Boss: “So, [My Name], what do you do for fun?”

Me: “You don’t pay me enough to afford ‘fun’.”

(My bosses have developed a really bad habit of keeping me past my shift end without saying anything. Even when I ask over the headset for them to come count my drawer, they say they’re coming, and then I wind up staying another hour or two. I wouldn’t mind if they needed me to stay and asked, but they’re just standing around most of the time.)

Me: *over the headset* “I was supposed to clock out an hour ago. Is anyone coming to get my drawer?”

Manager: “[My Name]? What are you still doing here?”

Me: “Working. Come get my drawer so I can go home.”

Coworker: *also over headset* “You could just clock out and leave. They’d figure out pretty quick that no one was back there taking orders or money.”

Me: “No, because then someone could short my drawer, and I’d get in trouble for it.”

(Eventually, I’m allowed to leave, two hours after my shift ended. Tired of them forgetting about me, I decide to be as annoying as possible if my shift is up, to get out on time for once.)

Me: *singing loudly on headset* “I want to break free. I want to break freeeeeeeeee.”

Manager: “Knock it off! I’ll get there when I get there.”

Me: “BREAK FREE FROM THIS LIFE-“

Manager: “Oh my God.”

Me: “Hey, I was supposed to leave half an hour ago. The longer you keep me for no reason, the more annoying I become. GOD KNOWS. GOD KNOWS I WANT TO BREAK FREEEEEEEEE.”

(Next shift, nearly forty-five minutes after I am supposed to clock out:)

Me: *singing over headset* “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide—”

Manager: “WILL SOMEONE GO IN THE BACK SO SHE CAN GO HOME?!”

Me: “No escape from reality! Open your eyes, look up to the skies and seeeeeee…”

Manager #2: *changing my drawer and letting me leave* “How long can you keep that up? He’s thinking he can put up with the singing until you stop.”

Me: “I was a band kid. It will never end. I will break out into musicals if I have to.”

(The next shift I belted “Phantom of the Opera.” From then on I was allowed to leave on time.)

(I’ve been working with my district manager on a massive project to change the layout of my store. I’m about three months pregnant, suffering a serious case of “baby brain,” and I lovingly refer to the baby as “my alien,” as we don’t know its sex yet. It’s early in the morning, and my DM and I are texting back and forth. I have just made a mistake.)

District Manager: “You’re killing me. It’s too early for this.”

Me: “I know, I’m sorry. I should probably send myself home for stupidity.”

District Manager: “Nope. You actually have to work extra today.”

Me: “But… But… my alien might make me break the store!”

District Manager: “Exactly, then they’d have to remodel. Have a good day.”

(I work at a fast food restaurant with a girl that acts like a drill sergeant. She is in charge of the training of newbies. This particular new hire is obviously from Africa, and doesn’t speak much English. I’m a new hire, too.)

Trainer: “[New Hire]! Come here!”

New Hire: *comes over*

Trainer: “This dish goes over to that table! Now, what is this dish?”

New Hire: “Ah, um…”

Trainer: “Faster! Customers are waiting!”

New Hire: “…ah…”

Trainer: “STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. I’M NOT GONNA TELL YOU! SO, STOP AND THINK! WHAT IS THIS DISH CALLED!?” *slams hand over and over on the counter-top loud* “WHAT IS IT CALLED!”

(There is a long painful silence while the foreign new hire stutters and stammers, turning beet red, and on verge of tears. The GM finally speaks up with the dish’s name.)

Trainer: “[Dish Name]! It’s [Dish Name]! Why couldn’t you remember that? Now go and repeat it to yourself! What is it called?! Gimme its name! NAME NOW!”

New Hire: *pronounces dish’s name incorrectly, due to a thick accent*

Trainer: “NO! IT’S [Dish Name]! GOD!”

(She threw the dish all over dramatically and the GM said nothing as she threw a screaming fit everywhere. I quit that day, along with a lot of others. Sad, but this wasn’t the only restaurant that was mean to minimum-wage workers like this.)

(I have just started at a small chain store that sells a limited selection of permanent core items [such as groceries and toiletries], and a rotating stock of seasonal/temporary vendor stocked items like beach chairs or, in this case, Easter-themed DVDs. A woman approaches my register with a box full of Easter DVDs, and the register rings them up at $3 a piece, which matches the price listed on the outside covers of all the DVDs. The woman informs me they were listed at $1 each. I page the manager as the customer and I walk to the shelving end cap where the DVDs are located. I immediately see her confusion because, despite the DVD jackets all being individually marked at $3, the DVDs are all placed on the end-cap shelf of the clearance aisle, and every single one of the shelves has a big red shelf liner with $1 printed all the way across. These are the only DVDs in the store, so this is clearly our fault, as the customer literally could not have gotten them anywhere else. The manager walks up and the following insanity ensues:)

Me: “[Manager], all the DVDs are ringing up at $3. How do I fix that?”

Manager: “Oh, those are vendor items. You can’t change prices.”

Me: “Okay. Well, is there anything else we can do? Someone obviously put them in the wrong spot.”

Manager: “No, I put them in the right spot. They go on the end-cap.”

Me: “I’m sorry… you PURPOSELY put $3 DVDs onto a shelf that is marked $1?”

Manager: “That’s where the chart said to put them.”

(The customer and I went back and forth with questions, clarifying that the manager knowingly put a wrong-priced item out, knowing that the location would cause confusion, and that if anyone complained, our hands were tied since vendor pricing is locked in our computers. The manager’s response, in a nutshell, was that we needed to get over it, because she had a chart that said the DVDs go there. I called the store manager, thinking this couldn’t possibly be correct, but the store manager vehemently defended the shift manager, which eventually caused the previously polite customer to lose her cool and tell them both off. The customer thanked me for my time and suggested I find a better job, before storming out of the store. I refused to restock the DVDs but, of course, they ended up back there anyway, and I ended up fielding several more complaints from people who ultimately didn’t buy anything. We ended up not selling a single DVD, and I left that job not long after.)