As part of my job, I am required to set up floor displays of stock. Usually, if the store manager hasn’t told us how he wants it to look and is not available, we set the areas up and when he’s available he either approves or not.

The store I work at is fairly new and really there’s been no real definition of staff roles around the store. I am setting up a display when a coworker who always seems to be with the store manager and has a hand in basically everything around the store comes up to me.

Coworker #1: “That’s not the right place for that to go. It should be part of the next section.”

Me: “But I thought [Store Manager] wanted it here; he got us to clear out this area yesterday.”

Coworker #1: “No, it needs to move, and you need to put [other stock] here. It’s what [Store Manager] will want.”

I do as instructed. The next day, when the store manager is back in the store, he comes to look through my department.

Store Manager: “[My Name], why is [stock] up here?”

Me: “[Coworker #1] told me that’s where it goes.”

Store Manager: *Sighs* “When will [Coworker #1] understand that he doesn’t run this place? He’s not a manager. Don’t listen to him in future. It’s just [Coworker #2] and me that you need to listen to; she’s head of this department.”

That’s news to me because I have never even seen that coworker even enter the department I work in. I don’t, until a few weeks later when [Store Manager] is away for a week. [Coworker #2] comes into the department with [Coworker #1] as I am unpacking some new stock.  

Coworker #2: “[My Name], what are you up to?”

Me: “Just working out how to display the new stock we have. [Store Manager] wants it put against this wall as a floor stack. I am just opening cartons to see sizes and numbers of the stock available to create the stacks.”

[Coworker #2] talks to me as if I don’t know what I am doing.

Coworker #2: “Well, what if we do it this way: put the larger items to the back and then stagger them down to the smaller items?”

I internally roll my eyes because that’s the way I always do this sort of stacking. Then, she turns to [Coworker #1].

Coworker #2: “Is it all right with you if it’s done that way?”

[Coworker #1] agreed and they wandered off, leaving me to think that maybe [Store Manager] should talk to his second in command and tell her that [Coworker #1] isn’t her boss.

I work at a university. I worked as an administrative assistant in the physical science department for just over a year before transferring to an advising position for incoming freshmen.

My (now former) boss had a nasty habit of: 

1. spreading gossip (which I hate) about anyone and everyone to anyone and everyone, 
2. refusing to respect my boundaries and being both verbally abusive and emotionally manipulative,  
3. taking personal offense at any action they deemed “against” them, and 
4. taking those offenses and turning them into personal vendettas they tried to spread around campus by making up exorbitant lies.

I joined their vendetta list when I changed jobs without their “permission” (their words). The lies that have thus far gotten back to me include, but are not limited to:

1. I was a spy and was reporting all of their doings back to the dean so that they would get in trouble all the time.
2. Because of my excellent spy work, they are being demoted from department head to regular faculty — despite the fact they wrote an official memo requesting that they be allowed to step down.
3. I spread rumors all over campus that they hated the dean (their boss, whom they do hate) and undermined both their relationship and the dean’s position (which my former boss does all the time to anyone they talk to).

The best rumor, though, came through recently. My former boss claims that I am under investigation by both human resources and the campus police because I have been demanding/extorting money — a felony — from instructors and other staff to do work for them, despite the fact that I look like I’m eighteen and am about as intimidating as a dandelion. And apparently, I am about to be fired for it (I’m not).

All in all, it’s just free — if sometimes inconvenient — entertainment for me, though I did report that last one just in case it made its way to people who don’t know me and became a real issue. Transferring jobs was one of the best things I’ve ever done; I’m not struggling with depression as much and am doing much better emotionally overall. 

And to be honest, it makes me smile every time I remember that I’m living rent-free in their head with the rest of their vendetta collection.

My coworker is passing by a manager.

Coworker: “Hi.”

Manager: “Did you just ask if I was high?”

Coworker: “No, I said, ‘Hi.’”

Manager: “Well, never at work.”

This happens around 1993 or so. I’m about thirteen and my cousin is twelve. She is visiting for the summer. My cousin has very bright strawberry blonde hair, and her hair turns VERY bubblegum pink when she gets in a pool. This happens pretty much every summer.

The problem arises after we get to summer camp after a day at the pool and beach. [Cousin] gets called into the director’s office for having an “unnatural” hair color. He doesn’t believe her when she says that she didn’t dye it. Our grandmother comes to pick us up.

Director: “The rules are very clear; this camp does not tolerate unnatural hair colors.”

