My first job out of school was at a local bakery. One of the tasks I was expected to do during the day was to take the flat pack cake boxes and assemble them, making it easier to pack cakes for customers during the busy periods. My manager was horribly nitpicky about things and one of her pet peeves was that there weren’t enough boxes.

One day, I came into work and she had me fill out and sign a “formal warning notice” to say I hadn’t assembled enough boxes — I was literally one box short of what she wanted. Likewise, my colleague got the same “warning.” Being the 17-year-old I was, and feeling like a smarta***, I spent my whole Saturday assembling every single box we had.

The manager liked to have around 30 and I assembled around 3,000. They were literally stacked everywhere — on the counters, filling the shelves, and on the floor. I even built an archway leading into the back of the store. The next day, the store owner demanded to see me because of the ridiculous state of his store; he actually called me in on my day off.

And that was how I got my second formal warning. After I explained the situation to the owner, he did agree to speak to the manager about how a warning over a single missing box was excessive.

(I’m a little passive-aggressive, so retail probably isn’t the best for me, but this was a good few years ago, back when I was around sixteen years old. A customer comes in and spends a lot of time causing a fuss at my checkout over the fact that it’s taking a while because she has so much stuff. Keep in mind that it’s getting late and we’re a good fifteen minutes from closing, which we do pretty early, anyway.)

Fussy Lady: *complaining* “…and I have places to go, you know! I have a family at home and a job in the morning!”

Me: *passive-aggressive while ringing her last few items up* “Oh, me, too! Isn’t that funny, me having a lot of stuff on my plate, as well? I mean, it’s not like my parents are wondering why I’m still here and not home, or anything. It’s not like I have high school in the morning where I’ll be stressing for hours over things that I’m probably not even going to need in the future. It’s also not like after I get school done I’ll have way too much homework to do, too. And it’s definitely not like I’ll have to show up here as soon as that’s done, because I need to save up money for when I’m eighteen. Nope! I’m just a cashier!”

(Yeah, I got fired for that one, but it felt good at the time!)

(I’m buying some fruit from a stand at the market. The employee is very friendly and helpful throughout my transaction, and he puts me in an excellent mood, until…) 

Employee: “And here’s your change. My bonus today is that I got to touch your hand.” *stares at me and wiggles his eyebrows* 

Me: *walks away feeling gross and no longer enthusiastic about my fruit*

(I go to the nearest grocery store to grab a drink. A woman is standing near the checkout and the cashier is talking on the phone, but since I’m getting just one thing I don’t mind this too much.)

Cashier: *scans the drink while still talking on the phone* “It’s [price].”

Me: *hands him the money and waits for my change*

Cashier: *hands the phone to the woman and scans the drink again*

Me: “You already scanned it.”

Cashier: “It’s [price].”

Me: “I already gave you the money; my change is [amount].”

Cashier: *starts looking around, confused*

Me: “It’s beside the register. My change is [amount].”

(The cashier is about to scan the drink again until he spots the money I gave him, then puts it in the drawer and stares at me.)

Me: “Could I have my change, please?”

Cashier: *finally gives me my change, still confused*

(I get a call on my cell phone during my lunch break from a number that has already called me once before while I was working. The number didn’t leave a voicemail the first time but I figure that it is important, considering they’re calling me again, so I answer.)

Me: “Hello, [My Name] speaking.”

Caller: “Hello, you’re speaking with [Caller] of [Company]. Your husband just called to reschedule an appointment with us.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that is not possible. I don’t have a husband.”

Caller: “Well, somebody called to reschedule an appointment.”

Me: “That may be the case, but I didn’t call. Can I do anything else for you?”

(The caller doesn’t respond anymore.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Yes, hello. This is [Caller] from [Company]. Your husband just called—”

(I repeated myself that I am not married and made a quick end to the conversation, only to find out at the end of my working shift that the same number had called me yet again. No voicemail again, but I seriously hope they’re not going to call again to ask me about an appointment my non-existent husband wants to reschedule.)