I’m an electromechanical engineer. I was called out to deal with a set of faulty automatic gates. They had gotten stuck in the open position, and it was compromising the security of the building. My job was to find out what had caused them to stick open, fix it, and get them working again.

This particular manufacture of gates uses an encoder to tell the control panel where the gates are in their swing, and it turned out that kids had been riding them and had caused this to go out of calibration.

Recalibration was a simple two-minute job; I put a couple of traffic cones on each side of the gates and set the calibration going. During this process, the gates open fully and then close fully twice at about half the usual speed.

Enter [Woman]. She had parked her white Audi in the secure compound whilst the gates were open, and even though she was only allowed in there to load and unload into her shop, she regularly parked all day in a visitor’s space — totally against the terms of her lease.

I set the calibration going and the gates did their first swing totally open. At that point, [Woman] came out to her car and started her engine.

The gates started to close again, and [Woman] pulled out of her space like a nutjob and accelerated toward the gates, stopping just before the cones but revving her engine like she wasn’t pleased.

Seeing them closing, she pressed her fob button to get them to open, but of course, they were calibrating so they were totally ignoring all instructions from the fobs.

The gates closed fully. The lock mechanism engaged, and they started to do their second swing, at which point she started to roll forward, revving all the time. Just as she touched the cone with her car, she pushed it back and broke the infra-red safety beam, thus aborting the entire procedure and making the gates lock in a slightly open state.

She sounded her horn.

Woman: “Let me out!”

Me: “You caused the processor to fault. Those gates aren’t opening any time soon; it will be at least five minutes before I can restart the procedure as I have to power them totally down.”

I didn’t, but she didn’t know that. She proceeded to start shouting and getting angry, so I just said:

Me: “Sod you. I’m parked outside.”

I locked the control box, walked to my van with my tools in my pocket, and started driving away.

About two minutes later I got a call from the landlord of the building, pleading with me to go back and saying that [Woman] was really, really sorry.

I gave in. I went back and started the calibration again — but this time, I deliberately turned the speed on both motors to the lowest setting, so it took about ten minutes in total.

The woman never did apologise, and she still sped out like an idiot as soon as I moved the cones, but it gave me great pleasure knowing that my malice made her almost half an hour late.

We’ve always had an issue with food going missing from the lunchroom; most of the time, it looked like an honest or stupid mistake. When that turned into whole meals disappearing, we complained, but the building owners refused to let the company install a camera. We then realised it was up to us.

We knew the thief didn’t take the whole lunch box, rather the contents, sometimes from more than one lunch at a time. Some of the items couldn’t be smuggled back from the kitchen as they were too big. That meant the items must be still in the fridge but in another lunch bag.

There were several large ones, but we couldn’t go through them and had no proof to go to management. So, we hatched a plan.

We each took turns sneaking to the fridge and checking to see if the thief had struck, and another person jotted down the names of everyone who went into the kitchen and what time.

When it was my turn to check, I found my lunch half gone. Luckily, the manager was nearby.

Me: “Someone has stolen my food and food from others.”

Boss: “Oh, not again.” *Loudly* “Listen, everyone. We take a serious view of theft in this company. Anyone caught will face consequences!”

Coworker #1: “Here is a list of everyone that has gone to the fridge.”

Boss: “What are these stars next to the names?”

Me: “They are the people that have volunteered to check the fridge and have had things stolen from them in the past.”

He reads through the list.

Boss: “[Coworker #2], can you come with me, please, and bring your lunch with you?”

Coworker #2: “What? No! I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Boss: “No one said you had, but I would like to talk with you.”

Coworker #2: “Well, I refuse, and my lunch box is my personal property!”

Boss: “We can do it this way or with police presence.”

[Coworker #2] folds her arms, calling his bluff.

Coworker #3: “I’m on the phone to the station now; they want to know if they need to attend.”

Boss: *Sighs* “Tell them please do.”

The police attended and took [Coworker #2] to one side, all the time screaming her innocence. They bring me in to confirm the stolen food was mine. Part of the plan was to initial all lunch items with our names; we found food from three other people in her massive lunch box. None of us wanted to press charges, but they couldn’t keep her on as no one wanted to work with her.

The weird thing was that [Coworker #2] always had her own lunch — normally a really healthy meal — but never finished it. Now we know why she was stealing chocolate bars and crisps from others.

I used to handle purses and shoes at my local thrift store, and among the various passes and fails of quality check, I’ve found a few gems and a few absolute nightmares.

The worst nightmare purse on record was a beautiful, beaded, white clutch that looked perfect… until I looked inside.

Someone had decided to shove their bloody, used tampon inside at some point, staining the entire inside bottom with menstrual blood.

Then, in a stroke of genius, the person had then splashed some sort of chemical inside the purse. The splash pattern of the poured chemical was clearly visible, and the insides were a creepy patchwork of rusty red and a deep shamrock green!

I was very grateful that I did those inspections with gloves on! It went into the garbage bag immediately.

Related:
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 26
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 25
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 24
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 23
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 22

I was in the middle of serving a man and woman and their kid when our customer service worker made the announcement that she needed a first aider to go to the front of the store. That was my job as I was the only first aider in the store as far as I knew.

I called over my supervisor.

Supervisor: “Go ahead and attend the call. I’ll take you off the till and finish scanning the shopping.”

The man I was serving then decided to block me in behind my till with his trolly.

Man: “We’ve been waiting here for ages in this queue and our son is exhausted. You’re gonna finish this shop before you go for your break or whatever.”

Me: “I’m needed for a first aid call.”

But he wouldn’t budge and I couldn’t just barge past him. My supervisor kept demanding that I be let out, and every time, the man and his wife refused to let me go.

Wife: “You could have finished our shopping by now if you weren’t f****** around!”

Eventually, I gave up and just scanned through all their stuff as fast as I could with little care and then ran to the front of the store. Luckily, my colleague had attended the call and it was nothing serious, but man, imagine if someone had smashed their head on the floor!

I’m substitute teaching at a high school. As most high schoolers do, they are testing me. While it is annoying, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I know the staff and routine well so I know what to do and who to call if things get out of control. The class I’m working in for the day is a bit rowdy and led by one student in particular who just happens to be the secretary’s daughter. Instead of sending her to the disciplinary room and having that on her record, I decide to call her mother.

Me: “Hi. [Student] is giving me a rough time in class. I don’t want to send her to [room] unless I absolutely have to. Would you mind if I send her down to you?”

I can hear the smile in the mother’s voice.

Mother: “No need. I’ll handle it. Just give me one minute.”

Me: “Okay?”

She hangs up. I hear the entire schoolwide intercom system click on. The entire school hears the secretary’s voice. 

Mother: “[Student’s First, Middle, And Last Name]! Get it together or you’re grounded!”

The girl’s face goes white and her friends burst into laughter. 

My phone rings. 

Me: “Hello?”

Mother: “Just let me know if she gives you any more trouble.”

Me: “Absolutely.”

The student didn’t give me any more trouble!

This story is part of our Best Of October 2021 roundup!

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