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So, a "service dog" attacked me last night.

Pre-post warning, this is a very, VERY long one.
First post in this sub, have been waiting for "my moment" to post here. I've had pent up stories of copper level snowflake members, male flashers, non-mask wearing Karen's, homeless people sleeping in stairwells, etc, but last night was the straw that broke the redditor's back. I'm in a mood.
Right, so I started at a new hotel a few weeks ago. Absolutely LOVE the place. Super nice co-workers that actually seem to pull their weight (I know I don't need to explain what a rare find that is in this industry), very kind ownegm (we'll call her Zsa-Zsa... I mean she won't be brought up again in this story, but we'll call her Zsa-Zsa anyway), basically living the night audit dream. But last night... oh boy... last night. Worst night in my decade long hotel career (ugh. what even is my life?)
So as I'm clocking in a lady races by, being drug to her room by her muzzled demon dog from hell. A very large dog, well above the weight limit we allow (the dog, not the lady, obvs.). I look to my 3-11 coworker inquisitively. "He's a service dog." She says with a defeated "we can't call her a liar" expression on her face. Okay, it's a pack of lies obviously, but we'll roll with it. I love dogs, so, meh, what's the worst that can happen? I mean really, it's just a dog, she's answered the two questions you can ask, it's all good, right? Wrong. Cut to me about 40 minutes later, witnessing huffy puffy Karen walking adamantly toward me with a look that spoke volumes. I know the look she has on her face. We all know that look. So Karen comes to the desk in a bit of a state. "I cAn'T gEt ThE DoOr tO OpEn." It appears she has gone to her car to get some snacks. Okay. Fine. I have to let her into her room. Whatevs.
As we walk she begins telling me about this humungous dog that she's left in her room. "I saved him from Afghanistan. His name's fluffy (I shit you not), he's a doll." Yeah. Sure, Jan. I open the door on the first try, give her snarky "seems to be working for me" sly smile we all give in these situations. She gets flustered. She opens the door and drops her half eaten bag of smart ones popcorn. Being the gentleman that I am I bend down to pick it up.the next thing I know I'm hearing growls and feel dull pressure on my hand. Doesn't hurt, just feels like someone is squeezing the side of my hand. Took me a fee seconds for what was happening to register in ny brain.
"FLUFFYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY" Karen screams. In the turmoil I realize the dog has my hand in his mouth. I yank it out. I drop my master keys and Karen catches them mid-fall. I'm calmly but still slightly frantically saying to her "oh my God, get him! Get. Him. In. The room." In the most non aggressively way I can to avoid angering this he-beast from hell. A few seconds pass while he and I are doing this strange dance of bloodlust and resentment. She finafuckingly steps between me and Fluffy and puts her hand behind her back with the master keys in them. "openthedooropenthedooropenthedoor" She wants me to open the damn door so she can somehow trick him into going in the room instead of mauling me, I guess? "Take the keys!"
Let me tell you reddit, the fight or flight struggle is real. Seeing my chance I take it. "YOU CAN KEEP THEM, IT'S FINE" and I bolt down the hallway and into the stairwell, slam the door (fluffy didn't chase me, surprisingly) I walk upstairs, down the second floor hallway, downstairs again, and through the fire exit (I have absolutely no idea why I didn't use the exit in the first stairwell I was in. Panic and confusion I guess.). I look down and see blood dripping from my hand and can make out a puncture wound. I didn't actually feel Fluffy bite me at all so while I'm walking I'm just kind of staring in disbelief cause it made no sense that I couldn't feel any pain at all, but my hand was covered in blood and there was at least one deep ass gash on the side of my hand. I digress. I walk around the building to the entrance where a new guest is standing and waiting to check in. I start checking him in (not a care in the world, just heart racing like mad while I attempted to offer up some light chit-chat and pray that he doesn't notice the blood all over the hand I have held behind my back. It was going surprisingly well... but wait, there's more. Karen runs to the front desk "are you o.... Oh My GoD yOu'Re HaNd!!!111" the screaming took me by surprise and I kind of panicked and told her (well, shouted to her) "You keep that fucking dog in your room!" She's almost crying, absolutely panicked, I'm seeing red (both metaphorically and literally I suppose) the guy checking in notices my hand and looks confused and terrified. Karen pipes up. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND, HE'S NEVER BROKEN SKIN BEFORE" (swear to God. I. swear. to. god.) She then starts telling me that she thinks he lunged at me because "They cut his ears in Afghanistan (IDK what that even means), they must've been men. THEY MUST HAVE BEEN MEN! I think he was scared because he saw a man hunched over in front of his momma (me picking up her fucking popcorn. You're welcome by the way) and he just lost control. Please, I'm so sorry. He's never done this before. HE'S NEVER BROKEN SKIN!" This one sentence she kept repeating pissed me off more than the fact that her damn hellspawn just attacked me out of nowhere.
