A few of us get transferred to a new department. A few weeks in, I get a comment that I’m not as “keen” or as “enthusiastic ” as one of the other guys that moved over with me. Turns out [Coworker] is giving me a bad name by being on the ball, and I should take his lead, or else.

This shocks me as [Coworker] is, in fairness, an idiot. He is utterly useless and can’t manage some of the simple tasks. It isn’t his fault this job just isn’t suited for him.

I am surprised, embarrassed, and a little humiliated, but I suck it up and spend some time with him. Maybe he’s found his element and has some niche.

The next day, I stick with [Coworker]. He starts by spending thirty minutes trying to find the tools he put away yesterday — only to find them in his toolbox where he left them, where he always leaves them — and another thirty minutes deciding what to do first. He then spends two hours doing a job that should take twenty minutes and rewards himself with an extra-long tea break.

Me: “I’ve heard you’ve been doing really well.”

Coworker: “Really?”

Me: “Yeah. Apparently, [Department Head] thinks a lot of you.”

Coworker: “Oh, I know him. He asks me if I’m doing some job or another and I tell him that I’ll do it next.”

Me: “Do you… actually do it?”

Coworker: “Well, by the time I finish whatever I’m doing, someone else has picked it up and it’s normally done.”

Me: “So… as far as he knows, the jobs he’s asked about, you’ve done?”

Coworker: “Maybe. They don’t let me do the important jobs.”

Eventually, and after getting berated again and again for not being as good as the superstar [Coworker], I had to point out that, actually, I was working hard. Someone got the wrong end of the stick and [Coworker] was inadvertently taking credit for other people’s work.

Due to the current health crisis, my husband and I have tried to figure out ways to limit the number of visits to various stores. We also enjoy having some beer on the weekend. Instead of going to the beer store once or twice a week, we decide to buy a month’s supply at a time. This happens while we’re checking out at the beer store.

Husband: *To the cashier* “Hi, I’ve got [number] cases here.”

Cashier: *Sucks her teeth and replies with an instant attitude* “You know, that only leaves us with [other number] of cases to sell to other customers.”

Husband: “Well, I’ll be putting this on a debit card.”

The transaction is completed. The cashier calls out to my husband as he is exiting the store.

Cashier: “And I don’t appreciate you coming in here when we are due to close in twenty minutes!”

I was shocked by the interaction when my husband told me. I have felt the attitude from that particular clerk before. I know the owner by sight and made a mental note to speak with him the next time I saw him around town. When I told him, he apologized to me and told me that his clients can buy however much of something that they want and can walk in with one minute until closing if they want. He told me that it was not the first complaint about that cashier and if there was one more, she would be gone. She must have had another complaint because I never saw her in the store again.

I often go to a specific store to buy something. Let’s just say it’s bubblegum. They have a display with the different flavors behind the counter. The employee usually hands me the container so I can pick out what I want since it is different each time.

One day, I go to the store and ask the employee to see the display.

Employee: “No.”

I am startled and it takes me a second to realize what she said.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Did the policy change?”

Employee: “No. Last time you were in here, you stole some of the products.”

Now I am really confused and I start getting angry because I have never stolen anything in my life.

Me: “That’s not true. How could I have stolen anything?”

Employee: “I watched you on video. You grabbed them then slipped them into the sleeve of your hoodie. I even showed it to my friends and they agreed with me.”

Me: “I absolutely did not. I demand to see your security tapes so I can prove it to you.”

Employee: “What date did you last come in?”

Me: “I don’t remember. Maybe a week and a half ago.”

Employee: “Well, if you don’t tell me the date, I can’t find the footage.”

Me: “So, let me get this straight. You were able to show it to all of your friends, but when I ask to see it, you don’t have it available?”

Employee: “Tell me the date and I can pull it.”

Me: “I don’t remember! We’re done here.”

I walked out of the store and never went back. How can you accuse a frequent customer of stealing but not have the proof for when they return?

I’m on the phone with a customer who’s trying to format a file to send my way.

Me: “If you save it as a PDF, we’ll be able to open it.”

Customer: “So, when it asks what kind of file type I want to save it as, I choose PDF?”

Me: “Exactly. Let me know when you’ve done it.”

At this moment, the department head walks in, so I hit my mute button.

Head: “I just wanted you guys to know that we have won the office championship and will be having a party on Friday.”

We’ve been working very hard for a month to outperform the other departments. The others in my office cheer at their respective desks.

Customer: “That’s now saved as a PDF.”

