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Stories about people who clearly aim to misbehave.

God Doesn’t Want To Be Brought Into This

, , , , , | Right | January 2, 2021

I’m head lifeguard at an outdoor pool. One of my duties is to make sure the pool is still safe for customers when storms approach. If the lifeguard on duty sees storm clouds, they call me if they don’t see me already heading out, as my house is in view of the pool. I follow very simple guidelines; if I see storm clouds, I announce the risks and warn everyone that the pool may be closing. If I hear thunder, I make a show of evacuating the pool and starting a large clock for fifteen minutes; if no risks are shown by the end of the clock, I allow them back in. If rain starts or I see lightning, the pool is closed for the rest of the shift. If there is another shift scheduled later on in the day, I reevaluate the risk then and reopen if necessary.

This particular day, I see lightning at 1:00 pm and the next shift is from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm. I’ve been assisting the families with packing up their belongings and watching children as their parents get the cars ready while the lifeguard on duty is cleaning up the office and locking up.

I am shouting as families are finishing up packing cars.

Me: “If the storm has stopped by 4:00 pm today, please feel free to come back! If not, please come back any other day and let us know you were here today for a rain check on the admission fee!”

I start filing the admission forms in the rain check binder when a family van drives up and a mom comes running towards me. The lifeguard is returning equipment to the lockers at this time.

Mom: “I want entry for me and three children.”

Me: “Ma’am, I cannot allow you entry while there is a storm active.”

Mom: “Oh, this little thing will blow over. Give us entry.”

Me: “Ma’am, lightning just struck nearby not ten minutes ago.”

Suddenly, some thunder cracks.

Me: “And that’s thunder right there. Even if it wasn’t raining, that means I couldn’t allow you entry. Please do not make an issue of this. It is for the safety of you and your children.”

Mom: “WELL, GOD WANTS US TO SWIM! A LITTLE RAIN FROM HIM ISN’T A SIGN THAT IT’S DANGEROUS!”

As if on cue, lightning strikes a tree just outside the pool’s premises. The tree is close enough to the equipment lockers that I hear a shriek and rush over, ignoring this woman, to check on my lifeguard. I find her huddled behind all the lockers, shards of bark embedded in the door of HER locker. I immediately take a picture of that door and help this girl into the office to let her calm down. I then turn to the woman and show her the picture.

Me: “Ma’am, God just tried to kill my lifeguard to stop you from swimming. I don’t know what else to tell you, but the pool is closed and will remain closed until I can get someone to look at that tree.”

I closed the office window in her face and shut the blinds. As the gates were already locked, she could do nothing but try to shout at us, but the wind drowned her out.

When she finally calmed down, I ended up driving the lifeguard to a nearby clinic to have her checked out in case she was hurt. She ended up being fine, but the pool was shut down for two weeks as the lightning strike ended up frying out the filtration system.

The crazy mom? She ended up reporting me every day of the shutdown for not letting her kids into the pool.

When Life Doesn’t Give You Lemonade…

, , , , | Right | January 2, 2021

I’m the assistant manager at a popular fast food restaurant. A customer comes in and asks for a lemonade. It’s important to note that we have a self-serve Coca-Cola Freestyle machine in our dining room with Minute Maid lemonade, and behind our service counter, we have a fresh lemonade bubbler that customers can order from. The bubbler lemonade has an upcharge because it is better quality than the Minute Maid lemonade.

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get started for you?”

Older Man: “Your f****** lemonade is out!”

This means that we have none in the store until our truck comes in two days.

Me: “I apologize, sir, but that means I won’t have any lemonade for another couple of days. Our Freestyle machine has over five-thousand different combinations, and you are more than welcome to select a different beverage in our dining room.”

Older Man: “F*** that s***. Give me that lemonade behind you.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but there is an upcharge for that lemonade. I can certainly pour you a glass if you don’t mind paying the upcharge.”

Older Man: “I am not paying a f****** upcharge because your gay a** doesn’t have my drink. Give the s*** to me for free.”

Me: “I won’t be doing that today, sir. Help yourself to any drinks out there. Have a great day.”

I then walk away and go back to our dish area, out of customer view. As I walk away, all I can hear is:

Older Man: “F*** you, you [homophobic slur]!”

Therapy Time!

, , , , | Related | January 2, 2021

I am having a conversation with my mother-in-law. I mention that I have just been to the horse races for the first time as an outing with some of my coworkers. To my in-laws, gambling on the horse races is a get-rich-quick scheme.