So, you can either chalk it up to me being a softhearted animal lover, or to the state of shock that I was in, but I start feeling bad for the dog. She really pulled a number on me. Suddenly I feel like the asshole in the situation. I don't want the little guy getting euthanized because I inadvertently sent him into a PTSD frenzy. (I realize this was the wrong call now, allowing a dangerous dog to stay on property.) She was crying at this point, my adrenaline was pumping and clouding my judgement. I repeated my unnecessarily hostile mantra of "you keep that fucking dog in your room. It doesn't go out to pee, it doesn't go on a walk, it stays in your room" (not the exact wording, but the basic overall message, but an F-bomb was dropped. Many of them) "if it's out of that room it has it's muzzle on. Okay?" She agrees, she continues apologizing, and I just look at the guy checking in with a "can you believe this shit?" look. She leaves, guy's like "I would have broke his God damn neck. You're bleeding everywhere dude." I still couldn't feel anything so I offered up some variation of "meh, tis but a flesh wound. It's fine." and he insists I peroxide my wound, put on gauze, etc before I check him in. We get to talking and next thing I knew I realized an hour had passed before I'm finally like "dude we need to get you checked in." We do so, he stays up there for a little while longer. He comments that my hand is still bleeding and that he can see red dots on the side of my shirt where blood must rubbed on from my hand. He tells me if I need anything to call his room (which was super strange but also not really. Favorite guest ever.) and he heads upstairs. I go to the bathroom to redress my wounded hand, see the now super noticable blood on my polo shirt, lift the shirt and see 6 puncture wounds around my ribcage. Fluffy somehow managed to break the skin without tearing my polo shirt or under shirt. I don't understand how he did it but the son of a bitch has skills and I've got to give him credit.
I called the 3-11 girl terrified I was about to get fired for letting her stay after the adrenaline levels dropped back to normal and I realized what a stupid decision it was on my part I sent her pictures and she freaked out and offered to come back up so I could go to the hospital (literally willing to basically pull a double and then do a turnaround 3-11 later today. I feel the need to reiterate how much I love this hotel and these new coworkers so much. I mean who does that?) I declined, told her "girl I'm good, It doesn't hurt at all. I've got this." She reassured me that it was a judgement call that was mine to make and that she had my back.
Fluffy and Karen left about 5 AM, muzzle on, and apologies aplenty... but not from Fluffy. Fluffy stared me down. I was shaken not stirred to my core and the little evil mastermind knew it. If this were a fistfight I would admit unashamedly that he beat my ass. I got my ass whooped by this four legged asshole. She begged me not to call the police again, my hand at this point was throbbing (it hurts bruh. It's "feel cute, might have surgeon amputate later" level aching), and I assured her again that I wouldn't report him. I made her tell me when he got his shots (cause God knows I don't want the rabies), who his vet was, where the vet was located, and I googled the shit to make sure it was a legit bet and reminded her that we have her contact information.
So I'm sat here with 6 puncture wounds on my torso, a deep ass gash on the side of my hand (doesn't look bad enough that it needs stitches which is good because I have no insurance at the moment. Eek.) a small bite mark on my bicep, and little scratch on me ear.
Edit: a few pictures of the bites
Torso bites
Palm bite
The one that hurts the most. Side of my hand.
