I have a manager who I can only classify as evil. It doesn’t matter your skill level; she will try to get you fired on the sole basis of you being “too ugly” and/or being better off than her. Unfortunately, she is a high-school dropout and fifty-nine-year-old divorcee who lives way above her means, so even the college graduates straight out of college with a mountain of debt are viewed, in her eyes, as privileged children who had the world handed to them.

Back when I was young and naïve, [Manager] used to use me as a minion to target this one guy. He was a jerk who was bad at his job, but she mostly wanted him gone due to his chronic illness. Nevertheless, she got her way and pinned it on me, framing it that we needed to fire him if they wanted “me” to stay. I just wanted him better managed, man.

The health crisis happens, and since our former target is gone, [Manager] has no one to blame as a distraction for her being unable to do her work. Therefore, she turns her sights on me and begins gaslighting the h*** out of me. Because we are remote at this time, this evil woman is the only one I can talk to at work — by her own hand. She then moves to get me fired by calling me “catty” and “difficult” when I am actually confused and frustrated.

Luckily, that doesn’t happen, and another manager sees what she is doing. He insists that I start working under him, and a year later, I am thriving! I am also able to finally get help for my mental and physical health issues, where previously, [Manager] refused to let me take my sick days off. I even rise to be on the same level as her in a short amount of time.

Fast forward. My new manager leaves the company, and [Manager] tries to swoop in and be all “us against the world” again. She even tries to pit me against a new hire (who is wonderful in every way, but has male-pattern baldness so that is a no for her). I am older, wiser, and in a better mental state a year after the fact, so I manage to stave off her advances. She doesn’t like that very much. Her minion is gone!

Therefore, she fervently tries a new round of attempts to get me fired. But because everyone who worked with us pre-global health crisis already knows what she did to me due to a very public mental break, she has to throw suspicion off of her and make it look like it is OUR boss who is insisting that I be fired. She goes around telling everyone what a valuable member of the team I am to the point that it is beyond creepy.

Meanwhile, she also sets up situations trying to make it look like I am overstepping bounds by privately asking me for tasks for her subordinates, only to send a nasty, aggressive response in front of our boss when I (le gasp!) give her suggestions. Luckily, each time I am able to call her out on it in the sweetest and most apologetic manner (i.e. “I am so sorry. They don’t have to do these tasks. I only mentioned it because you asked, but no worries!”) so she is even nastier for no reason. 

Her whole aim is to make it look like I am needlessly attacking her and questioning her competency while acting like she is this sweet, innocent victim who has done nothing wrong and loves me so much that she sees me as a daughter! 

One day, though, we are sitting in an all-staff meeting when her boss asks me a question about why test cases aren’t matching up.

Me: “I am not sure, as I haven’t had a chance to look at the problem quite yet, but is it possible that it is [reason]?”

His eyes get all wide in surprise and he starts nodding approvingly.

Boss: “You know? I did not. See, [Manager]? I told you she was good! I didn’t even think about it!”

He crows and sings my praises as he fixes his issue for himself. Meanwhile, she is left stuttering with egg all over her face.

Manager: “I-I already knew she was good, [Boss].”

It definitely felt satisfying to know our boss has my back and sees the good I do, no matter how much [Manager] tries to tear me down.

My boyfriend works as an animator, recreating specific scenes of accidents, injuries, and surgeries for use in legal cases. Unfortunately, he is at the mercy of the bosses and middlemen above him when it comes to being given the details of the cases involved. He’s dealt with many years of inconsistent information and frustrating inefficiency that affect his ability to do his job. Here is just the latest example.

Mind you, the people contracting my boyfriend’s company for this case have all of the actual information about the people involved, but does that information actually trickle down to the animator who has to recreate it?

First, he’s told he’s animating a car crash, but he won’t need to show the car, just the injury sustained by the person inside. Okay. He’s told they want a side view of a man in the driver’s seat, suffering a head-on whiplash collision. He is given no photos for reference and no records, just this description, so the plan is to use a basic male figure, almost like a crash-test dummy, to demonstrate the motion of the accident.

Then, the man needs to have brown hair, despite not being originally supposed to look like anyone in particular. 

Then, it’s not a front collision; it was from the side, so it’s a side-to-side whiplash now.

Then, naturally, a side view won’t show this well, so it’s changed to an animation viewed from above.

Then, suddenly, the man in the driver’s seat is, surprise, now an eleven-year-old boy, and he’s in the passenger seat.

Also, they’ve told my boyfriend he needs to show the car now.

These are all changes my boyfriend is given once work is already in progress, over the course of a week or so. He suspects he’s at the point of needing to start over entirely, and even though he plans to prod his boss into verifying these details for him before he continues further, he has no reason to think he won’t end up completing the whole animation, and then a week later be given photos of the injured person with instructions to make it look patient-specific. It’s just the way this place operates, and yes, he is looking for another job!

Many years ago, I worked in the UK for an American company that made adhesive tape. Making the glue involved some very flammable solutions, so smoking was restricted to a specific area and, after some problems with people smoking outside, all lighters and matches were banned and we were all subject to possible searches at the gate.

One day, a taxi pulled up at the gate, and [Security Guy] asked the passenger if he had matches or a lighter. Back then, most people smoked. The passenger said he had a lighter, so [Security Guy] asked him to hand it over. The passenger refused because A) it was gold and valuable, and B) because he was too important to obey the rules.

[Security Guy] stuck to his guns, and eventually, the VIP handed the lighter over and was let in. A few days later, [Security Guy] got a letter commending him for his diligence. Apparently, the VIP was well known for his arrogance, and the site manager was well pleased to see him taken down a peg.

