I’m training as a cook in a fine-dining restaurant. The head chef tells me on my first day to take home any leftovers I want that would otherwise get thrown out anyway; everyone in the kitchen does it, and many servers also pack little lunch bags for themselves every day.

I’m surprised, because any other food service place I worked at before was very strict with leftovers and meals for workers, sometimes even making us pay full price if we ate stuff that was going to be thrown out or could not be sold for some reason.

One day, the chefs miscalculate the savoury tarts they need for a special dinner and we end up with two whole trays left over. After everyone has had their pick, I begin stacking the last tarts — at least fifteen or so — in a to-go container.

Head Chef: “Woah, you really like those, don’t you? Are you going to be eating them for the whole week?”

I’m nervous, because I’m still fairly new at this place and wondering if I misjudged the situation and shouldn’t take more than maybe one or two for myself.

Me: “Actually, I had an idea. I walk past [Train Station that is a well-known hangout/sleeping place for many homeless people] on my way home, and I was gonna hand them out to anyone who wants some. They’re good to eat cold, right?”

Head Chef: “Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea. Here, let’s pack some sweet tarts, too.”

I’m relieved he’s not actually mad, and many of the homeless people are happy about the free food. A few weeks later, I come into work after a big Christmas party booking the day before, and the head chef waves me over.

Head Chef: “So, we have about twenty leftover Christmas dinners in the walk-in fridge upstairs. I told the night crew to keep them for you for the train station. Make sure to tell me before you leave, so we can heat them up and pack ’em to go, okay?”

I was a bit flabbergasted. True to his word, I found several trays of roast goose, sauce, dumplings, veggies, and red cabbage in the fridge, and he helped me with reheating and packaging them after the dinner rush.

Thanks to the attention of a very conscientious head chef, a whole group of homeless people were treated to a first-class Christmas meal. That was the point at which I realised I was quite lucky to get a trainee position at his restaurant and learn from him.

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I am a scanning clerk at an auto dealership. My basic job, while simple enough to do, requires software training that nobody else but my coworker has onsite. Without us, there aren’t digital records of parts ordered, sales made, or repairs scheduled.

The health crisis is just starting to hit home in our state and businesses are cutting back and closing. My company employer is considered essential, but they’re furloughing nonessential departments. A meeting is held while my only coworker is out on a personal day.

Office Manager: “We’ll be sending home the majority of the accounting department, with the exception of [Senior Employee #1], [Senior Employee #2], [Senior Employee #3]. The sales teams will be cut down to a skeleton crew, and all other departments aside from parts and repairs will be cut down or closed.”

Me: “What about scanning? Are we part-time now?”

Office Manager: “No, you’ll both be taken off the schedule until [Governor]’s order is lifted.”

Me: “But what about the paperwork? It’ll back up and you won’t be able to access the fil—”

Office Manager: “We have it handled. Effective tomorrow, you’re both off the schedule. There are resources for everyone being furloughed on [Site associated with our employee records].”

I went home and told my coworker. We both slept in the next day, shopped for snacks, and met up to watch Netflix together. Before we got going, we both got a message from a different manager at our dealership that said, “Back to full-time, starting tomorrow. I don’t know what the h*** they were thinking.”

I am stocking a shelf when a woman and the store owner approach me, shouting something incoherently.

Owner: *Looking furious* “Call my daughter a whore again, and you’ll regret ever having a mouth!”

The woman practically turns white and runs for it.

Me: “What was that about?”

Owner: “Never mind. You’re also my daughter if anyone asks.”

Me: “Okay?”

My father-in-law is a pretty smart man, especially when it comes to anything construction. The company he has worked for for several decades really values him and has offered him numerous promotions but he won’t take them. He prefers running the big equipment and not being responsible for idiots — his words. Unfortunately, every so often they hire some new young supervisor for a job who thinks that, because they have some fancy college education and an expensive shirt and tie, they know more than anyone else.

One day, they are clearing land for a road. My father-in-law is operating a closed cab backhoe. It’s not common to see a closed cab but it essentially surrounds the operator in glass to protect them from brush and such as they are moving through an undeveloped area.

He comes upon a tree that needs to be knocked down and realizes that it is hollow. Looking upward, he sees what looks to be liquid flowing down. My father-in-law knows that means a mighty big beehive. He also knows what will happen if anyone so much as touches that tree. He shuts down the backhoe and climbs out to take a better look to decide the best course of action.

