Your Wife Must Really Love That

, , , , , | Working | March 20, 2019

(It’s the day of my office’s holiday party. My father died at the beginning of the year, and it’s been a struggle every day, let alone with the first birthdays and holidays without him. Weeks prior to the party, there are signup sheets for people who were interested in participating. I can’t bring myself to sign up, because I just can’t get into the spirit. It is also important to note that I am not Christian, and am a polytheist; I don’t advertise this, but I don’t deny it if someone asks.)

Coworker: “You missed a great party! Why didn’t you come and join us?”

Me: *explains that I’m having a hard time after losing my dad*

Coworker: “Oh, no, no, no! You can’t think like that! You have to think about what a great Christmas your dad is having; he’s truly getting to celebrate the reason for the season.”

Me: “…”

Coworker: “I listen to this Revelations preacher every day, and he says that you can’t think of the dead as truly dead. They are only sleeping until the soul and body are resurrected!”

Me: *glancing over at the paperweight on my desk that contains some of my dad’s ashes* “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

Coworker: “And just like I tell my wife, buck up, buttercup!” *slaps my back and walks away*

(I was seething with anger for the rest of the day and could barely focus. I told my other Pagan and atheist friends about what happened and eventually shook it off. With my friends, I decided to not say anything for now to the higher-ups, but if he does it again, to report it next time.)

Those Who Flail To Plan, Plan To Flail

, , , , | Working | March 20, 2019

(I’m new at this job. My supervisor is away on a business trip, and I’m finishing up a call with our shipping warehouse contact, a woman who’s been working with my company for years.)

Me: “And don’t worry, [Supervisor] will be back in the office tomorrow, so it won’t just be me flailing around over here.”

Warehouse: “Oh, you’re not alone in the flailing, trust me. I do my fair share of it here, too!”

Me: “We can flail together, then. We’ll be flail experts!”

Warehouse: “We’ll start the Noodleympics!”

As Long As The Coffee Survived

, , , , | Working | March 18, 2019

(A coworker and I are walking back from our break, and he’s carrying a tray of take-out coffee for everyone. He is carrying the tray with one hand, looking at his phone in the other as he walks.)

Me: “[Coworker], be careful.”

Coworker: “Huh?”

Me: “Watch out where you’re walking.”

Coworker: *clucks his tongue at me affectionately* “See, you’re like the big sister I never had, worrying over nothing.”

Me: “You have like five cups of hot coffee in one hand, and it’s all uneven here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

(He scoffs at me so I let it drop. A few paces later, however, as he’s looking at his phone, he comes up on a ledge that has a central set of steps, misses the steps, and his foot comes down on open air. It’s only about a foot drop or so, but he pitches forward and his phone goes flying as he reflexively grabs for the coffee tray, jerking it up over his head like he’s offering it skyward — amazingly not spilling a drop — as he lands hard on both knees.)

Me: “Oh, my God! Are you okay?!”

Coworker: *gritting his teeth in pain* “Yes, thanks. And a preemptive thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”

(At least he saved the coffee, and luckily, his phone was okay, too!)

Pot Calling The Kettle Pink

, , , , , | Learning | March 16, 2019

(One day at the child care center where I work, I have a little boy come in with red fingernail polish on. Later that day, one of my male coworkers sees him and walks up to me.)

Coworker: “Who painted that child’s fingernails?”

Me: “His mom.”

Coworker: “Oh, my God.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: “That poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.” *walks away*

(You’re a male working in childcare and you want to hold a three-year-old to traditional gender expectations?)

Aisle Never Get To See This Band

, , , , , | Working | March 15, 2019

(I’m an usher at a local arena. I’ve been looking forward to this concert, and I really want to work an aisle.)

Head Usher: “[My Name], you’re working [aisle], [Coworker #1], you’re working [not an aisle]…”

Coworker #1: “Does anybody working an aisle want to trade spots with me? I’d like to work an aisle.”

Head Usher: “[Coworker], please stop talking. I’m assigning the rest of the locations.”

Coworker #1: “I was just trying to help in case anybody wants to work [not an aisle]!”

Head Usher: “You’ll work where you’re assigned.”

Coworker #1: “Well, maybe I’ll just leave!”

(The head usher finishes assigning locations, and we get in place. I’m working with [Coworker #2].)

Coworker #2: “I don’t really like this band.”

Me: “Different tastes. I really like them, but I’d never be able to afford a ticket. I’m glad I’ll have a chance to see them.”

(The head usher comes up.)

Head Usher: “[My Name], can you work [not an aisle]?”

(I figure that [Coworker #1] made good on her threat to walk out, and I know somebody has to cover the position.)

Me: “Sure.”

Head Usher: “Okay. [Coworker #1], you can work here.”

(Now I feel like a prize chump. Still, it’s a job before it’s a chance to see the show, and at least I can listen. This doesn’t stop me from stewing about it, and imagining all sorts of cutting remarks to use on [Coworker #1]. After the show, [Coworker #1] comes up to me.)

Coworker #1: “[My Name], I’m sorry! I didn’t know you wanted to see the show, too!”

Me: “Well, that’s the way it goes in this job. I work where I’m assigned, and I don’t always get to see what I want to. Of course, I’m a professional.”

(I walked away.)

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