I am pretty tall and thin. I also have a large afro that I like to fluff up when I am going out. Because of this, a bouncer at a club I go to has taken to calling me “Lowercase”. In his words, “With those skin-tight outfits and big hair, you look just like a lowercase I!”

We are on friendly terms and talk a lot when I’m there. I call him “Shag” because of his mop of unkempt silver hair.

On this particular night, Shag was with a new bouncer I hadn’t seen before. I waved hi to him, as well. 

Shag: “Hey, Lowercase! Hey, Newbie, this is Lowercase. She comes here a lot. If you’re nice, she’ll bake you something.”

Newbie: “Why do you call her ‘Lowercase’?”

Shag: “Oh, it’s because I think she looks kind of like a lowercase I with that big hair.”

Me: *Laughing* “It’s been a joke between us for a while. I don’t mind.” 

Newbie: “Oh, well, it’s nice that you’re willing to joke about that. Most girls get pissy when you point out they don’t have t*ts.”

I got super uncomfortable at that point. Shag has never made any comments about my body, and it was always clear that our nicknames were in good fun. Shag immediately looked livid.

Shag: “Boy, what the h*** is wrong with you?”

Newbie: “I thought that’s why she had the nickname, right? No curves, all hair?”

Shag gave me a smile and ushered me inside. I caught the beginnings of him chewing the absolute f*** out of the new guy.

Later on in the night, Shag came in, bought me a drink, and apologized. He insisted that I’m gorgeous, but I’m the same age as his daughters, so his only intention is to make sure I’m safe and happy when I’m at that club. 

I still go there a lot, and I bake a lot more things for him when I can. Love you, Shag!

I work with [Shift Lead], who just gave me a true shift from h***, and it was only four hours long. She had a poor attitude from the start and revealed herself to be lazy, inconsiderate, and backstabbing. Yet, somehow, she hasn’t done anything bad enough to get fired yet.

It starts out very busy. I walk in the door to our clothing store and there is a line. This is unusual, as the one person on a register can normally process a purchase fairly quickly and we don’t normally have more than five to ten customers in the store at once. 

I don’t even have time to put my jacket in the back and just toss it on the back counter while I punch in early. [Shift Lead] is stuck on a return and having trouble processing it. Now, she was hired on as a shift lead about a year ago (the same day I was hired) and, as such, should know how to do a simple return. I am on my last week of training before becoming a Shift Lead myself, so I help her out and we start to take care of the line.

Not five minutes after I arrive, [Shift Lead] says, “I’m going on break!” and happily walks into the back room. 

We still have eleven customers in the store and the line isn’t even gone yet, so taking a break should be last on her mind. Company policy says that you get a fifteen-minute paid break if you work more than five hours and if there is nothing urgent that needs to be done — you know, like the customers still waiting for service.

I am irritated but shrug it off as her usual laziness and clean up the line and help the customers on the floor. We are given a list of things to do tonight, and we are supposed to split them fifty-fifty. I figure [Shift Lead] won’t do her part, so I leave one single thing for her to do. I clear the fitting rooms, straighten the tables, help customers, wax the fixtures, and wipe down the counters.

A whole HOUR goes by with [Shift Lead] in the back. I call her out to help ring up more customers and she gives me a dirty look. I am in the middle of dusting and watching a potential shoplifter. [Shift Lead] stomps up to the register, rings up the customer, and heads back to the break room.

Shift Lead: “I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Me: “No, your break ended like forty-five minutes ago. I got most of the list done. I just have to finish dusting, and then you can vacuum.”

Shift Lead: “Excuse me?! I would have thought you’d be done by now!”

Me: *Rolling my eyes* “I’m not supposed to be doing it alone, [Shift Lead].”

She sulks back to the floor when she realizes I will just chase her down and refuse to let her hide in the back anymore.

Our clothes have magnetic alarm sensors to prevent shoplifting. They have a small, needle-like component and a large oblong piece that attaches on either side of the cloth. When we take them off, the two pieces come apart and are tossed into separate bins to avoid accidental injury.

Of course, both of us are at the register, and [Shift Lead] is throwing both parts into the bin for the safe oblong pieces. I don’t notice, and when I go to grab a handful, I am stabbed pretty badly in my palm.

Me: “Um, hey, [Shift Lead], would you mind aiming about three inches to your left when you throw the sensors?”

Shift Lead: “I really don’t think that’s important, [My Name].”

I show her my bleeding hand.

Me: “Well, it’s important to me. I just got stabbed. So… please?”