The new supervisor comes stomping over.

Supervisor: *Shouting* “What the f*** do you think you are doing?”

Father-In-Law: “The tree is hollow. You can see up there…”

Supervisor: *Cutting him off* “I don’t give a d***. Get in there and get to it!”

Father-In-Law: “But you don’t understand. If I touch that tree…”

Supervisor: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I DON’T UNDERSTAND?! I will have you know that I have far more education than you! Now get your stupid, uneducated a** back in that cab, you old f***, and KNOCK DOWN THAT TREE!”

Big mistake. Now he has ticked my father-in-law off. So, my father-in-law climbs back into the cab and starts up the machine. The supervisor stomps off to a group of big shots, inspectors, and such that are standing nearby, talking about how sometimes you just have to crack the whip on these stupid laborers, and they all chuckle.

With the biggest smile he can muster, my father-in-law begins hitting that tree. And, like an explosion, a solid mass of bees pour out of a hole at the bottom of the tree. They immediately attack the backhoe, but my father-in-law is perfectly safe. At that point, the bees turn their attention to the supervisor and the others standing nearby. It is not pretty. The bees swarm them. But my father-in-law just keeps hitting the tree. With every hit, more bees pour out, even angrier than the last ones.

The supervisor starts screaming for my father-in-law to stop, but being in the enclosed glass cab and with the engine running, there is no way he can hear him. At least, that is his story later on and he sticks to it. My father-in-law does not stop until that tree is knocked down, and hundreds of angry bees chase the supervisor and all the others for about a mile.

After the supervisor and others got out of the hospital, they had a meeting with the company owner — who thought of my father-in-law as a brother — and all the higher-ups. The supervisor, of course, tried to blame my father-in-law. The owner and others who knew my father-in-law well could barely keep a straight face when my father-in-law said, “Well, I am just a stupid, old laborer and was just doing what the highly-educated man told me to do.”

Of course, my father-in-law didn’t get in trouble and there is a happy ending. My father-in-law said that the supervisor became a much more humble man after that, never mistreated any of his employees again, and learned to listen to the more experienced people under him. Every so often, the two of them still treat each other to a beer.

When I was in college, I picked up a part-time Christmas seasonal job working as an engraver at a shop that specializes in high-end items and the engraving that might go with it.

Traditionally, the stores were pretty small in general. Ours was tiny and we usually only had two people on staff: a salesperson and me. Normally, salespeople were trained as engravers as well and did double duty, but because it was Christmas time, they had each role hired specifically. So, I was hired as an engraver. 

As the season went on and I spent more time working, I started to pick up on the various sales stuff and it got to a point where I could do everything except process a sale just because I didn’t have the correct credentials. So, if I was waiting for an engraving job to finish, or didn’t have anything to do — a very rare occurrence — and we were swamped, I’d go help our salesperson out.

As the season went on and it got closer to the end of my time, my manager started asking me to stay. They needed to hire another full-time employee and she liked me and knew that I’d be able to do the job. I, of course, accepted.

And that’s when things went sideways. There’d been some drama brewing most of the holiday season because there was this regional who hated that my manager called her out on the stupid things she did. These were things like saying we couldn’t go home until all the engraving was done; the week before Christmas, the earliest I was leaving was usually midnight and I was staying about two hours away. She hated that and had been slowly trying to push my manager out for a while, but my manager pushed back.

Because of the fact that I was hired exclusively as an engraver, to be able to be brought on full-time, I had to reapply to the position with the regular coding. I reapplied and failed because I answered some of the questions like, “A coworker was out for two days for personal reasons and when they got back they told you they just didn’t feel like coming to work. What do you do?” incorrectly. Apparently. My manager still tried to push, saying that I knew what I was doing and they could use someone like me on staff. 

The regional pushed back and said no, that I had to wait, like, three months to be able to apply again. So, we did, and my manager literally called me the day that probation period was over to push me to apply again. I still failed, and when my manager pushed again, the regional said I wasn’t a good fit.

I went back to the store a few months later to talk to my manager for other reasons and she wasn’t there. When I asked, I got a line of, “She’s no longer with the company.” I’m pretty sure that the regional used her defense of me to push her out completely.

The next Christmas, I got a letter from the company telling me that they “hoped I’d consider joining them again for the holiday season!” I promptly threw it in the fire.