Back in the early 2000s, I am finishing a long and terrible shift at a huge big box retail store. This story is pieced together from a few memories, but the gist of it remains the same. I’m in the break room at the back, and a coworker has noticed my mood.

Coworker #1: “Rough shift?”

Me: “Some brats were throwing jars of baby food at the wall just to watch them break and splatter. The mom just laughed and told me that it’s my job to clean it up.”

Coworker #1: “Ugh, I got it worse. I got one kid — must have been twelve, so definitely old enough to know better — who decided to pee on the carpet in the clothing department. He was laughing as he did it; that little s*** knew what he was doing.”

Coworker #2: *Joining in* “Wait, was that kid in a white tank top, and the mom had huge blonde hair in a terrible perm?”

Me: “Uh… yeah, I think so, plus a younger brother.”

Coworker #1: “Yeah, that’s mine, too! D***, they were the same family?”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, I could tell. They were also walking around the store eating rotisserie chicken and drinking sodas they hadn’t paid for, and they told me to f*** myself when I told them they had to pay for it.”

Coworker #1: “How have these people not been kicked out? We reported them to our managers, right?”

As we say this, another exhausted-looking coworker comes into the break room.

Coworker #3: “Did you guys not hear the screaming coming from the checkouts a while ago? Some woman was being dragged out by the police while her two sons were watching. Apparently, she was using her kids as distractions while she was stealing some stuff.”

Coworker #2: “Blonde hair, huge perm?”

Coworker #3: “Yeah! How did you know?”

All Of Us: “Just a hunch.”

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The Truly Awful Stand Out

I work in a high-end cosmetics store.

Customer: “I need to replace this; it just stopped working.”

She hands over a very expensive deodorant sold by a specialty company. My manager can’t tell if it’s defective or not, but we’re quite busy, so she just lets her walk out with a new one, and we think nothing more of it.

A couple of weeks later when we’re quieter, I notice that she’s back.

Customer: “I need to replace this; it just stopped working.”

I swear it is the exact same wording.

Me: “Oh, that’s strange. Is this the replacement we gave you for the one that stopped working last time?”

Customer: *Shocked that I remembered* “Oh… uh… maybe? I don’t know.”

Me: “Well, let me have a look-see. You seem to just be having the worst luck with this brand!”

I open it up to find that it’s been completely used up and is empty.

Me: “Oh, well, there you go! It’s not defective; it’s just been used up!”

Customer: “Oh… already? That went by kinda fast.”

Me: “Well, it’s a four-ounce tube, so it’s a standard size. Either way, I am soooo glad I have been able to figure out this mystery for you. Now you don’t have to come in claiming it’s defective every time it runs out!”

Customer: “Uh… yeah… uh… Thanks.” *Slinks out*

An older gentleman comes into the store with his digital camera.

Customer: “It’s broken; it’s not powering up. Can you repair it for me?” 

Me: “Let me have a look.”

It seems like it’s out of power, so for troubleshooting, I replace the batteries, and it seems to work just fine.

Customer: “Oh! What did you do?”

Me: “It just needed new batteries.”

I play around with it a little and test a few functions.

Me: “I think you’re all set.”

Customer: “Thank you! I was worried because I thought it was broken. How much do I owe you?”

Me: “Nothing, you’re all set. There’s no repair job to pay for.”

He hands me a twenty.

Customer: “Here. Take this, then.” 

Me: “Seriously, no charge.”

Customer: “Son, let me tell you: I am paying you for your expertise. It might have been a simple fix to a young man like you, but to me, that is knowledge that I am willing to pay for. Never undervalue yourself and your knowledge in this world, ya hear me?”

Me: “I hear you, sir.”

Customer: “Good. And if you really need more justification, I’m paying for those nice new batteries you put in my camera!”

And with that, he was gone. My all-time favorite customer.

My dad likes to tell me this story of how he took part in Swedish history. Before 1979, Sweden considered homosexuality as a mental disorder. My dad was aware of this but didn’t think too much about it until his boss came into the office angry one day and started shouting at all of them.

