(I’m a supervisor in a store and we hire a new employee. I agree to train her on the tills as I often operate them myself, have previously trained other new staff successfully, and will be working the same shift as the new employee most weeks. I am also shift manager the day she comes in for her first training session, and have been given instructions to arrange a second and maybe even third training shift the following week, as the cashier she is replacing leaves the week after. After two hours on the till with her, she’s struggling, but no more than some of the others.)

Me: “You did really well today, so I just need to know when you can come in next week for your next training shift.”

Employee: “I can’t. I’m on holiday next week. I was under the impression that I started the week after.”

Me: “We really need you to do more training, since you’re expected to be able to work independently by your first official shift.”

Employee: “Well, I can’t. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I have to go now; my flight is this evening, so I’ll see you when I get back.”

(I call the managers who, as suspected, were unaware that she wasn’t available to train. But there’s nothing we can do. A week later I’m shift manager for her first full shift. An hour after start…)

Employee: “My back hurts, I need to go home.”

(I have to let her. The next day she comes in again when my manager is in. I spend another hour going through everything with her. Ten minutes after I leave to get in with a job, the bell rings for a supervisor to the till.)

Employee: “How do I ring up lemons?”

Me: “Well, the easiest way is if you press this button that I showed you earlier, type in ‘l-e’ for lemons, and select it from there, but there’s also this list printed by the till with the common produce codes, see?

Employee: “Okay, got it.”

(Five minutes later, the bell rings again.)

Employee: “How do I ring up limes?”

Me: “Same way as the lemons.”

Employee: “And how do I do that?”

(I showed her again. Five minutes later, the bell rang and she needed help with something else I had already shown her. Then ten minutes passed before she needed help with the same thing again. This continued the rest of the shift and for my next three shifts; I really struggled to keep my patience. The managers, another supervisor, and another cashier all tried explaining things to her as well. At the end of the week, I left for a booked week off, and when I got back, she wasn’t there anymore.)

(I am in drama class. We are doing coursework where we need to design a stage for a random play we pick out of a hat. We are free to do whatever we like, as long as we justify our choices in the written portion, the minimum requirement of which is 300 words. My play is usually set against an audience on all sides, and our teacher has always stressed that all of the set pieces are to be in the middle so everyone can see. I’ve never followed this logic, as I find it difficult to imagine how an actor is meant to use the props without preferring a particular side of the stage. The only way around it that I can see is that they present themselves to each one at a time, which doesn’t work for me with timing. I design my stage differently in that the unused props are disguised as something else, or that props can be reused, to maximise on space, and that the centre of the stage is primarily for the actors. When I submit my work, I am expecting a lecture from my teacher, but I end up also failing. I ask my teacher about it.)

Teacher: “I have told you all, time and time again, how to correctly design a stage. Your design not only broke with convention, it also made absolutely no sense!”

Me: “But you said we could do whatever, as long as we explain it.”

Teacher: “Within reason, [Name]! I couldn’t imagine trying to explain your design.”

Me: “You don’t have to. I wrote nearly 2000 words explaining it.”

Teacher: “Yes, that, too. The count is 300!”

Me: “You said there was no limit.”

Teacher: “’Within reason.’ I couldn’t even get past the title!”

(So, essentially, my teacher looked at my design, didn’t like it, and saw the write up as too long, so she just failed me. It ended up biting her in the butt though, as my coursework was selected to be independently graded by the exam board, and the examiner took a considerably different attitude towards it. It lead to my entire class having their work sent away, and everyone got a grade increase, as my teacher was seen as both too strict and holding her opinion in too high regard. I dropped the course when I moved on to A-Level to avoid her, but I’m hoping to take it up again when I go to university.)

(I have submitted my CV to a number of recruitment agencies, and have been getting a good amount of responses. I have never had to “fire” an agency before, but their vacancies are worse than the rejections.)

Agency: “Can you call me back about this great job in maintenance that I think you would be perfect for?”

(I spent six months working in maintenance, ten years ago.)

Agency: “What do you think of this vacancy?” *shows me job with a two-hour commute, a full hour and a half farther than I wanted to travel*

Agency: “This role as a quality engineer sounds perfect for you. It’s 15 minutes from your door, and the right pay”

(It’s for a food company, a notorious industry that will block any applicant that hasn’t had any prior experience [like me]. I apply on his recommendation, and surprise, never hear anything.)

Agency: “I have sent you some jobs. Please look over them and let me know.” *sends me 20 jobs, seemingly randomly plucked out of the air, anything from stacking shelves to director levels that I am no way qualified for*

(When I called to ask them to stop, the agent actually blamed me, and told me that there were no jobs for someone of my skills. I accepted a job a few days later.)

(I’ve just done some work at a care home, and am just getting my sheet signed to say that I’ve been there)

Me: All done, just need a squiggle at the bottom

Woman: Oh don’t worry about that, we only put our sheet in the bin

(She pulls the sheets apart, giving the top and bottom pieces to me, and keeping the middle part)

Me: Oh I still need a signature

Woman: No need, its ok

Me: But I need a signature for office filing

Woman: Its a waste of time, it only goes in the bin

Me: I don’t really care what you do with your copy, but I need to get a signature to get it filed

Woman: This is just stupid *and begrudgingly signs*

(I work at a restaurant on a river that has a bar area and a function room for weddings and such. For weddings, we set up the wedding breakfast in the function room, and after the party has finished, we usher them through a set of double doors to the bar area for drinks and to take photos outside, set up for the evening do, and then usher them back through the double doors to the function room and stick a sign on them saying “NO ENTRY” to stop the party spilling through to where people are having meals. One night a persistent older gentleman keeps going through the doors to get his drinks from the bar in the bar area, not the bar in the function room [where I am working]. I ask him a couple of times not to go through the doors, but he ignores me until this happens.)

Me: “Sir, will you please not go through the doors to the bar area?”

Customer: “Well, you’re just being pernickety.”

Me: *sighing* “Sir, why do you keep coming through this door?”

Customer: “The beer is colder on this side.”

Me: *I stare at him.* “Sir, they come off the same barrel; they are exactly the same temperature. NOW who’s being pernickety?”

(The customer sheepishly went back through the doors, and we never had any more trouble from him.)