I get an order to take out. The restaurant isn’t busy but all the staff members are running around like headless chickens. I finally get my food, but the paper bag is wet at the bottom. I look inside and the container of coleslaw has been placed under the rest of the food and crushed open. Everything that wasn’t sealed is now covered — which would be fine if I actually liked coleslaw! I try to get someone’s attention. 

Me: “Excuse me? Hello?”

No chance; they are all rushing around, back and forth, between the counter and back.

Me: “Excuse me?”

Worker: “Yes?”

Me: “My food, look at how it was packed. The coleslaw is all over the bag. I have my receipt.”

Worker: “I might be able to replace the coleslaw for you. Let me call a manager.”

Me: “Sorry, but that’s not really enough. The chips are covered in it. I’d like them replaced, too.”

Worker: “I think they look fine.”

Me: “With all due respect, they are not. I’d like them replaced. I haven’t even left the counter; this was how they were packed.”

Worker: *Sighs* “Sir, all of our employees are well trained in this. We can’t be held responsible once you receive your food.”

Me: “I have already explained that this was how I received it. Look, even the counter is wet. Are you calling me a liar?”

It’s a very awkward silence as the manager turns up.

Manager: “So, what’s the problem?”

Worker: “He dropped his food and now wants it all for free.”

Me: “That’s not what I said at all. One of your employees put the coleslaw under all the rest of the food. You can see the packet has completely split from the weight; it’s everywhere.”

Manager: *To the worker* “You saw him come back in?”

Worker: “Yeah.”

Me: “Did you? Because that security camera will show otherwise.”

Worker: “I don’t know, maybe… Yeah, probably. I was busy.”

Manager: “I am sorry, sir. Let me get everything made fresh.”

Me: “Great, thank you.”

Manager: “Check his food before he gets it, please.”

Eventually, my food was ready and was set on a shelf. The worker made a big deal out of looking busy and avoiding the counter — I’m sure just so that I had to wait longer. I had to get the same manager to give me my food before it got cold.

I ended up making a complaint. They checked the cameras and confirmed that the events happened as I said they did, and they sent me a voucher.

I work in a bar and restaurant. It is midnight, four days before Christmas. The phone rings.

Me: “Hello, [Restaurant], how can I help?”

Woman: “I want to book a Christmas party for twenty people.”

Me: “I’m sorry to say that our restaurant is fully booked until the twenty-eighth of December.”

Woman: *Ignoring me* “I have the menu in front of me. Can you tell me about the vegan options? The [dish] says it’s vegetarian, but can you tell me why it’s not vegan?”

Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t. The kitchen closed three hours ago, at nine. Only the bar staff are here and they are not qualified to answer those questions.”

Woman: “But your website says you are open until midnight.”

Me: “Yes, we are, and we close in five minutes.”

Woman: “Can you tell me more about the menu?”

The woman rambles for a few minutes, and I don’t want to hang up on her in case she does want to book a party for after Christmas.

Then, suddenly, she drops this gem.

Woman: “Is it midnight yet?”

Me: “Yes, we are now closed.”

Woman: “I’ll let you go then. I bet you’re really happy that I called you. I saw this thing on NotAlwaysRight.com about someone phoning before closing so the person got to go on time. I’ve kept you busy! Haven’t I?”

I’m gobsmacked as I turn to all of my other colleagues rushed off their feet and starting our closing duties.

Me: “It doesn’t really work that way for a bar.”

I’ve always worked in engineering. As a woman in a male-dominated industry, it’s been tough, especially when I was new. But after several years in the company, I have more than proved myself capable, more so than many of my male or female coworkers.

During some office redecoration, I’m temporarily moved to the admin office. The women there seem friendly and are surprised to see a woman come from engineering — my nickname is unisex — and even more surprised that this is only a temporary move.

Woman: “You must prefer working like this, though? I mean, men are so aggressive and competitive.”

Me: “I mean, yes, they can be, but I’m pretty used to it. And, well, working with women can be pretty bad, too. In fact, I’ve had a few—”

Woman: *Not even listening to me* “You poor thing. They must treat you horribly.”

Me: “Err, no, not really. I mean, at the start, but I get along well with them.”

Woman: “Why don’t you transfer here? You would be far better to be with us.”

Me: “No, honestly, I love my job.”

Woman: *Patronisingly* “Of course, you do, dear, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Me: “Sure, I guess. I’ll think about it.”

I have no intention to do so. The fact that she wouldn’t even listen to me makes me even more sure. Her attitude is just as bad as some of the guys’ when I first started.

It gets worse when she and another woman go behind my back and lie that I want to transfer to their office. After I explain again that I don’t, everyone stops talking to me.

I get catty remarks and people stop talking when I get near. I hate it. I am over the moon when the redecoration finishes early.

