My name is Doug! I’d like to talk to you about upgrading your home security system! We have plenty of offers…”

Me: *interrupting, but staying polite* “…Oh, thank you very much. But we don’t have a home security system and aren’t interested. You have a nice day, Doug. Take care.”

Telemarketer: “Oh… ok. Thank you and good-bye.”

(I hang up the phone and sit down. Five minutes later, the same number calls back.)

Me: *answering the phone* “Uh… hi.”

Telemarketer: “Hi, my name is Doug! I’d like to talk…”

Me: *interrupting* “Hi. You just called us. Sorry, we’re not interested. Have a nice night, though.”

Telemarketer: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to call back. Thank you and good-night!”

(Less than 10 seconds after I hang up, the phone rings again.)

Me: “Please stop calling this number. This is the third time I said we’re not interested.”

Telemarketer: “Hi, my name is Doug! I’d like to…”

Me: “Ok, first of all… Your name isn’t ‘Doug.’ You’re clearly speaking with the thickest Indian accent I’ve ever heard. Second. Stop calling!”

(I hang up. This time there was a pause of five minutes before good-ole “Doug” calls back.)

Me: *answering* “Listen, ‘Doug’… Stop calling us! If this keeps up, we will contact the police and report this number for harassment.”

Telemarketer: “Oh.”

(I hang up and he calls right back. This time I hand it off to my mother, who is furious about the fact that he has already called numerous times.)

Mom: “Stop calling us! We don’t want what you’re offering!”

Telemarketer: “May I speak to the man of the house?”

Mom: “No, you may not. I own this house with my husband. He doesn’t want to talk to you, so you’re going to talk to me. And I’m telling you to stop.”

(She hangs up on him and he calls back yet again a few minutes later. This time we hand the phone to my step-father.)

Step-Father: “We’re calling the police.”

Telemarketer: “What?”

Step-Father: “You’ve spent the past 15 minutes harassing us over the phone. We’re calling the police.”

(They argue back and forth for several minutes. My step-father hangs up and informs us that “Doug” evidently doesn’t understand why we are calling the police, and in fact, seems to barely understand who the police even are. Needless to say, he calls back again. This time we let it ring through, hoping he’ll leave a message and then stop calling. He doesn’t leave a message. He just calls right back again about four more times before we pick up the phone again. My mom answers this time.)

Mom: “Ok, ‘Doug’… you pushed my ‘a**hole button’ too many times.”

(She proceeds to threaten him with the police again, before launching into a barrage of insults, evidently because he ignored the threat of police and tried to sell her a home security system again. We hang up. We try to call the local police department about a minute later, but “Doug” interrupts us. He has just called as we pick up the phone to start dialing; he is already on the line. We just hang up and immediately call the police before he can call again.)

Step-Father: *a few minutes later, while on phone with the police* “Oh, my god! The phone just beeped! He’s trying to call us again!”

(An officer that was nearby showed up about five minutes later. While we were waiting for the officer, “Doug” tried to call our house again three more times. The officer took the number, and had to leave to take care of something else. “Doug” tried to call us one more time, before the calls suddenly stopped. He returned a short while later just to check in, and informed us that “Doug” was not going to be calling back. Evidently, the police had contacted the number in the meantime, and reported “Doug” to a number of superiors.)

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Driving Blind To Compassion

, | Bad Behavior, Employees, Transportation

(I recently moved to Arizona and take the bus to and from work. Most of the bus drivers are fairly pleasant. On this day a woman was sitting up front and very slowly got off the bus, with the driver assuring her we were near the McDonald’s. A moment after we start moving I notice a red and white walking stick (usually used by people with impaired vision) and I jump out of my seat.)

Me: “Driver, did that woman have a cane? I think she left it!”

Driver: “Oh, yeah, she did.” *driver begins to slow down*

Me: “I’ll just pop out and give it to her. We’re less than a block away.”

Driver: *speeds back up* “Eh, well, she left it; it’s out of my hands.”

Me: “I can just get off.”

Driver: “No, this isn’t a stop! She left it!” *bus is now speeding down the street*

Me: *speechless*

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