I used to work in an engineering lab that was near an alarmed emergency exit. Because it looked like you could go out that door, cut across the field, and enter the next building — even though the door on the other side was also an emergency exit and couldn’t be opened from the outside — way too many people ignored the red “Emergency Exit, Alarm Will Sound” sticker on the door.

The alarm was so loud that it was nearly impossible to work in the lab while it was going off. It also took security a long time to reset the door because it was far enough away from them that they weren’t bothered by it so it wasn’t a priority for them. It was going off at least once a week, management was doing nothing, and we’d had enough.

Someone in the lab created a large sign and posted it on the door.

Sign: “Atten-shun: This here door be for emergencies only. It will make an infernal racket if you be tryin’ to open it. Then there be engineers waving them rubber mallets at you!”

For six weeks, there was blessed silence. People were observed coming up to the door, bursting out in laughter, and turning around.

Unfortunately, someone in management decided that the sign was too unprofessional, even though the whole building was employees-only behind badge-locked doors, and down it came. The alarms started right back up again.

Eventually, after about a quarter of us had transferred out and another quarter had put requests in the system, they decided that the best solution was just to disable the alarm, even though that created a security hole. Gotta love management.

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A Yeoman in the navy is a person that performs office duties, whether a man or a woman. During the 1980s, most offices used IBM Selectric type typewriters; they use a font ball to type letters, and if you want to change font, you change the font ball.

I am sitting in the ship’s office one day with a couple of others waiting to go over our annual evaluations with my division officer. There are two yeomen working in the office typing reports. One is male and the other female.

Male Yeoman: *To the other yeoman* “Do you have an OCR font ball?”

Female Yeoman: “No, I think we have just the two balls between us.”

Despite my age, I used to be a manager on the executive team for multiple sites for a company. When the company hit a recession, I decided this sort of role wasn’t for me and I took a more junior role at a new company.

One of the things it did teach me was how to manage people and how to communicate with senior management. 

At my new company, I make friends with a guy who is in his first managing role. He is clearly struggling, so I offer some advice that he eventually takes.

We end up going through how to evaluate people and complete objectives and targets. We do a few together and he seems to be getting it, although I end up writing most of it for him.

A few weeks later, his boss comes over to him and makes a big scene of his improvement, how his employee reviews are the best in the company, how far he has improved, etc. Then, he asks him:

Manager: “So, how did you improve?”

I think maybe a mention of my help is coming.

Coworker: “Oh, it’s easy, really. I guess I have a knack.”

I’m a little annoyed, but I don’t want to steal his thunder.

Manager: “Well, whatever you are doing is working.”

Some of the others in the office congratulate him. I’m not mentioned. It doesn’t bother me, really, but I make a point to remember it.

A few weeks later, [Coworker] comes to me again.

Coworker: “Hey, could you help me with another review?”

Me: “Sure, but didn’t we finish your last one?”

Coworker: “Err… we missed a few.”

Me: “Let’s see… Do you have any details?”

Coworker: “Yeah, I have it in an email. I’ll send it to you.”

I read the email. It’s from his boss, who has asked him to do some additional work for him. But [Coworker] forgot to remove the email history. In it, he is praised, and surprisingly, [Coworker] refers to his work “helping [My Name].”

For some reason, he has been painting me as some new, useless person who has needed to be walked through several simple tasks. He goes on and on about how he has helped me, taught me this and that, and other things that never happened.

I’m beyond annoyed and decide to give him all the wrong advice on his review. He takes it as gospel and makes a complete mess of it.

The next I hear of it is a few days later. My boss tells me he knows what I did and why, he knows that [Coworker] has been making it all up, and so does [Coworker]’s boss.

Officially, I am in trouble and this is a “talking to,” but unofficially, my boss laughed his a** off watching [Coworker] try to explain himself and his terrible review.

[Coworker], being a manager, was warned about his behaviour and was put on extended probation in the role as this wasn’t their only concern.

[Coworker] did apologize later, as did I, and we are still friends.

About twenty years ago, when I was in high school, I worked after school at a drugstore chain. One of the shift supervisors was a real jerk. He made the girls who worked there very uncomfortable and was all around just a bully.

One day, he decided to sneak up behind me and dump some cologne on me that was marked to be thrown away. I absolutely reeked for the rest of my shift. I was furious. I have a sensitive nose and I was miserable. He thought it was hilarious.

I got my revenge when I left for the night.

Earlier on in my shift, I got extra rolls of change for my register in case I needed them. It was pretty quiet so I didn’t end up needing them. I worked until close, and it was the supervisor’s job to count the register; I was scheduled to be off as soon as the store closed.

Just before leaving, I opened and dumped out every single roll of coins in my register. The spaces for the coins were completely full. My supervisor had to count it all out before he could go home for the night.

He never messed with me again. He couldn’t do anything to me because then it would come out that he’d dumped the cologne on me. And technically, I didn’t break any rules.

I have a coworker who is just gross. He is an old fashioned good-ol-boy who makes crude jokes to the men in the office and asks the women inappropriate questions, guffawing at the discomfort he causes.

He comes to me at my desk one afternoon. I am overwhelmed with a sudden quick deadline and a headache growing above my eyes. As he starts his leading question, I jam my hand out at him, palm up, and bark:

Me: “Pay me!”

Gross Coworker: *Startled pause* “What?”

Me: “If you’re going to treat me like a whore, pay me.”

The whole bullpen of six women and two men freezes, all eyes on us.

Gross Coworker: “I’m not… What?”

Me: “A dollar a word; ‘a’ and ‘the’ count as words. Numbers count as words, too.”

I am laying the rules out off the top of my head, hand out and never wavering.

Gross Coworker: “I wasn’t—”

Me: “Okay, then, what?”

Gross Coworker: “Well, nothing now.”

He storms away.

Two days later, [Gross Coworker] comes to me to ask if I know why the printer isn’t printing his work. It’s a legitimate question, as I’m the coordinator of the department where the printer is located, even though it is used by many departments, including [Gross Coworker]’s. As he talks, I’m mouthing numbers.

Gross Coworker: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “I’m counting words.”

Gross Coworker: “What? No! This is work-related.”

Me: “I’ll decide what’s work-related and deduct it.”

[Gross Coworker] stormed away, back down the hallway. I went over to check the printer; it was out of paper, so I refilled it and it hummed back to life.

The next week, our floor was pulled into an HR meeting about creating a hostile work environment. I stood up after the presentation, when the floor was opened for questions, and thanked them for their concern but explained that the hostile work environment had died down the week before; heads nodded around the table along with murmured agreement.

Weeks later, [Gross Coworker] was gone but only from our floor. He’d been promoted to a higher floor where he would no longer be interacting with us — well, me, mainly, I guess.

Putting up with him for years, we got nothing but a hatred of gross men. He then squeaked his wheel and moved up the ladder.