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This Counselor Needs Job Counseling

, , , , | Working | November 15, 2022

When I was sixteen, I started my first job as a camp counsellor. Each day, we’d organise two to four activities for children aged three to sixteen in different age groups, each activity taking two hours.

This story happened when I was nineteen. I was responsible for one such activity; we were making sock puppets and a puppet theatre, as well as creating a little story the children could perform for their parents when they came to pick them up.

This is a lot of work, so I had two coworkers with me: [Coworker #1] and [Coworker #2]. [Coworker #1] had started two years before, and [Coworker #2] had started the year before, so it was not like any of us were inexperienced.

[Coworker #1] and I had gone to our little storage shed halfway across town and had gathered a lot of materials for the children to use. Both [Coworker #1], the children, and I had a lot of fun. [Coworker #2], however, did not seem to have much of anything, let alone fun. He seemed bored, to be quite honest.

In order to try and get him to do something — anything, really — we asked him if he could run to the storage shed and get some more yellow paint. We were nearly out and the kids wanted to use more yellow paint for the theatre.

Instead of doing something useful, for a change, he just laid down on a couple of chairs, stared daggers at us, and announced:

Coworker #2: “No, I don’t want to. It’s too hot, and I don’t feel like running all the way to the storage shed in this heat!”

[Coworker #1] tried to reason with him, saying that he hadn’t done much of anything for the past hour and that if he could take over for either of us, we could run along and get the paint ourselves. [Coworker #2] was adamant about not leaving, nor helping.

After a couple more minutes of this, I decided that the paint couldn’t wait any longer, so I ran out in the 30°C (86°F) heat, to go and get the paint myself. I was gone for about ten minutes, and when I came back, [Coworker #2] was still laying down on the chairs, refusing to talk to either [Coworker #1] or me.

We decided not to make a big deal out of it right then and there. All in all, the kids were able to finish their sock puppets and the theatre, we even wrote a two-minute interaction that included all the sock puppets. As far as the kids were concerned, it was a total success.

[Coworker #1] and I went off on [Coworker #2] when we got back to the office, though. Luckily, our manager backed us up and gave him a poor review. Some parents had even called in to tell the head of the department that their children had said that [Coworker #2] had refused to help!

[Coworker #2] did get his comeuppance; he was forced to clean the paint brushes, a job that took him about an hour and a half to complete.

A few years later, [Coworker #2] tried to get his counsellor certification (a certification that increases your wage as a camp counsellor) but failed due to very similar reasons. He didn’t come back after that.

Step-Mom’s Not Exactly A Breath Of Fresh Air

, , , | Related | November 11, 2022

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

I am the author of this story. I was an intern at the time of the first story, but at the end of the year, I realised that I would never be happy as a nurse — too much suffering — and left the school.

Months later, I am at a burger joint with my father, his wife — whom I don’t get along with — my brother, and my sister-in-law. We are making small talk over a burger when my father’s wife starts choking on her burger.

Since I trained to be a nurse, I learned first-aid, so I do the first thing to do when somebody is choking: big slaps on the back. One, two, and she moves away. Someone else, closer, does the Heimlich maneuver, and the burger bite is out. My father’s wife breathes a bit and then turns to me.

Father’s Wife: *Harshly* “Thank God you didn’t become a nurse! That hurt!”

I tried to explain to her that it was what my nurse training told me to do, but she left to go to the toilets. I’m not sorry to say that the imprint of my hand stayed on her back for some time, according to my father.

For unrelated reasons, I cut ties with her. Good riddance.


Other Than A Third Of The Letters, They’re Basically Identical

A Little Pizza Justice

, , , , , , , | Right | November 2, 2022

All week, we’ve been getting daily — if not hourly — prank calls from a boy who sounds like he’s about twelve. After the first few calls, we learn to recognise the number, so we pick up and hang up straight away to keep the phone clear. At a slow moment in my shift, I get tired of the calls and decide to actually answer.

Me: “Hi, this is [Pizza Place]. How can I help you?”

I hear barely suppressed laughter.

Caller: “Hi. I want to place an order.”

Me: “Certainly, for delivery?”

We don’t do delivery.

Caller: “Yes, I want 100 large pepperoni pizzas!”

