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Ask Her Where The Easter Bunny Shows Up In The Bible

, , , , , , , | Working | July 6, 2022

I’m the author of this story and [Coworker] is at it again. I came into work to see small cellophane bags of chocolate eggs hanging on people’s office doors and on their desks. Notably, there wasn’t one on my desk.

An hour in, [Coworker] appeared.

Coworker: “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t give you any Easter eggs. They’re really only for Christians.”

Me: “Ah, so you’re really representing Christian charity.”

[Coworker] bristled at that.

Coworker: “I just don’t think people like you deserve to celebrate along with us.”

Me: “Okay. Wow. But how about those guys?”

I pointed over at a couple of coworkers munching away on their chocolate.

Coworker: “Of course, they should get chocolate! They have God in their hearts!”

Me: “Mmm, no, they don’t.”

Coworker: “Yes, they do! They pray. They go to church.”

Me: “Well, they go to temple. They’re Buddhist.”

Coworker: “Whatever. At least they follow God’s teachings.”

Me: “They really don’t. They reach for enlightenment; there are no gods in Buddhism.”

Coworker: “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Me: “Okay, well, enjoy your Easter weekend.”

Coworker: “I will!”

She angrily stormed away.

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Music Is Music, My Friend

Someone Woke Up On The Wrong Side Of The Bed Today

, , , , , , , | Working | June 3, 2022

My family and I went on a big family trip in 2009, when our daughters were twelve and fourteen. We had to change planes in Calgary. As we waited in line in the security area, our younger daughter noticed a lot of huge photographs mounted on the walls around us. Being a bit of a photography buff herself, she pulled out her camera — a fairly expensive one that she’d gotten for her most recent birthday — and took a few pictures.

Security Guard: “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

We all gaped at him in shock, not knowing what he was talking about. We then realized that he was glaring at our daughter.

Daughter: “Taking some pictures.”

Husband: “Is there a problem, sir?”

Security Guard: “Um, yes. Did you not see those signs?”

He pointed to some signs around us that said, “NO PHOTOGRAPHY ALLOWED.” In fairness to him, they were super obvious, and I don’t know how we missed them.

Me: “I’m so sorry. We didn’t see the signs.”

Security Guard: “That’s no excuse.”

He then reached over and grabbed [Daughter]’s camera out of her hands.

Security Guard: “I’m confiscating this.” *Walks away*

Daughter: *In tears* “My… My camera! Mum, what’ll we do?”

We chased after him and found him behind his desk. He glowered at us and held up the camera tauntingly.

Security Guard: “I don’t know what you expected to happen. You’re not getting this back.”

Me: “Please, sir, can’t you let this go? She didn’t mean any harm, and we can delete the photos in front of you.”

Security Guard: “Not good enough. Goodbye.”

Husband: “She’s just a kid. Please?”

I should mention that our younger daughter was and is very tall, and even though she was only twelve at the time, she could easily have been mistaken for someone in her late teens.

Security Guard: “‘Kid,’ sure.”

Something convinced him to look closer at our daughter, though, who was now openly sobbing.

Security Guard: “How old are you?”

Daughter: “T-twelve.”

Security Guard: “Hmph. Fine. You can have this back, but never do that again.”

Daughter: “I won’t. Thank you.”

My “mama bear” instincts threatened to take over at that point — the sight of my kid crying her eyes out has a tendency to do that — but luckily, my husband kept his cool and pulled me away.

Husband: “Come on, love.” *Whispering* “He’s just doing his job.”

Me: “I know. I do wonder what he’ll tell his wife when he gets home today, though. ‘How was your day, honey?’ ‘Awesome! I got to make a twelve-year-old cry!’”

They’re Just Wasting Paper

, , , , | Friendly | May 26, 2022

I was in need of lodging for just a few months while working on a project a day’s travel from home. Because the town was booming, empty apartments were unheard of and most people had a couple of roomies in each bedroom plus a couple in the living room. I was thrilled to find a sole tenant looking to fill his second bedroom. It was a nice building, nice location, AND fair rent, so I jumped on the opportunity.

When I arrived with my stuff, there was an eviction notice on the door. My new roomie told me it was nothing to worry about. He said he had been a couple of days late with the rent and the building manager overreacted. That sounded okay.

As I settled in over the next few days, I got to know [Roomie] a bit and learned he was on his first-ever job, making more than double minimum wage for doing almost nothing. Lucky? No, his dad had pulled strings to get him the job. Good for him.

