What is wrong with men? What makes them assume they're superior to a female peer, even when it is unbelievably obvious that she is more knowledgeable on the subject? These insecure, bratty men truly go the distance to appear superior, even when in reality, they look pathetic. These women encountered some of the most bizarrely entitled men in the history of mankind. Somewhere out there, these mens' mothers are very disappointed. Content has been edited for clarity.
Clearly More Knowledgable
“When I was in college getting my BFA in studio art, I worked as a stage carpenter in my school’s theater. I started doing it in high school, so by the time I was a senior in college, I had a few years of experience. I had a friend who was a student in my school’s conservatory, and his senior project was an opera that he wrote with another senior. At the beginning of the year, he asked me to be the set designer and be the Technical Director for the show. It was a smaller production, and I had a few other students that I took on to help me, so with that I said yes.
Fast-forward to tech week (the week before the show opens). Between runs of the show, I went to the nearby hardware store to pick up a few things that I didn’t have on location, including a cheap brush for touch ups to the set. So, even though I’m dressed in obvious carpenter clothing (jeans with lots of worn areas, completely covered in paint, and steel toed boots), I’m a girl in a hardware store. Part of me always expects an employee to ask if I need help, because hey, it’s their job—and also, I’m a girl in a hardware store. Most of the time the interactions are pleasant, but a few times I have definitely been treated like a girl who knows nothing.
This time, I’m running in and out, I’ve been to this hardware store before, and I know exactly what I need and where it is. I get to the paint section, and step back from the row so I can see what they have, while I weigh what brush will work best for what I need at the cheapest price. An older man, who is not an employee, is in the same aisle. He asks me what I’m looking for. I’m in a bit of a rush, and I don’t need help, so I give a kind of non-answer, something like, ‘Just a paintbrush.’
This man proceeds to tell little old me, with paint in her hair and on her clothes, about the different types of paintbrushes, and starts making suggestions to me, even though he has no idea what I need it for. When I reach for a cheap touch up brush, he proceeds to tell me the colloquial name for it, and that it’s a cheap brush that you can just throw away after you’re done. I’m still completely baffled by the way he talked to me like I was unrecognizable as a professional.”
Living In His Own Fantasy
“My husband and I went to help a friend of ours move. Turns out that when we got there to help him load the truck, he hadn’t even started packing yet. Why do people do this?! Anyways, we stayed to help this guy, who had one of his friends over. This man immediately zeroed in on me, sitting there and very efficiently folding shirts to put in a suitcase. He comes right over and says, ‘Hey, hand me that shirt you’re folding.’
I did so, thinking that he needed it for padding or something. He immediately starts bunching it around into a rumpled mess, narrating what he’s doing like a YouTube tutorial. It looked awful. I was so shocked I didn’t react as he handed me the wadded up shirt back like he just did me a huge favor and said, ‘I used to work at Brookes Brothers. Now that you know how to do it, you can fold all your husband’s shirts for him.’
Cool right? I tried actively to avoid this guy for the rest of the evening but I had yet another run in. We are getting to the end and it’s crunch time with packing. With permission from the owner, I put a half used lint roller in the trash pile. This same guy wanders in and picks it up. He looks at me and says, ‘When are you going to pack this?’
I keep my cool and answer, ‘I’m not. That’s the garbage pile.’
His face lights up and he comes over to me with it and says, ‘I don’t know if you knew this or not,’ as he starts to peel off the outer layer of sticker, ‘These things have lots of layers for stickers, so you can keep reusing them. Now you don’t have to throw this away!’
Then he put it on top of the pile of papers I was packing and wanders off. This guy thought I was too stupid to peel the stickers off a lint roller.”
“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had one or two cavities every time I went to the dentist. I never had a big sweet tooth and I brushed my teeth as often as any kid does, but it never failed. I always got one. My brother on the other hand loves sugar and always made sure to eat candy if it was available. Somehow he never got a cavity until he was 17. Go figure.
I went to the dentist last week to get a tooth pulled. I got an X-ray and lo and behold, I have a cavity. I explain my history to the dentist and ask him why my brother didn’t get cavities but I do. He said, without any humor in his voice whatsoever, ‘I’ve found in my experience that men tend to go for sports drinks while women like sweeter drinks, like frappuccinos. The excess sugar hurts their teeth and makes them more prone to cavities.’
Silence. I stare him waiting for him to say he’s joking. Nothing. So I say, ‘Well I don’t like sweets and I don’t care for coffee.’
He just goes, ‘Oh, well then I don’t know.’
So, obviously I’m gonna have to cut all those frappés out of my diet. Apparently, I’ve been supporting a crazy addiction ever since I was a child, and this was my wake up call.”
