24: The Wal-Mart Conspiracy

, , , | Toronto, ON, Canada | Working | March 8, 2017

I work at a big chain store and we have been having problems with 24-hour challenges (where people stay inside a store for a whole 24 hours and post about it on YouTube), but my manager refuses to do anything about it since us staying later would result in overtime and he’s cheap. I have suggested scheduling us later and on my own time I check bathrooms and janitor closets before closing but when I’m not there the manager just wants us to get out quickly. I am on break one shift when my little sister bursts into the room, holding her smartphone.

I look and it’s some teenager, between 16-17, staying 24 hours in OUR LOCATION not once but twice! I make my sister show it to our boss who claims it isn’t our location. I can tell because they filmed in the parking lot in the beginning and I can see the surrounding stores. The boss then starts being really picky with me during my shifts to the point where I almost want to quit.

My manager just got promoted. He is terrified of getting fired so he wants the supervisors to think everything is OK.

I decide to take this to my supervisor. When I show the supervisor the video and point out the obvious clues that it was from our store he goes to the security footages which prove that indeed it was our store and the MANAGER was on duty then. Even better, in places with audio, we can hear the manager telling staff to not bother with bathroom checks because he needs to get home quickly.

My manager was called in for an inquiry and was put on probation AND the supervisor helped make the schedule so that for the next few months I wasn’t working when the manager was.

Even better, someone snuck in again and the manager was fired! HA!

Email Is The Lease Of Their Worries

, | Seattle, WA, USA | Working | January 23, 2017

It’s November, and we haven’t had an actual lease on the house we rent since July. Nobody at the rental agency seems to have noticed. We are on good terms with the owner, so it doesn’t matter to us.

Today, I got a call from the rental agency. “Hello, this is [Name] from [Agency]. We were going through our client files and we noticed something about yours.”

I prepared myself to make a trip in to sign a new lease, but it was all I could do not to laugh out loud when she said:

“We noticed we don’t have an email address for you. Could I get one?”

Hey, I’m not gonna tell her…

The Boss Didn’t Record Your Request

, , , | London, England, UK | Working | December 27, 2016

It is Christmas 1988.

I have a recording studio based out of a big studio rehearsal complex in South London and have been working for three days on recording and producing some backing tapes for a client, who also happens to be an old friend. The last day we spend on the mixdowns and at about 9:30, we decide to take a timeout and go to the local pub for some refreshment, to rest our ears, and to generally chew over what we’ve done. While we are blowing the froth off a couple, another old friend along with his significant other turns up. Since we all know each other, we decide to carry on until closing time.

As it is getting late, I suggest we all go back to the studio, listen to the mixes we’ve done, and call it a day. As we are walking down the main corridor, we come across the studio manager who is busy restocking the beer machine in the green room. I tell him that we are just going downstairs to listen to what we’ve been doing and wrap things up. I also tell him not to lock up before checking with me.

We settle down and listen to the first track. At the end, one of our party has to go to the loo and so he goes off in search of relief while we carry on. The second track has barely started playing when he comes back saying that all the security gates in the corridor are locked and the lights are off!

Thinking this is a monumental wind-up I go to investigate… and sure enough, the lights are off and the gates closed up tighter than a nervous sphincter attempting to rein in the purgative effects of a themonuclear-grade vindaloo. As I go back downstairs to the studio, I also notice that the rear fire exit doors have been chained up. I try to call the studio owner but get no joy, so we sit there for a while trying to work out what to do. My friend in particular is rather concerned as he is off to the Middle East first thing in the morning to start shooting a commercial.

Eventually I decide the only hope was to call the Fire Brigade and get them to break down the fire exit doors. Twenty minutes go past… No Fire Brigade. Thirty minutes… You guessed it. By this time, I have lost my patience, so grabbing my toolbox I go upstairs to the fire exit and proceed to dismantle the entire thing from the inside. I eventually manage to get it open only to be confronted by a big burly fireman about to lay into the door with a fire axe. I manage to avoid being sliced in two by the simple expedient of stepping rapidly to one side. The rest of the firemen enter and check out the entire building while I regale the lead officer with our tale of woe, much to his evident amusement.

As you might imagine, I am not best pleased with the incident so the next day about lunchtime, I storm into the office — small portable thundercloud in tow — and in front of the studio owner and his wife proceed to lay down some serious and heavy invective upon the head of the hapless studio manager, calling into question his dubious parentage, and threatening to attach his gonads to the output terminals of the largest Class A power amplifier I can find if there is ever a repeat of the entire sorry débâcle.

The studio owner is none too pleased either, having been read the riot act by the Fire Brigade that morning. He is also furious that, in order to deal with the considerable fallout from the incident, he’s had to cancel the flight he’d booked to the States for that evening, which means that he and his wife aren’t going to be able to visit their family until the New Year.

The flight he was booked on — but had to cancel — was Pan Am 103.

Alcohol Rubbing Them The Wrong Way

, , , , , | Working | December 22, 2016

(I am at a grocery store on New Year’s Eve. I work in healthcare, so I am working that night, and am picking up some sparkling cider for me and coworkers to open at midnight. I don’t drink, and since we are going to be on duty, it is NOT alcoholic. I am twenty-four years old. I also need isopropyl rubbing alcohol for my home, so I pick that up at the same time. Also note, this is in an area where Mormonism is the predominant religion — a lot of people here don’t drink. The cashier starts ringing up my items and then pauses and looks at the rubbing alcohol and the sparkling cider.)

Cashier: “You know you can’t put the rubbing alcohol in the cider to make it alcoholic.”

Me: “I know.”

Cashier: “No. Really. It’s really dangerous.”

Me: “I know. I’m not going to.”

Cashier: “I don’t think you realize how dangerous it is. This alcohol isn’t for drinking.”

Me: “Look, I work in a children’s hospital, so I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do. I know teens do those types of things. But I just happen to be buying them both at the same time.”

Cashier: “I don’t think you understand… it could kill you.”

Me: “I understand perfectly. However, I don’t drink anyways because of my religion, and I’m on my way to work. I wouldn’t be drinking right now if I did.”

Cashier: “I’ve never heard of a religion that doesn’t drink.”

(This woman apparently lives in Utah but has never heard of a religion that doesn’t drink.)

Cashier: “I don’t think I can in good conscience sell you this.”

Me: “Look. Here’s my ID. I’m 24. If I wanted an alcoholic beverage, I would buy a real one, and not do some weird Prohibition-style punch.”

Cashier: “I want you to understand it’s dangerous.”

Me: “I do.”

Cashier: *shakes her head* “Okay, but I feel really uncomfortably with this.”

Targeting The Wrong Worker

, | CA, USA | Right | September 20, 2016

(While I typically don’t, my sisters and mother-in-law like to go do the Black Friday sales after Thanksgiving every year and they’ve invited me to join them. Since I enjoy bonding with them, I decide to go. I am wearing a red t-shirt. We’re currently in a [Popular Retail Chain], where the employees wear blue, and I’m looking at some sport-themed blankets when another customer comes to stand by me.)

Customer: “Hmmm…”

Me: *still looking*

Customer: *loudly clears throat*

Me: *glances at her before going back to looking*

Customer: “Excuse me, I need to find [Item].”

Me: “Oh… ma’am, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “But you’re wearing red…”

(She finally gets a good look at my shirt, which has a ninja on the front.)

Customer: “I’m not in Target anymore, am I?”

Me: “No… No, you’re not.”

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