(I’m working a double shift at a popular sports pizza joint near Christmas time. There also happens to be a huge sports event going on, so we’re packed. I’m a supervisor and have two waitresses not show up for the night, and one cook calls in sick, so we’re short-staffed. For this night, I’m supervisor, acting manager, and waitress/hostess. A table of regulars has come in — a father, wife, and young teenage daughter. A newly-hired assistant supervisor is also on shift this evening, who I can tell doesn’t like me from the get-go. I appoint her to help the kitchen staff. The customers ask to sit in my section by my name. After a thirty-minute wait, they’re finally seated. The lineup to get a table is still out the door, not to mention the many delivery orders flooding through.)

Me: “Hey, guys! Just a heads up: we’re super busy tonight due to the game, but I’ll try my best to get everything out for you as quick as possible.”

Husband: “No problem, [My Name]! I’ll have the large spaghetti Bolognese with garlic bread.”

Wife: “[Daughter] and I will share a medium deluxe pizza, please!”

(I ring their order into my computer and get their drinks. Twenty minutes later, I stop at the table and assure them their food will be coming soon. They smile and let me know there’s no rush.)

Me: *to kitchen* “How’s my order for [table] coming, guys?”

Assistant Supervisor: “Are you blind? We’re busy. Chill out.”

Me: “Just asking, hun! Going on 23 minutes now, and I want to keep everything flowing smoothly.”

(I finish up some other tables and get more people seated. As I’m walking back to the kitchen area, the table calls for me.)

Husband: “It’s been about 45 minutes now, and I know I said no rush, but we’re starving. Could you check how long it’ll be?”

Me: “Of course! So sorry, guys. I’ll promo your bill for 30% off for the wait. Be right back!”

(I go to the kitchen.)

Me: “Guys, I need [table] right now; what’s taking so long? [Other Waitress]’s order went through after mine and she served her table fifteen minutes ago. Let’s go, guys!”

Assistant Supervisor: “Don’t tell me how to do my f****** job! It’s done when it’s done!”

(I go back into the kitchen to look for the order printout and food, both of which are nowhere to be found. I check the computer and my order has been deleted. You have to input a code to delete orders or take payments, and the assistant supervisor’s code was used to void out my order.)

Me: *to her* “What the h***?! My customers have been waiting nearly an hour now and my order is gone!”

Assistant Supervisor: “Whoops, must have done it by accident!”

Me: “It’s a five-step process to void an order without payment once it’s been sent to the kitchen. Do not touch the computers, and get these orders made. Stay in the kitchen.”

Assistant Supervisor: *mumbling* “F*** you.”

(By this time, all the staff at the front desk and kitchen are staring at us. I personally go to the kitchen and make my table’s meals. I turn around and they’re standing at the front desk.)

Husband: “It’s been over an hour and we have to go; it’s already like 9:30. Can I get our food to go, please?”

Me: “Of course. I’m so sorry. There was a mix-up in the kitchen and your food wasn’t made, but I prepped it myself. Please accept my sincerest apologies and—“ *hand them the food* “—it’s on the house.”

Assistant Supervisor: *yelling* “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! I’M CALLING [OWNER] AND YOU’RE GOING TO BE FIRED! YOU CAN’T F****** DO THAT! STUPID B****!”

(The customers go red and literally run out the door. A number of customers waiting to be seated gasp and some walk out.)

Assistant Supervisor: “THIS IS SUCH BULLS***! I WON’T TAKE ORDERS FROM SOME STUPID COW WHO SCAMS THE TILL AND STEALS MONEY! I’M CALLING THE OWNER RIGHT NOW!”

Me: “[Assistant Supervisor], you need to calm down. Come back with me in the office and talk like a normal person. Voided orders come out of my cheque, so nobody’s stealing anything.”

(She continued screaming and swearing, and eventually, only three tables remained — customers who were too occupied with the game on the big screen to notice what was going on. I ended up walking out, in tears, from her words to me. The owner begged me to come back the next day and she was fired.)

(Our office works with contracts for people with less income and most of our clients are of minorities or of color. Sometimes, we get disgruntled clients, but one makes threats and even acts upon them, so he gets jail-time. Eventually, he gets out.)

