The company I work for makes software for car dealership websites. I’ve only been working there for a few months, and I’m not a salesperson, so this is my first time experiencing how it handles New Year bonuses, meetings, and sales contests. In early January, we have a big (online) meeting and the executive officers address all the employees scattered across the country.

CEO: “This has been such a great year. We really want to thank you all and find a way to give back to the employees who made this possible.”

I wasn’t really paying attention, but I lean forward in my chair when I hear this.

CEO: “We would like to give employees a discount on their next car! Anyone who purchases a car this year through a dealership using our software will have $500 added to the following paycheck.”

My wife and I have been planning to buy a new car but are struggling to justify the cost, so I am extremely excited to hear this!

CEO: “This benefit will be retroactive, so anyone who has already purchased a car this year will be included.”

Immediately, the employee chatbox fills with people excitedly posting that they just bought a car last week and are stoked to get the discount funds sent their way.

CEO: “This benefit will be for the first ten employees to purchase a car this year. If all goes well, we’ll consider doing this again next year and expand the number of employees who can receive the benefit. Thank you for all the hard work you do!”

After hearing this, I slumped back in my chair. More than ten employees had already posted about their new cars, so there was no way my wife and I had a shot at getting the discount. I think I would have preferred a normal raffle prize drawing because I would have at least had a shot at winning something. In a company of several hundred, I don’t feel like this was the way to make everyone feel appreciated.

Many years ago, I worked first-line tech support for a satellite TV company. I usually like working in customer service because I like to help people and make their lives a little easier, but this place had terrible working conditions. It was an inbound call center, and the only sort of quality control they were concerned with was how long our call times were and how much stuff we could sell to the poor customers who were calling in asking for help with their equipment. 

The fixation on call times was ridiculous. If my average call time exceeded two minutes and didn’t result in a sale, I would be called in to have a serious conversation with my managers. 

One day, I received this call.

Customer: “My remote control stopped working again. This is so stupid. You need to get better quality equipment. Can you send me a new one?”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Did you try to change the batteries?”

Customer: “No, I’ve never needed to change them before. They just send me a new remote. How soon can I have it? I want to watch the game on Sunday.”

Me: “Sorry, no one asked you to change the batteries before? They will run out after a while, you know. If you open the little hatch on the back, you will find a compartment there. Most remotes run on double-A batteries; you can get them at the grocery store.”

Customer: “You mean I could get this working today?”

Me: “Most likely, yes. Listen, why don’t you try that first, and if it doesn’t work, you can give us a call back? Make sure to check what kind of batteries are in your remote and get the same kind.”

Customer: “I’ll do that, thank you!”

We ended the call and I took a look at this customer’s call history. He’d called about having trouble with his remote control twice before. Both those times, the associate who had taken the call had just ordered him a new remote without even trying to resolve his issue, most likely to keep their call times down. Since it was within the warranty, it ended up costing the company money.

Yes, my call time was over two minutes for this one. Yes, I got chewed out for it. Within three months of working for this company, I was completely burned out and ended up having to quit.

When I say, “quit,” I mean, “fell into a big, black depression hole”. My doctor strongly encouraged me to have a talk with my managers and find a way to accommodate my medical issues. My managers strongly encouraged me to quit without offering any other alternatives. I did quit since I couldn’t bear working another day there, only to find out after I had already signed the paperwork that since I technically quit on my own demand, I would have to wait three months to be eligible for unemployment benefits. Those were three very hungry months. Yes, I should have known better, but I was young and the union was practically non-existent in that workplace.

When I was in my early twenties, I’d mostly worked short-term temp jobs. I had very low confidence and (at the time undiagnosed) severe social anxiety. I’d had many job interviews, none of which had led to job offers, and some of them had felt like rejections even before the interview was over.

Eventually, I’d been unemployed for so long that the jobcentre insisted I had to go onto a work placement, essentially two weeks of working full-time for zero extra money — just the regular £40 each week — or I’d lose my benefits. My advisor was sympathetic and agreed that my problem wasn’t a lack of initiative, like with many of her clients, but a lack of confidence. She suggested that even though it wasn’t the work I was looking for, I should try a placement in retail as working with people might help me develop more confidence and social skills. I was terrified, but she promised me that if it was too much for me, she’d write me off as sick after a few days and make sure I didn’t lose my benefits as a result.