Mother-In-Law: “So did you win anything?”

Me: “No, I didn’t bet. I only had twenty dollars on me.”

Mother-In-Law: “You should have put the whole lot on a horse.”

Me: “I used it for food and drink.”

Mother-In-Law: “That doesn’t matter; you might have won.”

Me: “But I might not have, and then would have had to go hungry.”

Mother-In-Law: “But you could have won! I remember a time when after I paid all the bills and only had twenty dollars left to buy food for the week. I put it all on a horse and won over two hundred dollars. I was so happy that week that I could afford to feed the family.”

Later, I mention this to my husband. He hates gambling with a passion.

Husband: “And did she say anything about all the times the horse didn’t win?”

Quite Frankly, Sir, Shut Up

, , | Right | January 2, 2021

I used to work at a very popular fast food chain where people were rude to me often. I eventually quit because of how some people treated me, as well as constant scheduling issues.

Me: “Will that be all for you today, sir?”

Customer: “Yes, ma’am.”

I press a button on the register, and then I need a name for the order. It is very busy at this point, which means it is very loud.

Me: “All right, sir, may I have a name for the order, please?”

The customer says his name, but since it is really loud, I hear what I think is Frank.

Me: “Frank?”

I say this unsurely, just confirming to see if I got his name right. His whole attitude changes.

Customer: “No, [My Name], my name isn’t Frank. It’s [Customer]!”

Me: *Trying to be civil* “I apologize, sir, I was just confirming. It’s very loud and I can’t hear so well.”

Customer: *Unable to let it go* “How did you get my name wrong? I said it clearly. It’s simple. Why would you say Frank? It’s [Customer].”

My manager has heard this ordeal and he comes over to see what is up.

Manager: “It’s okay, sir, she was just confirming. She’s doing her job.”

I finish the transaction without him saying another word. But it doesn’t end here. I have to go get him honey from the kitchen since there is none up front. Trying not to make him mad again, I set the honey in front of him on the counter and give him a small smile. I don’t want to talk to him again, but I want to be polite, at least. I start to turn away.

Customer: “[My Name]! [My Name]! WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS? YOU WERE SO RUDE! WHY DIDN’T YOU PLACE THE HONEY IN MY HAND?! FIRST YOU GET MY NAME WRONG, AND NOW YOU WERE RUDE! I WANT TO SEE YOUR MANAGER!”

I have really bad anxiety, and the place is full so everyone is looking at us. Behind the counter, I start to cry. My manager goes to talk to him while I wipe my eyes and attempt to serve another customer, since we are so busy.

Me: *Miserably, on the verge of tears* “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. It is my pleasure to serve you today.” 

Customer #2: *Angrily* “That guy was an a**hole! You did nothing wrong, sweetie.”

I smiled a little bit, but I tried to talk as little as possible because of how upset I was. The man walked out of the restaurant angrily. My manager rubbed my shoulder and told me it wasn’t my fault and that I did nothing wrong.

Who Doesn’t Love Unsolicited Advice?

, , , , , | Working | January 1, 2021

I recently got a job at a dealership. It has quickly become apparent that one of my coworkers is going to be a problem. I was hired to replace a cashier that was moving to a different state, and this coworker fills in while I finish my last two weeks at my old job. There are only two cashiers on any given day: one in the morning and one in the evening.

I am not that good at confrontations, especially in situations like this where I’m trying to learn.

On my first day, the official trainer can’t train me because she’s the accountant and she has to do her end-of-the-month stuff. Apparently, the problem coworker thought I would be by myself the next morning — my second day — and was upset when she was told she had to work the morning cashier shift because she hates being a cashier.

I’m scheduled at 2:30, but I punch in around 2:20 and head to my station, which is basically a locked room with plexiglass at the counter with only a small opening to pass things through. The problem coworker is there.

Coworker: “What time were you supposed to get here?”

Me: “Two-thirty. I know I’m a little early. I’m still waiting for [Trainer].”

Coworker: “That’s the problem with twenty-somethings. They don’t know how to get anywhere on time. You should always be here fifteen or twenty minutes early. We open at seven, so you should be set up and ready to go at seven.” 

I anxiously wait for the trainer to arrive. When she still hasn’t arrived by 2:50, I start to wonder if she forgot she was training me today.

