(It’s the opening shift, and I’m tidying up the checkouts while a coworker potters; there are no customers in store at the moment.)

Coworker: “Oh, my God! [My Name], stop doing that!”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “Stop it!”

Me: “But I’m not doing anything.”

Coworker: *grunts* “It’s DISGUSTING!” *storms away*

(I’m left totally confused, but I decide to get back to my work and not let it bother me. A few minutes later, the floor manager comes up, with [Coworker] closely behind.)

Manager: “[My Name], [Coworker] says you’ve been bothering her. I know you two don’t get along, but I won’t tolerate harassment.”

Me: “[Manager], I honestly have no idea what I’m doing to bother her, and to be frank, we’ve gotten along perfectly up until now.”

Manager: “[Coworker], what exactly was she doing?”

Coworker: *furiously spitting out* “BREATHING!” *storms away again*

Manager: *pause* “Just… forget I said anything.”

(As store got busier, I called [Coworker] down to the checkout. She didn’t come, and soon I heard an argument from the back of the store, with [Coworker] screaming about how I was “allowed to breathe” when she wasn’t. She was eventually sent home, and her mother called to apologise. According to her, [Coworker] had been out drinking most of the night, and admitted upon getting home that she had taken opiates. Thanks to this incident, we now have random drug and alcohol testing.)

(My dad is an immigrant and a visible minority. Given his age, he’s also out of touch with modern pop culture. He goes by the name “Timothy” for the sake of convenience. Usually, it’s his coworkers, bosses, and acquaintances who call him by this name.)

Dad: “So, I have a nickname at work.”

Me: “Really? What do they call you?”

Dad: “They call me Tim or Timmy.”

Me: “Dad, that’s nothing new. Many people named Timothy are called those names.”

Dad: “Okay, but the people who call me Timmy say it in a really weird way.”

Me: “Weird, how?”

Dad: “They usually shout it loudly, with a raspy tone. Like, ‘TIMMAAAAAAY!’ They also flail their arms around, for some reason.”

(I almost lose my composure from his demonstration, which is very uncharacteristic of him.)

Me: “Uh, wow, that is weird.”

Dad: “I’m not sure why they do this specific action. And it’s not just one person; it’s actually several people doing this.”

(I’m still not sure if I should tell him about South Park. I’m afraid that it’ll raise more questions than answers.)

(I work for a major supermarket. Normally, I get along with all my colleagues and am always happy to do them favours, like swapping shifts, provided I am not doing anything. However, one colleague has a habit of seeing last-minute holiday deals and then booking them before she checks she can have the time off. Then, if management tells her too many people are off, she tries to bully other staff into cancelling their holiday. Sadly, many buckle and give in to her. This time around, I have a week off in the same week she wants, and a manager has the other free week off. She knows she can’t bully the manager, so while I am on break she comes up to me.)

Colleague: “Oh, hey, [My Name], you’re on holiday in a few weeks, right?

(I nod, knowing where this is going.)

Colleague: “Oh, well, I just booked this beautiful holiday in the Maldives. Beautiful resort. Great bargain. The kids are so excited. The trouble is, management said they can’t give me the time off because you’re off. Would you cancel your holiday?”

Me: “No.”

Colleague: “No? What do you mean, ‘no’? You’re not going anywhere; you never go anywhere. What difference does it make if you take your holiday time another week?”

Me: “I actually have plans—”

Colleague: “Yeah, probably sleeping! That’s not ‘plans.’ You are so selfish, after all the favours I have done for you.”

Me: “You’ve never done me any favours. I’ve swapped several shifts for you over the years, including New Years because you said you wanted to spend time with your kids, but every time I ask to swap a shift with you, you always refuse.”

Colleague: “Well, you don’t have kids! It doesn’t matter when you take holiday. My kids are so excited about this holiday! You’re going to upset them! And I’ve already paid my deposit; I’ll lose it if I cancel now.”

Me: “Maybe you should have checked you could have the time off before you booked the holiday.”

Colleague: “You are such a selfish b****! What are you doing that is so important that you won’t give up your holiday time?”

Me: “I’m going to my cousin’s wedding.”

Colleague: “What, for a whole week? That’s bulls***!”

Me: “Actually, I’m planning to spend most of the week catching up with my family up there. I haven’t seen them in years.”

Colleague: “Well, it’s just a cousin. They’re not important, and if you haven’t seen them in years, that’s your fault. You could see them anytime. I need that holiday week more than you.”

(She continued to piss and moan, calling me selfish, demanding I cancel my holiday. She tried to guilt me into submission by reminding me her kids were so excited, how upset they would be if they couldn’t go, how I was going to make them cry, and how they hadn’t had a holiday like this in years, which was an utter lie. Having had enough of her, I got up and walked away, because if I didn’t I was going to lose my temper. However, I immediately put in a complaint to HR and to the duty manager. The manager had a word with her and told her she can’t make people cancel their holiday. She claimed she had just asked me nicely and I took it the wrong way and the complaint went no further, though my colleague did at least stop bugging me. Fast forward several weeks. I returned to work after my holiday and found no trace of my colleague. Usually, as soon as anyone who refused to cancel got back from holiday, she would waste no time in trying to make them feel bad. I soon learned that my colleague was fired. Turns out that she called in sick the week I was on holiday. The managers got suspicious, as this was the exact week she wanted off. They did some digging, where they saw pictures on her Facebook account that proved she went ahead and went on holiday, anyway, so she was immediately dismissed.)

Coworker: “I heard it’s your birthday today?”

Me: “That’s right!”

Coworker: *suddenly irritated* “Well, you should have told us! We could have had a party!”

Me: “I really don’t feel like making a deal over it.”

(True, but what I was really thinking: I don’t want to be the group’s excuse for yet another day of slacking off.)

Coworker: “Doesn’t your boyfriend worship Satan?”

Me: “What? No. He’s Jewish.”

Coworker: “Exactly. He’s a Satanist, right?”

Me: “What are you smoking?”

Coworker: “That star thing… It’s the star of Satan right?”

Me: *incredulous pause* “Wow. You’re confusing the Star of David with a Pentagram?”

Coworker: “They’re not the same thing?”

Me: “No. The Star of David has six points. Pentagrams have five. Plus, pentagrams don’t mean Satan worship, either; they’re a symbol used by Wiccans.”

(The sad thing is, the coworker still couldn’t figure out there was a difference between five and six, that Jews weren’t witches, and that witches weren’t Satanists, either.)