(After I graduate college, I work for a few months in a local dollar store until I can find a job in my actual career field. I am hired as a “stock and inventory specialist,” and one of my main duties is to help unload the semi-truck load of merchandise that comes in each week. The usual driver is on a very tight schedule, so he and I always unload everything from the truck into the stockroom, and then I take the individual boxes out to the sale floor after he drives off. It usually takes about 30 minutes to unload the truck, but my boss, who is very proud of her “business management skills,” has other ideas.)

Boss: “Why aren’t you getting these boxes out to the sale floor while you’re unloading them from the truck? We have a lot of empty space on the shelves, and we need to fill that space as quickly as possible.”

Me: “I’ll put everything out there as soon as I get everything off the truck and let him leave for his next stop.”

Driver: “Ma’am, I have a very tight schedule. I need to get everything off the truck as quickly as possible, so I can get to my next stop on time.”

Boss: *to the driver* “You’re not qualified to tell me how to run my store! All you do is drive a truck all day. If you’re so worried about being late to your next stop, just find a shorter route, or drive faster.” *turning to me* “Just take each box out to the floor and get everything shelved right away. Trust me; it’ll be faster!”

(The driver gives up and jumps back into his cab to call his boss, and my boss goes back into her office, leaving me to unload the rest of the truck on my own. In total, it takes about three hours to unload the truck, one or two boxes at a time. This happens with every delivery we get in for the next three weeks. The owner of the trucking company finally rides along with his driver one day to figure out why it’s taking so long.)

Owner: *watching me use my boss’s method* “Why are you doing it that way? My driver has to get on to his next stop. Just get everything off the truck. You can make it neat and pretty after my driver leaves.”

Boss: “I tried telling him the same thing, but he just insists on doing it his way.”

Me: *barely holding in my anger* “You were the one who ordered me to do it this way!”

Boss: “Why would I ever tell you to do something like this? That’s just bad for business!”

Driver: “It’s true; she told him to do it this way because she thought it would be faster. She also told me off for trying to tell her about my schedule, and insisted that I should break the law to make up for any delays.”

Owner: “I’ve heard enough. I’ll be cancelling our shipping contract with this place tomorrow. We don’t have to put up with this woman’s crazy ideas every week.”

(I also quit that night, because I didn’t want to put up with her crazy ideas anymore, either. The store is still in business today, about two years later, but I’ve never seen a truck from that company anywhere near the parking lot.)

(As a side job while I’m in college, I referee for the local region of a national organization that is, in short, miserable to work for. We work tournaments that last from 7 am until 11 pm for two to three days in a row, and often times get few or no breaks, due to the shortage of referees. We’re only paid $18 a match and work 12 to 14 matches a day. We’re also not compensated for our food, travel, or lodging while at the tournament. When they ask me to work a tournament two-and-a-half hours away from my house, I’m glad to say no due to my affiliations playing and coaching with several of the major clubs that are traveling to play. The day before the tournament, though, the director calls me.)

Director: “Hey, [My Name], I know you said no to working this weekend, but we have a mass shortage of referees and I desperately need you to work. Can you please come?”

Me: “As I said before, there’s too much conflict of interest due to my affiliations with [Major Club #1] and [Major Club #2]. Everybody that plays and coaches there knows exactly who I am.”

Director: “Well, I trust you to be fair and I need you badly, so please come anyways. We can figure out a way for you to not work those clubs.”

Me: “It’s not just them; lots of the players that I’ve coached have since moved on to smaller clubs. I’m not comfortable reffing anyone that I’ve coached before. I don’t think there’s any way to avoid some conflict of interest this weekend.”

Director: “What’s it going to take to get you to come?”

Me: “$30 a match and full compensation for food, hotel, and gas.”

Director: “As I’ve said before, we cannot provide compensation to officials, only administrators, and the price you’re paid per match is non-negotiable.”

Me: “Well, then, see you at the next tournament. Thanks, anyway.”

Director: “But I really need you. What am I going to do now?”

Me: “I don’t know. Good bye.”

(I wonder what he wanted me to say when he asked me what it would take to get me to come.)

(We hire a bunch of college kids to fill in during the summertime when people are on vacation. It isn’t that big a deal; they just have to run down the script, and if that doesn’t take care of the problem, they transfer the customer to the next level. One of the guys is something special. He is studying computer science and he, “doesn’t need no script to help people.” I am eager to put that to the test. I create an outage report for a customer area in our training system and create a customer in that area that I can be. Then, I am able to live every support tech’s dream: I can be the a**hole customer to a smart-a** know-it-all.)

New Guy: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. My name—”

Me: *yelling* “DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP; MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

New Guy: “Yes, what lights are on on your router?”

Me: *louder* “Don’t talk that technobabble with me, sonny. Fix my Internet!”

New Guy: “I can only help you if you tell me—”

Me: *even louder* “Sonny, listen: you fix my Internet or you’ll be sorry!”

New Guy: “So, what lights are on?”

Me: “Huh? One is on and one is flashing every now and then.”

New Guy: “Ah, yes, so we’re getting a signal.”

Me: “I DON’T WANT NO STUPID SIGNAL; I WANT MY INTERNET!”

(By now, the floor outside is filling with coworkers who want to see what the commotion is about.)

New Guy: “Could you reboot the router for me?”

Me: *huffing* “Fine!” *rebooting PC* “What now?”

New Guy: “No, not the computer, the—”

Me: *back to yelling* “What did I tell you before? Don’t do that technobabble with me; just fix my d*** Internet!”

(I let him suffer for another minute, and since I’m getting kinda hoarse from yelling constantly, I eventually take him off the hook, not without him muttering that “nobody can help that stupid git.” He hands the headset to a female coworker.)

Coworker: “Welcome to [ISP] Tech Support. This—”

Me: *yelling* “MY INTERNET ISN’T WORKING!”

Coworker: “Yes, sir, may I have your name?”

Me: “[Fake Name]! NOW FIX MY INTERNET! Stupid woman probably doesn’t know jack s*** about the whole crap, anyway. Why do they even try…”

Coworker: *mutes me while looking up the relevant info*

(I keep rambling while I can’t help but grin inwardly. By now I have to gesture to the coworkers on the floor to shut up their laughter.)

Coworker: *unmutes* “Sir? There’s an outage in your area. Your Internet will return in about three hours. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(And then, Mr. I-Study-Computer-Science says the magical words that make the floor resound with laughter:)

New Guy: “Oh, c’mon. No customer is that stupid!”

(It is well known at my store that I am a fan of anime, because I often wear hair ribbons or pins related to different series. The manager is as well, but she just displays it with a lanyard of soot sprites. At this time, I’m copying the schedule for the first week of the new year into my phone while she checks out a customer.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], do you like [Animated Movie]?”

Me: “Well, it’s one of the many by [Movie Director] I haven’t seen yet.”

Manager: *knowing smile* “[Nearby Theater] is showing it on the 5th, at 7 pm. Subbed. And it’s just $12.”

Me: “Okay, thanks!”

(It wasn’t until I walked out of the store and checked the schedule I just copied down for that date that I realized she scheduled me to get out of work an hour earlier than the time the movie starts so I could go see it. Best. Manager. Ever.)

(Our team has just had a meeting where we were shown how important reading our customers’ minds are, and how important it is to imitate them.)

Me: *whispering* “I can’t believe that the boss expects us to now read the customers’ minds! What are we, psychic?! And imitating?”

Coworker: “I guess that means we’ll be expected to act angry and upset all the time. And customers have no minds, so…”

(His comment made me laugh hard after that terrible meeting.)