The company I work for has tried to do various fun activities for the employees over the years. Some have worked better than others. Several years ago, they decided to do an Easter egg hunt in the parking lot. Our parking lot is a large rectangle with plenty of landscaping to hide eggs. The eggs could contain candy, one- or five-dollar bills, or gift cards to nearby stores.

They had us all in the middle of the parking lot. We were told there were no eggs on or under anyone’s cars so not to bother looking there. Then, they told us to go, and everyone took off, running and sometimes screaming in excitement. Not being particularly athletically inclined, I decided to simply stroll around and see what I could find without getting too worked up about it.

I headed toward one end of the parking lot and spotted a pink egg under a large bush with big pink flowers. Several people ran past me and past the bush, but none of them noticed it before I reached it. I was pleased that I’d found at least one. Looking around again, I spotted a green egg under a leafy, green bush. I walked over calmly and retrieved it, as well. Again, several people ran by me before I reached it and none of them noticed.

In the end, as I walked all the way around the lot, I ended up with four eggs and some people had none. The admin people were counting them all up and announced that they had all been found. Some people congratulated me, but a few people glared at me and muttered that there should be a limit to how many anyone was allowed to take. I just ignored them. If there was a limit, I would have obeyed it, but there wasn’t one. I ended up with a handful of candy, six dollars, and a gift card to a restaurant down the street.

The next year, they changed it. They hid eggs around the building in the non-work areas, but the signs said specifically to only take one per person as they wanted to make sure there were enough for all three shifts. Also, there was only candy in these eggs. I got my one egg and was perfectly fine, but I heard that some people never got theirs because people were ignoring the signs and taking more than one.

[Coworker #1] has the ability to just suddenly focus on a task with the level of intensity usually reserved for the special interest of someone with ADHD. The rest of us don’t know how she does it, but she can take the driest, most boring piece of work — which even she agrees is boring — and then just pore through it at a micro-level without any pause or distraction. Rumour has it the fire alarm once went off and she didn’t notice.

Meanwhile, [Coworker #2] is a typical Entitled Jerk.

Coworker #2: “I can’t believe the [Sandwich Shop] staff across the road. Did you know they tried to refuse to let me have [fancy cheese] in their ham special? The counter girl tried to tell me some nonsense about it no longer being part of the special. I order that sandwich every day! I know it’s allowed! I bet she was hoping to just pocket the extra, too—”

Me: “But, the sandwich specials only allow for the normal cheeses. The [fancy cheese] has always been extra; it says so right on the billboard.”

Coworker #2: “No, it does not! Anyway, I didn’t let her get away with it. I told the manager about her. I marched right up to him and told him what she was doing, and I told him, ‘The customer is always right,’ and then he—”

Coworker #1: “…about what they wish to purchase.”

Coworker #2: “What?”

[Coworker #1] does not look up from the document she is reading at any point.

Coworker #1: “The customer is never wrong about what they wish to purchase. Jeff Toister was referring to supply and demand and ensuring that businesses were supplying products that were in demand, not salesperson behaviour. The cheese was available, so the social obligation was met. Price is not applicable.”

Coworker #2: “Well, I—”

Coworker #1: “Please shut up now. You’re wrong, you’re a b****, and no one cares.”

Coworker #2: “You can’t speak to me like that! That’s a hostile work environment, and—”

Coworker #1: *Turning a page* “No one will ever believe you.”

At this, [Coworker #2] explodes. People in other offices poke their heads in to see who is yelling and see [Coworker #2] red-faced and raving while I watch with bug eyes and [Coworker #1] ignores [Coworker #2] entirely.

Our manager comes in.

Manager: “All right, all right, stop this right now. What’s going on here? [Coworker #1]?”

Coworker #1: *Still reading* “Mmm?”

Manager: “[Coworker #1]! What’s going on?”

Coworker #1: *Looking up* “Oh, sorry, what? I don’t think I was paying attention. [My Name], you and [Coworker #2] were talking about something?”

Me: “…I have no idea. [Coworker #2] asked [Coworker #1] something, and I got distracted for a second, and then she was yelling.”

Coworker #1: “Oh. Sorry, [Coworker #2], I wasn’t listening. What did you say?”

[Coworker #2] got reprimanded. [Coworker #1] got thanked for finishing a critical legal review early. And I am now very afraid of her.

At the time of this story, I was seventeen years old, serving military service in Austria. (You can choose between six months of military service or nine months of civil service. Since I was kind of a rebel in school, I wanted to do civil service, not having to be ordered around that much, but my army dad convinced me to do military service.) I ended up doing my military service in a big army hospital’s dental station doing X-rays and performing other jobs I wasn’t trained or qualified for.

So, there I was, stuck in this institution I hated, having to deal with people I disliked for six months. For the record, I don’t drink alcohol or smoke (which is legal by the age of sixteen in Austria, and quite a few start at age thirteen). Even though I was always trying to be as nice and polite as possible, that already made me one of the most unpopular figures around the site, which consists of 95% men. (I am also male.)

One day, everybody was ready to leave. We were in the changing rooms. If the sergeant was in a good mood, we didn’t have to muster and could just go home. This happened about twice a week, so it wasn’t something rare. 

