I’ve been dealing with an entitled customer. He finally asks:

Customer: “Do you know who my father is?!”

Fed up, I responded:

Me: “Unfortunately not. Did your momma not tell you?”

I work in a pizza place. We have a new general manager while the old one is on home rest after a motorcycle accident. (He is fine, just a broken leg. It could have been worse, as he said.)

The new general manager proceeds to chase away the old crew because she is a nasty person who gets complaints from crew and customers, but her stores run well, so management just shrugs.

I am one of three remaining old hats who knew a better life under the old general manager. My hours have been cut to roughly fifteen a week. I am making minimum wage — $7.25 at the time.

One night, I go to bed around 11:30 pm. I then wake up at 12:00 midnight to a “Blorp, Glub, Blorp” sound from my bathroom. I get up to look, and dirty water is coming up my toilet, which is beginning to overflow.

I begin to bail it into the bathroom sink. (I HATE getting my hands dirty, so keep in mind that I am bailing dirty water and screaming internally the whole time.)

I have to keep bailing, non-stop, from 12:00 midnight until my landlord wakes up at 5:00 am to hear my voicemail. He calls me back and says he’ll have a plumber over ASAP, but no businesses are open yet.

At 6:00 am, I call my work to tell [General Manager] I won’t be in… but she’s not in yet. I know she was scheduled for 6:00 am because I photograph the schedule.

By 7:00 am, she’s still not in.

By 8:00 am, still not in.

At 9:00 am, no [General Manager].

At 10:00 freaking am, an hour and a half before my shift, [General Manager] is FINALLY in! And this is our conversation.

Me: “I won’t be making it in. My toilet has literally been spewing dirty water since midnight. I have been bailing water since midnight.”

General Manager: “That’s no excuse.”

Me: “No, I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse.”

General Manager: “You need to give us three hours of advance notice to call in.”

Me: “You mean like how I left a message at 6:00 am?”

General Manager: “I never heard it.”

Me: “And how I called back at 7:00 am? And 8:00? And 9:00? And 10:00? AND YOU CAN HEAR MY TOILET IN THE BACKGROUND?!”

General Manager: “Well, I did not hear you at 6:00 am—”

Me: “Because you were four hours late! How is that my problem?!”

Keep in mind, I’m STILL bailing water while I have my cell phone on speaker.

General Manager: “Well, you did not give me three hours of warning. You need to come in, or you will be written up as a no-call, no-show.”

Me: *Sarcastic* “So, you want me to stop bailing water, let my apartment flood, and lose every bit of furniture on the left side of my apartment. For a minimum-wage, part-time job flinging pizza?”

General Manager: “It’s called being a responsible adult—”

Me: “Oh, like you ‘responsibly’ got to work four hours late?”

General Manager: “Either come in or face the consequences.”

Me: “’Kay!” *Hangs up*

Her “consequences” are cutting my hours to zero. I still spend the next two-ish months walking the 2.5 miles to work weekly to see that I have zero hours until she finally pulls me aside.

General Manager: “Stop checking. You are no longer on the schedule.”

Me: “So, I’m fired?”

General Manager: “Yes.”

Me: “There now. Was saying that so hard?”

For the record: a root from the tree out front had grown into the pipe and the two upstairs apartments were flushing things that did not biodegrade. These things got caught in the roots and caused a blockage.

My apartment, being the basement apartment, was the first stop for all the backed-up water.

And no, neither apartment was kind enough to stop using water while I waited for a plumber, even though the landlord called them both to let them know that water was backing up into my apartment. One of them even started their dishwasher. Sigh.

I am on my break, hanging out with my friend in the parking lot and eating some fast food.

It should be noted that I am fat. I am totally fine with being called fat (as long as it’s not thrown as an insult) because I am, and it is just a fact. I am fine with my weight and my body, and my friends know this. We are talking about a Japanese theme park that was recently in the news.

Friend: “Some people were complaining that because the rides were designed for Japanese people, some Americans wouldn’t be able to fit into it.”

Me: “That’s fair.”

