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Everyone Loves A Saucy Coworker

, , , , , | Working | December 3, 2021

The work cafeteria is always overly generous with the little sauce sachets. Rather than putting them in the bin, I put them in my desk. Apparently, this is “weird” according to [Coworker] and a sign of hoarding. I have at most six; if I don’t get through them, someone will forget to pick one up and I give them one from my drawer.

I’ve been on a diet recently, so I have been bringing in my own lunch.

Coworker: *Sighs* “Do you have any tomato sauce?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Coworker: “You didn’t even look!”

Me: “No, but I know I don’t have any.”

Coworker: *Shouting* “Liar! You have hundreds in there! Now, suddenly, I ask for one and you run out?!”

Me: “Apparently so.”

Coworker: “Right! I’m not having this!”

She marches off and returns with a very confused woman from HR.

HR Employee: “What is this all about?”

[Coworker] looks at me with a smug expression.

Me: “[Coworker] asked to have some sauce, but I don’t have any.”

HR Employee: “Sorry, what?”

Coworker: “He’s lying. He has loads. He’s a hoarder!”

Me: *To the HR employee* “You can look if you like?”

I open the drawer I do have the odd packet but no sauce.

HR Employee: “Okay, well… I don’t really see an issue here. [Coworker], can you walk with me?”

I don’t know what is said, but it looks like [Coworker] has a bit of a reality check. I think the matter solved, but then I’m invited to another meeting with a senior HR staff.

Senior HR: “I presume you know why you’re here?”

Me: “I guess, but it all seems a bit of a waste of time.”

Senior HR: “I would agree, but a complaint has been made and I need to review it with you.”

Me: “Okay? So, [Coworker] complained that I didn’t give her my property, which I didn’t have.”

Senior HR: “Pretty much.”

Me: “So…? Was there anything else to discuss?”

Senior HR: “No. Thanks for taking the time to see me. I will recommend that this matter is dropped and [Coworker] apologises.”

Me: “Oh, that’s it? Great, thanks.”

[Coworker] never apologised but did at least avoid me from then on. Little victories.

Then How Do You… GAH!

, , , | Right | December 4, 2021

I’m working in a restaurant and I get a phone call.

Customer: “I’d like to make an order for delivery.”

Me: “Okay, can I have your address, please?”

Customer: “I’m not telling you that! That’s personal information!”

Actions Have Consequences?! WHAT?!

, , , , , , | Working | December 3, 2021

I was due to emigrate, but unfortunately, things were delayed. After a while, with money tight, I took a temporary job, any job I could find. It was particularly hard to find part-time work as no one wanted to hire an engineering manager to stack shelves or flip burgers.

But I found a supermarket nearby and got the job.

I’m pretty used to working hard in every job I do, so I did the same in this role. I was the first one there and the last one out. I took any job and task just to keep busy. I wasn’t trying to impress; it’s just the person I am.

I got a lot of hate from my coworkers; they saw me as a suck-up and a try-hard, no matter how much I tried to explain. But truly, I didn’t care what they said. In a month or two, I would be gone; they could hate me if they wanted for a while.

On the other hand, the management loved me; I didn’t call in sick, I worked without complaint, and I did as many hours as I could. In turn, I got the first pick on hours which, again, didn’t make me popular. 

Coworker: “Oh, I see someone got the weekend shift again.”

I ignore him.

Coworker: “Why is that, huh? Huh, bootlicker?”

Me: “Oh, talking to me? Well, if I had to guess, don’t be a massive screw-up who makes the same mistakes day in, day out.”

Coworker: “Mr. Perfect doesn’t make mistakes? Oh, why can’t we all be like Mr. Perfect?”

Me: “You put the stock in the right aisle; it’s not rocket science. How you manage to screw it up so often is beyond me.”

One of the managers walks in behind [Coworker]. I shut up. [Coworker] doesn’t.

Coworker: “Oh, so easy, that’s why you couldn’t do your own job? Why is it they fired you from your fancy engineering job?”

Manager: “[Coworker]!”

Coworker: “Some dumba** comes down here and sucks the d**k of these f***y, stupid, idiot managers.”

Manager: “[Coworker]!”

Coworker: *Finally turning around* “What? Oh, look who’s getting in trouble again!”

[Coworker] was led away; he didn’t return. With [Coworker] gone, the atmosphere changed, and suddenly, everyone was a lot friendlier. I made a few friends before I left. It’s amazing what one person can do to make life so difficult.

