My bookkeeper reminded me of this now that she’s retiring; I’d forgotten how she came to work for us. She’s been our “Mother Hen” and office fixture for so long!

Close to twenty-five years ago, I was estimating and quoting a metalworking factory expansion job about 100 miles from my home and shop.

The owner was berating a fairly young bookkeeper about how a computer glitch was her fault, and he was using completely inappropriate language.

When we went to the job site, he explained how she “only” had a local college degree in bookkeeping and business, and if he didn’t keep her on the back foot, she would want a raise and benefits. He mentioned that she had to keep the job because she was a single mother.

We cut steel and installed it, so I saw this girl cry, work through lunch, be the last one to leave her department, etc.

I talked it over with my then-girlfriend (now wife) about poaching this trained girl since we desperately needed a resident bookkeeper/comptroller — like, needed one five years ago — but if I did, it would burn bridges with a customer.

I don’t think I did anything that wasn’t goal-oriented for me and my business. We had serious issues with taxes and compliance at the time.

My girlfriend went to the job site with me, sat with this young lady, and slipped her a business card, not knowing if she would want to move from a city to the country and such.

[Bookkeeper] had worked there for five years, got no raises or benefits in those five years, and desperately wanted another job, but knew the boss/owner would kill her job reference since she had seen him do it before.

My girlfriend rented [Bookkeeper] a little place for cheap. She started with us and untangled the last three years of mess in about three months. For the first time ever, the monthly reports were on time and the tax paperwork was done on time. She even managed to talk the IRS/state revenue out of most of the fines and penalties.

She quickly became “My Girl Friday” since she killed problems in minutes that had plagued me for years, thanks to actual education and experience, along with being sharp as a tack.

[Bookkeeper] met her husband here and had her wedding lakeside here, they built a house here, they had two more kids here, and she spent twenty-five years working here. She’s been the High-Grand poo-bah of the office! Killer of paperwork dragons!

She and my wife have become great friends since they both lived “city” lives at one point and we are all country folks.

I kept a professional distance, so I was quite surprised when [Bookkeeper] broke down in tears at her retirement get-together, saying she owed her entire life to us.

Well, no, she doesn’t. I was more than willing to throw money at the paperwork monsters to get the tax/compliance people off my a**! She saved the company! She doesn’t “owe” us anything; she earned everything and she worked hard to get it. It’s my good fortune to have been in the right place at the right time, and the right time in her life. I’m sure with her intelligence and willingness to work and learn, she would have done well once she got away from that A-hole.

I knew the customer I poached [Bookkeeper] from got into all kinds of tax, employee pay, and state/federal regulation problems about six months after she left. But I just found out that when [Bookkeeper] was working with the state and federal tax people, she leaked about his shady dealings, when we dealt with labor relations people she leaked about his shady dealings, and so on. She knew exactly where to point the investigators, and they didn’t disappoint.

I’ve seen her use the innocent lines, “My last employer did this this way,” or, “My boss is going to be very angry that I messed this up,” when talking people out of fines or penalties from back when she didn’t even work here! So, thinking about it, I know how she worked it into conversation without actually “snitching”, and they ran off, foaming at the mouth, and left us alone.

Sly girl! But our sly girl!

[Bookkeeper]’s former boss lost the company within eighteen months of her leaving. It’s still there and producing, just under entirely new owners and management.

Throughout high school and for my first summer back from college, I worked for a retail store that was well-known for coupons. They were in mailers, in emails, in the paper — there was a coupon available pretty much every day. As associates, we were told that we could use coupons with our employee discount. The other part of the policy for associates purchasing items with our employee discount was that a different associate had to check us out, and before we left the store with our purchase, a manager had to look at the receipt and make a note in a folder that they had approved the transaction, with the transaction number noted.

One afternoon, my store manager pulls me off the floor and brings me back to her office where there’s a man I’ve never seen before. He introduces himself as the district Loss Prevention Manager.

Loss Prevention: “Do you know why I’m here?”

Me: “No, I don’t.”

He pulls out a list of transactions associated with my employee discount number.

Loss Prevention: “Did you make these purchases?”

I look over the list.

Me: “Yes, I did.”

Loss Prevention: “Are you aware that you can’t use coupons with your employee discount and that you’re stealing from the company?”

I look at my store manager, who is refusing to look at me. I attempt to explain what I was told, but he keeps cutting me off, threatening to have me fired, and telling me it’s against policy. At no point does my store manager, who not only told me I could use the coupons but has signed off on my purchases, stand up for me or even say a word.

I’m under so much emotional distress at this point that I don’t remember much from the conversation besides [Loss Prevention] pushing a piece of paper at me and telling me that if I admit that I used coupons incorrectly, “we can put this whole thing behind us”. Like a stupid nineteen-year-old, I sign, thinking that it means I get to keep my job.

No surprise, the second I sign it, I’m told I’m fired. My manager escorts me to the parking lot and gives me a hug.

Manager: “You’re like a daughter to me, [My Name]. But I’m afraid you’re banned from [Store]. Never contact us again.”

I went home crying and obviously upset, but as I’d be leaving for college (four hours away) in two weeks, I attempted to move past it and thought that was it.

Nope.

Three months later, I got a call from an unknown number. It was the police department from my hometown letting me know that my former employer was charging me with theft from using the coupons and that I would be hearing from a detective soon. As soon as I hung up, my mom called me to let me know that a police officer had shown up at their house to inform me of the charges.

