(I’m 15 and doing compulsory work experience at a supermarket near my house. The school organised the placement for me, as I was off school due to appendicitis. I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD since I was twelve; I take a dose of medication in the morning, and a tiny dose around lunchtime. The manager — who has made it very clear that she doesn’t like me — sees me taking the half-tablet during my lunch break. She storms over and grabs the pill bottle from me and starts reading the label…)

Manager: *after reading the “controlled drug” warning on the bottle* “I’m calling the police, and your school.”

Me: *dumbfounded* “What?”

Manager: “You’re taking illegal drugs. Where’d you even get this from?”

Me: “It’s not illegal with a prescription, and my neurologist prescribed it to me for ADHD.”

Manager: “You don’t have ADHD. You’re just saying that.”

Me: *getting over this crap* “You know what? I don’t care. I have my school ID with my picture and my name on it, and that’s proof enough that the bottle’s mine, and that I’m taking it by prescription.”

(My thinking is that I don’t care if she calls the school as they have my meds on record, and if she calls the police I can give them the number to my neurologist’s rooms.)

Manager: *smugly* “Well, then, I will. Even if these are your pills, you should know not to carry this many around with you at once.” *there’s only half a tablet left in the bottle*

(She called my school first and they explained everything to her, so the police weren’t called, thankfully. But my school sent me an email saying not to go back in to the work experience. How could someone be stupid enough to not even read that my NAME was on the bottle? I guess she just really didn’t like me for some reason.)

In 1992, a few months before getting married, my ex-husband wanted me to meet his parents. He did not visit them very often and when I met them, I understood why. He had told me that his mom was a former nun and his dad was a former monk. They were pretty religious people but his mother was a bit over-religious.

We invited them for dinner and when they got to our place, the first thing his mother told me was, “You are both going straight to Hell because you are living in sin!” That set the tone for the rest of this awkward evening. I think that she must have told me at least ten times that night that life is a valley of tears, that I should go confess my sins, and that Jesus died for my sins. His dad barely spoke, only saying yes or no to a few questions.

When we mentioned our upcoming wedding that was supposed to be a civil ceremony at the courthouse — my fiancé and I did not believe in religion — that did not sit well with his mom and she told us, (well, she screamed), “It will not be a real wedding because it’s not a religious one and you will still be living in sin!”

After that evening, my future ex-husband decided it would be best if they did not come to our wedding because he feared that his mother would cause a scene in front of our guests… and I did not even try to make him change his mind!  

I later learned that his Bible-thumper holy Mary of a mother was kicked out of the convent because she was caught, multiple times, having sex with another nun! She had an affair with her husband’s boss and got pregnant by him. Her husband knew because they had stopped having sex years before for religious reasons! His two older brothers had told him the stories and his dad, the one he knew as his dad, confirmed it!

(I’ve recently moved into a house that I am renting with a few other housemates. Most of the other houses in the area have families living in them, so it isn’t uncommon to have a bunch of kids running around the area. On this day, I am unloading some groceries from my car when a few kids run past. Suddenly, the kids dart in and grab the bags that I haven’t picked up and run off with them.)

Me: “Hey!”

(The kids run to one of the houses a few doors down, so I drop the bags I’ve already picked up back in the trunk, shut and lock it to prevent a repeat, and then run after them. They’ve already entered the house by the time I get there, so I pound on the door. A lady answers.)

Me: *with an attempt at a polite smile* “Hi. A couple of your kids grabbed some bags from my car while I was unloading, so I’m here to get those back. I think–”

Lady: *screeching* “How dare you?! You accusing my boys of stealing?! They wouldn’t do that! How dare you?!”

(I have zero tolerance for the type of people who resort straight to shouting, so I pull out my phone and punch in three numbers, before holding it up so she can see.)

Me: “I was willing to write it off as childish mischief. Do we need to treat it as actual theft?”

(The lady glares at me and looks like she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward, putting my foot over the threshold. She actually growls, before stepping back and picking up the bags from where they’ve been dumped on a side table, just inside the door.)

Lady: “Fine, if you have to have them so bad.”

Me: *in the most disgusted tone I can muster* “They’re mine, b****.”

(I then stomped off, leaving her to gape after me at calling her what she is.)