No Way To Win
“I manage restaurants for a living. One time, this guy ordered a soup to go. When I gave it to him, he told me that the soup is larger when he orders it while dining in. I explain to him that it’s still a 5 oz portion. The bowl just looks larger when it’s for dine-in guests because, well, because that’s how it’s designed.
He argued with me for so long that I got the 5 oz ladle and brought it full of soup and an empty soup cup to go. I ladled it into a bowl for dine in, and then into the to-go soup cup. He still didn’t believe me. He refused to leave, so I went to get him another soup to go on the house to get rid of him.
The male manager I worked alongside asked what I was doing, so I told him. He went and just told the guy, ‘That’s the same size as when you eat it here.’
And the guy thanked him and left. Without the extra soup. Because all he needed was another man to say it.”
Family Tree Tell-All
“I once got into an argument with a man in an online ancestry group. I happened across his attempt at mapping out a family line of mine (on my mother’s side, so I have a different surname with a completely different country of origin), that also was somehow connected to him. He was livid when he saw that one of the people in this family line was recorded as having died in New York, when everyone knew she lived in San Francisco her whole life and had no family recorded in New York. He went ahead and made a public correction to the family line, while grumbling about how people really need to check sources.
When I corrected him, saying that she really did die in New York, while staying with her daughter and her daughter’s family, he so kindly explained that I was a complete moron.
Except I was there when she died. In New York. She was my great grandma, I was a preteen at the time, and he absolutely refused to believe me, even going so far as to claim I falsified her death certificate. I legitimately can’t figure out why he was so emotionally invested in her and to this day my family. I now have a running joke where, when anyone goes anywhere, like the store, to work, or a vacation, I feign anger and shout, ‘CHECK YOUR SOURCES, MORON!’
Can’t Even Control Her Own Car
This man came over and told me exactly what I can do with my own property. I was 30 years old at the time. I was downtown in the evening, having just finished dinner and drinks with a group of friends. I’m sitting on the hood of my newer model Subaru Outback, chatting with my guy friend, who is standing on the sidewalk next to me and my vehicle. This man (with wife and adult daughter) meanders by on the sidewalk and says, ‘You shouldn’t sit on other people’s cars.’
I’m not sure if he thought I sat on a random person’s car, or he thought the car belonged to my male friend, but either way it was none of his business. I say ‘Excuse me?’ rudely, so he knows I’m not amused. And he dares to repeat himself even louder while still meandering away, ‘You shouldn’t sit on other people’s cars.’
So I say, ‘Well, it’s my car,’ stupidly thinking that would end the conversation. Nope. ‘
‘Well you still shouldn’t sit on it.’
I lost it while shouting at him, ‘Since I pay for the whole thing, I’ll do what I please with it!’
I just remember feeling so bad for his wife and daughter. What an absolute embarrassment of a dad and husband.”
Using Her Own Words Against Her
“I’m a female assistant editor for film and TV. It’s a very technical job, as it requires a lot of organization and experience. You work side by side with the editor and above both of you is a post supervisor, who manages the department. Post supervisors are almost always wannabe editors that failed up. They have technical skills but usually no drive or creativity. They are almost always excellent at letting assistants do their work and solve their problems, and then taking the credit. They are also excellent at side stepping blame when something goes wrong. I’ve never met one I liked.
At any rate, I’m on a job and the supervisor is probably the biggest tool I’ve ever met. Plus, he understands nothing about the work flow. At one point as we’re finishing a movie, he asks the entire office why a film is split into 20 minute reels during finishing. I explain that it’s so minor adjustments can be made at the last minute to one reel, without affecting the others. I can’t believe I have to explain this to someone who has supposedly done this job for 20 years or whatever. A few days later, he’s giving a producer a walk through. I overhear him explaining that he’s guiding us through the important step of splitting the film into reels and why it needs to be done. A few days later, that producer calls me and explains to me that another movie of theirs is entering post, and how important it is to split it into reels.
The kicker was a pre-production meeting on the next movie, where that awful post supervisor started explaining to me what reels were. And that’s the film industry for women.”
“This only recently happened at the restaurant I work at. I’m a waitress and I was cleaning dishes off of tables, when someone else’s customer waves me over to him. He was alone at his table. By the time I make it to his table, he had laid his head flat on the table and he was staring intensely at a table in another coworkers section. ‘Need anything?’ I politely ask.
He points at a table in the distance, with his head still on the table, and says, ‘You ladies aren’t cleaning these tables very well!’
‘Oh, well that one’s still dirty, someone just ha-‘
He picks his head up and cuts me off. ‘You can’t see it from your angle, but there are cup rings on all of the tables.’
Spoiler: there aren’t.
‘Do you want me to wipe your table down?’ I ask him.
‘No mine is fine, all of the others are dirty though.’