Shift Lead: “Well, if it’s really all that important to you, I guess I can make the effort.”

To this day, I don’t know why [Shift Lead] is in such a horrid mood, but it continues throughout the entire shift. Every chance she gets to make my job harder she takes.

We have no major incident until ten minutes to closing. The store has settled down with only the occasional customer. The vacuuming still hasn’t been done, so I bring it up and ask if [Shift Lead] will do it. She complains that her back is sore and asks me to do it. I’m almost at my breaking point by now, but I smile and agree.

I’m up front vacuuming. The last customer is being rung up with a decent-sized purchase. 

Suddenly, I hear:

Shift Lead: “[MY NAME], I NEED YOU UP HERE!”

I turn off the vacuum and walk all the way from the front of the store to the back, where the register is.

Me: “What do you need?”

Shift Lead: “Oh, can you bag these clothes for me? I’m busy ringing her up.”

Bear in mind, bagging a customer’s items is part of the job. It consists of shaking out a bag, picking up an item, and dropping said item into the bag. She called me all the way back here to stuff some jeans into a plastic bag? Something she has done thousands of times with no trouble?

I swallow my building rage. I can play her game.

Me: “I really think you can handle that yourself. I was busy doing your single task for the evening, so if you don’t mind…”

I turn and walk back to the vacuum.

Sadly, this is still not the end of my night.

I finish vacuuming, lock the door, and approach the register. Associates are supposed to watch the Shift Lead]s count down the registers; otherwise, I wouldn’t go anywhere near [Shift Lead].

Shift Lead: “What the f*** were you doing?!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Shift Lead: “Why did it take you so long to do your chores tonight? What, are you stupid or something?”

You can hear my patience snap. Since we are alone and almost done for the evening, my cheery and professional demeanor vanishes. I have had enough.

Me: “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been sitting on your a** all night and had helped me a little, we would have gotten done faster!”

[Shift Lead] purses her lips — a sure sign she’s angry with me.

Shift Lead: “That’s a d*** lie! Do you know what God does to little lying b****es like you?!“

Me: “That stupid trick would have worked if I actually believed in God.”

She sputters a little and then goes off on a tirade about how I am a bad person and am going to Hell. 

Me: “Don’t threaten me with a place I don’t even believe in, [Shift Lead]. And don’t you even try to pile this on me when you couldn’t complete a single thing on the list.”

The tirade resumes: swearing, face going red, the whole thing. I let her do this for about five minutes before telling her to start counting down the drawer so we can punch out and go home. [Shift Lead] ignores me and continues her tantrum. I see that we’re late. I’m tired and frustrated and totally done with her, so I slam my hand on the counter and shock her into momentary silence.

Me: “[Shift Lead]! Shut up and do your f****** job. If you want to discuss your behavior tonight, we can do it outside.”

She’s quiet for fifteen seconds while she’s counting down the drawer. Then, she pipes up again, calls me a b**** some more, and says she’ll talk to the boss because I swore at her.

Me: “You really think [Boss] will buy your story after I tell her what you did tonight? And just a reminder, we have cameras!”

Shift Lead: “Oh… well…”

Blessed silence… until we’re punching out.

Shift Lead: “You know I wouldn’t fight with you like this if I didn’t like you, right? I can tease you because you’re my friend. We don’t have to tell [Boss]; it was just friends teasing each other.”

Me: *Completely thrown off* “What?!”

Shift Lead: “Yeah, girl, we’re friends!” *Laughs* “We should go out drinking some night. Get our dance on.”

Me: “Um, no, thanks.”

Shift Lead: “Oh, come on. I bet we’d get tons of guys. Besides, I get a little frisky when I’m drunk. Who knows, maybe we’d go home with the same guy! Hahaha!”

I just stare at her until we leave. Then, the worst possible thing that could ever happen happens. My boyfriend and two of his friends came to pick me up and witness this.

Shift Lead: *Laughing* “You know I love you, [My Name]!”

Then, she hugs me. She pulls me into a freaking hug! Then, she notices the car with the guys in it. Before I can shove her away, she kisses me on the cheek. I’m too stunned to react.

Shift Lead: “Oh-ho! I hope the boys don’t think we’re having an office romance! Tee-hee!”

I sprint for the car. I get in the car and my boyfriend’s friends immediately start laughing.

Guy: “What was that?!“

Me: “When we get home, remind me to bleach this side of my face.”