Someone came into the room and shouted, “No mustering today!”, which was met with cheers from the other recruits. I got into my casual clothes and went to my car as fast as possible.

The next day, I was asked to the first sergeant’s office, and he was fuming. He started yelling at me.

First Sergeant: “WHAT ON EARTH MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD LEAVE WITHOUT MUSTERING YESTERDAY?!”

Me: “I… Well, somebody said there wasn’t going to be any…”

Note that I was generally socially nervous back then and not good with words.

First Sergeant: “YOU DON’T HAVE ANY RESPECT FOR AUTHORITY! I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU FACE CONSEQUENCES FOR THAT ACTION! NOW GET OUT OF MY FACE!”

I wandered out of the office, speechless, holding back tears. Apparently, my “colleagues” had played a prank on me. I was very close to just leaving, but that would have made military police go after me, so I had to stay. I excused myself from the dental station for a small breakdown and tried to get the day done without talking to anyone.

The next day, I was ordered into the first sergeant’s office again. He smirked at me with a big grin, pointing to a broom, cloth, and sponge lying in a corner.

First Sergeant: “I have found a great little activity for you to do. There’s a room that has been freshly painted by recruits. You’re going to clean up the mess they made. I want this room clean enough to the point of being able to eat off the floor. These are your cleaning utensils. Be done by the end of the week. You are excused from the dental station until then.”

I took the stuff and went upstairs. Little did he know, I actually enjoy cleaning stuff because it’s very peaceful, and I’m a person who uses those occasions to sort my mind out. The room was a total mess. It was probably last cleaned before my parents were even born. I took the sponge, got down on the floor, and started. I didn’t get anything besides the sponge, the broom, and the cloth. There was an old sink where the painting recruits had washed off all the brushes and utensils. Everything was covered in paint. 

Three days later, I was exhausted but happy with myself; the room looked like new. Everything was shiny, from the old radiator to the sink. I had come to a point where I scratched off the paint with my nails. I was bleeding and hurting, my nails felt like they were coming off, and the sponge had a big hole in the middle, but I was deeply satisfied.

The first sergeant came to inspect my work, and I could tell he hadn’t expected me to be this precise. 

First Sergeant: “Well, I must admit, you did an excellent job.”

Me: “Thanks! Got any other rooms to clean?”

First Sergeant: “No, you can go back to the dental station again.”

That was the biggest problem I had with him during my time there, and I had peace for a short while — before he started being condescending to me again, even though I did most jobs better than the others.

There were many different occasions that I could write about, and I’m pretty sure no other employer could pull through with things they used to do there. It was a frustrating time, and even though I had to do it by law, I still consider it my first “job”. At least it set the bar very low, so my future jobs didn’t disappoint me as much.

We don’t have a very big kitchen at work, so most of us keep our things in our desks. I go to make myself a drink and can’t find my cup. I realise I must have left it to dry, but when I check the kitchen, it’s not there, and there are no spares.

Coworker #1: “You all right?”

Me: “No, someone has taken my cup. Again.”

Coworker #1: “What did it look like?”

Me: “Neon orange. I bought it especially so no one would mistake it for theirs.”

Coworker #1: “I would check [Coworker #2]’s desk if I were you. She is always doing this; she can’t be bothered to get her own coffee and can’t be bothered to wash up her cup. She’s the reason we’re not allowed any spares.”

I walk back to my desk. [Coworker #2]’s desk is about halfway there.

Me: “Anyone seen my cup? Bright orange, can’t miss it.”

A few people murmur that they haven’t. Suddenly, [Coworker #2] seems totally transfixed by what’s on her screen.

Me: “You’ve not seen it, have you, [Coworker #2]? I really need a coffee. I’ve not had one all morning.”

Coworker #2: “Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry. Don’t really drink coffee.”

Oh, but what can I see? She has put my cup inside an empty upright folder. It’s still nearly full.

Me: “Oh, what’s this?! Some silly person has taken my cup and put it on your desk. Let me grab that for you — especially as I’m going to have to wash it up now.”

Coworker #2: “Wait.”

Me: “Yes?”

Coworker #2: “Err… never mind.”

I threw her drink down the drain, washed up, made my own drink, and slowly walked past her desk. Best tasting coffee I’ve ever had.

[Coworker #2] still didn’t buy her own cup because, “Why should I when there are cups already?”

A few weeks later, I caught her taking mine off the drying rack, so now, every time I wash mine, I hand dry everyone’s for them to take back to their desks.

With no cups for her to steal, you would think she would just go and buy one. Nope, she gets a new coffee delivered every day. She would rather spend £25-plus a week than buy a cup for £1 and wash it up. I will never understand some people.

I have been left alone to run both the front counter and the drive thru window as my partner thinks it’s more important to socialize with her friends. A woman yells at me over the intercom when ordering due to the delay caused by this.

I stay as polite as I can given the situation and take her order, making sure to apologize for the wait. When she pulls up to the window, she sees me taking orders at the counter, packing the food and manning the window.

She promptly, sincerely, apologized not realizing that I was doing everything all at once. She looked genuinely horrified that she had yelled at me.

During a stressful shift it was much appreciated. Most don’t apologize when they realize they are in the wrong.