He then proceeds to explain and demonstrate in the air the proper motion to use when wiping off a table. I was trying to manage my facial expression so I didn’t come off rudely, but I must have come off as confused or something. He quickly got frustrated and tried to repeat his spiel on how towels work, so I shot him a quick, ‘Sorry about that, I’ll make sure to tell someone,’ and left.”
He Turned White As A Ghost
“I became a TV producer at a young age. I had a small crew, and we were hired to film behind-the-scenes work on another production. I didn’t have an assistant, so I took care of getting on camera releases from the other crew, the one we were there to film.
One of the camera operators refused to sign, telling me he was part of the actor’s union and he wouldn’t sign without his agent. That’s cool, I get it. So I announced to my crew to avoid filming him. He called me over and explained to me how to do my job. He said, ‘Next time, the right response would be to go get your producer and have him handle it!’
I looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘I am the producer,’ and WHOA did it feel good to see him go white as a ghost! It’s a small industry I work in, so he definitely shot himself in the foot that day!”
He’s Defintiely Lying
“When I was in my mid 20s, I spent the night with a man. We didn’t hook up, I just slept at his house after a party. My parents were disheartened. My dad took it really badly. He then explained how, at work, the women all talk about how saving yourself for marriage is so important, and how it is important to choose the right man for a woman’s first time, and how I should have done better.
Really? In a police force? The policewomen will discuss the importance of chastity and choosing the right man for deflowering with their male colleagues? In a progressive society? In the 2010s? When it’s been decades since they had their first times? Sure. Right.
And then he kept on talking about stuff that are important to women, according to women, with absolutely no regard for my opinion because, ‘It’s what the other women at work say,’ and, ‘How come, if you don’t feel that way, other women feel the way I say they feel?'”
Their Defense Was Blown To Pieces
“So this has happened more than once, surprisingly. I have owned and run a glass-blowing business since 1995. The name of the business includes the city I lived in when I formed the business, Eugene, which doubles as a man’s name.
I’ve had multiple men tell me they learned from Eugene and studied under him for various lengths of time, ranging from hours to years. When I tried to explain that there was no Eugene, and that I am the artist (a woman) who created all the art, more than one of them tried to argue with me. They would insist that they learned from Eugene and know him very well!
There is no other glass business with a name even close to mine, and there’s no glass artist even close to the area named Eugene.”
And There Goes Their Marriage
“One evening, my husband chose to fly off the handle after a long work week and pick an argument after a really nice ‘date night’. Luckily, I stayed as centered as I could and stood up for myself, as this was a repeating pattern for him. Turns out that was a bad idea? He called me ‘crazy’. I asked him to please give me examples of me ‘being crazy’.
My husband got more angry and got up to go to my side of the bed. He said that my medication was making me crazy. He pulled out three bottles from my bedside table and slammed them down on the table, saying, ‘This is what’s making you crazy!’
I looked at the labels, showed him and explained to him what he had ‘shown me’. It consisted of an anti-nausea pill only taken for times when I feel nauseous(rarely), an anti-viral medication for cold sores (which I luckily only take once or twice a year), and a beta blocker used for anxiety. This one was prescribed for me when we were in court for eight months, dealing with his ex-wife (who probably is actually insane).
Obviously I was quite put off by this and asked him why in the world he would try to use that tactic. Again he ‘explained’ to me that this was the only way he ‘could shut me down’ because I was arguing back with him. Thankfully I had the beta blocker and was able to sleep after this ridiculously humiliating experience.”
He Knows All
“It was all about my nationality. So I look pretty ethnically ambiguous. People guess or assume that I’m Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, or Hispanic at pretty much the same frequency. My friend and I once were travelling through Serbia last year, and we got to talking with an old man on the train. He asked us where we were from, and I explained that my friend is from Finland, but we both live and study in Sweden. And then he said ‘But you’re Spanish, right?’
Me: ‘No, no I’m Swedish.’
Old Man: ‘But really, you’re Spanish, though?’
Me: ‘Well, ethnically it’s a bit of a mixed bag, but I don’t think I have an relations in Spain. And I have lived in Sweden my whole life, so I do consider myself Swedish.’
Old man: ‘Are you sure you’re not Spanish? You look Spanish.’
Me: ‘I’m not.’
Old man: ‘No, you are.’
After a few rounds of similar comments, I finally changed seats.”
“My boss explained to me that Microsoft Excel can do calculations. He then offered to teach me how to do calculations in Excel. All of this is occurring as I’m trying to show him the Excel sheet I made to calculate my data. I was explaining that the entry is too time-consuming, and we need to find a better way to handle data. A few months later, he called me a ‘naughty girl’ when I brought in cupcakes. His boss, THE CTO OF THE COMPANY, stroked my back for a solid fifteen minutes once during a process development meeting while I actively scooted away from him.
