I was working at a tech support job. I was very self-motivated, I like solving problems and I like working with computers. I read any SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) I could get my hands on (which wasn’t too many at that time), and I constantly asked questions to senior techs that had been working there for a while.

After about eighteen months at the job, I was promoted from Tier 1 to Tier 2. When I was a Tier 1, I was the official go-to guy for all Tier 1 techs to get information on how to handle issues that all the Tier 1 techs should know for resolving. I was basically a trainer for Tier 1 techs, helping them learn the easy stuff so it wouldn’t get escalated to Tier 2.

Most Tier 2 techs were fairly new employees, but we had a handful that had been Tier 1 techs longer than I had been working at the company. After a few days as a Tier 2 tech, I started to notice that a lot of Tier 1 techs were constantly struggling with a simple task that they should all know how to do based on escalated tickets I’d been doing. It was a task that would take about two minutes to fix and get the customer off the phone fast, resolving the issue.

While I was the go-to guy for Tier 1 techs, I was also trying to alleviate the unnecessary tickets pushed to Tier 2, and this one simple task was a great learning experience for all the Tier 1 techs to know. This way, the actual harder issues that took a lot more time were only coming to the senior techs so we could keep within our SLAs (Service Level Agreement).

I took the time to write up an SOP about the issue and step-by-step instructions on how to resolve the issue. I emailed out the SOP to all the Tier 1 techs, and I copied the help desk manager. I also flagged all the emails I sent to notify me when the email was read because a lot of Tier 1 techs would glance at emails and then claim they had never gotten any email. This way, they couldn’t say they didn’t get the email.

As the day dragged on, I had my list of Tier 1 techs, and I checked off their names when I got confirmation emails that they had read my email. About two-thirds of Tier 1 had read it as the day wound down and I headed home. I figured by the time I got to work the next day, the other third of the Tier 1 techs would have read the email.

I showed up at work the next day, and I saw that almost all Tier 1 techs had read my email. As I was just about to start my day, the help desk manager wanted to talk to me about the SOP.

Manager: “I saw that SOP you emailed out. I like it, but I wanted to let you know that this isn’t your job, and I don’t want you sending any more mass emails out to your team members. If you have something important to send out, you give it to me first, and I’ll decide if it’s something everyone else needs to know.”

Me: “No one else is creating SOPs for problems or helping other techs out… but if that’s what you want, okay. I won’t send out group emails anymore.”

Manager: “I also see a lot of Tier 1s coming to you. They don’t need to be coming over and bothering you. If they have an issue with a ticket, they can escalate it to Tier 2. I don’t want to see them constantly getting up to talk to you.”

Me: “All right, I’ll let them know.”

Manager: “Thank you. Go ahead and get yourself logged in.”

I had worked with enough crappy managers to know that [Manager] wanted to take credit for work he didn’t do; that’s why he wanted me to send any SOPs I created to him first. He was always looking to take credit for something to look good to upper management. I don’t like people taking credit for my work, but at the same time, I was not looking to stand in the spotlight and hope to get an “Attaboy!” I just genuinely wanted to help my coworkers out so I wouldn’t have to bust my butt picking up their slack; it was a win-win for all the techs on the help desk.

Seeing as how I was shot down, I figured I’d do exactly what my manager asked for.

As the day went on, I had a lot of pissed-off Tier 1 techs because they weren’t getting any help on issues like they usually did when they came to me. They’d approach me to ask me questions, and I’d tell them that management didn’t want me talking to them anymore and that they needed to go back to their desks. This meant that easy issues were getting pushed to Tier 2 and not getting handled fast enough for their SLA.

A build-up of tickets and failed SLAs started to plague the help desk over the next few weeks, and [Manager] was getting in hot water with upper management because of it. Now the company wanted Tier 2 techs to put in eight hours a week of mandatory overtime until the backlog was cleared. This happened over and over again for months, and [Manager] was getting reamed about it constantly.

With [Manager] in charge, I never went out of my way again to help my coworkers so they could further learn and grow by writing up SOPs for easy tasks or talking with Tier 1 techs to help them out. I let them flounder and get frustrated, and they would eventually leave because they couldn’t get help with their job.

Management always wondered why the retention rate of Tier 1 techs was so abysmal and why they had such crappy times on their SLAs and metrics for such simple problems.