Me: “I wonder where [Trainer] is.”

Coworker: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Do you have her number to call her?”

Coworker: “No. I don’t get anybody’s number and no one has mine. [Dealership] isn’t paying for my phone, so nothing work-related is going on it. If I need to call out, I know the number for the dealership. And you’ll never see me on my phone while I’m at work. My family knows to call here if there’s an emergency and they need to get a hold of me.”

Thankfully, a manager walks by a few minutes later and calls the trainer for me. She is stuck in traffic and finally shows up an hour late. I go about my day and the trainer asks if I’m comfortable doing the morning shift by myself the next day. I do agree to try the morning shift after being reassured that I don’t really do anything until about nine or ten, and the trainer will be in around 9:45.

The next morning, I show up at 6:50 and start my opening tasks. By 7:15, I’ve finished everything and I’m scrolling through Facebook on my phone when guess who shows up? The coworker thought that once again she would be the morning cashier. She offers to stay with me, and while I’m glad to not be alone, I wish I was with anyone else. I decide not to point out that she was the one ranting about how you should always be twenty minutes early when she herself was fifteen minutes late.

I get a transaction around eight. The money-taking part is easy; it’s logging the money properly that I’m not fully comfortable with, but I have notes and I start to do it the way I was trained.

Coworker: “Okay, stop what you’re doing. You’re doing it wrong. Don’t listen to the twenty-somethings; they don’t know what they’re doing. They make things way more complicated than they need to be.” 

Me: “But this is how [Trainer] and [Other Cashier] showed me how to do it.”

Coworker: “Trust me, I’m sixty-something. I’ve been around way longer than they have. How old are you anyway?”

Me: “Twenty-six.”

Coworker: “You’re older than I thought.”

I get this a lot. Most people think I’m nineteen to twenty-two.

Coworker: “Anyway, the only thing the twenty-somethings are good at is Excel. I’m assuming you know how to use Excel.”

Me: “Yes.”

I’m thinking to myself that I’m a business major and had to take a computer class for business majors where 80% of the assignments were based around Excel, but she starts ranting again. I mostly tune her out at this point.

A little while later, we’re bored with nothing to do.

Coworker: “Let’s scan some documents. I know [Former Cashier that moved away] would scan sometimes in the mornings when it’s slow.”

Me: “I don’t know how to do that. They didn’t show me.”

Coworker: “Well, it’s not rocket science. All you do is push some buttons.”

I’m thinking, “It may as well be rocket science since I don’t know what I’m doing because it’s only my third day!” She shows me how to scan old documents into the computer. While I do that, a worker from another department waves hello as he passes. I would estimate that about 40-50% of the workers at the dealership speak both English and Spanish. The worker who waves is Hispanic, and I acknowledge him through the plexiglass barricade.

Coworker: “Yeah, that’s [Hispanic Coworker]. He’s nice, but his spelling is atrocious. I keep saying that if people would just learn to speak proper, then there wouldn’t be as many spelling errors in the world. Most words are spelled like they sound. I mean, [Other Coworker] always says, ‘idear,’ instead of, ‘idea.’ It’s spelled like it sounds. Like, people from Boston don’t speak proper.”

I mentally bang my head into the desk and resist the urge to say, “Okay, boomer,” and risk getting fired after only three days. I have to listen to her rant about grammar, twenty-somethings, how the other cashier doesn’t keep anything in a “logical place,” and how to properly file things — something else the other cashier apparently doesn’t know how to do “correctly” — for another hour and a half until the trainer comes in to check on me. I am honestly so horrified at some of the things I hear that I don’t know how to respond.

I pray for customers to come so she will shut up for a few minutes. When I do have customers, she watches me like a hawk and makes me super nervous, but she makes sure I logged everything “the right way.” As soon as the trainer comes in to check on me around ten, the problem coworker leaves.

Trainer: “I am so sorry you had to be stuck with her all morning. Everybody kind of hates her, but we can’t get rid of her. Do you need help with anything?”

Me: “Yes. Help me undo everything. She was having me do stuff all out of order, and she had me separate the receipts from the invoices, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

The trainer helps me get organized and settled. Thankfully, there isn’t too much to do, and she tells me to page her if I need anything. I manage to get into a rhythm and I’m feeling more confident. A while later, the problem coworker stops by.

Coworker: “How are you doing?”

Me: “Good…” *waits for her to leave* “…now that you aren’t here.”