I have a coworker who has zero boundaries and is pretty much disliked by everyone. I have caught her several times going into my desk to take personal items or steal food. Unfortunately, we do not have locks on our desks or doors, and she is in human resources, so there isn’t much I can do in the way of complaining.

We have a coworker leaving and I come to find the “Goodbye” card I got for him missing. I know instantly who took it, as she mentioned coming into my office the night before. But I have a spare and decide to just call her out to her boss when she hands over the card to him, gently reminding her that I told her last week that she shouldn’t be removing items from people’s offices.

Our departing coworker’s last day is Monday, so I have everyone — except Ms. HR, as she has her own card — sign the card Friday afternoon and put it on his desk. I seal it up.

Monday morning, I come in to find the card unsealed. Ms. HR has written a note on it for him. And, of course, she still decides to hand in the stolen card with a more “personal” message to make herself look good. Ugh.

At my company, at some point, if you want to earn more on your basic salary, you have to take a salary position. It’s more on your basic wage, but you lose overtime. You can start later and in a cool office, but you work later in the evenings. It’s not for everyone, but it works for some, me included; I took the role a few months ago, much to the amusement of my old workmates.

Coworker: “Why would you take a promotion for less money?”

Me: “It’s not always about the money.”

Coworker: “With overtime, I earned an extra ten grand on what you did.”

Me: *Annoyed* “And I’m at home on time every time, spending time with my family.”

Coworker: “Yeah, whatever. Good job with your ‘promotion,’ idiot.”

I was annoyed; he got to me. But I took the job for a reason and it was for the long-term. 

A year later, the economy took a downturn. Suddenly, orders weren’t coming through and work was drying up. We were pulled into a big meeting. All overtime was cancelled.

Coworker: “But what about them?” *Gesturing to those of us on salary* “Will they get a pay cut?”

Boss: “No one is getting a pay cut. We don’t have the work to keep going in normal hours, let alone at weekends, too.”

Coworker: “[String of expletives]. Well, we will walk!”

Boss: “In this economy? I wish you luck.”

He didn’t walk. A few of them tried to work slowly to get overtime anyway. They were just disciplined. Overtime didn’t really come back for another year it two, and not like it was before. At least I didn’t have his snarky comments for a while.

My work has always been anti-smoking. They have been slowly tightening restrictions over the past few years. This year, they said that everyone has had ample opportunity to quit, so now there is no smoking on site.

With the walk offsite being ten minutes, smokers have to wait until lunch or go without. By the lack of smokers on lunch, I guess most people have quit.

[Coworker] has always opposed the ban and smokes the moment he gets on-site to the moment he leaves it. He always stinks of cigarettes but more so after the mid-morning break, which is odd as he can’t be going offsite.

One day, I get curious and I follow him. Instead of heading for the exit, he heads the other way, past the toilets, and disappears.

Lunchtime comes around and I look around. I realise that there is an old storage cupboard; it’s mostly for first aid so not used.

Being a first aider, I have a key, and as soon as I open the door, the stench of old smoke and air freshener hits me. [Coworker] made himself a nest amongst the supplies; I can see a ring of ash where he sat.

Not only did we need to replace a load of medical equipment, but the smoke alarm had to be rewired as he had torn it off.

He was called to a disciplinary meeting but quit immediately.

I used to work at the front desk at a furniture store. I had this coworker that I could never tell if she was delusional or just liked to make up stories to seem interesting. Supposedly, she’d been a flight attendant for many years, she’d been in the military as a nurse for many years after being a flight attendant (or maybe it was the reverse), she used to manage/own a business with her husband, etc. For her to have done all the stuff she claimed, there would have to have been either some overlap she didn’t want to tell us about or she was born before Jesus.

Another thing she liked to brag about was that she was some kind of martial arts master — we’re talking multiple-level black belt here. I was always skeptical of everything she said, especially the martial arts stuff, because she didn’t MOVE right in general (I worked in a studio when I was in high school) and there was just no way. I’d have bought maybe having started but definitely not some long-term level master.

Just before I started, a sales guy had been let go for various reasons, chief of which being that he was arrested after stabbing his roommate some ridiculous number of times.

The salespeople all had tablets that they were able to use in the store to check sales numbers and things like that. They weren’t technically supposed to bring them home, but every once in a while it would happen, and the sales guy had done so right before being arrested, so they were holding his last paycheck until we got the tablet back. For some reason, he thought it would be smart to ask the roommate — yes, the one he stabbed — to bring it in, and for some reason, the guy agreed to do it.

He finally came in and he was angry from the start. He stormed up to the counter.

Roommate: “I need to talk to this person, [Manager], now.”

Luckily, the manager was on the other side of the desk and heard him.

Manager: “I’m [Manager]. How—”

The roommate stomped over to her and brandished the tablet in her face.

Roommate: “[Sales Guy] told me to bring this to you. But you need to give me his money now.”

The manager was a smaller woman — I’m 5’5″ and she was shorter than I was — and this guy was just about six feet of skinny anger who was glaring at her. He wasn’t quite officially threatening/intimidating, but it was close. I stayed behind the counter but I was on my feet and moving in their direction slowly, just in case. The other three salespeople were in other parts of the store.

