Mismanaged Your Attitude

, , , , , , | Working | November 27, 2017

(I am cleaning up after having lunch. The staff room hasn’t been tidied since the morning, so I decide to have a quick run around.)

Coworker: *walking in* “What are you doing?”

Me: “Just cleaning. It hasn’t been touched since [Cleaner] left this morning.”

Coworker: *condescending* “Why should you be doing that?”

Me: “Why not?”

Coworker: “Because you’re a man!

(I turn and stare at him, expecting it to be a joke. He stares back until our manager, who is a woman, walks in, too.)

Coworker: *snapping his fingers* “[Manager]! Get this mess cleaned up. [My Name] has been doing it because you’re too lazy!”

Manager: “Excuse me?”

Coworker: *snaps his fingers again* “You heard me!”

Manager: *takes a second to compose herself* “You’ve only been here a month, [Coworker], so I’ll give you a moment to adjust your attitude.”

Coworker: *stares, confused, for a second before snapping his fingers for the last time* “NOW!”

Manager: “That’s it! Get out. We’ll be having a little chat with your supervisor tomorrow.”

(The coworker didn’t leave at first and tried to argue his point across, shouting at the manager. I didn’t see him until a week later; he was tasked with cleaning the staff room in the evenings. Whenever he thinks he’s alone he mutters to himself that it isn’t a man’s job to clean, and that he’ll get back at [Manager] someday.)

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Make Him Cry All The Way To The Bank(er)

, , , , , , | Working | November 27, 2017

(I’m a banker. We’ve just hired another banker in, and it’s his first day at a desk after finishing his training. I’m on a conference call, and he’s shuffling things around at his desk. I’m female.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]!”

Me: *mutes call* “What’s up?”

Coworker: “Where’s the coffee?”

Me: “Oh, it’s in Commercial Banking.”

Coworker: “Go get me some!”

Me: “Come again?”

Coworker: “Fine. Go get me some, please.”

Me: “I’m on a call right now. It’s really just down the hall, though.”

Coworker: “Gah! I’ll get my own.”

(I go back to my call, slightly confused. A couple of hours later, I’m working on documents for a loan closing.)

Me: *thinking out loud* “So, if they do an automatic payment every month, I can get the interest rate down to 3%…”

(I look up for a second and see him standing in front of my desk.)

Coworker: *insistently* “[My Name]!”

Me: *jumps* “Geez! Where did you come from?”

Coworker: “I need copies made!”

Me: “No problem. I’ll show you where the copier is!”

Coworker: “Can’t you just do it for me? I need ten.”

Me: *confused* “No?”

Coworker: “Why not?!”

Me: “I have a lot of appointments this afternoon and a loan closing right at nine tomorrow that I have to get ready for. I can show you where the copier is.”

(He follows me to the copier, muttering under his breath. I don’t think anything of it until I’m pulled aside by our boss the next day.)

Boss: “[Coworker] tells me that you’re not being very helpful.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Boss: “He said you were very rude yesterday in answering his questions.”

Me: “He asked me to get him coffee while I was on that call you wanted me to be on, and to make copies for him while I was preparing for [Customer]’s loan closing.”

Boss: *long pause* “I see. Never mind. Go back to your desk.”

(A couple days later, we both have a meeting with our boss.)

Boss: “…and [My Name], you had a great sales week! You closed that loan and opened several new accounts!”

Coworker: “[My Name] makes sales?!

Me: “Yes! What do you think I’ve been doing all week?”

Coworker: *genuinely shocked* “Are you a banker, like me?”

Me: “What did you think I was?”

Coworker: “Uh, um… I plead the fifth! Can I go back to my desk now?”

(He was much nicer to me after that.)

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Getting Into Some Meaty Discussions

, , , , | Working | November 25, 2017

(I work at a butcher shop. The two main butchers, also the manager and assistant manager, are two men of about 50 years old. One is short and rotund, and is extremely tough looking, but his personality is exactly the opposite. The other guy is humongous, nearly seven feet tall and built like a brick house, mainly because he hauls huge slabs of meat all day. He is a bit simple minded, though, and not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He is also the sweetest person I know. The main form of communication they use, however, is shouting. They’re not angry or anything, they just don’t have inside voices. It’s always funny when we have new customers or new coworkers, because they always jump when they first hear the two shout.)

Customer: “And I’d like a couple of steaks as well—”

Butcher #1: *shouts loudly while chopping up meat* “I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE LIKE THAT!” *whacks cleaver loudly onto the block* “I TOLD YOU LAST WEEK! I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU LEFT!” *whacks again* “I TOLD YOU MULTIPLE TIMES!” *vigorously whacks a final time* “DIDN’T I TELL YOU SO?”

(At this point he walks over to the other butcher, weaving his cleaver around. The regulars are used to this, but the new customers are easily spotted due to their white and shocked faces.)

Customer: “Uh…”

Butcher #2: *shouting even harder* “I KNOW YOU TOLD ME THAT, BUT I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO BE SO BAD! IT WAS HORRIBLE!”

(He grabs a knife as well, and starts waving it around while he’s looking for his whetstone. The waving around is just his way of emphasizing his point. By now, some customers are genuinely scared.)

Customer: “Are… are they all right? What’s going on?”

Me: “Huh? Oh, it’s nothing; they’re always like that. It’s no big deal.”

Butcher #1: “I TOLD YOU THE BEACH WOULD BE BUSY! IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER!”

Me: “Apparently they’re discussing the beach today. Anything else, sir?”

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When Your Inappropriate Comments Hit The Roof(ie)

, , , , , | Working | November 23, 2017

(I work with a coworker that is known for saying inappropriate things to clients. She has to sit in a corner desk facing the wall because of her loud and obnoxious comments. I sit very close to her and one call stands out in particular. She is completing a medical financial assistance application over the phone with a pregnant client.)

Coworker: “And how many babies are you expecting?”

Client: “I’m three months alon— Oh! I’m sorry, just one. Having some trouble with baby-brain.”

Coworker: *loudly* “Oh, I remember those days! Being pregnant is just like being roofied!”

(Queue everyone within a five-desk radius prairie-dogging up from their desks for confirmation that this was actually just said!)

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Egg Tray For The Egg Blockers

, , , , | Working | November 22, 2017

Me: *looking in the fridge* “There’s… tampons in the fridge.”

Coworker: *who is female* “Tampons?”

Me: “It looks like them.” *pointing to the egg tray*

Coworker: *coming over* “Yup, that’s them. I wonder who put them in there?”

Me: “Is that something women do?”

Coworker: “I don’t personally, but to each their own, I suppose. But seriously, the egg tray? Really? That isn’t very considerate!”

Me: “Should we tell someone?”

(We wound up telling the manager, who was furious and decided to remove and bin them herself. About an hour later, another coworker came running down to the staff room. We then heard, “WHERE THE F*** ARE MY TAMPONS?!” She wasn’t happy when she found out, but it did teach her to ask before doing it. She now puts them in a container first.)

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