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Thanks But No Thanksgiving

, , | Working | December 18, 2015

(I work for a popular retail chain. At our store, it is normally expected to have all hands on deck for Black Friday and days off had to typically be secured months in advance. However, in what turned out to be my last November there, we had recently hired so many people that a good handful of regulars weren’t scheduled for that day. Curious, I ask one of the managers if that’s accurate.)

Manager: “Yeah, we’ve got more than enough coverage all day long, even for Black Friday. Enjoy the turkey hangover!”

(I make sure to ask several times of different managers during the two weeks between when the schedule was posted and when BF finally rolls around, and am always given the same answer. Finally, on the day before Thanksgiving, the one manager I haven’t talked to because I never am in at the same time that she is — the one in charge of scheduling, coincidentally — approaches me.)

Scheduling Manager: “Hey, we’re going to need you in on Friday.”

Me: “Um… excuse me? I wasn’t scheduled.”

Scheduling Manager: “Things changed. You need to come in.”

Me: “I can’t. I already made plans to go see family out of state, since I was assured by everyone short of the district manager that the schedules were accurate.”

Scheduling Manager: “We had two people already need to drop out, so you need to come in.”

Me: “Hang on, you’re trying to tell me that two people who WERE scheduled are okay to leave, but when I wasn’t scheduled I’m in trouble for not being able to come in!?”

Scheduling Manager: “Look at it this way; it just goes to show how valuable you are to the company! See you Friday.”

Me: “I’m not going to be here Friday, sorry.”

(No, the scheduling manager wasn’t particularly popular with that sort of condescending attitude. No, I didn’t go in. No, I didn’t feel bad when a couple months later I got a better job offer, and she tried to chew me out for not giving “enough advance warning” besides my two-week’s notice!)

Freedom To Give Stupid Answers

, | Working | October 12, 2015

(My manager and a coworker are looking from another person to help process cash.)

Manager: “Is [Coworker] free?”

Me: “We’re ALL free. This is ‘Murica.”

Like A Complete Nap In The Face

, , , | Working | September 15, 2015

(I’m a single mother of two young children. I’m also a full-time student with a full-time job, studying at night after my kids have gone to sleep. As a result, I get about an hour of sleep per night, often passed out over a book. My coworker, who is male, works part time and takes a half-load of courses at the same university. While I have worked at this shop for several years, my coworker has worked with us for just a few months. The shop owner is a woman in her 50s.)

Coworker: “I am so, so tired. I stayed up until one o’clock writing a paper.”

Shop Owner: “You poor thing! Go in the backroom and take a nap on the clock. [My Name] will cover for you.”

([Coworker] goes into the backroom. He reappears after two hours, after his shift is over, clocks out and leaves.)

Shop Owner: *to me* “Can you believe how much schoolwork they expect [Coworker] to do? It’s ridiculous. I’m scheduling him a regular nap during his shifts or that boy’ll work himself to death.”

Me: “I’m sure he’ll make it. College isn’t forever!”

Shop Owner: “That reminds me. You took an extra five minutes for your lunch today. I’m docking your pay.”

Getting The Message Across

, , | Working | August 8, 2015

(My dad works at a company that designs and produces light fixtures. His division is him, two other people, and the boss, a loud Irish man well-known for his bad language.)

Boss: *storms in and shouts* “One of you, e-mail [Client] and tell him to F*** OFF FOR A BIT!”

Go Swim With The Fishes

, , , | Working | July 26, 2015

(I’m talking with my manager about some mysterious parts that showed up.)

Manager: “Well, it looks like they were part of a kit and just didn’t get installed or were leftovers.”

Me: “So can we sell them, or get rid of them?”

Manager: “Can’t sell them or keep them, so…” *he suddenly looks very serious* “You’ll have to get rid of them.”

Me: *trying to look serious* “Little-cement-booties get rid of them?”

Manager: *nods* “You know what you have to do…”