From Fire And Brimstone To Rainbows

, , , , , , , | Friendly | December 3, 2021

Back in college, there was a very loud religious advocacy group that would visit campus, set up their speakers, and “preach” the gospel to the students passing by. Now, I say “preach” because it was less “Glory to God who loves you!” and more “You’re all going to Hell because of who you are! Change your minds or burn!”

One such day, they set up right outside our performance center. It was obviously intentional, as a majority of the performance majors were part of the LGBT community, and the theater majors were not happy about having their space taken over. I had a class in the building behind the performance center, so I walked by the crowd gathering.

One of the advocates had a mic in one hand and was holding hands with a young woman I have seen in a few theater productions. The advocate seemed to be praying while the young woman stood there, half-smiling and nearly crying.

Advocate: “Lord, help this girl see the error of her ways! Help her, God, to see that her homosexual fornications are not what you want for her, but that she is here to bear children with a man, to love his family, to—”

Young Woman: *With a very dramatic tone* “Lord! You died for me!”

Surprised, the advocate shook her arm almost violently.

Advocate: “Yes… Yes, He did! He did die for you! The Lord loves you, child! Spread the word!”

The advocate passed his mic to the young woman, who stepped forward proudly.

Young Woman: “Jesus died for the gays! He loves us!”

There was a cheer from the crowd. The advocate dropped her hand and glared at her. I don’t know what he was trying to say because he was drowned out by the screaming crowd. The young woman took a bow and walked away. I went on my way to class, but when I came back, the advocacy group had packed up and left campus. They came back a few more times over the years and the message never changed, but I don’t think they tried to openly save anyone after that.

This Is Why Mental Health Awareness Is A Thing Now

, , , , , | Related | December 3, 2021

This was during the 1980s when “mental health” was generally reserved for people proclaiming to be Jesus Christ or walking around mumbling to themselves and neglecting their hygiene.

My mom was known for being paranoid in the sense that she constantly thought everyone around her was up to no good. She once seriously accused my dad of raping a woman when an irate customer scratched him in the face after being refused a refund, and she once accused my nine-year-old sister of being involved in a bank robbery and hiding the money somewhere in the woods after a petite teenaged girl robbed a local bank down the street from us.

This one, I just couldn’t pass up sharing. One day, my mom bursts into my room.

Mom: “Give it to me.”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “MY PURSE!”

Me: “Mom, I have a job at [Fast Food Restaurant] and I deliver papers on the weekends. I don’t need your little $30 or however much Dad gave you to pick up some cigarettes.”

We get to arguing, and she insists I stole her purse. I tell my Dad about it, and he simply says:

Dad: “You gotta learn to ignore her. That woman has drunk enough booze over her lifetime to float a ship, and she won’t seek help because she thinks she’s just fine. As soon as you both are old enough to move out, I’m filing for divorce.”

The next day, I’m at school, and the principal’s voice booms over the intercom.

Principal: “[My Name], please report to the office.”

I go over there to find my mom standing outside the office. She takes me outside.

Mom: “GIVE ME MY PURSE!”

Me: “I didn’t take your purse! Why would I steal money from you if I have my own job and have cash practically coming out of my ears?!”

Mom: “That’s not why you took it.”

Me: “Huh?

Mom: “You know exactly what I’m talking about. GIVE IT TO ME!”

She goes on with this charade for two more days before finally coming to me with said purse.

Mom: “I owe you an apology. I left it in [Friend]’s van.”

Me: “Okay, I accept your apology, but Mom, why would you think I’d steal money from you when I have my own job and a weekend paper route?”

Mom: *Pulling out her driver’s license* “See in the photo how I had my hair cropped really low? I remember how you kept saying how you couldn’t wait to move out and go to California. I thought you were going to take my license, put on makeup and a dress, buy a plane ticket to California, and rent an apartment under my name.”

I am silent for a moment.

Me: “You thought I was going to dress in drag… and try to buy a plane ticket as a seventeen-year-old who is a six-foot-two, 180-pound male using the license of someone that says the bearer should be a thirty-nine-year-old woman standing at five-foot-three and weighing 130 pounds?”

Mom: “Well… I’m just glad to know you wouldn’t do something like that. It says a lot about you.”

Me: “JESUS CHRIST, MOM!”

To this day, she hasn’t set foot in a psychiatrist’s office (or an AA meeting) because she genuinely is convinced she’s perfectly fine. And yes, my dad divorced her as soon as my sister moved out — on her eighteenth birthday, unsurprisingly.