Friend: “Yeah, I’d love to go, but I think maybe you’re too fat to fit into the carts.”

This is a totally normal thing to say in context between my friend and me, but unfortunately, she says it just as a customer from my store is heading out with her shopping cart.

Customer: “She just called you fat!”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “She shouldn’t call you fat!”

Me: “But I am fat.”

Customer: “No, a woman should never be called fat! It’s harassment and discrimination!”

Me: “While I agree to call someone fat as an insult is wrong and body-shaming, my friend and I were not doing that. And I recognize that I am fat, and I am okay with my friends pointing that out on some occasions.”

Customer: “No, you’re beautiful! All women are beautiful!”

Lady, I said I was fat, not ugly!

Me: “I agree, but I am still comfortable with being fat, ma’am.”

Customer: “No! No woman is ever fat! It’s just a label that men use to put them down and make them feel worthless! It’s the patriarchy! Don’t let them win!”

I try to explain diplomatically that I am not insulted and that this is none of her business, but this customer just will not have it. She goes back into the store, and as I am coming back in from my break, I bump into her with my manager.

Customer: “There! There she is! You need to make her feel beautiful!”

Manager: “What do you want me to do exactly?”

Customer: “Make her admit that she is a sexy and beautiful woman!”

Manager: “Ma’am, that is not something I can professionally do, for so many reasons.”

Customer: *Screaming and causing a scene* “It’s because you’re a man! You think just because she’s not a size zero that she’s ugly!”

Manager: *Whispering to me, pleadingly* “Can you just… throw me a bone, here?”

Me: *Monotone* “Fine. I am a curvy, sexy woman, and no one can tell me I am fat.”

Customer: *Immediately calming down* “There you go, honey! That’s a breakthrough for you! Fight the patriarchy!”

She finally leaves, with my manager and me just dumbfounded.

Me: “F*** that. I’m gonna eat a cookie.”

Many years ago, I worked at a pub chain. We had checked (sort of) that everyone had left. We had locked the doors and were in the process of cashing up when my manager spotted movement on the cameras. There was a woman passed out or asleep on one of the benches at the front of the pub. She had her coat on top of her, which was the same colour as the seat cover.

We finished our cash up and went to wake her. She mumbled, told us to f*** off, and went back to sleep. This was a problem.

The solution:

Step 1: Open the front door and be ready to lock her out.

Step 2: Get the ice bucket and add some extra water.

Step 3: Move the table out of the way and apply “the ice bucket challenge”.

She shot straight up in the air and then out the door.

I’m not terribly proud of that now.

I worked at a store while I was at university. I had many issues with this manager, but this was the last straw. I checked my schedule for work before scheduling a make-up exam for uni. The exam was worth 30% of my final grade, and I failed the first time because I had a lot of crap going on, and the professor was nice enough to let me retake it. I set a time with the professor for something outside of regular class time when I wasn’t scheduled to work.

I checked my schedule the next day, and they’d changed it, meaning I had a shift when I was supposed to be taking the exam. I called work ASAP to talk to [Manager].

Me: “You have me scheduled for [time], but I can’t work then because I have something for school.”

Manager: “Do you really have to go?”

Me: “Yes, I absolutely have to.”

Manager: “Could you reschedule it?”

Me: “No. My professor was clear that she won’t change it again.”

Manager: “Well, is it really that important?”

Me: “Yes. I have to go, and I can’t change it.”

Then, she tried to guilt-trip me into coming in.

Manager: “This is going to reflect poorly on your attendance, you know.”

My attendance was near perfect except for one call-in due to an illness I got BECAUSE OF WORK.

Me: “I don’t care about my attendance. I cannot work that shift.”

She got all huffy and went on a rant about how it was going to be hard to fill that shift, how they were short-staffed, etc.

I handed in my notice the very same day.

On my last day, I left [Manager]’s boss a lovely note about this incident, I also explained how she tried to reprimand my coworkers for not doing tasks they had doctor’s notes saying they couldn’t do, and I suggested that maybe if this manager treated her employees better, then maybe they wouldn’t have as many issues with employee retention.