The next four months were an absolute blur as I tried to manage this from four hours away. As my parents are not at all wealthy, my uncle hired a lawyer for me. Thankfully, the lawyer got them to settle and drop the charges. His main argument was that all of the transactions that the company was calling “theft by deception” had been signed off on by my store manager and assistant manager. Why were these “against policy” purchases not addressed by management when they saw them? There were also other employees and managers who had management approve their purchases that used coupons with their employee discount, so why weren’t they fired? And he had proof of this from when I told him about the transaction book that the managers kept.

After that, the company agreed to drop the charges if I paid them back the total amount of discounts I received by using the coupons from the three years I worked there. The total? $100. A MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR COMPANY wanted their $100 back.

My parents wrote them the check to be done with everything. They thought about countersuing, but my state is an at-will state, so nothing could be done. I have a lot of PTSD from the whole situation that I’m still working through, but I have taken a LOT of pleasure in seeing the company file bankruptcy several times and close a lot of stores — including the one I was fired from.

I do still wish I know what I did wrong that led to them going after me like that.

A few months ago, I volunteered to plan my mother-in-law’s sixtieth birthday and my father-in-law’s sixty-fourth birthday with a weekend in wine country.

I wanted to take a group of ten to a new upscale restaurant, so I made a reservation months in advance. Because it was also a winery, we arrived two hours early and checked in with the restaurant to see if they could seat us earlier. Despite an empty restaurant, they said they couldn’t. That was no big deal; we understood, and they could be low-staffed, so we went and got some wine and hung out and listened to live music.

Close to our reservation time, I got a text from the restaurant to be seated. It was beginning to rain as we walked over to the hostess.

Hostess: “Because it’s raining and your table is outdoors, I won’t be able to seat your party tonight.”

Me: *As calmly as I can* “I’ve had this reservation for months. I’ve been here for two hours, and I was not told that my reservation was for an outdoor table or subject to cancellation due to rain. I wasn’t given a choice between outdoor or indoor seating. This is for a sixtieth and sixty-fourth birthday party. Could you split us up between multiple tables?”

The manager came over, and they both just kept saying that there was nothing they could do and that it wasn’t their fault… because “we can’t control the weather”.

I snapped a little.

Me: *Sharply* “Well, what you could have done was not reserve a table for a large party that you could not guarantee.”

The manager just shrugged.

We left, and because it was a Saturday at 6:00 pm, there was no way we were getting a table at another restaurant. I had to go to the grocery store and cook a full meal for ten people.

I emailed the manager to ask them if there was any way they could compensate us because our experience was so terrible. I got no response.

After a week or so, I made multiple email accounts and left what was a fairly new restaurant TEN different one-star reviews. In the reviews, I said that you should never book this restaurant if you have a large party. I talked about how they did not try to find us a table at another restaurant, how they had two hours to fix their error, how they booked out a table they could not guarantee, how they didn’t move a table under cover (which there was plenty), and how they didn’t provide any comps or otherwise make any attempt to fix their error. They ended up with a two-star drop in their Google rating because of my reviews. I left one review for every person that did not get a seat.

Several days after I posted, they reached out offering to comp a meal for my in-laws IF “our group” took the reviews down. I refused.

I am the submitter of this story. My mum has had a bit of a redemption arc (wild, I know). My husband and I are staying with her temporarily for a few months until we can find our forever home. She has been making a significant effort to be a better person, and we’ve both noticed and are appreciative of it. 

I wake up one day to the doorbell ringing and a handyman having arrived to fix the back porch. I go to open the gate to let him through to the back. My mum, who has been working in the backyard, comes up on the other side of the gate. It’s 8:00 in the morning, I haven’t brushed my teeth or even put my glasses on, and she comes out with:

Mum: “Good morning, [Handyman]! This is my daughter. Isn’t she pretty?“

Please note, I’ve never met the guy before. I cock my head at her and give her a completely unrestrained “WTF?” look. 

Handyman: *Awkward chuckle* “Yeah, you’re pretty!”

The cringe is palpable. I hold my “WTF” look for a couple more seconds before silently walking back into the house.

Later, when it isn’t so early in the morning anymore, I bring it up.

Me: “Mum, I don’t know what was going through your head this morning, but… maybe in future… don’t ask random handymen to comment on the appearance of your married twenty-nine-year-old daughter? That was so awkward.”

Mum: *Looking embarrassed* “You’re right; I didn’t think of that. I just… I never praised or said anything nice about you or [Brother] growing up, especially around other people. I only ever said bad things. I was trying to change that.”

I blink, silent for a moment.

Me: “Okay. That’s sweet. But still, terrible way to go about it, Mum! You kinda put both of us on the spot.”

I’ve started laughing at this point. Mum is sheepishly laughing, as well.

Mum: “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Me: “A for effort.”

Baby steps, but she’s getting there.

Related:
Can’t Face The Face-Talking

The restaurant I work in offers a few different sides for your wing combo: fries, tots, or chips. It has become automatic to offer the choice to people after they tell me how they want their wings, and I usually ramble it off pretty fast. “Fries, tater tots, or chips?” “Fries, tater tots, or chips?” “Fries, tater tots, or chips?”

I’m waiting on a table of six people — men and women in their twenties, I’d guess. As I’m going around the table, something happens to my brain as I’m writing down this guy’s order, and my tongue fumbles my line. It makes “tots or chips” one word and it comes out sounding like:

Me: “Fries, tater tits?”

There is a long, quiet pause where we all process what I just said. After several seconds, one of the guys says:

Customer: “Did you just say, ‘Tater tits’?”

Me: “…yeah.”

I buried my face in my book and we all laughed.

It has been at least ten years, and this moment still pops into my head here and there.