Managers, Fridges, And Cats, Oh My!

, , , , , | Working | June 16, 2017

(I work for the Manager-from-Hell, in a service department for a firm that sells and maintained industrial fridges/freezers, cooker ranges, massive toasters, etc. The service department is arranged so that the three administrators (I and two others) divide up the customers between us. Some of our customers only have the one walk-in freezer or industrial toaster, so their livelihood is affected if we don’t get out there and fix the problems. Our manager loves himself so much, always sees himself as ‘in’ with the directors, and is always a bit too fast to jump at you for mistakes.)

Manager: “[My Name]! You know what you’ve done? We’re going to lose this customer because of you! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH CRAP THE MANAGING DIRECTOR JUST GAVE ME BECAUSE OF YOU? WELL, DO YOU?!”

Me: *getting flustered, because I haven’t been there long and it is hot in that office* “What’s the customer’s name? I’ll get the paperwork out and see what’s—”

Manager: “Never MIND what the customer’s called! You know D*** WELL know what they’re called! You spoke to them twice today, so don’t give me that!”

(This ‘conversation’ is taking place in full view and hearing of my colleagues, and the other offices go strangely quiet; they can hear him, too.)

Me: “[Manager], unless you tell me who it is, I can’t do anything about it, so—”

Manager: “GOD ALMIGHTY, [My Name], you’re just so d***ed useless! I don’t know why we took you on! Bloody useless!” *storms off to the MD’s office*

Me: *to the office in general* “Does anyone know who he’s talking about?”

(My colleagues just shrug, so we get back to work. But now I’m getting angry, and wondering if I’ve taken a problem job. Ten minutes later, the manager asks me to come into the kitchen; he even asks in a nice, polite way. When we get there, he closes the door after us, smiles and says:)

Manager: “[My Name], I’m really sorry for shouting at you like that. The mistake wasn’t yours; it was actually [Other Department]’s fault. It was them who’d talked to the client. I’m sorry for blaming you.”

Me: “Wow, thanks for the apology! But I won’t accept it until you come with me.” *takes him back to our office* “[Manager], would you mind repeating what you said in the kitchen, please?”

Manager: “Really, [My Name]? You’re going to make me embarrass myself?” *gives a jolly hahaho – an obviously fake laugh*

Me: “Yes, [Manager]. I think it’s only right, seeing as you ripped a piece off me without any idea what was going on. ‘New girl gets the blame.’ Is that your style? Anyway, who was the customer?”

Manager: “It was one of [Coworker]’s accounts. Sorry.”

(So, he did apologise — mechanically and monotonously, but he did. That was the first run-in I had with him, and I had many more in the three years I was there. The only reason I was there so long is that I promised myself I’d see him gone before I did. We absolutely hated each other’s guts. When he left, I handed in my notice. I got a better revenge, though. He insisted on giving me a lift home one night in his new car, to show off. I accepted, seeing as it was pouring down. When we got there, he asked if my husband was in (for more bragging), so I took him into the flat. Our little cat was having a bit of a bad tummy reaction to a cat food I’d given her, and she also liked to sit on strangers’ laps. She bounced up onto my manager’s lap, curled up, fell asleep and then farted the smelliest fart I’d ever smelled her do. It was gross, and I loved it a lot. The manager’s face was a picture. Perfect timing, Fuzzball!)

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Boss Has Reached Your Tea-Total

, , , , | Working | June 15, 2017

(The company owner is a man well-known for only hiring young women to work for him, and he openly brags that he wants all of his employees to be scared of him. We have hired a new intern who is very good at her job, but she’s quite a confident girl and isn’t visibly cowed by him, so he goes out of his way to make her life difficult. This whole communication is via email.)

Boss: *to Intern* “I have decided that since you are not integrating into the company very well, you need to make everyone in the office tea once a day. I would like you to do this at precisely 3:45 everyday, without fail.”

