I work on a moving assembly line. It’s simple work, it’s boring, and the money isn’t great, but after working in so many companies that have fallen over, it gives me peace of mind to have security at work.

A job goes up on the board for more work but a bit more money. I talk with the manager and he lets me know that they are looking for people who want to “step up” and that this is a good way to show that.

I apply and get the job; I’m told no one else applied. I get on really well but get crap from some of the guys. One guy goes beyond banter and seems to have a real problem with me.

Me: “All right. You got your part tally sheets?”

Coworker: “What?”

Me: “The sheet you fill in to show how many parts you’ve done.”

Coworker: “I didn’t do it. If they want to know how many parts I make, they can come and count them.”

Me: “Err… okay.”

I mark “not done” on my sheet.

Coworker: “What? Are you going to run and tell them?”

Me: “Well, no, but I have to put something down or my numbers will be off.”

Coworker: “Little suck up, you’ve changed. You think yourself all high and mighty.”

Me: “I’m doing my job, mate. You don’t want to do yours? Fine. But I’m not getting crap because of it.”

He swears at me for a bit.

Coworker: “I could have done your job, but I’m not a suck-up, ratting people out.”

Me: “I thought it was because you could barely count without using your fingers.”

That wasn’t the smartest response but I felt good about it. I noticed he wasn’t in the rest of the week. Someone had heard him threatening me behind my back, so they called him into the office, where he threatened the manager, who sacked him.

I tried to go back to my old job, but they convinced me to stay. A year later, they said I had really shown extra effort and offered me another promotion. I never heard from [Coworker] again.

My aunt tends to go through cars like you wouldn’t believe and has just ruined her thirtieth car. Yes, thirty cars. My grandmother, her mother, offers to give her my late grandfather’s car since my grandmother no longer needs two cars. But that isn’t good enough for my aunt. She has her eye on an over-priced seven-year-old SUV with a ridiculous amount of miles, and because of her financial situation, she needs someone to co-sign to get a loan for the car.

My grandmother, who lost her husband not even two years ago, has no interest in co-signing for a “new” car that will probably die before it is paid off. So, at Sunday dinner one week, my aunt asks my father, her younger brother, if he will co-sign for her car loan.

Father: “No way in heck. If I co-signed for a car for anyone it would be for my sixteen-year-old daughter, not you. Take Dad’s old car.”

This triggers a major fight between my father and his sister, which ends in my aunt screaming:

Aunt: “If you won’t co-sign for my car loan, I’ll call child protective services because [My Name] is sleeping on a mattress on the floor.”

My bed frame broke not even a week ago so I am sleeping on a box spring and mattress on the floor until we can get me a new bed frame. None of us think anything about the threat, since my aunt has a habit of making empty threats when she doesn’t get her way.

A few days later, I get called down to the guidance office in the middle of a chemistry test for an “urgent matter.” When I get to the office, I am led into a small room with the school’s social worker and another woman.

Woman: “Hello, [My Name]. I have a few questions about your living arrangements.”

She asks me questions like, “What’s your home life like?” “How do your parents treat you?” “Are you happy at home?” and, “Do you have your own room?” It isn’t until she asks one more question that I start to mentally piece things together.

Woman: “How do you sleep at night?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Woman: *Hesitating* “We received an anonymous tip that your father is forcing you to sleep on the floor. We want to know what that’s about.”

And that’s when everything clicks and I am livid.

Me: “I’m not being forced to sleep on the floor. My bed frame broke about a week ago, so I’m currently sleeping on a box-spring and mattress until my new bed gets delivered. I’ll bet you any amount of money my aunt was the person who made that anonymous tip because my father refused to co-sign for her to get a new car.”

The woman from CPS looks stunned.

Woman: *To the school social worker* “Do you have any way of reaching her father to confirm this?”

Unfortunately, I have no idea what is said during that conversation since I am sent out of the room during the call, but it’s safe to assume my father confirms what I said. Once they get off the phone with my father, the woman and the social worker come out.

Woman: “I’m very sorry about this, [My Name].”

Me: “I understand. You were just doing your job.”

And I went back to class.

When confronted about it, my aunt admitted to making the call to CPS and my grandmother was FURIOUS. She made sure my aunt didn’t end up getting the SUV she wanted and she was forced to take my late grandfather’s 1998 Chevy Cavalier. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t get in any legal trouble for the false CPS report due to it being an anonymous tip, but my father gave her a harsh warning about what would happen to her if she pulled another stunt like that again.

