A couple of years ago, I was working on a part-time basis in a small firm owned by friends. The pay was not very good, but the atmosphere was, and I was allowed to set my own timings, so life was good overall.

Then, a friend whom I knew only through social media approached me for a job in her company. Even though they were offering good money, I turned down the offer as I knew I could not get the benefits I was getting in my current job. Plus, the commute to the new office was very long; I would have to travel two hours one way and change three trains just to reach the office.

A month later, an employee from Human Resources of the new firm approached me again. They offered me almost four times the money I was making and I could set my own work hours. There was also extra pay for working overtime and on weekends. This was important. I joined the new company.

My friend did not know the terms of the new agreement I had with HR; where I’m from, such information is confidential. She used to act like I owed her big time for the opportunity I got. So, one day I corrected her.

Me: “I turned down the offer you were involved with. One month later, I had my own negotiations and got much more favorable terms. I’m here because your company really needs me, not because of you.”

I didn’t share the details of my agreement with her, but we both realized that she was making significantly less than I was. This totally changed her attitude toward me.

Now, she wanted me out, and I was determined to stick through for at least a year. She decided that she would make it very difficult for me to work so I’d quit on my own.

There are a lot of stories I have about how she tried every trick in the book to make me quit. I’m sharing some of them here.

She was my manager and was in charge of allocating work. She started piling more work on me than any other member of the team. I was happy to comply; she did not know that, as part of my contract, I would be paid one and a half times the hourly rate for every hour I worked overtime and two times the hourly rate if any work was allocated to me over weekends or holidays.

Every time she tried to ruin my weekend by calling me to the office unnecessarily, I happily complied. This continued until the time I left the organization and told her how much extra money she had helped me make.

After the long commute to work, I used to be hungry, so I developed the habit of stopping at the food court to pick up a glass of fresh fruit juice and carry it with me to work.

My manager thought that this way she could harass me without actually seeming to do so. She sent a notice that bringing liquids to the office was a hazard.

Ironically, she used to have coffee delivered to her desk three times a day. I pointed out that the rule applied to her, as well, and if I couldn’t have my juice, she couldn’t have her coffee. She had to literally spend an extra unpaid hour at work every time she wanted her special coffee.

Meanwhile, I was happy to leisurely sit in the food court, have my glass of fresh fruit juice with some snacks, and then begin my workday a half-hour later than usual.

I attend a bi-weekly Book Club through my local library. It’s a (mostly) great group of people, led by a really funny librarian. In the second week of each month, we discuss the book of our choice, and in the fourth week of the month, we finish any discussions and pick the book for the next month. It’s fun and invigorating, and we all love it.

One month, the book we picked is on the long side, and our second week’s meeting barely scratches the surface. We’re enjoying ourselves so much that we make plans to meet at a local cafe and continue the discussion in the third week of the month. Everyone is able to make it except our leader, who has to work.

Everyone shows up, and things start out great. But then, one member takes over. She quickly veers off the topic of the book and into the shopping she and her sister did. The problem is that all the rest of us are just too darn polite to tell her to stay focused. I make one attempt to bring things back to the plot, and an older guy tries a bit later. But that is it. I know, I know, it’s our own fault we let her monologue for a literal half an hour (I timed it) about mushroom-shaped rocks. Yes, that’s right, mushroom-shaped rocks.

At the end of the time in the cafe, the talkative member goes on about how much fun she had and how, “Next time, she’ll host things at her house.” Everyone really does love the book club, so everyone else agrees to meet at her house during what is presumably the first week of next month. I don’t say anything either way. 1) I’m honestly not sure if my schedule is open during that week and 2) I’m not sure I want to deal with her being a hostess.

That evening, I get a down-right hateful email from her.

Member: “I don’t know WHAT your problem is, but I NEVER did anything to you. So CUT THE CRAP!”

Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Member: “Don’t play dumb, you B****! You kept interrupting me all night, and you didn’t confirm you’ll be coming to my house when I host the discussion! I didn’t do anything to you, and I DON’T DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS!”

Me: “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if I’ll even be able to come. Calm down, please. It’s nothing personal.”

Member: “NO, NO, I REFUSE TO BE CALM! WHAT YOU DID WAS A CRIME AND I’M GOING TO TREAT IT LIKE A CRIME!”