(We are all a bit taken aback by this request, as there are 21 people in the office, and generally we all make our own tea when we feel like it. We all help her out by giving her a heads up when 3:45 comes round, and she is expected to drop whatever she is doing, no matter how important, and make 21 cups of tea, even if we don’t want one. One day, the boss is in an afternoon meeting.)

Boss: *at 3:50* “Would you care to explain why I did not receive my cup of tea at 3:45 as instructed?”

Intern: “I am very sorry, but I was told you were in a meeting which was not to be disturbed under any conditions. Next time, I will bring your tea in.”

(The next day, the boss is in another meeting. The intern knocks, and asks if any of the clients would like a drink and also brings the boss his tea as instructed.)

Boss: “I am extremely unimpressed by your behaviour this afternoon. I don’t expect to have important meetings interrupted by a junior member of staff for non-emergency matters.”

(Both she and I were fired within the month, and couldn’t be more glad!)

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Punched Out And Ready For A Punch Up

, , , , , | Right | June 11, 2017

(I am working as a cashier supervisor at a large store. I’ve just clocked out since my coworker has taken over to do the closing shift. A cashier stops me as I’m about to leave the store, not in any uniform and clearly dressed in my winter outdoor clothing.)

Cashier: “Hey [My Name], [Coworker] is busy. Can you override this markdown on your way out?”

Me: “No problem.”

Customer: “I’d suggest you get here a little faster next time.”

Me: “I’d suggest you don’t take that tone with me. I barely get paid enough to give a f*** about you when I am on the clock. I certainly don’t care when I’m punched out.”

(The cashier high-fived me and I smirked and walked out the door.)

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Counting Your Change And Your Insults

, , , , , | Right | June 10, 2017

(A few years ago, I was working nights in a convenience store to earn a little extra money while I was in college. One evening, a lady pulls up on her motorcycle and comes inside to pay for a pack of cigarettes… entirely in change.)

Me: *counting out the change*

Customer: “Can you get on with it?”

Me: “I apologize, ma’am, but it’s store policy to verify the purchase amount.”

Customer: *disgusted noise*

(Finally, the purchase is squared away.)

Customer: “Also, can you give me directions to [Neighboring Town]?”

Me: “Of course! It’s only a few blocks to the turn, but there’s some construction on [Local Street #1] so you’ll have to make a detour onto [Local Street #2].”

Customer: “What?”

Me: *explains again, this time drawing a map on a spare piece of paper*

Customer: “Well, that makes no sense at all. You know, this is probably why you work at a place like this. You’re not smart enough to get a job anywhere else.”

(I was too stunned to reply before she left the store. For the record, I graduated in three years with a degree in microbiology.)

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Pen Them In For A Write-Up

, , , , | Working | June 9, 2017

(I am staying in England to help a friend, and decide to go grocery shopping, I have been to this particular store a few times, and have encountered little to no issues in the past. There is only one checkout line open, and the customer is deep in idle conversation with the cashier. Since my items are on the treadmill and I’m in no rush for the day, I wait until they are done. A couple of minutes later, the cashier begins scanning my items.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’ll need a bag for this.” *since the store charges for bags and it’s far too much to carry without*

Cashier: *is looking everywhere but my direction, quickly scanning*

Me: “Ma’am? I’ll need a bag.”

Cashier: *scowls and immediately tosses me a bag from under the counter*

(At this point I’m just wanting to pay for my items and go. She calls out the amount and I swipe my card. Since all stores I’ve been to, including this one, require a receipt to be signed for swiped cards and have pens on hand, I quickly bag my groceries and wait for the receipt.)

Cashier: “Sign this, please.” *tosses the receipt towards groceries, then immediately turns away*

Me: “I’m going to need a pen for this…”

Cashier: *turns and glares at me directly in the eye* “Well, that’s your problem now, isn’t it?”

Me: “No, lady, it’s your job to make sure the store doesn’t get in trouble with the bank.”

(She did finally toss over a pen, but made sure to act like it was an extreme effort to do so. I didn’t see her on future visits to the store, but I started carrying a pen and a bag just to avoid that problem again in the future.)

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