I work on a construction site as an admin — not one of the physical laborers but in the office. I’m also about as white as one can get before they start to glow in the dark, so most people assume I only know English. I actually speak four languages, and I’m working on a fifth.

I am sitting at my desk while our safety officer is doing a welcome orientation for some of our new employees. They are currently taking a break for the safety officer to address something else. I have just introduced myself, and they are standing near my desk conversing in Spanish, gesturing at a map on the wall as if that’s what they’re talking about.

Employee #1: “I bet she likes her hair pulled. I’d give it a good yank.”

Employee #2: “No, she’s probably boring — on her back, doing nothing.”

Employee #1: “No, girls like her are too wound up. They gotta let it out.”

I stand up, timesheets in hand.

Me: *In English* “Okay, guys, I need you to fill these out and turn them in on Friday before you leave. Any questions?”

Employee #1: “Uh… No English?”

Me: “Your entire safety orientation was in English.”

Employee #2: “Okay, okay, thank you.” *In Spanish* “Don’t be dumb.”

Me: “Any questions?”

They take the paperwork and begin gesturing at different things on the paper, but they are actually trying to guess how big my nipples are by relating them to coins.

Me: *In Spanish* “There are women on site who speak Spanish, too.”

Both employees stopped dead and turned a deep red. When the safety officer returned, I told him what had happened. He stopped the orientation and sent the two employees out immediately, informing their supervisors that they would not be working on our project.

I have the misfortune of having a disgusting pervert for a coworker; he’s the kind who grabbed onto the phrase “locker room talk” and ran an Olympic marathon with it. As a fellow man, I have been an unwilling audience to his BS.

One day, I was in the break room with earbuds in, happily enjoying the latest video of the Puppy Bowl, when [Coworker] flumped down at the table and complained.

Coworker: “Look at this! Isn’t this just sick?!”

I was then treated to his phone, opened to a chat window, and shoved in my face. My puppy-endorphined brain got whiplashed by not one, but two d**k pics.

Me: “Dude. Bruh. Why are you…?”

Coworker: “Some chick sent them to me!”

Now I paused, a little intrigued and a lot amused. As stated above, [Coworker] is known for his shenanigans, and the idea of any woman turning the tables is enough to catch my attention. I paused my video, popped out my earbuds, and engaged in this conversation.

Me: “A woman sent you d**k pics?”

Coworker: “Just read it!”

I took his phone and scrolled. This was the text conversation, roughly, expanded from the typical chat abbreviations.

Coworker: “Hey, beautiful!”

Woman: “Hey.”

Coworker: “What are you doing?”

Woman: “Nothing at the moment. I have class at 11:00, but that’s it. How about you?”

Coworker: “Lying in bed, but I should be doing you. You’re so f****** hot!”

[Coworker] sent a d**k pic.

Woman: “Thanks.”

The woman replied with what I would guess was a Googled d**k pic from another man. Hilariously, it appeared to be larger than [Coworker]’s.

I struggled not to burst out laughing as [Coworker] promptly went off the rails in text.

Coworker: “WHAT THE F***?! WHY WOULD YOU SEND ME THAT?!”

Woman: “Because you sent me one. I mean, it’s only polite to send one back, right?”

Coworker: “I don’t want to see another man’s junk!”

Woman: “Well, why would you send me one, then?”

Coworker: “I thought you would like it!”

Woman: “Why? I never asked for one.”

Coworker: “Because women are [insult for promiscuous women] for my d**k on the Internet.”

Woman: “As demonstrated, I can find better.”

Then, there was a notification that the woman had blocked [Coworker].

I’m pretty sure my own eyebrows had been scorched by that sassy lady’s burn. I sat back and struggled not to laugh myself into a stitch in my side while handing the phone back to [Coworker]. 

Coworker: “What’s so d*** funny?”

Me: “She got you good, man. If you don’t want to get d**k pics, don’t send them out in the first place. And if you don’t want to be insulted that hard, definitely don’t give her an opportunity by bragging about your own.”

My break was now over, but somehow, I didn’t feel like it had been wasted. Despite the eyeball bleach that I may need later, it was worth it to read that exchange.

[Coworker] sulked for two whole days before returning to normal. I doubt anything was learned.

I work in the lingerie department at a department store. This guy comes in.

Customer: “I’m looking for something sexy for my girlfriend.”

Me: “What size is she?”

He looks me up and down in the creepiest possible way.

Customer: “About your size.”

Whenever a guy is creepy, I do my usual thing where I get them to spend way too much on lingerie, which both drains their bank account — thus getting me a good commission — and makes sure that whoever the creep is dating at least gets something good out of the relationship.

A week later, the same guy comes in with a woman — who is definitely not my size — and his two small children. I glance at the woman’s finger and realize that she is not in fact his “girlfriend” but his wife. He sort of sheepishly stands behind her, not making eye contact with me, while she returns the lingerie he bought (I think it was probably for the person he is having an affair with) because it obviously doesn’t fit her.

I don’t want to be the one to break it to her. I mean, it isn’t completely inconceivable that he just “accidentally” called her his girlfriend and completely estimated the wrong size for her. So instead, I happily take back the lingerie and then make sure the guy spends hours waiting while I find his wife multiple more expensive items in her size to replace them with.

While I’m ringing her up, she thanks me.

Wife: “I don’t know how he got my size so wrong; he’s always gotten it right before.”

In response, I sort of shrugged, but I shot the guy a look of absolute disgust, which I think she caught. I overheard her start to interrogate him about my reaction on the way out.

I never knew what happened after, but I hope that woman ran for the hills from that a**hole.

One of my waitresses has an annoying customer walk up behind her while she’s holding a full tray of drinks. They whisper in her ear:

Customer: “I’d like to get into your pants!”

Waitress: “Sorry, there’s only room for one a**hole in my pants.”

She walked away from the burn victim.

We sadly have this very regular trashy customer who comes in stinking of booze and tries to buy more booze, all while driving. (Trust us, we’ve reported it.) Just to add some extra icing to this crap cupcake is that he likes to harass the staff, especially the women.

One of our new hires has been warned about him, and we point him out when he comes in. He sees this new pretty young woman and makes a beeline straight for her.

Customer: “Well, howdy, darling! I ain’t seen you around before.”

New Hire: “I’m new, sir. Can I help you find anything?”

Customer: “Don’t be callin’ me ‘sir’. That’s what I call my daddy. Unless you want to call me ‘Daddy’…”

New Hire: “Sir, please let me know if you need my help finding an item we sell. If not, I’m busy.”

The customer leans forward and tries to stop her from leaving by touching her shoulder.

New Hire: “Sir, I’m not a goat or your sister, so get your hands off of me.”

Thankfully, that was the first time he had been even remotely physical to any of us, and it was enough to warrant his ban once and for all!