On the first day of the placement, I really was sick. I had to phone the shop I was placed at and let them know. The man who answered the phone took the message in a clearly sceptical tone. I’d later learn that the previous few people the jobcentre had sent had been useless and most hadn’t even shown up, some not even phoning.

The next day, what should have been my second day but was my first, I managed to get to the shop and go through some basic training, and I was told to shadow one of the staff for the morning and that I’d be put to work in the afternoon. I was still very nervous and soon felt quite ill. I went to the manager.

Me: “I don’t feel well. May I go home?”

She rolled her eyes.

Manager: “Maybe I’ll let you leave early if you don’t slack off.”

I walked back toward the till and suddenly threw up all over the shop floor. The manager, the customers, and the other staff were all suddenly trying to help me, and I realised that it hadn’t been a lack of sympathy but a certainty that I was feigning illness to protest being forced to work.

Obviously, I was allowed to go home as soon as I felt well enough to leave, and the manager even insisted on it when I offered to work after all since I felt a bit better. The whole thing made a bizarre ice breaker, and I was soon made to feel part of the team and was told stories about my useless predecessors. By the time my two-week placement was finished, I’d already been hired as a part-time sales assistant, and I ended up working there until the company went bankrupt several years later.

Years ago, when I worked in IT support, we had a company director who was quite “demanding”. I ended up being the only person in the office who dealt with him, mainly because our boss got fed up with him and nobody else had the patience to deal with him without getting angry.

One morning, this director phoned me with a query.

Director: “Hello, [My Name]. I need a favour. I have a friend who runs a charity teaching computer skills to children with disabilities, and he’s looking for a couple of old laptops. Do you have anything we can give him? I’ve cleared it with [My Boss].”

Me: “I’m not sure, to be honest. I know a couple of weeks ago we had two or three old laptops that had been decommissioned, but I don’t know if they’re still there or even if they still work.”

Director: “That will be perfect! Thank you!”

Me: “Now, hold on, [Director], I first need to look for them and test them. I cannot personally guarantee that we will have anything.”

Director: “Okay, well, have a look and let me know when you find them. I’ll be onsite later this afternoon.”

I ended up really busy and wasn’t able to get looking for the old laptops until after lunch. I checked all three of our storage areas — nothing! I even asked our SysAdmin, who confirmed that he’d taken one laptop for parts and the other two had likely been disposed of.

Of course, I tried phoning [Director] to tell him but got no answer.

Later that day, [Director] turned up.

Director: “Right, [My Name], what about these laptops you have for me?”

Me: “Well, [Director], unfortunately, I don’t have anything for you. I had a look in our storerooms, and everything we did have has either been salvaged for parts or disposed of.”

[Director] was angry at this point but not actually raising his voice.

Director: “You promised me that you had three laptops for me. I’ve promised my friend he could have them today!”

Me: “I didn’t actually promise you anything. I said we might have old laptops but I needed to check.”

Director: “This is not very professional. You’ve made me look bad in front of my friend, who does very important charity work.”

Me: *Thinking* “Well, why the h*** did you promise something like that to your friend?”

Me: *Out loud* “Well, [Director], I’m sorry about that.”

[Director] repeated his complaint about me being unprofessional and walked out of the office. As he left, our intern piped up:

Intern: “Maybe he shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep?”

This was just one of the many things [Director] did that caused me endless frustration in the process. But when he retired about six months before I left the company, I went to the retirement party, and just after receiving his retirement gift, he came over to see me, shook my hand, and apologised for being so demanding. In spite of my “unprofessionalism,” I clearly managed to stay in his good books!

A bunch of teens and a few people who were likely in their early twenties came into our small grocery store and stole all the mobility scooters. They jousted with them in the parking lot and in the store and absolutely trashed the back. This was in itself a pain to clean up since we have a Renaissance festival nearby this time of year which swamps us with customers, but what really sucked is what happened after we caught them all and kicked them out.

The exact moment I started to relax again, another employee came running up to the front to talk to the manager.

Coworker: “Those kids also trashed the men’s restroom!”

I didn’t think this would be too bad when I was immediately sent to clean it, but I took one step inside that door and vomited hard.

They had covered the entire restroom in SOY SAUCE, and no, I’m not joking. It was up the walls, in the toilet and urinal, and all over the floor, and that stuff smelled so bad

Then, when I had finished cleaning it all up, the same manager who told me to go back there berated me for taking so long even though I told them that I had no experience with legit cleaning supplies; I was kinda poor so rags and water were about the gist of it. That was the icing on the crap cake.