Our office is being visited by a Fire Marshall to update our emergency training.

Fire Marshall: “So, you take this, which is flame retardant, and—”

My boss suddenly sticks his hand up but speaks anyway, not waiting to be called upon. 

Boss: “That is an offensive word! You can’t say that!”

The Fire Marshall sighs; he’s had this conversation before.

Fire Marshall: “So, that is not an offensive word. If you are offended by it then that’s on you, but it is the official and correct word, and—”

Boss: “Just call it fireproof without using such damaging language!” 

Fire Marshall: “You wanna talk about damaging language? Calling it ‘fireproof’ would actually be dangerous because flame retardant does not equal fireproof! Using the wrong word in a fire emergency can possibly result in the further propagation of that emergency! So would you rather be arguing the semantics of how a real word sounds similar to an offensive one but is not that word, or would you rather not be on fire?”

Boss: “…it’s still an awful word.”

Luckily, we moved on!

I start my new job as a temp in an office. Something seems a little off about the place but I don’t realize what it is until I sit at my desk and then it hits me: there are no computers in the office. Absolutely none.

This is 2012. I look around at the workers and they were doing all – and I can’t stress this enough – doing ALL transactions by hand. Ledger, the math, all of it.

Me: “Is, like, the power out or something?”

Office Worker: “Oh, the computer thing? Nah, the boss doesn’t trust computers. Or the internet.”

Me: “Seriously.”

Office Worker: “Yeah. Oh, you didn’t know? Normally the temps have the riot act explained to them before they get here. Wait, you don’t have your phone on you right now, do you?” 

Me: “Of course I do.”

Office Worker: “Don’t let anyone see, especially the boss. He doesn’t like any “internet” coming into the office.”

Me: “But… how do you get anything done?”

Office Worker: *Gestures to the flurry of activity and paper.* “You’re looking at it.”

Me: “I… uh… wow.” 

Office Worker: “Yeah… I miss my phone. I like to be able to speak to my wife since she’s gonna have the baby any day now…”

I did one day of work and then “noped” out of there. When I told the temping agency they seemed surprised, but it also provided an explanation as to why the temps to that particular office never lasted longer than a day…

I am not deaf, but I do speak American Sign Language, which means I automatically get to wait on tables when we realize one of the diners is deaf.

We also have a new manager who, while very hard-working and friendly, isn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

I am talking with said manager, when our front of house approaches me.

Front Of House: “Hey, so table four are all deaf as far as I can tell. They’re speaking to each other in sign language, and they all seem to be wearing hearing aids.”

I’m about to speak up, when I realize that our new manager thinks that the front of the house is talking to her, not me. Our manager doesn’t know that I can speak American Sign Language. 

Manager: *Without skipping a beat.* “On it!”

And with that, the manager rushes off to table four.

Front Of House: *To me.* “Does [Manager] speak sign language?”

Me: “I don’t know… maybe?”

Our manager comes back surprisingly quickly, looking pleased with themself.

Manager: “Sorted it out. I’m sure they appreciate the accommodations we make for all our diners!”

Curious, I go check on table four, so see three very confused-looking deaf people… holding Braille menus.

I wake up with some really bad flu-like symptoms. I don’t have to work until tonight but I know I’m going to have a rough day, so I call in.

Manager: “No. Unless you’re dying, you’re coming in.”

Me: “You can hear me coughing, right? You want me to work a checkout like this?”

Manager: “You come in tonight or you don’t come in at all.”

As much as I wanted to tell him to shove it, I was young at the time, and I didn’t know any better. I tried my best to sleep through the rest of the day and drink lots of water, but somehow by the time I get into work I am feeling even worse.

I feverishly start scanning a customer’s groceries and have a violent coughing fit over her produce.

Customer: “What are you doing! You ruined my greens! You shouldn’t come into work so sick!”

I am coughing too much to talk, so I press the ‘call manager’ button. The manager who demanded my presence is still here!

Manager: “What’s the issue here.”

Me: *Between coughs.* “This customer… would like an explanation… as to why I came into work so sick.”

I make sure I stare pointedly at him as I get the words out. He glares at me, but he knows however he spins it he is going to look an idiot.

Manager: *To the customer, laughing nervously.* “I guess our staff love working here so much, they can’t stay away!” *To me.* “[My Name], go home and don’t come back until you feel better.”

Me: “Gladly!” 

I let that pr*ck tackle the explanation while I grabbed my coat, clocked out, and took a week off to recovery. I went to the doctor to get a note and he gave me another week for good measure.

When I was back at work my manager wasn’t around. He was off with the flu…

CONTENT WARNING: Pregnancy Loss

In college back in the 1970s, I worked in the nation’s largest beef packing plant. At the time of this story, I ran a rib and plate saw.

The company began treating us like third graders, making us raise our hands to use the restroom. Only one male worker and one female worker from a production line could go at a time, waiting until one returned before the next person on the list could go. Pathetic! Before that rule, we covered for each other, with me spelling the gal that ran the chine saw (spine) as I could make my cut and pull back her piece and make her cut.

But the circumstance that made me count the days until graduation, when I could leave the company, happened to my wife. We worked the second shift. She was a trimmer on the rib line and was pregnant. The OBGYN saw no problem with her continuing to work.

One evening, she started cramping and went to the nurses’ station. I called my foreman over and asked for a relief so I could take her to the emergency room.

Foreman: “Stay put; I’ll check on her.”

Within a minute, the nurse came out.

Nurse: *Yelling* “[My Name]! Get [Wife] to the ER!”

Me: *To my foreman* “I have to go.”

Foreman: “I’ll take her!”

WHAT?!

I put a cut partway into my saw and twisted it sideways, breaking the blade, which stopped the chain in the plant. Then, I headed out to take my wife to the ER.

The saddest part of this is that we lost the baby that night.

I wish I could’ve told my foreman, “I am leaving in a month and you are stuck here!”