(I work for a very large electronics retailer. My department is accounts receivable, so I mainly deal with giant corporations, government offices, or schools. Every once in a while a regular customer gets transferred to our department by mistake; either they enter the wrong extension or someone in the company who doesn’t know any better sends them to us. It’s usually not such a big deal, as we can access the entire company system and can generally help with order status, payment problems, refunds, etc. But we cannot do anything that relates to actual sales like selling things, taking returns, or things like that. This happens after a customer calls into my direct extension.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Accounts Receivable] department. My name is [Slightly Uncommon Name]; how can I help you?”

Customer: You sold me a broken camera! I was at an extremely important event last night with [Famous Actor] and [Famous Politician], and when I checked my camera today I couldn’t access any of my pictures! You better fix this right now!”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that your camera isn’t working right. May I transfer you to tech support or customer service, as they can help you with this problem? You are speaking to accounts receivable and unfortunately, I can’t help with this problem. I don’t even know anything about cameras.”

Customer: “Your name is [My Name], right?”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “Then I’m speaking to the right person! You sold me this camera! I remember your name!”

(My company has over 2000 employees; it’s very possible that some of us have the same name.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir, but as I said, I work in accounts receivable. I don’t sell any of our products. I don’t even know what most of our products are, let alone how to work or fix them. Now, it sounds to me like you went to a very prestigious event, and I don’t want you to lose your photos; please allow me to transfer you to someone who can help!”

Customer: “You f****** b****! You just don’t want to deal with me yourself! You know you sold me a broken piece of s*** and now you don’t want to take responsibility! Well, guess what. I know your father! Bet you didn’t know about that! Wait until he hears how you treat customers! He will punish you!”

Me: *thinking* “You’re claiming you know my father? I’m not sure how that is relevant, as I am an adult who does not live at home.” *out loud* “I am very sorry that you feel like you are being mistreated. Once again, you have called into the accounts receivable department; if you will give me a moment I may be able to find out exactly who sold you the camera.”

Customer: *starts screaming and cursing*

(I put him on mute and begin to search our company directory to see if there is someone in sales with my name. Lo and behold, there is someone from our sales team who shares my name. Her phone status says she isn’t currently taking customer calls, which also helps explain how the customer got to me. I was the only available person with my name when he called in.)

Me: *to my coworker* “Hey, I know you aren’t taking calls right now, but I have someone calling in that says I sold him a faulty camera and, as I don’t work in sales, I figure he probably meant to speak with you. Also, fair warning, he’s pissed and claims he knows your father.”

Coworker: “Oh, boy. Is it [Customer]?”

Me: *after checking caller ID* “Yes, how did you know?”

Coworker: “He knows my husband, not my father, and he always tells him to punish me after he buys anything from me. Apparently, I only sell him faulty stuff. I bet he didn’t put his memory card in the camera.”

Me: “Can I transfer him to you? He probably won’t notice that he’s speaking to a different person.”

Coworker: “Sure! Let me just change my status to available and then send him my way.”

(I check on the customer and he’s still yelling, so I take him off mute.)

Me: “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I found the other [My Name], and she’s willing to take your call. I’m transferring you now.”

Customer: “DON’T YOU DARE TRANSFER ME, YOU B—“

(I transferred him. Coworker, I’m so sorry you had to deal with him! I hope you were able to resolve his camera issues!)

(I work at a company that makes big rockets — the kind that put satellites into orbit. One of my coworkers, a slacker, drops a large wrench onto one, damaging it so badly it is scrapped. Cost: $6,000,000. He is given a month’s unpaid suspension as punishment, but the union argues “poor training,” resulting in full back pay. A year later, he leaves the building while pressurizing another, more complete rocket. A bulkhead collapses, resulting in a second scrapping. Cost this time: $12,000,000! This time the company finds a way to get rid of him. They call him to HR, along with his union steward.)

HR: “I’d like you to read through your original employment application, and tell me if there are any errors.”

Slacker: “Uh, no, it looks fine.”

HR: “Okay, just to be sure, you didn’t make any mistakes filling it out?”

Slacker: “No, everything is accurate.”

HR: “Thank you. You’re fired. It seems you lied about a felony conviction.”

Slacker: *looks pleadingly at union steward*

Union Steward: *shrugs*