Memo: “Everybody, please be careful. Mister [Threatening Client] is out of jail and threatened us once again. He is not allowed in the building. Call the police if you see him.”

Me: *responding to the one who made the memo* “I’m sorry, but I was not here when the incident with Mister [Threatening Client] happened. Do we have a picture or something of him?”

Reply: “No, we don’t have a picture. I don’t know how he looks, but I believe he’s a short black man from Surinam.”

(She just described half of our clientele. I’ll just keep my phone near and hope for the best.)

(A condescending and patronizing coworker of mine has a habit of asking for lots of favors and cajoling people until they give in. He technically outranks me, so I’ve been careful not to get too mouthy with him until today, when he calls just as I am about to leave for the day.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], my office is low on copy paper. Can I borrow a case from you until the next supply order comes in?”

Me: *glad he’s asking for something minor* “Sure, I can spare a case. Just order me an extra one when you do your order.”

Coworker: “Thanks! Hey, can you run that over to me?”

Me: *no longer glad* “Boo.”

Coworker: “Oh, sweetie, please?”

Me: “BOOOOOOO.”

Coworker: “Honey, just walk it over; it’ll just take a minute.”

Me: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Coworker: “C’mon, help me out here.”

Me: “I am helping you out. I’m loaning you paper to make up for the fact that you failed to order enough yet again. I’m not going to go out of my way to make your life easy. Now, you can either come to get the paper yourself, forget about it, or sit on the phone and listen to me ‘boo’ you every time you speak.”

Coworker: “But…”

Me: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Coworker: “I’ll be right over.”

(I work fast food. Normally, I open the store, but tonight I’m closing. I’m working with a Mexican man and a Somalian man. I don’t look it, but I’m a Native American woman. We are allowed to play our music in the back, as long as it isn’t too disruptive. I’m doing dishes, playing music on the little speakers, when the Somalian man comes and tries to turn it off without asking me. I stand up for myself, and this conversation ensues.)

Coworker: “You’re not letting me play my music because I’m black! You’re racist!”

Me: “Wow, really? Good job on being racist yourself.”

Coworker: “What? You can’t say I’m being racist! I read about this; there’s no such thing as reverse racism!”

Me: “While we’ll agree to disagree on that, you are, in fact, being racist. I’m Native, not white. You tried to judge me on my skin color. That’s racism. If you were doing dishes back here I wouldn’t care if you played whatever music you wanted. But you’re not. I am. I never play my music, so how about you suck it up for two more hours and deal with it, or grab a pair of headphones and listen to your own music?”

(That shut him up very quickly. And thankfully, the next night he realized he was being a jerk and apologized!)

(After working at my location for over three years, I have been diagnosed with an anxiety condition. I try not to have any problems at work, but this particular night, management has not been able to control employees and due to how busy it is, I am unable to catch up on the things I need to do. I am finally triggered into a full panic attack after a customer makes fun of the way I talk. I text my best friend and my mom, who says she’ll come to get me.)

Mom: *stands at the counter*

Manager: “Oh, Mrs. [Last Name], what can I get for you?”

Mom: *points to the back, where I am*

Me: *comes up from the back, shaking, visibly pale, and having been crying*

Manager: “Oh, my! [My Name], go home. Go home. Don’t worry about anything over here. GO HOME.” *turns on headset* “[Coworker #1], go cover the hole!”

(I go home and calm down. The next day, the general manager is the manager on duty. I go to talk to her about what happened the previous day to see if everything is all right. When I get there, the general manager is yelling at [Coworker #2].)

General Manager: “You should know better than to just up and leave early! You left us short-handed!”

Coworker #2: *sees me* “But she—” *points at me* “Left early yesterday!”

General Manager: *shakes her head* “[Coworker #2], [My Name] has a reputation for doing her work, unlike you. You need to grow up and stop blaming her for what you did. You left without a manager telling you that you could go.”

Coworker #2: *leaves*

Me: “Um, sorry about last night.”

General Manager: “Don’t worry about it. [Coworker #3] was coming in about an hour after you left, so he came in an hour early to cover you. We were fine until [Coworker #2] heard and decided to leave.”

(The entire shift, [Coworker #2] glared at me while other coworkers told me how they handled with their own anxiety attacks.)