Me: “WOOOHOOOOO!”

Customer: “THANKS! I’m pretty proud of myself!”

Me: *Trying not to laugh* “Great job. Just email that to me…”

Thank goodness I didn’t say something more embarrassing while I thought I was on mute.

In the beginning of summer, my entire family likes to spend a week at the beach. We’ve been doing this since I was a child and there’s a particular restaurant that we love to eat at as it always has good food and good service, and it’s only a few minutes walk from where we stay. On this fateful night, my husband and I are having dinner with my parents. We’re seated at a table, and after a minute or so, our waitress arrives.

Waitress: “Hi, guys! Welcome to [Restaurant]. My name is [Waitress] and I’ll be your server this evening.”

Me: “Hi, [Waitress], how’re you doing?”

Waitress: “I’m all right. I’m sorry if there’s a bit of a delay in your food; we’re a little busy tonight and this is my second night on the job, so I’m still figuring things out.”

My family is very friendly and understanding, so we assure her that’s fine and it seems to put her at ease. We order drinks. My mom and I typically don’t order alcoholic drinks as we don’t like the taste, but we’ve eaten at this restaurant several times and both like their strawberry daiquiris, so we order those.

Waitress: “All right, can I see everyone’s IDs, please?”

Everyone hands over their IDs, except for Mom, who typically leaves her purse in her car and forgot to grab it before we walked to the restaurant.

Mom: “I’m so sorry. I think I left my wallet at home.”

Waitress: *Suddenly very anxious* “Ma’am, I can’t serve you alcohol without seeing your ID.”

Mom: “That’s fine. I’ll just go with a lemonade, then.”

The waitress leaves to get the drinks, and when she returns, we place our food orders. By the time the food is brought out, we’ve finished our drinks and Dad orders a mango daiquiri for himself, which Mom asks to try when it arrives.

Waitress: “Ma’am, I can’t serve you alcohol without seeing your ID.”

Mom: “I know, I’m happy with my lemonade. I’m just going to have a sip from his; I don’t need my own.”

Waitress: “I’m going to need to see your ID.”

Dad: *Firm but respectful* “The mango daiquiri isn’t for her; it’s for me.”

The waitress dithers for a few moments, then leaves. We discuss quietly how it’s a little silly that Mom can’t drink but her daughter can. But we know that serving alcohol to underaged guests is illegal and figure that, since it’s her second night working and the place is pretty busy, she’s just feeling stressed and trying to not mess up, so we brush it off.

At this point, I have finished my daiquiri and set the empty glass aside, about midway between myself and Mom, and I have begun working on my water when a man approaches. He’s wearing a staff uniform with a badge that identifies him as the manager, and he stops at our table. He’s narrowed his eyes at me and addresses me with an accusatory tone.

Manager: “Ma’am, your waitress is unable to serve you alcohol without seeing your ID, and if you continue to harass her, then I’m going to be forced to ask you to leave.”

It’s clear that he thinks I’m underaged and trying to pull something. I immediately suspect the waitress was flustered and did not communicate the situation clearly to her manager, but I’m too shocked to respond. Both Dad and my husband jump to my defense, and all three men begin to argue quietly while Mom and I sit there uncomfortably.

Eventually, the manager, unwilling to budget and unable to be convinced that this is a misunderstanding, curtly informs us that he’ll be sending the bartender out to deal with us and that there will be absolutely no alcohol provided to anyone at the table without ID. My husband and my dad are both fuming, and I’m very uncomfortable and worried that the manager might try to remove me from the restaurant. Mom is upset by the conflict and decides that the easiest way to resolve the issue is to go get her ID, so she walks the ten minutes home — by herself, at night — and back. 

While she’s gone, the bartender arrives. He’s significantly more pleasant and recognizes Dad from his and Mom’s visit the night before. We calmly explain the situation, apologizing for making the waitress uncomfortable and expressing our offense at the manager’s aggressive, misinformed accusations. The bartender sympathizes and informs us that the manager is a rather unpleasant individual to begin with and that he figured that this was likely a misunderstanding from the get-go.

About this time, Mom returns with her ID and the bartender brings her a daiquiri as an apology, chatting with us a little bit before heading back inside. We don’t see that waitress for the rest of the night, but we do spy the manager shooting us nasty looks until we leave.

We decided to eat elsewhere for the rest of the week, the experience having put a sour taste in our mouths. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for the bartender, we probably would’ve just left money on the table for what food and drinks we received and walked out.