A few years ago I once worked in a small company with a choleric boss. The company was run by him and his wife, and there were five employees. The employees were yelled at for every little thing and he threatened to fire them. His wife, who watched us constantly, was also terrible. We weren't allowed to talk privately and she timed us when we went to the bathroom to make sure it didn't take too long. I could hardly believe the strict working environment there and I quit after only six months.
It was known that the boss liked to drink too much sometimes and still drove his car. Moreover, everyone in the company knew that he visited his favorite bar every Friday after work, and around 9:00 pm, when he was drunk, he got back in his car and drove home. And that's what I told the police in an anonymous letter: the name and address of the bar, his license plate number, the day of the week, and the time. On the Monday after I sent the letter, he didn't come in to work until about noon and without his car. Surprisingly, he was pretty subdued. He retreated to his office and we hardly saw him the rest of the day. I worked there for another four weeks and then started a new job. In those four weeks I never once saw him come to work with his car again. Until that day, he and his wife always came in separate cares, because she only worked half-days and went home at noon. After I reported him anonymously, he was driven to work by his wife in the morning and took the bus in the evening. I confess that I denounced my employer, who gave me my pay and my daily bread.
When I was 5 years old, I got my first loose tooth and naturally wanted to be rid of it as soon as possible. I bit down hard into an apple. Regrettably, I swallowed the small piece of apple with the tooth embedded in it. My father then explained to me that it would emerge when I sat on the toilet. Over the next few days I wanted to have the tooth and tried passing it, but succeeded only while in my kindergarten. So I brought a nice, fat, brown clump to the kindergarten lady, asking her to find the tooth for me, and then I went back to playing. I confess that because of me that poor woman probably had the worst coffee break of her life.
Man, our neighbors two houses down are getting on my nerves in a major way! It has just barely gotten warm again, and they're already putting on garden parties that last into the night. There's no getting any sleep; with the wind just right, the smoke from their burnt sausages on the grill wafts into the bedroom and hangs there all night long. But the worst is, they are such loud a-holes. Neighbors complained, but that only helped temporarily. I have now acquired a strong water pump and downloaded rolling thunder noises from the internet. You know what happened next: last Friday, I turned on the pump, positioned the hose and turned on the thunder with my big loudspeaker. The drunk broads started to scream and everybody ran inside. You could still hear them, but it was muffled. A couple of days later, I met the neighbor in front of the house and he said, thank goodness it rained, we needed it, the ground was fart-dry. I'll let a little time go by, and, if they get loud again, I'm going to play weather god. I beg forgiveness and indulgence.
I would like to confess that I hate going shopping with my girlfriend. There's this one thing in particular: she won't tie up the plastic bags she puts vegetables in, because she thinks the cashier would then weigh the air that's in the bags, too, and that the supposed extra weight would cost her more. Even my explanation that, if the air was being weighed it would tip the scale all the time, falls on deaf ears. Let it be understood that she is very intelligent and in many ways much sharper than your average Joe, but this life-skill naiveté drives me batty.
I'm (m/25) not very good with kids. It shows in various ways, for instance, I won't do that stupid baby talk, but I talk with kids normally just as with adults and I usually also tell it like it is. A couple of years ago, I had just left the university campus and on the way had stopped in a supermarket to buy beer, a young (pretty good-looking) mother and her little son queued up behind me. He was just old enough to walk and say a few words, and he was bouncing back and forth between the overpriced sweets next to the check-out counter and his mama. I had just paid, and there was the little rascal, looking up at me, pulling on my jacket, and asking "Papa"? I was in shock for a moment before concluding that he was wrong. Before answering, as calm as could be I looked his mother up and down (she was waiting to see how I would react) and then said: "Sorry, little guy, that's something I certainly would have remembered." Apparently, that's not what she had expected; she stood there, fixed to the spot and blushing. The cashier started to laugh out loud, and I went home, grinning.