**Yeah, so, update: this. fucking. bitch... Bear with me, it's about to get fun. GM called me around 3 pm said she had spoken to the owner and had her email over the dog's vaccination and shots proof. She demanded I go to the hospital So off I go. No stitches, just antibiotics and painkillers. running on like 2 hours sleep but I still showed up to work (high on painkillers, good times, had to call my mother to come pick me up me from my apartment and take me to work because, yknow, don't drive high)
So anyway, GM was working 3-11 and looked surprised when I got here."I just assumed you wouldn't be able to make it so I was going to do a double" (aww) nah, I'm good bruh, I got this. she then tells me that Karen of Hellhoundria gavee a negative review. Said I cursed her out (you're God damn right) and that I provoked the dog, but didn't explain how I provoked him. boss said she knew Karen was lying so she rolled back the cameras and saw it lunge at me as I was simply picking up popcorn. So yeah, fuck Karen. Boss had already called animal control in her home city, "it's out of your hands, it's my call now so you have nothing to feel guilty about." Super super supportive. Charged Karen the full $250 fee we mention on the reg cards because my blood apparently went all over the carpet during the confusion and boss lady was still infuriated about the negative review.
So yeah, animal control has been called, wounfs have been tended to, and Karen has been added to the DNR list. Sorry if I've got typos and terrible wording, like I said, I'm a wee bit high and sleep deprived. Thank God we're sitting at 8% occupancy. And thank you all for the kind words of support ❤️**
submitted by 7-Bongs to TalesFromTheFrontDesk

It took until my wedding day to do it, but I've finally cut contact

Post-edit: I tried to respond to everyone, but it's getting time that I put away my phone for the evening to wind myself down. I just wanted to say thank you all so much for your kindness and support. Internet strangers you may be, you have warmed my heart and left me feeling so validated and even resolute.
Thank you all so much again. Stay warm and safe!
I made a throwaway just to be able to post to this sub. Obligatory on mobile and don't steal my story without also taking my shitty JNMom.
This...may be a long post.
My mom has been a Just No for my entire life. I have spent my entire life living in fear of her constant surveillance, projection, control, guilt and harassment. A little background with some examples:
  • I am the middle of three. The other two are GC and I was very much the scapegoat. As long as I can remember, I have come dead last to anything going on in their lives or anything they wanted. If my brother wanted a snack, I was expected to cook it for him. If my sister felt that our shared bathroom was too dirty, I was expected to clean it for her. The two of them also spent a lot of my childhood beating the shit out of me, stealing my things, and blaming me for the things they stole from my parents. All of this was fine with my mom because my brother was the holy Oldest and my sister was the sacred Baby. And if my mom didn't want to get them something? Well she just blamed it on me.
  • My mom had a VERY contentious relationship with my dad's family. Apparently she and her MIL never got along and she was often excluded; she ended up taking out her anger on the entire family and would regularly talk down to them and mistreat them on the grounds that she was "better" and they were beneath her. During her extended conflicts with his family, which she regularly started (they were all honestly pretty happy to not have her or us around, but she was insistent on being included in their events) we were used as pawns by her to hurt my father (who enables her) and his family. At no point did the extended family ever make an attempt to alienate us from her (they were always nice enough to us kids and even nice enough to her when she was always unkind to them), but she spent plenty of time and effort to make sure we hated them. She put us in the middle as often as she could, going so far as to pack us up into her car, her screaming about divorcing my dad, driving us to wherever and making it very clear that we couldn't see our father anymore and it was all his mom's (my granny's) fault. The extended family had no interest in trying to have a relationship with us kids because it simply wasn't worth the abuse from my mom. Eventually they all cut contact with us kids because of her attacking them on social media.
  • My mom was only ever emotionally supportive of me if I was actively taking her side in her fights with my dad's family and allowing her to use me as a pawn. Once, she even took me to Disney World JUST so we could go to lunch with my nana (my dad's father's second wife, they married after my dad was an adult so I don't consider her his step-mom) and she could have me tell my nana how much I hated my grandfather and how cruel they were to me (they actually weren't, they were wonderfully supportive of me but I was a teenager desperate for my mother's love). She then took me out shopping as a reward. She spent the entire time bitching about my dad's family, telling me how awful they were, how I was so much better than them, and how they had no right to be proud of me and they were only saying that to piss her off.
