No Wonder The Video Rental Business Is Dying

, , , , , | Working | September 28, 2017

(I get a job in a video store. It is run by a married couple. The husband seems okay, but is very much dominated by his wife, who has a very bullying way about her. Fortunately I work an evening shift, so she isn’t often around. One by one, my coworkers resign abruptly, to be replaced by new people; the turnover is staggering. I run into one such coworker in a cafe shortly after she quits.)

Me: “I was sorry to hear you’d quit; what happened?”

Ex-Coworker: “[Boss], she’s such a horrible b****! She told me to wash all the shelves, so I did, then she made me do them again, then a third time, even though they were spotless. She wouldn’t let me sit down at all, even when there were no customers. She dragged me out of the break room when I’d only had three minutes; the kettle hadn’t even boiled! And she’s so aggressive; always right up in my face, and yelling. I kept thinking she was going to hit me!”

Me: “That’s terrible! She shouldn’t be allowed to get away with treating people like that!”

Ex-Coworker: “Especially after the court case!”

Me: “What court case?”

Ex-Coworker: “One of the other guys told me that she was once taken to court because she assaulted an employee. Actually punched the employee in the face!”

(Obviously, I’m shocked, and glad to be working a shift that she rarely attends. However, a couple of nights later my luck runs out; there she is.)

Boss: “There you are! I don’t pay you good f****** money to just stroll in here whenever you feel like it! Get to work!”

Me: “My shift starts at 6:00 pm. It’s 5:45. I’m early.”

Boss: “Smart little b****, aren’t you? Don’t you f****** talk back to me. Go and clean the shelves!”

(I head to the back room to collect a bucket, cleaning soap, and sponge.)

Boss: “Where the f*** do you think you’re going? I told you to clean the shelves! Don’t ignore me when I tell you what to do!”

(I’m vividly recalling my ex-colleague’s tale of woe. I’m determined not to let her bully me.)

Me: “I’m going to get some cleaning stuff! What do you want me to do, lick the shelves clean?”

(Then, [Boss] gets right up in my face, but I don’t back down. I’ve decided at this point that this job’s not worth it.)

Boss: “How dare you speak to me like that, you f****** b****? Who do you think you are, trying to give me trouble, when I’ve given you a job? You ungrateful little cow! In 12 years of running this store, I have NEVER had a problem with any of my employees!”

(This is too much. I burst into laughter.)

Me: “Seriously? You don’t think punching an employee in the face, then being arrested and taken to court is a problem? Yeah, that’s right; I heard all about it. I can also tell you’re about two seconds away from punching me in the face or firing me, so I’ll save you the trouble: I quit!”

(I storm away from her and grab my bag. She’s puce with rage, her fists are snapping open and closed, and all the veins in her neck are standing out, but I’m now out of reach.)

Boss: “You have to give notice! You have to give written notice! You can’t just walk out!”

Me: “Gladly!”

(I write “F**K OFF” on a Post-it, stick it to the computer monitor, and flounce past her. As I do, I notice a customer standing off to the side; in all the drama, I hadn’t spotted her before.)

Customer: “Good on you, lass! I heard how she was picking on you, and I’ve seen her bully her other staff like that as well. Well, madam, I’m here to return this video, and I’ll be renting from another store in the future!”

Harassing Your Harasser

, , , , , , | Friendly | September 12, 2017

Back in middle school, I had a growth spurt that made me the tallest girl in my grade, and taller than most of the boys. Despite being about as curvy as a broom, I got some unwanted attention.

One day, I was at my locker and suddenly felt an arm around my waist. This short guy I’d never seen before, so short the top of his head was below my shoulder, was trying to lead me away.

This kid was calling me “babe” and talking about introducing “his girl” to “his boys,” but didn’t even tell me his name when I asked. I pried his hand off my hip and hurried off to class.

Every locker break after that, he’d show up and put his arm around me, trying to chat me up, without ever asking me anything about myself. No matter how many times I told him to go away, twisted his fingers, pinched him, or shoved him, his arm was glued to my waist until locker break was over.

I never did figure out his name. He had the same haircut as half the boys in my grade, and I didn’t really trust my teachers.

One day I’d had enough.

I had just opened my locker and taken my backpack and books out when he showed up again. He was expecting me to shove him away; he was not expecting me to put my arm behind him and frog-march him into my locker. I nearly got the door shut all the way before he began flailing and ran out.