I also noticed that [Roomie] seemed to take every opportunity to waste money. He had the nicest leather couch I’d ever seen. Several designer sunglasses boxes lay around, each sporting a price tag of about $300. He said he just kept scratching them and needing new ones. He had a huge, artistic blown glass bong that he proudly said cost $750. The fridge was full of rotting takeout, yet every night he ordered more because he found leftovers unappetizing. He’d order enough for several people and stuff the extra in the fridge, never to be touched again until I threw it out for being too moldy.

Between his easy work, with not just great pay but many chances to work overtime shifts at double rate, and his constant squandering, he certainly didn’t seem like someone on the brink of homelessness.

But a week after I moved in, there was another eviction notice. And a week later, another.

I went to speak with the building manager myself to find out what was really going on. Turns out [Roomie] hadn’t paid a cent in months! She told me not to be afraid; if he got kicked out, I could keep staying, as she didn’t want the fuss of looking too hard for a new tenant. So, relieved of the anxiety that my own fate was at stake, I continued watching as merely a curious observer and slight friend.

I tried to gently encourage frugal choices. I suggested to [Roomie] that he might do the same when I was cooking up a big pot of stew and putting it in Tupperware for my week’s meals. When he’d announce he was ordering pizza, I’d suggest he eat last night’s. I even asked him directly if he wanted help planning a budget. But he just waved it all off, insisting that he would be fine.

The eviction notices kept coming about weekly. They stopped demanding that he pay back rent OR move out and started demanding that he be gone by a deadline. Starting a month before the deadline, the notices began to include threats that if he was not gone by then, his belongings would be moved out for him.

He kept telling me it was fine, he had a plan, he had things under control, and she didn’t mean any of it.

One day, I had just gotten to bed after a long shift when I heard a pitiful gasping, sniffling sound from the kitchen and then my name whimpered meekly. I ran out to find [Roomie] white as a sheet, doubled over as if gut-shot, holding himself up by clutching the counter. I could tell his denial had cracked and he finally was facing what a mess he’d made of his finances.

Hyperventilating, he gasped my name twice more, and then, right before he began to cry, he said, “She’s kicking me out! I never saw it coming!”

Never. Saw. It. Coming.

We’d Call That Joke Cheesy, But It’d Be Too Easy

, , , , , , , | Working | May 7, 2022

I work for a big box store as a backroom employee. The core of my job is to unload trucks and stock shelves, which means I handle a lot of product and open a lot of boxes. Unfortunately for me, I have delicate hands that seem to get cut on just about anything I touch, including deodorant and blankets. I’ve tried various gloves, and I’d rather face the paper cuts than rashes from the gloves I can find. It’s a running joke at work that I consume an excessive amount of bandaids daily.

This time, I’m helping to stock refrigerated items, and lo and behold, the edge of a package of cheese nicks me pretty good. Recounting this event later in the break room, I tell my coworkers this:

Me: “It was some sharp cheddar.”

Cue a room full of groaning.

She Starts Out Rude And Escalates To Monstrous

, , , , , , , | Working | April 11, 2022

When I was seventeen or eighteen, I worked full-time as a waitress at a very popular chain pizza restaurant. Around three months in, I was promoted to supervisor as I worked more hours than anyone else in the front of house and knew my way around the restaurant very well.

After about six months of working there, a new second supervisor was hired who had apparently worked there a few years prior. I had just gotten into work, a day after getting a new tattoo, and was showing it to an old friend from school who also worked there. [New Supervisor] walked up and interrupted our conversation. Let it be known that we had only ever said, “Hello,” to each other ONCE when she was hired and hadn’t spoken anything else to one another.

New Supervisor: “That’s hideous. Worst choice for a first tattoo, honestly.”

Coworker: “Wow, that’s rude. What the h***?”

Me: “Well, it’s a good thing it’s on me and not you, I guess.”

I walked away to avoid any other conversation, and she ended her shift shortly after, as I was taking over for the dinner shift. That night, when counting the till, we were under by about $50. We came to realize that [New Supervisor] had voided and refunded an order without punching it into the computer, so the system was displaying the total we should have had, instead of what we did have. The owner spent an hour sorting it out as we had already processed the sales for the day, and all was fine after that, albeit annoying.

About two weeks later, my coworker/friend approached me.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], did you see the schedule for next week? [New Supervisor] crossed off half your shifts and replaced them with her name, and vice versa. Apparently, you’re scheduled to work opening instead of closing on New Year’s Eve now.”