  • She prided herself on being "a white Tiger Mom". Anything less than an A was failing, which resulted in constant screaming and yelling. I ended up with severe stomach ulcers at age 17. I couldn't get anything down because I was in so much pain. She was delighted for a chance to make herself out to be an angel mom, "Look how hard she works, the college system is so broken, she has to work this hard to even have a chance". This whole time she was constantly berating me for not eating, for faking, and for not working hard enough. I had regular breakdowns while in school.
  • She monitored my grades daily. Every day, I would get home to her reviewing my grades on her computer. On the first day of pre-calc, I didn't do so hot on a "what do you remember from algebra" quiz. It resulted in her screaming at me about how I've ruined my life and am a failure. (I should add that it's some weird point of pride for her that she failed college algebra three times and had to have my dad take it for her to pass. I also finished pre-calc with an A and went on to As in AP Calc 1 and 2. But that poor quiz made me a failure).
  • Nearly any time she was mad at me, she would grab me by my hair and drag me around the house, screaming in my face. This did not stop until I had a meltdown around 15. Trying to get away from her, I ran to my room and slammed the door. My dad decided to get in on the hair-grabbing action. I eventually got away and locked myself in the bathroom. I was in tears and screaming. They were screaming at me and the only thing I would say was that if they touched me again I'd call the police. I repeated it over and over again. They eventually stopped grabbing me by my hair.
  • I was not allowed to wear my hair the way I wanted. My mom only allowed me to have long hair. Basically a Rachel with blunt bangs. She says it's because her mom always controlled her hair and she hated it. I think it's because it made the above story easier. I wear my hair short now.
  • The first time I cut my hair short (in college), she went to a hair appointment with me (because she insisted) and bitched so hard the entire time that the hairdresses (who was her personal friend) snapped at her. She was going on and on that I was only doing this because I knew she didn't like it and wanted to piss her off. He finally had enough, turned around, wagged his finger at her, and said "It is not all about you". That was the first time anyone ever showed me it was possible to stand up to her. I was 20.
  • When I was 16 I got a job and needed a bank account. Of course I needed her to help me open it. This led to a long, long, LONG history of constant surveillance. I would get home to her checking my bank account (after she checked my grades) and demanding an explanation for every purchase. When I went to college, I bought some dorm decorations at Target. I was still in the car on the way back to my dorm and she called me to SCREAM at me for spending my money. My friends all heard her without her being on speaker, they were absolutely mortified and I wanted to die of shame.
  • When I was in my final year of college, she told me I was a failure with no prospects because I had an interview with a startup. I had called my dad for interview pointers, which she turned into an enormous fight about me being a failure who was trying to drive a wedge between her and my father (it all preciptated from me not being sure how the startup was funded. I genuinely don't even remember the mental gymnastics involved).
  • When I got my first job out of college (signed the paperwork before actually graduating), I didn't have enough money to move out yet so I lived at home. She charged me 10% less than rent on a 1br apartment (I found her spreadsheet comparing the apartments in the area), then continued to regularly monitor my spending, yelling at me for any and every purchase. She would also regularly tell me how I should be buying them gifts and taking them on trips. I should also be helping fund her basement remodel and buy furniture for it.
  • While living at home and paying nearly 1k in monthly rent, I was also expected to cook and clean for my parents and sister and was afforded zero privacy. I was yelled at regularly for not bringing any of my work friends over to meet her. She also told me that I was wrong to think that rent was way too high and that anyone I told would be jealous of my "sweet setup".
  • I moved out. She insisted that I was to call her nightly and spend weekends with her. I eventually managed to stop initiating contact with her. During that time, I only spoke to her if she reached out first.
  • She reached out regularly with guilt trips galore that I wasn't a dutiful enough daughter and she had no idea if I was even alive. She also made it clear that I was expected to be over any time she had guests because they needed entertainment (she doesn't go out, and she doesn't drink. She just expects people to sit on her couch and watch tv with her). She also expected me to come over and take care of her dog any time she wanted, including staying to watch the dog while she took my sister on trips or went to visit my sister at school (she never ONCE went to one of my college events, she even bitched about having to go to my graduation).
  • When I got a dog, she said "You know that this is a major inconvenience for me, right?"