My, oh, my, aren’t you hungry?

In the meantime, I’m looking up the number in our order list, and I get an address. Bingo!

Me: *In a completely friendly tone* “Of course, sir. For such large orders, our couriers can’t take the money or carry change. But we can bill you through your phone bill. I have your address as [Address], and the bill will be sent to you automatically. Thanks for ordering!”

I hang up.

They call back within ten seconds and keep trying for at least five minutes. I just let it ring.

Then, I get a call from a different number, so I answer.

Me: “Hello, this is [Pizza Place]. How can I help?”

A crying kid is audible in the background.

Caller #2: “Hi. My son called you and placed an order for 100 pizzas?”

Me: “Oh, hi! Yeah, don’t worry about that. No order was placed and no bills were issued. I just wanted his constant prank calls to stop.”

Caller #2: “Figured…” *In a fairly loud, mock/sarcastic voice* “Well, I guess the bill will have to come from his little piggy bank, then. Too bad he was saving up for a bike but bought pizza, instead.” *Whispering* “Sorry about all that. It won’t happen again.”

Right before they hung up, I could hear the child crying his lungs out.

We got no more prank calls from that number. Sweet justice!

Sadly Not Immune To Customers Who Are Offended By Pieces Of Cloth

, , , , | Right | September 26, 2022

I have a minor cold, so even though wearing masks isn’t mandatory anymore, I wear mine to not infect anyone else. A customer comes up to the service desk and asks to speak to me specifically.

Me: “Hi, sir, how can I help you?”

Customer: “You know you’re damaging your health, right?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “By wearing your mask, you are damaging your health.”

Me: “I wear it to prevent others from catching my cold. Besides, it’s my body, my choice.”

He gets angry at this and starts yelling.

Customer: “You are ruining the immunity of the children! You are actively harming them! You should be ashamed of yourself! Do you have kids of your own?”

I draw the line here, as he’s making it personal.

Me: “Okay, this conversation is over. You can leave now.”

He does so, but right before he goes out the door, he yells:

Customer: “Dirty b****! You’ll die!”

This got the attention of several coworkers, who all went out to the parking lot to make sure the customer didn’t come back in. Luckily, he just drove off. A coworker took me to the break room to recover as I was pretty shaken up by it all.

The Only Benefit They’re Getting Is Of The Doubt

, , , , | Right | September 3, 2022

I used to work for a union in the “unemployment benefits” department. Most of our calls and emails concerned people who hadn’t received their unemployment benefits and were asking us why. People registered with us had to bring us a blue card with a calendar filled in with the days they worked, were sick, on holidays, and so on. The rules were written on the very first page. Still, people seemed not to get it.

Member #1: “You’re useless! Why didn’t I receive my money this month?!”

Me: “According to the system, you didn’t sign your blue card, sir.

Member #1: “Oh. Can’t you sign it for me?

Another day…

Member #2: “I received a document saying I’m not eligible for benefits anymore since my address is wrong. Could you check it for me?

Me: “The last address I see here was [Address #1]. Did you move to another place?

Member #2: “Yes, it’s been two months. I live in [Address #2] now. Why didn’t you change it in your database?

Me: “Did you send us any documents saying you moved?

Member #2: “No, you should have called to ask!”

Me: “Sir, we cannot just magically know you moved if you didn’t tell us.

Member #2: “I pay an affiliation! You guys should have known!

And my favourite…

Member #3: “I haven’t received anything for months! Why didn’t I receive my benefits?!”

Me: “Sir, the last documents we received were out of date. We don’t accept documents printed before 2015.”

Member #3: “I’ve always used this document and never had any problem with it!

Me: “I don’t mean to be rude, but since you haven’t been paid for months according to you, clearly. you did have problems before.

Member #3: “…It should be written somewhere!

Me: “The rules are stated on the front page of the blue card, sir.

Member #3: “Well, you should have told me!

Me: “In our mailbox, I see we’ve sent several emails to [email address], and we didn’t get any reply.

Member #3: “Oh, yeah, I don’t use that one anymore. So, when can you send me my money? You have all the documents, right?

Me: “Well, we still need a valid blue card for the previous months.

Member #3: “But I’ve always used those ones!

Me: *Sigh*