I went out last Saturday night for random things: soap, laundry detergent, motor oil, and toothpaste. I ended up at Dollar General because it's close to my house. I say that I "ended up" there, because when I left my house needing things, I didn't actually know where I was going. So I found myself parking, finding stuff, and rounding a corner with a double armload of crap (I never get baskets because I instantly forget they exist every time I walk through the door of any retail establishment) inside of the sad overstock sale that is Dollar General at about 5:30 or so last Saturday evening.
The next two things that happened were a woman shouting "FUCK YOU, BRIAN!" and throwing her cellphone at my head. I moved, kind of, and the phone glanced off of my bottom lip, raising a bump. It ricocheted off of the shelf and clattered to the ground somewhere behind me. About the time I got "Hey..." out of my mouth, she unleashed a torrent of honor performance mea culpas like you've never heard/seen and eventually burst into tears. I wasn't even really mad, but I think the combination of me not being Brian, the failed catharsis and whatever makes you so angry with someone that you try to brain them with your phone won out on her emotional load. I said, "I'm not Brian." and "Your phone's probably broken," but that's all I got in there against the hail of apologies and crying and realizations. I kind of just left her in aisle whatever and went and bought my stuff and left. The Dollar General staff responded to this not at all. Vindictive cell attacks must be a thing that happens in there a lot.
When I returned home and told my wife this story, she pronounced it karma. She's probably right.