Coworker: “Oh, hey, didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

Me: “Not a moment too soon. Whatever mean remarks I might have said about you or the guys, I didn’t mean it.”

Coworker: “That bad?”

Me: “Hey, at least when guys fall out, you insult each other and get over it. I can’t stand office politics and cliques. It’s like being back in school.”

A full year later, the office lot still won’t even look at me. It must be exhausting being that petty.

I am the youngest guy in the department by at least twenty years. Because of that, I “get” to train up the new employees coming in; I have a lot more patience.

We have two new guys start. They seem to know each other. Both are around twenty, both think they know it all already, and both don’t seem to want to listen.

I’m teaching them how to check the parts, and one turns to me.

New Guy #1: “Look, I think we can figure this out by ourselves.”

Me: “I’m sure you can, but if you don’t quite get it right and the next guy doesn’t pick up your mistake, it will travel all around the line and be worked on for five hours before reaching the end of the line and being thrown away.”

New Guy #1: “Come on, it’s obvious. Look, do it like this, yeah?”

Me: “Yes, good. But do it like that every time. And not so quickly.”

New Guy #2: “I’ll be next in line, so I will be checking it, anyway, yeah?”

Me: “Yes, so you need to understand what he is doing just as much as he does.”

New Guy #1: “Look, we get it, okay?”

I mark them as trained and get them to sign as such. The old department manager checks up on them and notes that they are working well — really well, in fact. They are faster than most of the other guys already. This seems a little suspicious, so I check up on them.

Surprise, surprise, they are quick only because they have ignored everything I told them to do.

Me: “What the h***? Why aren’t you checking the parts?”

New Guy #2: “Chill out. There hasn’t been an issue all week.”

Me: “So? You’re paid to make and check the parts. It’s your job!”

New Guy #1: “Well, [Department Manager] seems to be fine with us. What is your job, anyway?”

New Guy #2: “Yeah, piss off. We don’t need you telling us what to do.”

Fine, you want to be that way? I grab the department manager and head back to the line. The new guys seem unfazed by us.

New Guy #1: “Hey, boss, everything okay?”

New Guy #2: “We were just double-checking these parts.”

Department Manager: “[My Name] says you haven’t been doing your job properly.”

New Guy #1: “Don’t listen to him; he doesn’t know what he is talking about.”

New Guy #2: “Yeah, you said it yourself: we are some of the best workers here. What does he know?”

Department Manager: “He wrote the majority of the processes for this line and I trust his judgment completely. Consider yourself on your last warning.”

[New Guy #1] got fired the very next week — something about missing items and him being the prime suspect. [New Guy #2] lasted a little longer, but he clearly couldn’t do anything properly or to a process, so he was told to quit or be fired a few weeks later.

Looks like I “get” to train up two new guys. Lucky me!

My aunt is a conspiracy nutjob. She is in deep, and every time I see her it gets worse. I can’t even have a conversation with her anymore; I say anything that goes even slightly against what she “knows” to be fact and she loses it. Any evidence she has is a dubious video or has been hidden by the shadow people, or whatever she believes in this week.

I’ve tried to be tolerant, tried to be understanding, tried to agree to disagree, but it’s the only thing she talks about. Anyone with a different worldview is a sheep and an idiot. I don’t need to be called an idiot in my own home.

I’ve distanced myself completely, making sure I’m not around when she visits. It’s actually worked out well. I’m more social and have more hobbies.

This weekend, I’ve volunteered to help a friend run a cake stand for her church. It’s a double bonus: free cake, and my aunt hates all religion, so there’s no chance she will bother me… or so I think.

About an hour in, I see her sneering her way through the crowd and toward me.

Aunt: “Your mother said to come home immediately.”

Me: “And did she say why?”

Aunt: “You’re distracting yourself being here, dealing with these…” *waves her hand around* “…people.”

Me: “Okay. She didn’t say anything of the sort, did she?! I think I’ll stay.”

Aunt: *Scoffs* “And what are you lacing these with, then?”

And there she goes — more paranoid conspiracy nonsense. I cringe with every fibre of my body.

Me: “Those are lemon, I think, Auntie.”

Aunt: “Yeah, lemon drugs! You know the church is renowned for drugging people. It’s how they get their money!”

Me: “You are embarrassing yourself. Go home.”

Aunt: “How dare you?! You little s***. You go home.”

I crossed my arms and refused to engage her. This only mader her angrier. She screamed, shouted, and tried to tip the table, which didn’t work, before storming off.

After the sale wound down, I went home reluctantly. I planned to grab some things and go, but to my surprise, Auntie wasn’t there. It turned out she went back and admitted what she had done, and my mum kicked her out and told her not to come back.

We haven’t seen her for five years now and all have been happier for it.