[Sales Guy] is one of the younger sales guys who is either some sort of bank robber or greatly exaggerates his lifestyle, as he is in an entry-level job on entry-level pay. [Sales Guy] hasn’t done anything today and it’s already 11:00 am. He wanders over to us and interrupts people actually doing some work.

Sales Guy: “Might get a new car this month.”

Coworker #1: “Didn’t you say you just got a car?”

Coworker #2: “Or were getting one?”

Sales Guy: “Yeah, yeah, I did. Don’t really like the colour.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, sure. Yeah, I might buy a new house. Don’t like the colour of the bathroom.”

Coworker #2: “What’s a bathroom? I just let my butler pick it up off the floor.” *Laughs*

Sales Guy: “Whatever, you guys. You’re just jealous. You’re not swag like me.”

Coworker 2: “What’s a swag?”

Sales Guy: “I hate you guys.” *Storms off*

Me: “He can’t even drive. The guy needs to get his head down or they will get rid of him.”

Coworker #1: “No chance; his mom is a friend of the boss.”

Turns out I was right; he didn’t last the week. [Sales Guy] made some stupid story up about how the other guys were stealing all of his sales, not thinking that they could check all the emails and phone calls he wasn’t making.

I’ve been suspicious for a while but a neighbour finally clued me in; some of the other neighbours’ kids have been using my back garden for the basketball hoop I set up.

I have mixed feelings; I don’t mind them using it, but every now and then something little gets broken or knocked over and hidden, or at least nothing said or apology given.

I decide to do the right thing and let their parents know, and let them know that it’s okay but that anything broken will have to be paid for.

I explain my thoughts to the kids’ mother.

Woman: “My kids wouldn’t do that.”

Me: “Look, it’s been happening for a while; other people have seen them. I’m not mad, but the breakages have to stop.”

Woman: “And I’m telling you it’s not my kids.”

Me: “Really? Okay, fine. If it’s these stranger kids — by the way, there are no other boys in the neighbourhood — who are using my garden, I will lock it, then.”

Woman: “Fine.”

Me: “Fine.”

I lock the gate and let the other neighbour know the kids shouldn’t be there.

Me: “Please let me know if you see them in my garden.”

Neighbour: “I’ll have camera footage if they do.”

Me: “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Not a week later, I find another broken knickknack, and my neighbour lets me know the kids have been round and shows me a picture. Yep, it’s them. I take the picture round to their house.

Woman: “Oh, it’s him again. Here to make more accusations?”

Me: “No, same ones as last time.”

I hand her the picture.

Woman: “Well, that could be anyone.”

Me: “It’s not and you know it.”

Son: “Who’s that, Mum?”

Woman: “Some tosser from over the road.”

Me: “I was telling your mum that I don’t mind you using the basketball hoop, but you need to pay for the breakages.”

Son: “Oh, I, err—”

Woman: “I told him! I told him it couldn’t be you.”

Me: “And I’ve just given her a photo of you climbing my gate.”

Son: “Listen, Mum, I—”

The woman just rants and raves.

Me: “You know where I live.”

To their credit, the lads came round, apologised, and offered to pay for what they broke, as long as I didn’t tell their mum. I offered for them to come back and use the hoop, but only when I left the gate unlocked.

I’ve been training for an upcoming charity obstacle course. Luckily, there is a circuit class running on a field right by my house. I’m early and watching over the equipment while the trainer runs home to fetch something.

A middle-aged woman walks over to me.

Woman: “Do you have to do that here?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “The running around.”

Me: “Oh, the class? It’s not mine, actually. I just attend.”

Woman: “Well, you shouldn’t! It makes me feel bad.”

Me: “It what?”

Woman: “I can see you all from my house, running and jumping around. It makes me feel bad about myself.”

Me: “Okay? I mean, you could join us. First lesson is free.”

Woman: “No. Why should I? You should just stop!”

Me: “Okay, I’m not going to bother talking with you anymore. If you don’t like it, don’t watch.”

The houses aren’t even close by; she must have been straining to see us. I turned back to see her kick a medicine ball out of frustration only for her to hurt her foot and limp the long walk back to her house.

I think I’m a good boss. I look after my team, I’m fair with them if they are fair to me, and we all get on really well… all apart from [Employee #1]. [Employee #1] hates anyone with a “manager” title; it’s the same with the whole management team. In his words, we are “all out to get him.”

Employee #2: “Oh, [Employee #1] texted me and said he’s sick.”

Me: “He needs to call in to Human Resources.”

Employee #2: “But I’ve told you already.”

Me: “I know, but they deal with his pay and make sure he gets his sick pay. They also are the ones that mark him as absent. You need to call them ASAP if you don’t want to be marked as late or AWOL.”

Employee #2: “Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I will tell him.”

The day goes on. With a man down, everyone has to pitch in. I end up doing some of [Employee #1]’s work to get us through. I get a call from HR telling me [Employee #1] hasn’t clocked and hasn’t called. Instead of just having a sick day, he now has to have a disciplinary as it’s not the first time.

I give him a call to see if I can get him to call HR and save himself. No answer from the house phone and no answer from the mobile phone. Out of interest, I check his Facebook, and a picture of him fishing — this morning — was added thirty minutes ago.

I have to pull him into a serious disciplinary meeting, where he admits faking being ill, calls us all Nazis, and storms out.

We fire him that month.

Employee #1: “You’ve always been out to get me!”

[Friend] is super competitive; he’s not happy unless he’s winning — and preferably someone else is losing. It’s a bit annoying at times, especially when all he talks about is how much he’s won or how great he is. He never seems to remember all the times he’s lost, though.

I’ve joined his team for a pub quiz. I’m not much for general knowledge, but I know a lot about random facts.

The next question is read out.

Quiz Master: “In the Bible, who cut Samson’s hair?”

Friend: “Yes! I got it. It’s Delilah.”

Me: “It’s not. I know this one. It’s definitely not that.”

Friend: “It is; it’s famous. I’m writing it down.”

Me: “It was one of the servants, I’m telling you.”

Friend: “I’ve written it now.”

Much of the quiz is like this; he overrules everyone else. While he does get quite a few right, if he listened to us we would do a lot better.

At the very end, we come fourth and miss out on a prize.

Friend: “I can only get so many of these right on my own. You guys need to step your game up!”

We had the next quiz without him, and we came third!