Like many people in the military, I too have had leadership entering stupid contests and winning stupid prizes. This time was one of my favorites.

Our First Sergeant — the highest-ranked noncommissioned officer in an Army Company, basically a very senior management type — tells all the young’uns to clean the area around headquarters, including washing the whitewashed rocks that are surrounding all the pretty landscaping, which is something we have to do about once or twice a month or so.

So, we’re out there with buckets of soapy water, washing the stupid rocks, when he comes out to inspect and declares that the washed rocks still look dingy and we need to “bleach them” to get them white again. Then, he proceeds to check out and go home for the weekend, leaving us to execute his orders without much in the way of supervision. Our sole junior sergeant who is left in charge isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, if you catch my meaning.

Now, anyone who knows anything knows that bleach ain’t gonna do a thing to make a rock change color. What he meant for us to, and indeed what we should do, is repaint the rocks white again. And as it turns out, we don’t have paint, but we do have a couple of bottles of Clorox. A couple of soldiers make a token protest, but our genius junior sergeant tells them, “Top told us to bleach the rocks, and we’re gonna bleach them!”

So, we spend the rest of our day bleaching the rocks.

Top comes back on Monday to a bunch of still-grey-and-dingy-looking rocks and lots of dead landscaping. Turns out, bleach is bad for plants. He is livid but he has a hard time finding someone to get in trouble for it, since we all did exactly what we were told to do.

The best thing, though, is that for the rest of my time in that unit, no one ever told us to wash the rocks again.

I crochet, and I ALWAYS have my crochet bag with me. I’m waiting at a hospital with my husband, working on a wedding veil, and a woman stops when passing me.

Woman: “Could have that wedding veil?”

Me: “Well I charge–”

Woman: “No, for free.”

Me: “Why would you expect it for free?”

Woman: “I shouldn’t have to pay for it because you don’t have any employees that you need to pay. Besides all my friends will see it and I can give them your info. Of course I should get a ‘finders fee’ every time you sell one–”

My Very Angry Looking Husband: *Growling.* “Get lost lady”

That was all it took to make her walk away. The nerve of some people!

Stranger: “Hi! I saw your posts on Instagram and I love them! Since I print and frame photos for people, and you’re a photographer, maybe we could team up or something?”

Me: “Thanks for your interest. That sounds great! What were you thinking?”

Stranger: “Here’s my idea: you can send me some pics without the watermarks, and I can print and sell them.”

Me: “Then we split the profits?”

Stranger: “No.”

Me: “Then how do I benefit?”

Stranger: “I’ll give you credit and exposure! I have more than three times your followers, so I think it’ll help you. How does that sound?”

Me: “No. I’m not going to give you images (that I normally sell) for free so you can make a profit off of them, just for some ‘exposure’ to your 3,500 followers.”

Stranger: “If you want to be selfish and not share your talents with others, that’s fine by me.”

Me: “Okay, great.”

Stranger: “But God will definitely never forgive these sins.”

Me: “…”

Stranger: “If you don’t change your ways, you’ll go to Hell!”

Me: “I’ll save you a spot.”

My company delivers food for local restaurants. We’re a small company; we pay good salaries, social insurance, etc. Our most popular places are pizza joints, but today, this ABSOLUTE GEM of a human ordered from an Indian restaurant. He demanded free samosas and threatened to cancel his order if he didn’t get them. Naturally, the Indian place said no. He bombed me with so many emails, calling me a whore, saying that Indians are useless, calling the restaurant staff racial slurs, and so on.

After I told him they said no the first time, he ordered again an hour later with a note, and the following exchange of emails ensues.

Customer: “Hi. Need free samosas or please cancel, thanks.”

Me: “You’re still not getting free samosas, and I’ve declined your order as requested.”

Customer: “Tell those rude, ignorant little f*****s that they don’t get many customers these days, so they should be f****** grateful! If not, I won’t order again, [slur] scum! And please deliver my message exactly like that.”

Me: “Hi, [Customer]. I absolutely will not be relaying your racist messages to them. In fact, I have sent out my whole flock of messenger pigeons to gather my army of Indian and Pakistani warriors, and tonight we shall feast on samosas in your honor. Have a great evening. [My Name].”

I deleted his account and told him not to contact us again. He was the first customer I’ve ever banned. Also, we’re in Thailand, so the owner of the restaurant is Thai and all of the staff are Thai and Burmese. Now, I’m just hoping that he posts a review somewhere so I can screenshot all of his racist bulls***.

My boss asks me to help out another department; he wants me to review all the reports, pull out the relevant data from each, and then compile that into a separate report. Anything I can do will be a massive help, and I should spend whatever time I can spare but only do a quick report.

It is pretty mundane, laborious work. But the other department sounds like they are really struggling, so it feels like a good deed to be done.

It takes hours; no two reports are formatted the same and the information in one conflicts with another. Because of the formality, I have to write it all up instead of copying and pasting.

I finish gladly and I send off an email to the other department, copying my boss in the email.

Me: “Hi, I was asked to compile a report of [data] from [reports]. I have only completed a quick report; I would assume your team would want to make the final copy. Please find that attached.”

Department Head: “Okay, but can you put the data into charts? We want it visual.”

Boss: “No, sorry. [My Name] has spent enough time on this already.”

Department Head: “Well, okay. I guess I can do that myself.”

The next day, I get another email, suspiciously not copying in my boss.

Department Head: “I’ve noticed a number of spelling mistakes. I’ve highlighted a few but I would appreciate it if you went through it again.”

Me: “Sorry to see that. I will see if I can spare any more time.”

Department Head: “I need it by the end of the week.”

I went to my boss, who told me to completely ignore any of the department head’s emails, thanked me for the help, and apologised for the picky and difficult responses I received. A few weeks later, the same department head tried to throw me under the bus, blaming me for why the report was late, but he got put in his place there and then.

Some people just cannot recognise effort in others.