Nana: “Sir, this is her natural hair color. We went swimming yesterday and the chemicals in the pool turned her hair pink. This happens often and it will fade in a week or two.”

Director: “That won’t do! You will take her home and dye her hair back to a natural color. She will not be allowed back in until then.”

We leave. [Cousin] is in tears, absolutely baffled about what she did wrong to get kicked out of camp. Nana is muttering up a storm. I start laughing.

Nana: “What’s so funny?”

Me: “Well, the director said that cousin’s hair had to be a natural color, not her natural color. Didn’t she want to dye it black a few weeks ago?”

[Cousin]’s ears perk up. Nana gets a rather evil grin and tells me that I’m absolutely right!

Nana: “[Cousin], do you still want to dye your hair black?”

Cousin: “YES! YES, I DO! Are you really going to let me?”

Nana: “Absolutely, let’s go to the beauty store.”

The next day comes. The director calls us back into the office and calls our grandmother to come get us. The director lays into Nana about how this isn’t a “natural color.”

Nana: “Excuse me, black hair most certainly is a natural dang color!”

Director: “It’s not her natural color.”

Nana: “The rules clearly state ‘natural colors.’ Nowhere does it specify that it must be her natural color.”

Director: “WELL, THAT’S WHAT IT MEANS!”

Nana: “So, you mean to tell me that your black hair, your secretary with the flaming red hair, and the super bleached-out platinum blonde instructor are all your natural colors? Because I know darn well they are not! Now, you will stop harassing my grandchildren, or I’m pulling them out of this program, with a full refund, I’m reporting you to the super head honcho—”

My nana is very good friends with the head honcho, and the director knows it.

Nana: “—and I will convince every parent and grandparent to pull their kids. You have no right to harass children and their bodies. I don’t give a s*** if it’s just hair or not! You do not give impressionable kids body image issues.”

True to her word, she pulled us out after he refused to let it drop and got all the parents to pull their kids and place them in the other camp across town run by the same organization. The head honcho fired the director since numbers got too low to keep his camp open and transferred anyone who wanted to keep their jobs to the other camp. No one was sad to see him go, and the transferred employees were much happier being out from under that tyrant. [Cousin] never heard another peep about her “unnatural” hair.

One of our biggest customers has a major incident on their site and they ask our owner for help. He promises them we will help and, as without them we don’t really have jobs, we all pitch in to help.

Everyone is pulling long days, extra help is pulled in, temps are hired. Everyone is trying to do their job as well as help the customer. It is pretty intense, but at the same time, everyone working together under crisis brings us all together.

I’m working long hours to do my work and others. I’m also one of the few people to have any experience in the customer’s software, so this makes me very busy.

After a few months, the customer starts to recover and we slowly return to normal. A big meeting is called by the owner for all the team. I am quietly expecting good things.

Owner: “I just want to thank everyone for their support and dedication. [Customer] is recovering and has placed one of their biggest orders ever with us. We have become their preferred supplier. This is excellent news for the company and all of us. As a sign of appreciation, we have arranged for individual gifts for all of you. We have some surprises later on in the year, too.”

Human Resources Manager: “Please come forward when I call your name so I can check you off the list.”

I see people being called forward and they return with little handmade gift sets, bottles of wine, etc. I get called over next.

Human Resources Manager: “Here you are, and thanks.”

She hands me a small bunch of flowers.

Me: “Flowers?”

Human Resources Manager: “Yes, and thank you for your support.”

Me: “I’ve worked over 200 hours this month. Everyone else has personalised gifts and you give me a bunch of flowers? What does a bloke want with flowers?”

Human Resources Manager: “Well, we didn’t know what you liked.”

Me: “Sure, whatever, real nice, I feel very valued. Keep your flowers.”

I realise I’ve made a scene. I worry how I’ve come across but I’m angry about how little they made an effort. I go back to my desk and get on with it.

I decide to decline all further overtime. This leaves them stuck without anyone to work the software, the work starts backing up, people start to get stressed, and they start talking of hiring someone who can work the customer’s software. Just as I think I might have to help out again, I get a request to go to HR.

Human Resources Manager: “I am really sorry; the way I acted wasn’t acceptable. I should have treated you fairly. I talked to the owner and he wanted you to have this.”

She gave me a bottle of whiskey — my favorite — with a handwritten note, thanking me personally for the work I’d been doing. I did end up helping out after that.