Yes, she actually called it a crime. Realizing there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t fuel the fire, I just forwarded the whole conversation to our leader librarian and ignored her.

The next week rolled around, and it was the fourth week of the month. Everyone showed up at the library to finish our discussion and pick out the new book — everyone except [Member]. We shrugged it off and continued. 

I came home that night to a furious email — one sent to everyone. [Member] was raging about how we all deliberately stood her up and led her on. Apparently, when she said, “I’ll host next time,” she meant during the fourth week of the month, not the first week of the next. Why she thought everyone would agree to that and leave our leader librarian alone, I have no idea. It wasn’t just me, as everyone except her assumed she meant, “Next time, we’re not meeting at the library,” and that we would attend our usually planned meeting at the library.

[Member] never came back. No tears were shed.

My friend is a self-employed therapist doing telehealth. I was talking to her during a car ride about a problem I ran into and she gave me some unexpected helpful advice on the subject.

Me: “How do you know all that?”

Friend: “It’s one of my specialties.”

Me: “Another one?! How many specialties do you have?”

Friend: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, let’s see. You specialize in relationship consoling, LGBT issues, helping sexual assault survivors, hypnotherapy, and about a dozen other things I’ve already forgotten. At this point, it would be faster to just tell me what you don’t specialize in.”

Friend: “What can I say? It’s the nature of the job; you need to learn how to handle a wide range of things.”

Me: “All I’m saying is that if the zombie apocalypse starts tomorrow and we all get stranded in an airport, when they ask if anyone knows how to fly a plane, I could totally see you declaring it’s your specialty and flying us all to safety.”

Friend: “Oh, actually, I used to have a private pilot license.”

Me: “SEE?!”

It’s 2020. My son is a very social young man — fifteen years old — and the world situation has made him turn to online services to keep in touch with his friends.

One of his friends is very religious and in a way where certain “ways of life” means you go to Hell. Over several weeks, if not months, my son comes down and tells me about conversations with this friend.

Son: “[Friend] says all nonbelievers go to Hell. And if you do drugs or drink alcohol, same. Stop!”

Son: “[Friend] says transgender people and gays get a hot ‘ever after’ when they die, too.”

Son: “[Friend]’s not talking to me anymore.”

Me: “Why is that, kiddo?”

Son: “Today, we talked about food, and [Friend] said [Friend #2] is going to Hell.”

[Friend #2] is from a different country, and apparently, his diet and religion means he is doomed. 

I tell [Friend] that with all these rules, Hell sounds more and more like a place I would prefer over Heaven. Then he says all my other friends will be in Heaven while [Friend #2] and I are in Hell, and we will be lonely.

And I say, “No, not by your account.” And now he has blocked me, as well as my son.

Me: “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Son: “Yeah, I guess. He’s been my friend for years, but it’s getting to be too much. I’m not going to say I’m sorry, because I’m not, but if he unblocks me and plays it off as if nothing happened, I’m fine with that.”

He stops to think for a while, before bellowing a laugh.

Son: “If not, I probably won’t see him again until Hell.”

And he walked off, laughing about his clever remark.

It’s now 2022 and they ARE talking. His friend is still very religious but better at accepting different cultures and religions and not so quick to judge others.

I was once hanging out with a friend of mine who I met at my church. I brought up my recent fifth anniversary of working at one particular retail company because I had never spent five years in ONE job and was particularly proud of myself. I moved like twenty-five times in my first twenty years, so being ANYWHERE for a good amount of time was a big milestone for me.

Friend: “When are you going to get a real job?”

This was coming from a guy who attended college but depended on his mom to pay the rent for the house that he and his wife lived in. Being in retail, I was not anywhere close to being rich by any means, but my rent and bills were all being paid on time, I was not starving, and I was able to put a little something away for a rainy day.

Basically, his snide-toned question hurt me deep to the bone, and I realized he was not such a good friend as I thought.

Me: *Sarcastically* “As soon as you become enough of a man that your mom doesn’t have to pay your rent so you can get a real job and start paying it yourself.”

We never talked to each other after that. I haven’t seen him in three years, and I don’t care to do it, either. If a person like that doesn’t seem to appreciate the hard work that another does for a living and can’t even define it as a “real” job, especially when his own life isn’t that much better, there’s no need to be friends with such a person.