  • When I was planning to move to a new city 800 miles north, she was pissed that my then-fiancé was going to move with me (I hadn't told her we'd gotten engaged because she takes zero interest in my life, so I just take her calls and grey-rock her while she tells me the same three stories about her diet, her dog's diet, and her diet). She told me how she had struggled to make sure I had better than her (sure) and implied that he was a deadbeat. I called her out (subtly) by explaining that not only are we engaged (because she said "He can go with you if he wants to marry you, but you shouldn't be having to support him") but that he was making an enormous sacrifice by giving up his job for me to make a good career move and that I would stand by my partner because he was standing by me. She shut the fuck up.
  • The weekend before I moved, she sent me a text "Are you planning to come see us before you move? We're very busy and can't schedule our lives around you". I was weak and made plans to see them.
  • The weekend after I moved, she sent me a photo of my dad walking with my god-sister's daughter with the caption "you took his little girl and his grand-dog away". I didn't respond.
  • The last time she bothered to call me, I mentioned that fiancé and I would be getting married in the next few months once we got a marriage license sorted out (things were pretty shut down because Covid). She just said "Oh!" followed by telling me about an article she was reading about people having "Zoom Weddings". I told her we wouldn't be doing that so she just changed the subject to her dog's diet.
  • So many other examples of her treating me like a doormat and me subjecting my then-fiancé to her bullshit because I was too weak to just not respond.
ON TO WHAT HAPPENED!
I have a credit card that my mom can't access. I had some wedding-related expenses that got put on that card, which I paid off when I got paid, as I do every month. The same day, I get a text from my dad saying "Make sure you don't buy so much that you need a bigger apartment for your stuff". Of course. My mom can see my bank account. She can see that I made a credit card payment (I actually got the credit card because I didn't want her seeing where I was buying things but was too afraid to open my own checking in just my name).
I ignored the text and immediately called the bank to check the process for removing her from my account. They said that I would have to go into an office with her or have her fill out forms and mail them in. I explained that we're estranged and she uses her access to harass me, is there anything I can do. They said I can open a new account in just my name, transfer my funds, and close the account without having to have her okay. Awesome. I open a new account and transfer the bulk of my funds. I leave just enough to cover any direct debits while they transition.
Two days later (and four days before my wedding), she calls me. I pick up the phone and the first thing she says is "Did you get a new bank account?" I said yes. She starts asking for details and I try to remember all the advice I've seen in this sub to limit details. I tried to keep it minimal, said I opened an account and will be closing that one once my direct debits and deposits transition. She then says "Don't you think you should have told me before you transferred your money?" I told her, very calmly, "No, it's my money, I can do what I want with it." She then responds "You can have your own bank account, but you have to understand that I keep an eye on your balance and you should have told me first". I said "Frankly, I don't appreciate that you monitor my bank account and call and text me about it." She called me a selfish bitch, then started saying how I was missing out on "all the advantages" of having her on my bank account (she refers to it as being "under" her). I asked her "What advantages?" She ignored me and kept saying that there were advantages. While I was explaining that it's also a massive security risk for her to be able to access my account from her own login, she kept talking over me about "all the advantages". I asked her again, "what advantages?!" And she hung up after calling me a bitch. My fiancé comes in with the dog as the call ends and he sees I'm worked up. We talk about it and I resolve to cut off my family as soon as I can get that account closed (she had joked numerous times in the past about freezing my account to cut me off from my money).
Forward to a few days ago, the day of my wedding. I wake up to a text from my mom. The text says "I do not know how that account is set up regarding ownership. If you are not authorized to close it without me please let me know when you are going to stop using it as I will incur fees once you stop direct deposits. That was a free account because you were a student and has remained free because you had direct deposits." Immediately my anxiety flared up and I was pissed off. The morning of my wedding. After discussion with my fiancé (me venting and him being supportive) I decided that I would close the account now and cut them out. So I started with deleting my Facebook and blocking her, my dad, and my sister on all forms of social media and communication.
I was terrified to do this. My hands were literally shaking, but once I was done it felt like a weight off. We ended up having a beautiful elopement ceremony, lovely pictures with a photographer, and all around a great start to our new lives.
It was time. I wish I'd had the strength to do it sooner, but better late than never.
submitted by Jaded-Salamander3947 to JUSTNOMIL