About a decade ago, after graduating high school, I was in a new town and on the search for my first full-time job. I had worked part-time since I was fourteen and always had glowing reports from all of my former bosses, so my resume and references were great.

After attending a job fair, I accepted a job offer at a brand-new department store that was set to open in a couple of months. The position was in the seasonal section of the store, and I would be part of the group to finish setting up and stocking that section in preparation for the store opening soon, and then I would remain in that section afterward.

The interviewer said my great references were exactly what he was looking for. He raved about how, even though the position paid minimum wage to start with, they were very keen to regularly give, and I quote, “fantastic raises,” to employees who showed good work ethics and were punctual, solid employees, and that they would give the first raise three months in. I was excited to start!

For the next three months, I and the other half-dozen ladies in the same section were pumped about the promised “big raise”, and we were all determined to work our butts off and really make management proud so we could earn it.

None of us were ever late, we never clocked out early, we shortchanged our breaks and lunches so we worked more, we took great attention to detail in what we did, etc. Basically, we completed every task ahead of time and to perfection, and the management couldn’t say enough good things about what we accomplished, always grinning and talking about how we were definitely going to be shoo-ins for that big raise. The way they kept talking about it and how much they pushed it, we were all sure the raise would surely be several dollars more, at least. We were excited!

The three months passed and our manager scheduled a meeting with all of us from the seasonal section. She praised our work and went on and on about how we had excelled, how we should be so proud of ourselves, and how they were so thrilled to reward our hard work.

She handed us all our new pay stubs which reflected our raises. Every single face fell from joy to anger, confusion, and frustration. We had worked our butts off for a “spectacular raise” of twenty-five cents an hour, a whopping approximately forty-two dollars a month.

The manager saw how upset we all were and tried to make it sound as though we should be oh-so-grateful; this was more than other departments had gotten, etc. We didn’t care. It was a complete insult to go on like they had and give us a measly twenty-five cents an hour after we had done so much, above and beyond.

One lady quit right there and then and, according to local labor laws, since it had been only three months, she didn’t have to give her two weeks’ notice.

I came in the next morning to find that another two people had sent in their notice overnight. Our department was down to half-staffed. The same thing happened in every department in the store. They tried to hire more people quickly, but in a small town, news travels fast, and almost no one wanted to work for jerks like that.

I had expenses and was unable to just quit, but I began looking elsewhere immediately. The whole sense of morale in the store dropped, and the managers started to treat us all like garbage, even those like me who continued to do a good job and maintain work ethic. My mental health was taking a hit, but I couldn’t find another job.

My parents took pity on me and said that they were proud of how I had handled things and they would gift me the money I needed for my few expenses for three months, and I would be free to quit. I happily took them up on it.

The next morning, I handed in my two weeks’ notice, which by now I had to give. My manager flipped out! She ranted and raved about how ungrateful I was and how I wouldn’t find a better job, and she called me all kinds of names.

I didn’t care. I finished out my two weeks and left them terribly understaffed right at the beginning of December heading into the Christmas rush. It was glorious!

I enjoyed a long Christmas break and then found a really great new job in January, making twice what I had previously. In the best case of sweet Karma, I was shopping in the old store a month later and my former manager saw me.

Former Manager: “How’s the job hunt going? If you’re willing to forego your raise, I might consider hiring you back.

She was so condescending and snotty about it. I had the great pleasure of telling her:

Me: “I have a new job with twice the pay, and I have the best new boss I could ask for.” *Smiles* “I hope you enjoy your day.”

Then, I turned around and walked away.

I am a personal shopper. Customers who have an issue with their orders call a customer support center to get help. The support center is supposed to be all-powerful. They are able to access all the details from the customer’s order, and they have the authority to issue refunds, offer credits, and resolve all issues without involving us.

The only time they should ever call our department is if a customer has lodged a major complaint against a staff member and the support center needs to hear both sides of the story in order to resolve the issue correctly. This rarely happens.

This time, I’ve gotten a call from the support center that doesn’t make sense to me as the representative should have been able to see the issue on her end.

Representative: “Hello, am I speaking to Online, Pickup, and Delivery at [Store Location]?”

Me: “Yes. This is [My Name] speaking.”

Representative: “I have a customer, [Customer], on the line and she has an issue with her order. She picked up an order from your store an hour ago and is missing an item. I need to know if you’ll replace it for her.”

Me: “Let me look up her order. What is the item she’s missing?”

Representative: “It’s a [Brand] non-stick skillet for $19.95. Since you left it out of her order, I will remove the charge, but I need you to replace it. As soon as you confirm that she did, in fact, order one, I’ll tell her to drive back to pick it up.”

Me: “Yes, I see the skillet listed on the order. Look, her entire order is listed as pick-up except for the skillet, which is listed as three-to-five-day shipping, so no, she wouldn’t have gotten her skillet from us today.”

