(I am 17. I got myself a part-time job, with a shiny new bank account and debit card to go with it, a few months ago. I am only working about four to six hours on a weekend and the pay is low, but as I’ve never had my own money before I fully embrace the opportunity to go shopping whenever I can, so my new bank account doesn’t have much in it! I want a new top and my mum, knowing I’ve pretty much spent my last week’s pay, lends me £20 to get something. I trot off into town early and find a top I like, but it is £5 over budget. No problem, I think; I’ve had people pay with card and cash in my shop before, so I’ll just do that. I go to the checkout. It’s not busy in the shop so there’s no queue, and the girl behind the till is about my age and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her there before. She rings up the top and tells me the total, £25.)

Me: “Can I pay £20 cash and the rest card, please?”

(The checkout girl repeats the total.)

Me: “Yeah, I’d like to pay £20 in cash, and the rest with my card.”

(The checkout girl looks at me like I’m crazy. I wait patiently, holding the note and my card.)

Checkout Girl: “I don’t know how to do that.”

(I look at her expectantly, thinking she’ll go and get someone who does. She does nothing, still staring at me.)

Me: “Well, can you find someone who does?”

(The checkout girl spun around, huffed and tutted, and stomped away like it was the biggest inconvenience EVER. I stood there in disbelief. Finally, another member of staff appeared, took my money out of my hand, rang through the transaction, and got me to swipe my debit card, all without a single word to me. She then dropped a bag on top of my purchase, leaving me to put the — not even folded — top into the bag myself, and flounced off. I may have only been 17, but I loved my retail job and took great pride in my customer service so I found my treatment there somewhat shocking, and I have not shopped there since!)

I work cleaning and maintaining water tanks and systems for various properties. I was supervising a group of coworkers on site, even though at the time I was the lowest ranking as a Casual.

Monday – Day 1

I had a two-man team cleaning a pair of tanks in a block of flats when one put his foot through the floor of the loft space to the flat below. As the “ranking” worker, it was up to me to get photos, take measurements, and fill out the paperwork for the insurance, etc.

I asked a coworker to get my laptop from my van parked in the flat’s car park. He went and got it and I started to sort out the mess.

Then, I asked my coworker for the van key… and he couldn’t find it. We searched all round and there was no sign of the key. It was getting late, so I called the office to get them to send the spare key and I got a lift home from the other team.

Tuesday – Day 2

Luckily, I had access to another van, which I used to get back to the main van… only to find that the parking permit was missing. Yes, someone had used the missing key to steal the permit and then relocked the van. I called the police, and while waiting for them, I got the call from the office: there was no spare key. And then, the other team I had working told me they’d put their foot through another ceiling.

Wednesday – Day 3

I was told the main van would be picked up and towed to the office, but I needed to be there to arrange the pickup. I was at the van from 8:00 am to 10:00 pm waiting for the pickup. Finally, they arrived, but the low loader couldn’t manoeuvre in the car park, and since I’d put on the handbrake and the steering lock — as you do — there was nothing he could do.

Thursday – Day 4

I was told that they were going to get the AA “Kerbside Key Service” in that Friday to replace the key and get the van back. Great, I thought. I could concentrate on the job, which had now moved to another area… until I got the call that there was an AA member and a towing guy heading to the van to break in, break the steering lock, and move it — damage I’d be liable for.

I drove over and headed this off and explained that the AA was going to get a key sorted the next day.

Friday – Day 5

I got a lift to the van, and bright and early the AA guy arrived. Within 30 minutes, he’d made two brand-new keys and programmed the locking.

Opening the van, we found that the only thing missing was the Parking Permit. All my tools in the back were untouched and they even left a fully filled-up [Restaurant] coffee card.

And yup, my manager blamed me for the whole mess, and I was threatened with the sack at least four times. 

I’m glad to be working elsewhere now.

Not a conversation. Would just like to tell you lovely people that due to customer complaints I have had to leave my job. I get on well with 99 per cent of customers but the 1 per cent that have complained (because I don’t salivate over them whenever they are in) has meant that I have lost my job. I would like to thank my daughter, for keeping me sane, my boss, for never standing up for me, and last of all, the customers, who think it is okay to complain at the drop of a hat.

I am not ‘sharp’ or ‘rude’ or ‘aggressive’. I am good at my job and will not blow people who are rude themselves. If you throw money at me, I am not going to smile and say thanks.

If you can’t be bothered to say hello back, I will not be nice.

If you can’t be bothered to put your money in my hand but just slam it on the counter then you get your change back the same way. Oh, and by the way, I always say thanks when I do that.

I am sorry if I am rude, aggressive or sharp but so are you, general public. You treat staff like shit but expect to be treated with respect.

Please publish this, NAR as I DO respect you.

Customer – My [Product] is not working, the chap who I bought it off told me I didn’t have to plug the power in

Me – Obviously you have to plug the power in for it to work

Customer – but the previous chap said I didn’t have to so I have not. However when I do plug the power cable in it works fine.

Me – …

(I have just filled up with fuel and have popped in to pay for it. Whilst I am in there, I decide to buy a bag of chocolates for my step-daughter. The queue isn’t long and I am soon at the front, making small talk with the friendly cashier.)

Cashier: “Up to much this weekend?”

Me: “I’m working on Saturday, but I’m free on Sunday; I’ll probably go out on Sunday with my other half for a nice walk. What about you? Doing anything exciting?”

Cashier: “I’m working here all weekend.”

Me: “Sounds like fun.”

(By this point, I have finished my transaction and am just about to head off.)

Me: “May all your customers be sensible.”

Cashier: *pointing out of the window* “See that over there?”

Me: “What?”

Cashier: “You see that unicorn over there?”

Me: “Ah, yes, it’s being chased by a flying pig.”

(We laugh and I return to my car. Just as I am getting in, a voice comes over the tannoy:)

Cashier: “Pump number eleven, you left your goods.”

(I look over to the kiosk and see the cashier waving the bag of chocolates. As I head over to retrieve them, I see through the window that the cashier has handed them to a customer, who brings them out to me.)

Customer: “Yours, I believe?”

Me: “Thank you. And can you please thank him and apologise for me? Tell him that I was distracted by the flying unicorn!”