I’m a nearly thirty year old research associate. I’m just tired. I’m so, so, so deeply tired all the time.”
She Went Off
“Once, there was someone who was trying to explain not only my job (which he didn’t understand), but also which information I was aware of. Keep in mind I had far more experience in this field than he did. I did IT support while studying the subject in college. My boss was alright, but the person in charge of IT for the other department had no idea about IT. We butted heads quite a few time. He would repeat the same criticisms to all of us. It’s not fast enough, this old-fashioned process always worked, I didn’t see you, so you didn’t work.
I exploded when he painfully explained to me why setting up a student project did not work. We did not communicate with them enough. And we did not do our work. And we took too long. And we had every bit of information provided to us that could have been necessary. All in all, it was entirely our fault.
I exploded in his face about how he had no idea what was fast or slow, and how we had talked to anybody anywhere on the line and no one gave us even half the information. He should be thankful we were working more than our monthly hours, and he could be thankful we did not just let the project totally tank. Unfortunately, I was asked to leave his room. But he was a bit less of a pain in the neck afterwards.”
A Real Prince Charming
“I once attended this college my dad worked at just for a semester, to finish up two classes I needed to graduate. My youngest brother was also there. He happened to be friends with a guy that used to attend the school, and after meeting the guy ONCE, he was adamant that I go out on a date with him. My brother gave him my number, even after I told him not to, and I was bullied by three other people into going on a date with him.
On the drive over to the movie theater, the guy told me that he had asked around school about me. He said I had the reputation of being the ‘weird girl who always reads’. He told me that I shouldn’t be reading so much, because there is such a thing as being ‘too smart’, and no one would want to be friends with, much less date, a girl like that. He even said he read it in a book once.
Let’s just say we didn’t see or talk to each other after he dropped me home later.”
Clearly She’s Smarter
“I was an intern for a tech company. I had just graduated with my BA in computer science, along with a minor in business. I sat next to a dude on a bus going to an event who (without knowing what my degree was) told me that a BA in computer science is totally pointless. Apparently, one should only get a Bachelors of Science, especially for skilled developers.
Now for any outsiders here, the difference between the two degrees in computer science is not necessarily the coding classes, but actually what math classes you take. You take more math with a Bachelors of Science and a few more engineering courses. It’s pretty easy to take the same amount of coding classes between the two. I chose to get a BA, so I would have time to get a business minor and make myself more marketable for management roles and analytics.
I gave him a look that could kill and called him out for this nonsense. I was just about to get a job at the company I had applied to, and I was furious that this dude was acting like such a loser.”
So Far Off The Mark
“One time a man tried to tell me how a period worked. For your information, I am a woman, present as a woman, and obviously have had a few periods in my day.
‘Well, the egg is released and comes down the fallopian tube. If sperm doesn’t join up with it at that point, she will shed the cell and whine about it for a week.’
I asked him how he thought a period worked, if we were just getting rid of a single cell?
‘Well, obviously, there’s a lot of trauma that comes from losing a single cell, so there will be a ton of blood. How much blood? Huh, maybe a half gallon or so?’
When he noticed my eyes widen in shock, he said, ‘I know, a lot right?!’
So now I know this guy is obviously a total expert, so I asked him why the cramps happen. He said, and I quote, ‘You weirdos are just upset you didn’t have hook up enough that month.’
Oh my god, I have never laughed so hard at a man.”
“I was packaging meat. Exciting, I know. Anyway, I was packing six sausage links to a bag, before placing them to my left for the next step (where they got sealed). This was assembly line type of work, so you do your job, and the next person does theirs, so on and so forth. Well of course, the people before are finishing earlier than me, as I am the second to last step. The guy who was cutting the sausage right before me finishes then looks around. He notices me and comes over to ‘help’ me.
He comes over, sees how I am packaging the meat, and then tells me I am doing it wrong. He then has the audacity to tell me how to pack the sausages. By the way, I had already packaged about 70 bags of the 80 to 85 bags that where getting done that day. So now, as I am continuing to package the sausage, I have him next to me MANSPLAINING in my ear exactly how to package the meat. His words, of course, mimic exactly what I have been doing all along, and his words are just replicating my exact motions. I even told him to stop Mansplaining to me, only to have him tell me he’s not, and then have him mansplain to me what mansplaining actually is.”
How Could He Be So Stupid?
“My ex-boyfriend argued that women poop in pellets like rabbits, and there was no way we could poop any other way. We were too delicate for it to be ‘like men’.
I actually waited until his family weekly dinner. All the siblings were there, including his sister, sister in laws, and mother, so that was when I mentioned it. It was just delightful to watch their reactions. His brothers have never let him live it down. I ran into one of them last year and he told me they still find the perfect moment to bring it up. Recently they brought it up while hunting. They came across some pellets and said some wild girls must be nearby.”