(I’ve dropped my car off for some maintenance at a garage a few blocks from my work and am calling to check on it. My husband has a charge account here for our farm.)

Me: “I was just wondering if you had an idea of when it will be ready; I’m here until five so it’s no rush.”

Owner: “It’ll probably be about two hours, yet.”

Me: “Do you want my phone number so you can just give me a call?”

Owner: “Does [Husband] have your phone number?”

Me ”Yes?”

Owner: “Oh! I’ll just get it from him, then.” *hangs up*

Me: “What just happened?”

(I am the electronics manager at a big-box retailer. One of the new hires in my department is the practical epitome of a poor worker; he frequently shows up late, is rude to other employees, and often sits around doing nothing instead of fulfilling his duties. He has had multiple write-ups and is fresh off a suspension for making a rude remark to his immediate supervisor. Lo and behold, he shows up an hour late on his first shift back from suspension, and I spot him loafing around in the in-store cafe. I decide enough is enough and he has to be let go, but I’m very busy and cannot talk to him in person. So, I decide to be a little creative…)

Me: *over the PA* “[New Hire], if you can hear me… YOU’RE FIRED!” *pause* “Please head to the store manager’s office to pick up your termination papers.”

(Soon after, the new hire storms towards the office, cursing loudly. Several customers are looking at me in disbelief.)

Electronics Supervisor: “I gotta say, that was one h*** of a way to let that guy go!”

(Thirty minutes later, I was called into the store manager’s office and written up for not following termination protocol properly. Totally worth it, given how much of a jerk that new hire was to begin with.)

(I work in an electronics lab at a high-tech manufacturer in California. My supervisor sometimes takes credit for my work. One day a customer in Ohio is having trouble with their user interface port, a problem I have already solved. My supervisor asks me to explain the fix, all the while repeating, “I do NOT want to go to Ohio!” Later, the owner walks in for an update.)

Owner: “So, did you come up with a solution?”

Supervisor: “Yes, it seems that—“ *repeats my solution as his own*

Owner: “That’s good work, [Supervisor]. I’m sending you to Ohio to fix this customer’s unit.”

Me: *suppressing a shriek of laughter*

(I work for my dad’s construction company. We have a new office manager at our warehouse who, so far, has shown herself to be very incompetent. She barely gets anything done around the office and is prone to screaming like a banshee over minor mistakes. She has taken a particular disliking towards me, leading up to this incident one day when I get a call from my dad about an important upcoming job.)

Manager: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “I’m in the middle of an important phone call.”

Manager: “Put that cell phone down this instant! You are not allowed to use them in the office!”

(She is referring to our work cell phones, which we ARE allowed to use, even in the office or the warehouse, as long as they are used only for work-related purposes and nothing else.)

Me: “That is not true, ma’am. Besides, I’m getting important details about a job, and I cannot hear them with you yelling at me.”

Manager: “PUT IT DOWN NOW OR I WILL WRITE YOU UP!”

(One of my coworkers appears and intervenes.)

Coworker: “With all due respect, [Manager], he’s right. This is a very big job, and he needs to be able to hear the details about it so we can order the materials.”

Manager: *to my coworker* “YOU SHUT UP!” *to me* “I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOUR BULLS***, YOU F****** BRAT!”

(She storms off. I continue my conversation on the phone with my dad, and tell him what happened. He is understandably disgusted, and after he finishes relaying the job information to me, he tells me to stay on the line. Just then, the manager comes back, a formal write-up in hand, and slams it on my desk.)

Manager: “SIGN IT! NOW!”

Me: “No.” *puts the phone on speaker* “I’m not signing it.”

Manager: “YOU INSUBORDINATE BRAT! I’LL FIRE YOU FOR THIS!”

Me: “No, you won’t. My dad wants a word with you, by the way.”

Manager: “WHY THE F*** WOULD I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR STUPID DAD?!”

(I hold up my work phone to the manager’s face.)

Dad: *via speaker* “Because A: I’m your boss, and B: this is the third time this month I’ve had to talk to you about your behavior around my son. I’ll be arriving back at the warehouse in about ten minutes. I expect to see you in my office when I arrive, so we can discuss this in more detail.”

(My dad returned in time to give the manager a thorough scolding and demand an apology from her. She refused to admit any wrongdoing and tried to place the blame on me, which instead got her suspended two weeks without pay, and put on final notice. Apparently, she did not take her punishment to heart; the moment she came back from suspension, the first thing she did was try to fire me on the spot for framing her. Needless to say, my dad was not amused and fired her instead for retaliation. Incredibly, she had the gall to try and sue us afterward for wrongful termination, but her case quickly fell apart when we showed the judge her history of write-ups, security footage of her yelling at me and other employees, and the nail in the coffin: the recordings of the phone conversation between me and my dad, in which the now ex-manager could be clearly heard screaming at me in the background.)

(I only eat strictly kosher food; this means that the only establishments I can eat at are kosher-certified. There are only a handful in the city and none are near my work. I am out for dinner with my coworkers at a non-kosher restaurant. Typically when this happens I bring my own meal in a bag and eat with them. I’ve been doing this for six years at many different restaurants, from small Somali joints to huge steakhouse franchises, and have never had an issue until now. There are eight of us at a burger/wings joint and I’m halfway through a deli sandwich when a manager comes up to me.)

Manager: “I’m really sorry, but we don’t allow any outside food here. We are a restaurant.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t eat any of your food due to dietary restrictions.”

Manager: “We can try to accommodate your restrictions, but you are absolutely not allowed to have outside food. We usually have security stop people at the door.”

Me: “Are you a kosher-certified establishment?” *knowing they aren’t*

Manager: “I think we have some kosher food in the kitchen. I’ll go look.”

(I know this is impossible but he leaves before I can say anything. Throughout this my friends have been trying to argue with him asking why this is a big deal, as we’re here with a big group, and he has refused to move. I wait with my half-finished sandwich in my lap like a rebuked boy in school while my friends continue to eat. He comes back fifteen minutes later with another manager in tow.)

Manager #2: “Well, we don’t have kosher food in our kitchen, but you’re not allowed to eat outside food.”

(I’m ready to crawl under the table from embarrassment; I just wanted to sit with my friends and this has turned into a whole ordeal.)

Me: “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

Manager #2: “Well, we really don’t want anyone looking at you and thinking they can bring their own food. Can you eat your food off our plates?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. The plates aren’t kosher.”

(They pause for thinking, while my friends continue to try to convince them to let it slide.)

Manager #2: “If we put a lining on top of the plate, could you eat it, then?”

Me: *not willing to argue any further* “Yes, I could.”

(I’d actually much rather prefer not to do this, as making it look like you’re eating non-kosher food is a no-no. But I just want this experience to end at this point. Another five minutes pass and they bring me a plate with a French fry liner on top of it. I put my sandwich and container of farfel — a Mediterranean dish — on it. Five minutes later the manager comes back AGAIN.)

Manager #2: “I’m sorry, but could you just empty your container out onto the plate? We really don’t want anyone thinking you’re eating outside food.”

(It was incredibly obvious to everyone at the table that this establishment served nothing like the food I was eating. Farfel is a bit messy, and all I had on me was a plastic fork since I’d assumed I’d be eating out of the container. I bit the bullet and dumped it out, and for the rest of the meal I held my container in my lap like it was contraband. The funny thing is that my company, which has 400 people, had come to this establishment in the past for a company event. We pretty much agreed that we would talk to the admin team to make sure that never happened again.)