I’m checking wristbands at a music festival when a very drunk man comes to the door.

Me: “Sir, can I see your wristband?”

He tries to show me the stamp from a nearby bar.

Me: “Sorry, sir, you need a wristband to get in here.”

Drunk: “I’m upstairs with the band.”

Me: “There is no upstairs here.”

Drunk: “Oh, I should find out where I need to be.”

Me: “You do that, sir.”

Never saw him again.

When I was seventeen, I was working in a large chain grocery store as a cashier. I’m autistic and cry when I’m super stressed or frustrated. I can’t control it or hold it back; it just happens.

This one fateful day, it was nearing a holiday and the store was extremely busy. I’d been helping customers at our busiest register for a few hours. Most of the customers either helped me bag their items or insisted on bagging them all themselves. Some customers have a particular way they like their things bagged, and who am I to argue?

About halfway through my shift, along came a couple with two carts overflowing with groceries. I already knew this wasn’t going to be a quick transaction. And with no bagger available to help bag, that would mean I’d have to stop scanning to bag items. I started scanning their items and placing them in the bagging area. After one cart was empty and I had the majority scanned, the bagging area was piled high with groceries, and the man stood there watching me while his wife unloaded the other cart. He didn’t help bag and didn’t put any bags I did pack into his cart; he just watched me.

Because of how busy the store was, I was trapped in my register and could not put the bags into the cart myself.

Eventually, I didn’t have much room to put anything, so I had to stand on my toes to try and reach a spot to put things. At one point, I had to very lightly toss a loaf of bread onto the top of the pile. This apparently was the wrong choice.

Man: “Excuse me, but why are you throwing my groceries? I’m paying good money for this s***. I don’t need you breaking it all.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize I’d thrown it. I’ll be more careful. Again, I apologize.”

I started to try and be extra careful with his groceries while I scanned. The pile kept growing and growing, and he still did not bag anything. I placed another item on the pile and it caused a small landslide of groceries.

Man: “I TOLD YOU NOT TO THROW MY GROCERIES! GET YOUR MANAGER NOW!”

I hit the button for my manager and she appeared within minutes.

Manager: “What’s going on, [My Name]?”

Man: “This little b**** is throwing my items!”

I’m not sure what happened after this, as I started crying. My manager told me to go to the bathroom and clean myself up and come back when I felt better. I did just that and was gone for about a half-hour before I was able to calm down.

We’ve recently been getting calls from someone saying their credit card was used at our store, but they’ve never been here. Every time, we give them the corporate customer service number and tell him to call them. After a couple of days of explaining that we can’t do anything at the store, he gets angry. I get another call from him.

Caller: “LISTEN HERE! Someone STOLE my information and spent MY money at YOUR store! It’s YOUR job to fix it! I WILL call the police!”

Me: “Sir, as I said, the corporate office is the only one with the ability to fix it.”

Caller: “WELL, I CALLED THEM! They said to call you!”

Me: “Sir, there is literally nothing I can do to help you other than provide you with their phone number. I am not authorized to do a return of this nature, only corporate.”

Caller: “YOU’RE A F****** LIAR! They said you WOULD put the money back on my card!”

Me: “Sir, if you keep yelling at me and using that language, I will hang up.”

A new email pops up on my system. It’s from Loss Prevention, regarding the situation. They explain that the caller has to contact the card issuer to report fraud, and THEN they can help with returning the money.

Me: “Sir, I have gotten an email from corporate. Before anyone at this company can do anything to help, you have to call whoever your card is through. Until they contact us regarding things, our hands are tied.”

Caller: “No! I’m not calling anyone f****** else! Your s***ty store let someone use my card!”

Me: “There is nothing this store or company will do until you call them.”

Caller: “WELL, I’LL JUST COME DOWN THERE AND MAKE YOU GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Caller: “I’ll bring my f****** shotgun! I’m not gonna wait and call every g**d*** number in the world to get this fixed!”

Me: “No, sir, you are not.”

Caller: “EXCUSE ME?!”

Me: “Sir, we have caller ID. I’ve used your number to pull up your account. If you’re threatening me, I have your address right here to give to the police.”

Caller: “I… Well… I want my money!”

Me: “Then call your card provider. Do not call this store again. If you show up here demanding your money, I will call the police. If you call and threaten me or anyone else at this store again, we will call the police.”

Caller: “Yes, ma’am.”

He hung up. Luckily, nobody at my store has had to deal with him since.