And that was that. I reported it to management, but she still hasn’t been fired yet. I have no idea why the sexual harassment wasn’t enough. I am waiting for her to dig her own grave some way, somehow.

This story is part of our Not Always Working Most-Epic Stories roundup!

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I work at a family-owned ice cream shop. It’s a slow afternoon despite the perfect weather. A man in his seventies enters the shop. As he’s deciding what to order, a young man and woman come in together. The old man is asking me about different flavors and suddenly turns to the man behind him.

Old Man: “I have to say, I like those shoes. Good for the weather.”

Young Man: “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

The old man orders his ice cream and turns to the woman.

Old Man: “And I have to say, you have lovely feet, as well. Don’t want you to feel left out!”

The woman gives a polite response, but I can tell she is uncomfortable. I quickly scoop the old man’s ice cream and send him on his way. As soon as he’s out the door, I look at the couple.

Me: “I cannot believe he said that. Wow, I’m so sorry about that.”

Young Woman: “Yeah, that was… weird.”

Young Man: “You could tell he knew what he was saying was wrong but he just kept talking.”

Me: “Super uncomfortable. Anyway, have you decided what you’d like?”

I’m shopping at a local supermarket, reaching up to get some food from a higher shelf, when a really prim woman walks up to me and starts to ask if I can fetch a bunch of things for her.

Me: “I don’t work here, sorry.”

She turns her nose up at me. Knowing how this goes from reading this site, I’m bracing for this whole song and dance.

Woman: “Well, can you help me anyway?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. I have to finish my shopping and get to an appointment.”

She looks even angrier but drops it, and I breathe a sigh of relief at avoiding having a story to tell.

Or so I think, until about three days later when I’m at my job (working with insurance) and my manager gets a call complaint that cites me by name. My manager calls me in, laughing, to play the message back.

Woman: “You need to fire [My Name]! That [transphobic slur] refused to help me with my groceries!”

This is especially confusing because I’m cis male and look it.

Woman: “How you can allow anyone like that to work at an establishment like yours if they can’t practice good customer service even at a job that isn’t their own?”

While we both laughed at it after hearing it, I paused to realize that this woman had somehow managed to find my name and my place of employment without me volunteering any of that information. And she seemed to take it personally, in a demented fashion, that I wouldn’t take time out of my day to spend fifteen to thirty minutes helping her shop.

She called back daily, getting more openly threatening and viler in her speech until we blocked her number. Somehow, she kept escalating it until she found the direct line to our CEO…

…who, not having any of the lady’s nonsense, proceeded to call the police on her for stalking his employees and harassing me and the business — without so much as a word of warning — and the calls stopped. I never saw her at that grocer again.

This happened around 2019. As I had an exam in a week, I went to the library to find the textbooks and other resources to study for it. It was a closed-book exam, but we were allowed a single two-page cheat sheet, so I was planning to type everything on a Google Doc that my friends and I all had so we could all print it out before the exam.

I was trying to finish the lessons that I was assigned to do the cheat sheet for. Luckily, I found a table in a secluded area of the library. I had been sitting there for a good forty-five minutes to an hour when I heard someone clear their throat rather loudly nearby.

Guy: “Excuse me! You have been using that computer for more than an hour now. You need to let other people like me use it.”

Me: “Um, the library computers are on the other side of the level over there.”

I pointed in the general direction

Guy: “No, I dont want to walk all the way over there; just give me this one.”

Me: “This is my own laptop. Get your own.”

This pissed him off, apparently. He tried to take my laptop. I moved it out of the way, which caused me to push my stationery off the table. It hit the floor with a loud thud. This caused the librarian to walk over.

Librarian: “What is going on here?”

Guy: “This girl is hogging the computer and not letting me use it to check my emails!”

Me: “This is my own laptop, not the library’s.”

The librarian looked at the sticker-covered laptop.

Librarian: “Yes, sir, that is her laptop, not the library’s. I am going to have to ask you to leave as you are disturbing other readers.”

The man huffed and walked out of the library.

I left the library at about 5:00 pm as the library had to close early. I saw this dude waiting outside the d*** library. HE STOOD OUTSIDE THE LIBRARY FOR AN HOUR!

I saw him and decided to walk out the other way around the library building. Halfway home, I had to make a turn at a corner with a mirror for cars to see if anyone is turning. I looked at it and found the guy following me. I sprinted across the bridge and all the way home.

To this day, I don’t know what the f*** this dude’s problem was. He followed me out of the library because I wouldn’t let him use my laptop?! What the f***?