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Leaving The Register Is Slow To Register

| Montreal, QC, Canada | Working | November 8, 2013

(I have been working at the same grocery supermarket for five years as a simple cashier. I have recently handed in my resignation letter, because working there makes me depressive, and I want to focus on my other jobs and studies. At the beginning of my shift, my manager comes to see me.)

Manager: “Is it true you’re leaving?”

Me: “Yes, I want to focus on my other jobs.”

Manager: “Man! How am I going to manage this place with you gone? I’ll make you change your mind; you’ll see.”

(I laugh it off. A few days later, business is slow, and I’m speaking with my supervisor and mentioning my leaving.)

Supervisor: “Really? How are we going to manage without you?”

Me: “I’m just a cashier! Anyone can do my job.”

Supervisor: “Not as seriously as you do! Let’s check the employee list…”

(She then names every employee who is below me.)

Supervisor: “She’s lazy, she’s always talking with her, she was made supervisor but everyone hates her, she always complains, he’s just a big douche, she’s always late, he’s never available when we need him. See? You’re one of our best employees!”

(I felt sorry for her and my manager, but I didn’t change my mind!)

Silent Night

| Working | November 8, 2013

Stay Until Irrelevant

| Working | November 8, 2013


Little Sister Photobomb

| Related | November 8, 2013


Tall Tales From Little People

| London, England, UK | Related | November 8, 2013

(My five-year-old daughter has just started a new school. I am collecting her one afternoon when the teacher asks to talk to me.)

Teacher: “Hello, Mrs. [My Name]. Your daughter is catching up well, but she has said something recently that I thought I had better ask you about.”

Me: “Okay.”

Teacher: “She has told us all that you are not her real mother. She says that you found her on the doorstep in a basket and adopted her.”

Me: “That’s interesting.”

Teacher: “I don’t really think she is telling the truth, but she is very convincing.”

(I look at my daughter, who is sitting there wide-eyed, listening to her whole fantasy being laid out to me.)

Me: “It wasn’t a basket. It was a cake tin; somebody left me a little fruitcake.”

(I turn my attention back to the teacher.)

Me: “Thanks for letting me know. It’s all a complete fabrication, of course. We’ll have a little chat about the perils of spinning stories and pretending they are true.”

(My, now grown-up daughter has continued making up stories all her life. She writes a lot in her spare time, and now works in the TV and film industry!)

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