Nobody ever said anything to me about it, even though there were plenty of witnesses. I never got in trouble. I never saw the little pest again, either.

I felt guilty until I learned what “sexual harassment” was a few years later.

Karma Tastes Like Nachos

, , , , , | Right | June 16, 2017

I’m at a famous taco-themed restaurant and have just beaten the dinner rush. A boy and girl come in and get in the end of the line and immediately start moaning and complaining about how long it is taking.

The employees are fairly efficient, so they get to the front of line in just a few minutes. They order, and then stand over to the side and start complaining some more about how long it is taking.

Maybe ten minutes after they walked in, they get their food and turn to get a table. The guy is carrying the tray, and he ends up tripping on his own feet, and splatters the tray, with an open bowl of nachos, all over the girl. Karma!

Transcending A**-Holes

, , , | Boulder, CO, USA | Hopeless | July 4, 2016

(I am a sales associate in a major department store. I am folding clothes and keeping an eye on the three customers that are in my section. One is a trans woman, who is holding some lacy underwear in her hand while shopping for more items, and the other two are a mother and daughter shopping together. I can hear the mother and daughter snickering.)

Daughter: “Oh, my god, mom, do you see that transvestite?”

Mother: “Where?”

Daughter: “Over there. It’s carrying a bunch of underwear.”

Mother: “Oh! NOW I see it! What a freak! Has it deluded itself into thinking that putting on lacy underwear will make it attractive?”

(At this point it is obvious that the trans customer has overheard and is visibly uncomfortable, but she keeps shopping.)

Daughter: “What I don’t understand is why he thinks any of that will fit him. He’s a MAN. It’s not made for him. Where’s does his d**k go? He should probably just stick to men’s clothing because he’s a MAN.”

Mother: “I just hope he doesn’t plan on using that fitting room. I’ll complain. I don’t trust freaks like that.”

(At this point, I am quite angered by their conversation. I call my manager and ask for permission for what I am about to do. She gives me approval, and I approach them.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ladies, but I am afraid that I have to ask you to pay for your merchandise and leave.”

Mother: “What?! Why?!”

Me: “Here at [Department Store], we want all of our guests to feel comfortable and safe while shopping in our stores. The way you are referring to another guest has clearly hurt her, and, to be honest, it has deeply offended me and made me uncomfortable as well. I have to ask you to pay for your items and leave.”

Mother: “How DARE you. We are paying customers and that tranny is the one who should be kicked out for being a FREAK.”

Me: “Ma’am, please refrain from using offensive or derogatory language in the store. That woman over there is doing absolutely nothing to you. She is shopping. You, on the other hand, are bullying another customer in an attempt to make her feel bad and leave. Out of respect for that customer and our store policy, I have to ask you to leave.”

Mother: “Well, fine! If you don’t want us to buy all of this clothing from you! You’ll lose a really big sale AND a loyal customer!”

Me: “With all due respect, ma’am, we have no interest in having bigots as ‘loyal’ customers.”

(The mother fumes and leaves. The trans woman finishes her shopping, and comes up to me to pay.)

Me: “Hello! Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Customer: “That and more. Thank you for standing up for me. You have no idea how rare that is.”

Me: “It’s no problem. I have many friends who are trans and I could tell she was bothering you. I’m sorry you have to put up with that.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s okay. When there are people out there like you to help, it can make a big difference. Thank you for making my day better.”

Me: “You’re welcome! Please, have a good rest of your day, and don’t let the haters get you down! Keep doing your thing!”

Customer: “Oh, don’t worry, I will!”

(That customer came back a few times after that and always asked me for fashion advice and bought her items from me. I was happy to give her a safe place to shop.)

 

Rock Solid Justice

, | USA | Hopeless | July 1, 2016

(I get to my car in the parking lot to find a huge dent in the hood, presumably caused by the large rock resting on it. I’m shocked, as the parking lot is located in a nice neighborhood. I’m about to call my husband to tell him what happened when an employee from a store near the lot approaches me.)

Employee: “I was waiting for the owner to come back. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about what happened to your car. I saw the rock fly up from behind that fence, but I didn’t see who did it. I just heard them. Later, a group of loud teenagers came into the shop, and I recognized their voices. I knew they were the ones who caused the damage to your car, but I didn’t have any substantial proof. So I spit in their food. I know it won’t pay for the damage, but I figured a little justice was due.”

(That may not have been there best way to handle the situation, but it did make me feel better!)

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