Boss: “All of you! If any of you are f****** [gay slurs] or friends with [gay slurs], you’re f****** fired!”

Office Worker: “Are you okay, [Boss]? Where is all this coming from?”

After some cajoling, it was discovered that the boss had just caught his son kissing his boyfriend, and he’d then kicked him out.

Dad: “So… wait, where is he now?”

Boss: “F****** on the streets for all I care! No [gay slur] is a son of mine!”

My dad was very disheartened to see this, and for the first time, he realised what homophobia was and how ugly it could be. My dad is also quite petty and inventive, and he inadvertently got involved with a movement he didn’t realise until later that other Swedes were doing at the time.

In protest to the boss’s behaviour, (he was taking his anger out abusively on all the staff) my dad decided he’d had enough and called in sick, but what he said was:

Dad: “I’m calling in gay.”

Boss: “You’re what?!”

Dad: “I’m calling in gay. You said if anyone was gay, they’re fired.”

Boss: “That’s not funny, [Dad]. I know you just got married.”

Dad: “Yes, but I’m feeling a little gay today. I might be coming down with something.”

The boss played it off as a prank and thought my dad was just hungover and gave him the day off. When my dad didn’t go in the next day:

Boss: “Where are you?”

Dad: “Oh, I’m even gayer than I was yesterday. I don’t think it’s going away any time soon.”

Boss: “Are you trying to get fired?”

Dad: “Of course not, but since you said—”

Boss: “I know what I said, but you’re obviously just trying to make a point, and I don’t appreciate you doing it at my expense! Come in today or you’re fired!”

Dad: “So, just to be clear, you’re firing me because I have what the law calls a mental disorder?”

His boss tried to backpedal but it was laid out clearly that my dad was effectively calling in sick, and the boss was firing him for it, which was illegal. The boss actually tried to apologise, but my dad said it was his son he needed to apologise to.

My dad eventually found a new job after claiming a few months of benefits from social services who had to fork out money because, under their laws, he had a “mental disorder”. Sweden saw the light in 1979 and changed the law so that no one had to “call in gay” anymore.

It wasn’t until decades later that my dad realised he was doing the same thing the Swedish gay movement was doing at the time. He was just trying to prove that his boss was an a**hole and get paid while he looked for another job!

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Harassment (Graphic harassment by former boss)

I was interviewing for a job. The interviewer was a man in his fifties, and I was a twenty-five-year-old woman interviewing for my first job that would use my college degree. The application asked me to list every job I’d had in the last ten years. The job in this conversation is one I had over the summer after I turned eighteen.

Interviewer: “So, I see you worked at [Construction Company] for just three weeks. What happened there?”

Me: “I would rather not discuss that.”

Interviewer: “I’m guessing you were fired, so I’ll give you some free advice. Working somewhere for such a short time does not look good for you. It tells me — your potential future boss — that you might be trouble for my company. So, unless it was something incredibly traumatizing or you legally can’t discuss it, I’d like to know why you only worked there for three weeks.”

Me: “It wasn’t my fault, but—”

Interviewer: *Scoffs* “It never is.”

Me: “Well, my supervisor called me one night and told me he wanted to fill all my holes until I oozed with his… fluid. I told Human Resources. They investigated and determined that it was better to let me go than fire him.”

Interviewer: “Oh.”

Me: “So. Yeah.”

He paused for a second, clearly not expecting what I’d said.

Interviewer: “Well, things like that don’t just come out of nowhere. What did you—”

Me: “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t flirt with him. I didn’t get drunk or start something I couldn’t finish. I didn’t wear skimpy clothing or make any innuendos. I existed, and that was enough.”

Interviewer: “Well. Thank you for your time. Unfortunately, I do not think this is the job for you.”

Me: “I see that.”

I got up and walked away before he could continue. I had two more interviews before finding a job, and neither one asked why I had only worked for [Construction Company] for three weeks.