One afternoon while working as a teller at the bank, I call up a nicely-dressed man who hands me a check to cash along with an out-of-state license. While helping him, I do the whole mandatory chatting thing.

Me: “I hope you’re enjoying your visit to [Town]. What brings you here?”

Customer: “I’m the district manager for [Sub Shop Chain]. I’m spending a few days visiting the local franchises in the area. Surprise inspections.”

Me: *With a happy squeal* “Oh, I love [Sub Shop Chain] subs! They’re the best! I probably order there at least once a week.”

Customer: “I’m glad to hear from a satisfied customer. Do you have any feedback on your local store you’d like to share with me?”

Me: “I really do love the subs, and the delivery is freaky fast. The only problem I run into is that when I order delivery they put mayo on my sub about half the time, and then I have to drive over to the store to get my sub remade. Mind you, they always replace it with a smile; I just wish they’d stop putting mayo on it, to begin with. Yuck. I can’t specify ‘no mayo’ because the Italian sub doesn’t even come with mayo. It comes with vinaigrette. So, it would be nice if there was a ‘no mayo’ option even if the sub isn’t supposed to come with mayo. Or maybe a comment box to make specifications about your order. I’ve tried to put it in the delivery instruction box, but that doesn’t help.”

Customer: *With a disgusted face* “Mayo and vinaigrette on the same sandwich? That sounds awful! I’ll look into that.”

After work that night, I decide that subs for dinner sound delicious, so I place a delivery order for the family. Fifteen minutes later, I’m unwrapping my sub to check for the devil’s condiment. Sure enough, there’s mayonnaise on my Italian sub. Ugh.

My family knows the deal by this point, so they don’t say anything as I rewrap the sandwich and set off to return it to the store. I’m just getting out of my car in the parking lot when I notice the man getting out of the car parked two spaces away from me. It’s the district manager I chatted with earlier in the day, arriving for a surprise inspection of the store.

Customer: “Mayo on the Italian?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer: “Unbelievable! Come with me.”

He walked me into the shop, called all of the workers into a huddle, and gave them an earful about following the listed ingredients for the subs to increase customer satisfaction and avoid food waste. I heard one of the workers interject that “a sandwich is DRY without mayo!” but he was quickly chided by the district manager that there was a specific ingredient list for each sub, and it needed to be followed regardless of his opinions on the matter.

My sub was quickly remade by an unsmiling employee, and the district manager handed me several coupons for free subs while apologizing for my inconvenience.

It’s been a few weeks, but I’m afraid to use those coupons now. I might get an Italian without mayo, but there might be some other unsavory additions after the district manager chewed them out because of me!

When I am looking for a job, I find a listing that sounds right up my alley. I apply and get an interview.

I normally have fair-to-middling success at interviews; some are good, some not so good. This is one of the good ones; in fact, it is INCREDIBLE. I have answers for every question. I make my interviewer laugh a few times. We know some of the same people.

It goes so well, and it is such a good fit for me, I almost expect to be offered the job on the spot. Instead:

Interviewer: “Well, this has been a real pleasure.”

Me: “Thank you! I feel the same way.”

Interviewer: “We have one other candidate that we’re considering, but I should have an answer for you by the end of the week.”

Fair enough. I am a bit disappointed, but I am still optimistic. A couple of days later, I get this email from the interviewer:

Interviewer: “Thank you for your interest in [Company]. You were one of our top candidates, and it was very difficult to choose between you and the other person. In the end, that other person was slightly more qualified. But don’t give up! We’re hiring all the time, and another position will probably open up shortly. Please apply again, and mention my name in your application so that I see it right away.”

Well, that is very encouraging. Sure enough, only a couple of weeks later, I see another identical job posting from that company. I apply immediately, mentioning my interviewer’s name as she recommended.

A week goes by, then two, and then three. I think maybe my application has somehow slipped through the cracks, so I email the interviewer. I let her know that I’ve taken her advice and reapplied for [Position], and I am very much looking forward to hearing from her. I get back this response:

Interviewer: “Yes, we received your application. Thank you.”

That was it. I practically got frostbite reading it. I never got another interview with that company, and to this day, I have no idea what happened.

“If you need help at closing,” they told me, “ask a manager.”

So, one night, I was overwhelmed and asked for help. I did not get it.

The next day, they called me into the office to ask why I was not getting my work done. 

I didn’t ask for help after that.

I work at a virtual reality arcade that is inside a large museum. The arcade is fairly new so the museum has issued free vouchers to play the games for all the volunteers. The volunteer coordinator comes in to tell us that the volunteers must play a specific game, the favorite of one of the bigwigs.

There are immediately many problems with this. For one, the game in question is very buggy and sometimes just refuses to work unless we reboot the whole computer. Another issue is that it is all about balancing on a plank over a great height and requires pretty good balance, and most of the volunteers are elderly. The worst is that it is classified as a horror game meant to cause extreme acrophobia and is not one we recommend to new users. The coordinator, however, will not hear this, and insists they play the game anyway.

What we get is a few folks with canes and walkers that nearly have a serious fall, a woman in a wheelchair who cannot play the game at all, a majority of the volunteers complaining that it gives them a headache, and one old man so terrified he cries. 

The kicker is that one of my coworkers had her lunch in the volunteer lounge and the volunteers were complaining about us for making us play the horrible game.

The lockdown is almost over in France. My immediate superior is calling me.

Superior: “Are you coming back tomorrow?

Me: “No, because, first of all—”

Superior: “Why not?”

Me: *Pause* “Because, first of all, [Middle Manager] told me that it was on a voluntary basis for our company for the time being.”

Superior: “Not to come because it’s on a voluntary basis, it’s laziness!”

Me: “Also, because I am a high-risk person due to my heart problem. My GP, the occupational medicine department, and human resources have all advised me to stay home.”

Superior: “Okay, okay. Have a good rest!”