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Sensitivity Isn’t Native To This Coworker

, , , , , , , , , | Working | December 4, 2021

I work for the TSA. Most of you don’t like that very much. I am terribly sorry for the things that cause our negative reputation. I know it’s well deserved. I really am sorry.

I personally need the health insurance very badly and appreciated the $22-per-hour starting wages — which have gone up since then — pretty well.

One of my coworkers is patting down a Native woman. The woman has two long braided lengths of hair. My coworker grabs the braids and makes a “giddyap” motion like one would do with reins on a horse and says, “Hu-ha! Giddyap, cowboy!”

They put the coworker on bin running for a few months and made her take a sensitivity class.

I still feel bad about this.

Did Anyone Get That Tantrum On Tape?

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: frozen_barbie_head | December 3, 2021

I have a few friends that work on a television show, and this woman I know said that she would do anything to get into the audience of said show. My mate rang me and offered me tickets to said show and I jumped at the chance to go.

Me: “There will be two others besides me. Will that be an issue?”

Friend: “Nope, no issue. Can’t wait to see you.”

[Woman] was given two weeks’ notice of this and kept telling me that she couldn’t wait as this happened to be one of her favourite shows.

The day of the taping arrived and we were doing the compulsory [health crisis] check-ins. [Woman] proceeded to go ballistic.

Woman: “Why do I have to check in? This is all bulls***! Why do I have to do this?!”

Me: “You’d do this anywhere else. It’s just precautionary.”

We finally got past that section, with security giving us “Calm down” looks.

Next, we had to be checked to make sure that we had no weapons. [Woman] erupted again, as loud as she possibly could.

Woman: “F****** h***, this is bulls***!”

Finally, we got closer to the studio. We were asked politely for our ID as they were serving alcohol, and [Woman] was asked to leave her bag in a secure locker as it was a hazard in case of a fire, etc.; you don’t want to be tripping over bags and such.

This was the last straw for her. She began screaming at the poor girl.

Woman: “This is completely f***ed! It’s a massive inconvenience and you’ve ruined my day!”

She then stormed off back into the lift and went home.

This, folks, was the last step before entering the studio. Sadly, my mate rang me later to tell me that [Woman] has now been issued with a lifetime ban and is unable to attend any studio tapings of any show at the network.

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.

Like The Onions, This Complaint Has Layers

, , | Right | December 3, 2021

An older woman comes driving in to give an order. Our location doesn’t have a speaker due to neighborhood ordnance, so all the orders in drive-thru are taken face to face.

Customer: “Double cheeseburger without onions.”

I ring it in, complete her order, and send her on her way. About five minutes after she picks up her food, she comes back through the drive-thru.

Customer: “They put onions on my burger!”

I apologize and print her up a duplicate receipt to confirm to her and myself that I rang it in without onions.

Me: “If you go up to the front window and tell the manager, they’ll replace the burger for free, made correctly, but I can’t do anything about it back here.”

She did so, and they gave her a brand-new burger and an apology. I thought that was the end of the situation, but boy, was I wrong. She called the state government on me, by name, demanding I be fired! I was told that she called the food safety department, the chamber of commerce, and the governor’s office.

The franchise owner called to say that it turned out that she is allergic to onions, and she straight up accused me of deliberately ringing her sandwich in wrong and trying to poison her and then printing up a false duplicate receipt of her order to make her look like a liar. Keep in mind that I read the receipt back to her and she confirmed it was her order.

I didn’t get along with the manager who was working at the time, but even he was like, “That’s complete crap. It wasn’t even [My Name]’s mistake — it was the kitchens — and we fixed it for her.”

The franchise owner was told by whichever branch of the state government called them that the customer had demanded that I be fired. I wasn’t — I wasn’t even written up — but I did stop wearing my name tag at work when I could get away with it.

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.