The office I work at has a program where, if an employee wants to bring in a piece of art to display (either something they worked on themself, or just something they enjoy), they can work with the facilities team to find a place to display it. This works out well, as it makes the office look better, and facilities don’t have to spend as much on artwork and such, rather than things like ergonomic chairs and desks. A couple of my coworkers are actually artists on the side, and they have been allowed to post QR codes linking to their shops next to their pieces, which has helped their businesses.

A new hire heard about this program, and he brought in a small art piece that took the form of a coffee mug that, through the use of cleverly positioned wires, was caught in the middle of being smashed by a rubber ball hitting it. It was very well done and ended up displayed on a small side table in one of the break rooms.

Then, a few days later, his sculpture was found on the floor of the break room, smashed. There wasn’t a camera in the break room itself, but there was one in the corridor outside, so that camera was checked, and they found an older lady who actually worked on a different floor walking into the break room the previous evening and then hurrying out right afterwards.

She was called in, and, when asked, didn’t even bother trying to deny that she’d broken the sculpture. Instead, she launched into a loud rant about how the sculpture was ‘mocking her’.

It turns out, she was going through a divorce, and one of the reasons her ex-husband was leaving her was due to her having a habit of throwing things at him and their kids, particularly dishes, whenever she got upset.

So, she had heard about the sculpture from some others in the building and had concluded that it was a deliberate ‘taunt’ against her, mocking her for losing her marriage, and so she decided to track it down to break it.

When she was told that she’d need to pay the cost of repairing/replacing it, she chose to quit on the spot instead. So, now she gets to go job hunting while also going through a divorce.

As for the sculpture, the guy who made it was able to fix it up with more wires and some glue. And then, as a final change, he carved the words “Didn’t Get The Joke” into the rubber ball that was striking the mug.

Years ago, when there were only flip phones, I worked for a week for this guy off Craigslist. Eight to ten-hour days for seven straight days.

He dropped off $37 at my house with a nasty note saying I was a s***ty painter and didn’t even deserve the $37. I can’t remember my hourly rate, but I know it was more than a few cents an hour.

So, this dude had mentioned he had arguments with his girlfriend about constantly calling and leaving messages, because he would still incur a charge.

So, my buddy had a PC with a modem and set it up to dial the guy’s phone for three straight days and leave a message for two seconds and hang up, then redial.

I wish I knew what his bill was by the end.

CONTENT WARNING: Abuse

My grandma has never been one of those lovable types. She’s always been critical, cold, and distant. She’s never been outright abusive, but she’s mean enough to give off ‘Devil Wears Prada’ vibes.

My youngest sister has always loved art and drawing. When she was younger, it was obvious she had a talent, and my parents encouraged it. My grandma was not so inspiring:

Grandma: “What is that supposed to be?”

Sister: “A horse.”

Grandma: “It looks like it should be taken out back and shot! You need to be doing something more productive with your time!”

After a few more incidents like this, [Sister] made sure never to practise her artwork, or even show it to Grandma in any capacity.

One weekend many years later, Grandma is visiting for the weekend. My sister, now nineteen, is out with friends and has left a few drawings out on the kitchen table (she’d been showing them to Mom earlier).

Grandma: “What’s this?”

Mom: “Oh, that’s [Sister]’s handiwork. She—”

Grandma: “—Oh, she finally gave up on that silly drawing and ventured into photography, did she?

Mom: “…that’s… a black and white pencil sketch.”

Oh, the look on Grandma’s face! She looked closer at the amazingly photorealistic drawing my equally amazing sister had drawn, realized that she had just admitted that [Sister] was crazily talented, and quickly changed the subject. 

We all told our sister what happened at the dinner table that night (with Grandma present, of course), and it looked like the old woman was sucking lemons all through the meal.

Our coffee place has a new boss/owner. He’s a decent boss overall. He thinks the place is looking tired and old, and so wants to get in an interior designer to update the look of the place. Since I’ve expressed an interest in managing the place, he’s letting me take point in planning the project.

The previous week, he told me about an interior designer he knew and liked their work.

Boss: “So, did you get a chance to talk to that designer I told you about?”

Me: “Yeah, I spoke to them. Honestly… I don’t think they’re the right fit.”

Boss: “Why not? They’ve got a great portfolio.”

Me: “Because the first thing they said when I showed them our shop was that the big concrete pillar in the corner was an ‘eyesore’ and should be removed.”

Boss: “You mean… the support pillar?”

Me: “Yep. The support pillar holding up the fifty-five floors of office space and luxury apartments above us.”

Boss: “And what did they say when you told them that?”

Me: “That they’re sure the building could afford to lose one, since there are plenty more.”

Boss: “…”

Me: “So, unless you want to be serving lattes under fifty-five stories of rubble, maybe we can find a designer who understands basic architecture.”

Boss: “But their portfolio was so nice. Maybe just get them to talk about the soft furnishings and not the renovation?”

Me: “I tried that, but they kept going back to the pillar, and I had to remind them that I absolutely, a hundred percent, prefer my coffee shops with a roof.”

He accepted my reasoning and moved on. We did eventually get someone in who both understood our brief AND architecture, and the place came out amazing!

A customer is talking to a coworker, holding up a tube of paint.

Customer: “Hey, this says ‘burnt sienna,’ but it looks more like brown. Is that… is that right?”

Coworker: “Yup, burnt sienna is a type of reddish-brown. It’s a standard artist color.”

Customer: “But why not just call it brown? Who names these things?”

Coworker: “Artists. Mostly Italian ones, a few centuries ago.”

Customer: “Well, it’s confusing. My kid asked for ‘burnt sienna,’ and I thought it was a prank.”

Coworker: “I promise it’s real. Right next to ‘raw umber’ and ‘payne’s grey.'” 

Customer: “…You’re just making sounds now.” 

Coworker: “Working here for the last few years, I’ve discovered that naming paint colors is 30% pigment, 70% drama.”