Manager: “A check will be mailed to [Sales Guy]. We can’t give it to you because it’s already made out to him.”

Roommate: “F*** that. He stabbed me.”

He pulled up his shirt to show some healing scars

Roommate: “I should get some kind of reward. I’m not giving you this f****** tablet until I get a reward.”

Now he was crossing the line from angry into vaguely threatening, looming over her and everything. It hadn’t quite crossed into calling the police NOW, but in hindsight, I should have gone to the back and called. I’ll admit that while the thought had crossed my mind, I was uneasy about leaving her alone. The other salespeople had disappeared for various reasons. I could tell [Manager] was anxious and she kept trying to back up but was stuck by furniture in the way.

Manager: “If you want a reward, keep the tablet. It’s fine.”

Roommate: “I don’t want the g**d*** tablet. I want a f****** reward. Give me a g**d*** reward!”

By this point, I was half a step from getting in the guy’s face when, all of a sudden, guess who sneaked up? [Crazy Coworker] kind of shuffled forward and half-cowered near the guy. Then, at one point, he put his arms down for half a second, so she skittered closer and grabbed his arm.

Crazy Coworker: “Hey, you need to watch your language.”

The roommate just glared at her out of the corner of his eye and she scurried right back to wherever she’d been hiding.

By this point, our warehouse manager had gotten back and he came up. He wasn’t all that intimidating, but he was older and he had a deep voice. The roommate got scared and scampered off. I still have no idea what kind of arrangement was made because I was there for another year and change after this and we never got that tablet. But the next day, all the salespeople were hanging around the counter chatting because we were bored out of our minds.

Crazy Coworker: “You know, if that guy from yesterday had been worse, I would have taken him down. But you know what? I had to call my teacher yesterday and tell him to be proud of me because I didn’t. I didn’t use my martial arts on him. I would have kicked him out of the store.”

One of the sales guys and I made eye contact and rolled our eyes. I don’t know about him, but I was thinking, “First of all, you were hiding up until the absolute last minute, and second, you ran without trying anything. And also, if you have to tell someone to be proud of you, maybe they shouldn’t be?”

Stories like that cropped up the entire time I was there. [Crazy Coworker] would often contradict herself; for example, she said she was a flight attendant at eighteen and stayed for ten years, but then she was in the army overseas at twenty-five and had quit being a flight attendant before that. I just started tuning her out.

While I was in college, I came home for summer vacation and got a summer job working at a warehouse. During the lunch break, I was speaking to someone who had worked there for much longer than I had.

Coworker: “This job is what pays the bills, but during the weekend, I work as a bouncer. That job’s as much for fun as to make money, though. I could take you there sometime if you want.”

Me: “Oh, no, thanks. I don’t drink, and I spent enough time around a bar as a kid to last me my whole life, thanks.”

Coworker: “Okay, suit yourself. But if you ever change your mind and want to come down to the [Bar] on a weekend, come look me up.

Me: “Wait, you work at [Bar]? Really?”

Coworker: “Yeah, you know it?”

Me: “That is the only bar in this state I do know, and way too well. My dad used to own it when I was a kid. How’s it doing nowadays?”

Coworker: “What? You’re [Owner]’s son?”

Me: “No, no, my dad sold it to him a few years ago, and he was renting it from us for years before that. Actually, the sale is working out really well for us; he’s paying us 13% interest and barely pays enough each month to cover the interest so it’s just like free money each month.”

Coworker: “There is no way your dad owned the [Bar].”

Me: “Umm, I’m pretty sure he did. My sister even had one of her birthday parties in the restaurant half one year.”

Coworker: “If your dad is rich enough to own a bar, why are you working here?”

Me: “He isn’t as rich as you seem to think. When he owned it the bar barely made a profit and all that went into fixing it up. If it weren’t for those rental properties in the back parking lot, I’m pretty sure it would have lost money; turns out the real money is in being a slum lord! It really didn’t pay him enough to be worth the effort he put in until he started renting it to [Current Owner] and just kept the rental properties.”

Coworker: “No way you would be working here if your dad owns a bar.”

Me: “My parents expect me to pay my own way through college; they think I’ll appreciate it more if I earn it myself. They put a bit into our college fund every Christmas, but my sister and I still have to cover the rest.”

Coworker: “Fine, what’s your dad’s name?”

Me: “It’s [Dad], why?”

He grins at me a little smugly

Coworker: “I’ll just ask [Current Owner] if your dad really used to own the [Bar].”

Me: “Umm, okay, you can do that.”

A week later, my father comes back from running some errands.

Dad: “So, what’s this about you bragging that you use to own the [Bar]?”

That coworker avoided me for a week or two after that, apparently embarrassed once it was confirmed that my dad did own the bar just as I had said.

The funny thing is that I wasn’t trying to brag; it hardly seemed worth bragging about to me. I was so sick of that bar after being forced to hang out in the restaurant half for hours on end as a kid while my father dealt with the latest crises. I was more than happy to be rid of the place when my father started renting it out.