(We monitor CCTV for high-rise blocks in a large city and we also allow access to the buildings to residents and authorised people, e.g., doctors, police, etc. It’s a quiet morning and we see a postal worker walking towards the door. We’re all ready to open the door to them. However, it’s still quite early in the morning and the sun is quite low, meaning the camera isn’t giving us a great image. As the postal worker gets closer to the camera, this conversation happens.)

Me: “Postman approaching [block].”

Coworker #1: “Get ready.”

Coworker #2: “Postwoman, even.”

Me: “Maybe. Actually, I’m not sure. The sun’s too low.”

Coworker #2: “What about Post Operative then?”

Me: “That’s an entirely different conversation.”

(On returning to the gallery, after relieving my colleague for her lunch break:)

Colleague: “I nearly had a heart attack in the gallery earlier!”

Me: “Oh? What happened?”

Colleague: “A family with a little girl came in and the girl ran across the gallery to the statue over there.”

([Colleague] walks over to a small statue on a podium.)

Colleague: “And she grabbed the statue, and started shaking it like this!” *[Colleague] grabs the statue and proceeds to shake it, violently*

Me: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

Colleague: *seemingly oblivious* “I couldn’t believe it; I was worried it was going to break off.”

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(My coworkers and I, both teenagers, are finishing up our shift. Our manager notices two empty plastic baggies on the counter.)

Manager: “Anyone know what these baggies are for?”

Coworker: “Meth, probably.”

Manager: “Where’d it all go?”

Me: “We smoked it.”

Manager: “And you didn’t share it with me?!”

Coworker and Me: “Nah.”

Manager: “A**holes. Don’t you know that sharing is caring?”

(We all went back to work.)

I was working in a gift shop at a popular amusement park, and there were only two weeks left until we closed for the season, so all the staff were getting pretty laid back.

We had these sweatshirts that kept falling off their hangers, because only sizes XL and 2XL were left.

One of my workers got so annoyed at these sweatshirts that she just yanked them off the rack and threw them in the back room. Our boss didn’t like that, so she tried another tactic. She just left the sweatshirts in precarious positions on the hangers, waiting for guests to knock them over. Because we Canadians are so polite, the customers would stop and hang the sweatshirts back up themselves, saving us the trouble.

I thought it was brilliant.

(Up until recently, I worked in the bakery department of a deli/bakery combo in a supermarket chain. One of my coworkers is very short, and I’m just over six feet tall. If I am on my knees getting something from a bottom shelf, and she stands beside me, the top of my head still comes up over her shoulder. I have playfully harassed her about her height since the beginning, since she isn’t sensitive about it and the whole department enjoys teasing each other. One day after I quit, I am in to do some shopping, when she sees me.)

Short Ex-Coworker: “[My Name]! When are you coming back to work with me?! I miss you!”

Me: “Why? Is there something you need on a shelf?”

Short Ex-Coworker: “No!”

Other Ex-Coworker: “What about yesterday when you were trying to get that box of containers off of the top of the supply shelf, and it tipped over backwards on top of you and trapped you inside?”

Me: “HA!”

Short Ex-Coworker: “I keep forgetting how much I hate you both. One day, I’m going to have my revenge.”

Me: “I’ll order some shin guards.”