I walked to the office and saw that she had indeed swapped all our schedules. Being fresh out of high school, I definitely needed the tips that came with the dinner service, especially on New Year’s Eve. After that shift was our Christmas/New Year’s staff party, and as I lived forty minutes from the restaurant, I didn’t want to have to go all the way home mid-day just to have to come back that evening anyway. I spoke to the owner and he reprinted the original schedule, with a big note that said, “DO NOT CHANGE THE SCHEDULE WITHOUT MANAGEMENT’S PERMISSION.” Problem solved, right? Wrong.

New Year’s Eve rolled around, and I was greeted at 10:15 am with a phone call from panicking kitchen staff there to start up the store and turn on the ovens to open for 11:00 am, including preparing over a dozen multi-pizza pre-orders to be ready for noon. Apparently, [New Supervisor] no-showed for her shift and there was no supervisor on-site, meaning no key to get in and no voids, refunds, or anything could be processed without our special codes, nothing. Nobody could reach [New Supervisor] on the phone, so I agreed to work a double shift and headed in with my NYE outfit in my backpack.

The day went by without issue until 5:00 rolled around — my original scheduled time — and in walked [New Supervisor] in her work uniform. I didn’t actually see her come in as I was covering two sections due to the no-show, so I was too busy to see until I went into the back to print a receipt.

New Supervisor: “I’m here now, so you can clock out and leave.”

Me: “Uh, no? You no-showed so I picked up a double shift. [Owner] already okayed it. We’ve got this covered.”

New Supervisor: “Well, I’m here now and I need the money, so leave!”

Me: “I’m gonna go get [Owner].”

When I tell you the owner was not happy about being called away from setting up for our staff party at his other restaurant, I mean it. He walked in the back absolutely red in the face and stared at [New Supervisor].

Owner: “Let me get this straight. You no-call, no-show, and show up whenever you please afterward? I already told [My Name] she could have a double shift today. Go home.”

New Supervisor: “I changed the schedule! She said we could switch for today. It wasn’t my fault she was late.”

Me: “I never said we could switch. [Owner] changed the schedule back when I pointed it out.”

Owner: “[New Supervisor], leave now. You’re still on your probationary period, so I need to consider what to do with you going forward. This isn’t acceptable.”

I walked back out front to take care of my tables and customers. I saw [Owner] and [New Supervisor] emerge about ten minutes later. [Owner] pulled me aside and said [New Supervisor] was going to take over one of my two sections to help out. The restaurant was packed, the waiting line was out the door, and the phones were going nuts with delivery orders anyway, so it would have been a help.

A table of my regulars came in and I input their usual order: spaghetti and meatballs, and a large pepperoni pizza. Thirty minutes later, they asked how long it would be. I apologized profusely due to how busy we were and headed to the kitchen to check. The head cook told me that order had been voided two minutes after it was sent in, so they didn’t make it. Yep, you guessed it: only one other person could void orders with the special supervisors’ code only she and I had. I went onto the computer and saw that EVERY ORDER I had put in over the last thirty minutes had been voided only minutes after it had been put in, but I was running around too much and the kitchen was too busy for either of us to check in on one another.

[New Supervisor] approached me, in front of HUNDREDS of customers, and started laughing loudly, saying how bad of a server I was and how I should just have gone home when she told me to, that this was a lesson for me, etc. By this time, the nearly deafeningly loud restaurant was dead silent and staring at us.

One by one, the customers got up and left while [New Supervisor] desperately tried to stop them. The waiting area cleared out, as well. By the time the commotion stopped, only around ten out of the 120-plus customers remained. I packed my stuff and started to walk out. Four cooks and two servers followed me out, quitting on the spot. 

Word traveled fast, and out of the fifteen total staff members the restaurant had, only five showed up to the Christmas/NYE party.

[Owner] called me up and asked what had happened. I explained, and he said, “I see,” and hung up.

I returned the next day first thing in the morning to hand in my keys and key card to the owner. All the dirty dishes were still on the tables and [Owner] was there with his sleeves rolled up, looking at a mountain of receipts. After our call, he had gone in and fired [New Supervisor] on the spot. After doing the math, he had lost over $1,500 in unpaid bills due to the customers walking out after [New Supervisor]’s scene. He also found over $700 was missing from the till over the time [New Supervisor] had been working there; she would void orders after they were delivered and pocket the cash for herself. 

I didn’t end up returning to that restaurant, although I felt really horrible about the situation, but my mental health had gone severely downhill and I would have been put on medical leave anyway.

Someone who knew [New Supervisor]’s family personally updated me a year later. She ended up being on drugs and stealing from both of her jobs to feed that habit. She also stole from her parents, and she got arrested not long after getting fired for drug trafficking and possession. Karma, I guess?