Representative: “What does that mean?”

The representative should be able to see that the item was listed as shipped on her end and should be able to see an expected arrival date. The whole point of the support center is that they have more access to customer information than we do so they can better help with major issues.

Me: “That means she ordered it along with the other items, but our store doesn’t have it in stock so it’s being shipped from a different store. A delivery driver will be bringing it to her house.”

Representative: “No, she only ordered pick-up, not delivery. Just go get one off the sales floor and I’ll send her to pick it up, free of charge, since your department messed up and inconvenienced her.”

I do not recognize the brand name, so I click on it. It takes me to a webpage for a different store location entirely. I send a coworker to check our kitchen appliance section to verify that we don’t actually have it, and they return saying there is nothing of that brand at all.

Me: “Ma’am, I can’t go get one. We do not carry that brand here.”

Representative: *Taking on a snarky tone* “You work at a [Store]. [Store] carries those skillets.”

Me: “Ma’am, we are a neighborhood market location, not a supercenter. We almost exclusively carry groceries. Our kitchen section is only four feet long and only contains the store brand, no name brands.”

Representative: “Oh. So, what store is her skillet coming from?”

Me: “I can’t be 100% sure, as there are four supercenters in this county, but the website is showing that [Store twenty miles away] has it in stock currently, so my guess would be from there.”

Representative: “What is that store number?”

I had to Google that, but the representative should have been able to look it up on her end. I don’t know why she didn’t, and I don’t know why she decided to be rude. I can’t help that I work at a market, which she should have been able to see on her end. I gave her the store number and she hung up on me without saying another word.

The customer called us directly the next day to let us know that a very nice delivery driver had brought her skillet from the store twenty miles away and that she was sorry for complaining about us. She just hadn’t realized she had chosen a skillet we didn’t carry.

I loved a certain children’s movie growing up. Now, as an adult, every time my older sister comes across something related to it, she buys it. I have a lot of figurines, clothing articles, and other odds and ends, most of which are tucked in a closet because I just don’t have room to display them.

My sister texts me one day.

Sister: “Look what I found!”

She sends a picture of a figurine from the movie. It only vaguely resembles the character.

Me: “No, thanks.”

Sister: “But it’s [Movie].”

Me: “I don’t want any more things from [Movie]. I have more than enough. But thank you for thinking of me.”

Sister: “I was just trying to be nice, but f*** me, I guess.”

Me: “I appreciate the gesture, but I just don’t have the room.”

She doesn’t say anything else. A few days go by, and my mom calls me.

Mom: “Why were you so rude to your sister?”

Me: “What? When?”

Mom: “She was trying to do something nice and you told her off!”

Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mom: “[Sister] offered to buy you a [Character] toy, and you blew her off.”

Me: “Mom, you know I have a s***-ton of [Movie] stuff. I really don’t need any more; I could get rid of half of it and still have too much.”

Mom: “You should be grateful that your sister thinks of you so much.”

Me: *Sigh* “I am, Mom, but I don’t need more stuff.”

Mom: “You should apologize to her.”

Me: “I’m not saying sorry for setting a boundary.”

Mom: “Well, the choice is yours.”

She hung up before I could say anything else. My sister has not tried to buy me a single [Movie] item in over six months. She might think she’s showing me how it feels, but honestly, I’m just grateful she listened and stopped buying them.

I work for a national restaurant chain. There are a lot of perks to being part of a large company, but speed is not one of them.

It’s the Friday before a holiday weekend, and we had an accident where a knife damaged a refrigerator power cord, taking out the fridge and damaging the knife. I’ve alerted my boss, the regional manager, to this and submitted a ticket to our maintenance department.

I message my boss at 1:00 pm.

Me: “[Employee] says he can fix the power cord himself; it’ll take about thirty minutes.”

My boss finally responds at 6:30 pm.

Boss: “Don’t do it. We can’t pay him as a repair person, and we don’t want to assume the liability if he gets hurt.”

Me: *Internally* “Those are great points to have considered three hours ago when I gave him the go-ahead to repair it.”

Bonus, the company that we contract with for repairs called Sunday asking if it was such an emergency that we would want to send someone out on a holiday weekend.

I work as a cashier in a supermarket. I’m working at the customer service desk that also sells cigarettes, lighters, rolling papers, etc.

Customer #1: “[Cigarettes] and a [Brand] lighter.”

I just grab the first lighter without looking, which happens to be a light brown colour.

Customer #1: “Nah, I hate that colour. It reminds me too much of the colour of s***. I can’t enjoy my bong.”

Customer #2: “Man, if that’s the colour of your s***, I’d be putting the bong down and seeing a doctor.”

I had to stop myself from laughing.