Once upon a time, I was employed at a once-popular, now-defunct electronics store that was notorious for pushing service plans on literally everything, even SD cards and flash drives. The manager who hired me was great, which led to him being placed in a new store and leaving my coworkers and me stuck with possibly the laziest, most incompetent, imbecilic person I’ve ever had to work for. He never did any procedures correctly, which led to constant register shorts, refused to listen when we tried to explain that what he was doing was incorrect, got mad when we wouldn’t count out the register his way (i.e., the WRONG way), blamed us when he got called out by corporate, and stole our sales even though managers didn’t even make a commission like regular employees did. Every customer he spoke to would turn to one of us after he walked away and ask what his problem was. Honestly, I could fill a whole page with stories of this fool, but I’ll start with my favorite one.

Every time I was helping a customer, [Manager] would insert himself between us, tell me, “I got this, [My Name],” and shoo me away. Then, after the customer paid and left, he’d turn to me and say, “Now, why do you think you lost that sale?”

Out loud I’d say, “I don’t know, [Manager]. Why?” In my head, I’d say, “Because you’re an a**hole.”

One day, a woman came in asking for the cheapest portable DVD player we had. I showed her our cheapest model — a five-years-out-of-date absolute brick of a machine on clearance for $75.

Me: “This is our cheapest model for a reason. For a mere $20 more, we have a much better model available that’s far less clunky, has a bigger screen with a sharper picture, and has a better battery life.”

Customer: “I have room in the budget for something better. What else do you have?”

We chatted and joked back and forth for about ten minutes while I showed her what we had. I eventually got her from the $75 brick to a $200 second-to-newest model WITH A FREAKING TWO-YEAR SERVICE PLAN. Those were near IMPOSSIBLE to get, so this was a HUGE deal.

And then, [Manager] swooped in between us, even though it was far too close for comfort, did his, “I got this,” garbage, and tried to shoo me away.

Me: “No, I’ve got it. You can go.”

Manager: “No, it’s fine. I’ve got this.”

The poor customer was just looking confused. Not wanting to make her even more uncomfortable, I had to concede, and I stepped away to watch this idiot destroy what I’d accomplished. Barely a minute later, she was back to the $75 brick with no service plan.

Great, well, at least I’ll get a commission from that. NOPE. [Manager] swooped to the register and rang her up before I could get there. After the customer left, [Manager] turned to me.

Manager: “Now, [My Name], why do you think you lost that sale?”

Me: *Without thinking* “Because you’re an a**hole.”

Manager: *Flabbergasted* “W-what?!”

I realized I’d done goofed, but at that rate, I figured in for a penny, in for a pound.

Me: “[Manager], I had that, just like I’ve had every sale you’ve stolen from me. I was helping that customer for ten minutes and got her from that $75 piece of crap you sold her to the $200 one with a two-year service plan. You spent thirty seconds talking to her, and she dropped back down to the crappy clearance model. Ever notice that none of our customers want to talk to you? You are the worst salesperson in this store, you need to stop stealing all of our sales, and the next time you take one of my customers like that, we’re going to have a big problem.”

[Manager] just stared at me in open-mouthed shock during my rant, and I wondered if I’d actually scared him a little. Once I was done, he just shut his mouth, nodded, and meekly apologized. I know you “shouldn’t” speak to a manager that way, but all of my coworkers and I had spoken to him repeatedly about stealing our sales and he would just brush it off, so I had had it. He never stole any of our sales again.

Where I work, they only used to employ women for the office and men for the factory. Even today, that is still mostly true, and I am one of the few men working upstairs. I am sure the older female office manager resents me for this.

All of the company documents are still worded this way. I’ve mentioned before that should probably be updated, but I was told basically to shut up and that it wasn’t important.

A few years later, the situation is the same. The office manager is getting worse. She refuses to interview any men and is getting more and more vocal. It’s a pretty bad environment for everyone. Two of the other guys quit; it’s just me and another man in the room of women.

Then, the office manager comes for me. Apparently, I’ve been technically breaking the rules by leaving early. I had a verbal agreement when I started to stay late on a Friday and leave early the rest of the week. It suited the company and me, but apparently, I should have put in a request each week and had it signed by her.

We go through the official route. I decline representation for the meeting.

Office Manager: “I have here years of evidence of you leaving early, all without any form of authorisation. Anything to say before I sack you?”

Me: “We agreed to this because [report] needed to be done on a Friday and I was the only one who can do it.”

Office Manager: *Scoffs* “You got any proof?”

Me: “No, but can you show me where I actually broke any rules?”

Officer Manager: “What? You’re clutching at straws! It’s in the policy!”

Me: “Show me.”

She starts to get really nasty. Luckily, the Human Resource representative tells her to just go and get the paperwork. She does, reluctantly, and comes back, half throwing at me.

Me: “Yes, see? Nothing in here about me not being able to move my hours around as long as I book them — which I have been doing.”

Human Resources: “Can I look?” *Does so* “Yes, well… you have a point. It doesn’t actually say anything about you—”

Office Manager: “Give me that! See right there?!”

Me: “Yes, but I’m not a woman.”

The policy clearly stated that women needed to get a weekly signature — one of her many micro-management policies. I was still being governed as if I was working in the factory.

The HR representative admitted that I had broken no rules. I thanked them both and left. My manager lost it, shouting, swearing, and kicking off.

The next morning, we were told that she had taken some “personal leave,” but she never returned.