Eventually, [Manager] was let go and a good manager came in. I ended up being the Tier 2 lead and was given the green light to manage my time as seen fit to help other Tier 2 and Tier 1 techs, and any SOPs I wrote up weren’t questioned.

I work as an Office Manager Jack Of All Trades at the local fire department. It’s not uncommon to get odd requests from busybodies and town gossips looking for information on fire and ambulance runs.

This particular morning was a doozy for these types of calls, and then this one came in.

Me: “Fire Department. How may I direct your call?”

Caller: “I need to know how it started.”

Me: “Can you please give me some more information?”

Caller: “The fire from a few months back; I need to know how it started.”

Me: “Normally, our Fire Marshal handles these requests. I will forward you to his number. But first, are you the property owner or resident, or with a lawyer or insurance company?”

Caller: “I’m just a citizen of this county, and I need to know what started the fire to win a bet. If you don’t give me the cause, I will have you fired. I’m your boss since I pay for your salary.”

Sure, buddy, you’re my boss since you live in the county and I work for the city. It doesn’t work that way.

I forwarded his call to our Fire Marshal and hoped the caller didn’t leave a message.

After ten years of working for myself as a graphic designer and marketing consultant, I became disenchanted with having to chase after clients to collect my paycheck and sought a typical nine-to-five job. I interviewed for a position as a marketing manager with a company that I seemed like a great fit. During my interview, the CEO asked me what programs I use to “draw.”

Me: “Uh, I usually work in Illustrator, because vector graphics are scalable.”

Client: “Oh, that’s good. Not many people would understand that or know that.”

He offered me the position and I accepted.

A few weeks into the job, when discussing a project with the same CEO, he asked how I was going to prepare a specific piece of marketing collateral. It included the creation of new logos and would need to be sent to a printer in .eps format. I told him I was going to use Illustrator. He replied in a tone that was a unique cross of amusement, sneering condemnation, and anger.

Client: “No. People don’t know how to use Illustrator, and there isn’t anything you can do in Illustrator that you can’t do in Microsoft Word. Use that.”

While I’m buying a new beard trimmer, I get asked by another shopper whether I know something about them, so I try to inform him to the best of my abilities. While I’m doing so, another shopper stops behind us and starts clearing her throat repeatedly, but since we’re not blocking anything, I don’t think too much about it for the time being.

Eventually, the guy I’m talking to finds a trimmer he likes, we chat a bit, I take one that I like, and I’m about to be on my way.

Shopper: “Finally! I need a new mixer with…”

She lists a couple of features that I probably couldn’t even translate to English if I cared enough to memorize what she wanted.

Me: “You talking to me?”

Shopper: “Of course I am talking to you! You took your sweet time with that guy, and now it’s my turn!”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t work here.”

Shopper: “Then what was that, huh? Don’t gimme that ‘I don’t work here’! You just sold that beard thing to that guy!”

Me: “He asked me something about a trimmer and I told him what I know. I don’t know jack about kitchen appliances.”

Thinking this is it, I turn to leave, only to have my shirt grabbed from behind.

Shopper: “Don’t you dare! I waited half an hour for you, and now you will help me!”

Me: “Lady! Let go! What the h***?”

Since we’re far from quiet anymore, we’ve drawn the attention of someone actually working here, easily identified as such by wearing the store uniform with the store name in bold letters on it, his personal name tag, and all the other tidbits that indicate that he does, indeed, work here.

Employee: “Excuse me? What seems to be the problem?”

Shopper: “This deadbeat here isn’t doing his job! I only had a very simple question, and he refuses to answer me!”

He looks between her and me.

Employee: “Ma’am? He doesn’t work here.”

Shopper: “Like h*** he doesn’t! He just helped another guy find something. I was watching it the whole time, and he didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge that I was there! All I have is a very simple question, but he was just chatting with this guy, and not once did he even turn to look at me! And they were chatting about private things. Just chitchat! Private chitchat! He was chatting with his friend, on the clock instead of helping a waiting customer like he should!”

Employee: “Be it as it may, ma’am, he’s—”

Shopper: “Get me a manager. I want this person fired!”

Employee: “I am the manager of this section, but ma’am—”

Shopper: “Then fire him!”

Employee: “But ma’am—”

Me: “Dude, don’t you see that there’s only one way out?”

The employee turns to me, and for a moment the shopper is quiet, too.

Me: “Fire me.”

Employee: “But… you don’t work here.”

Me: “You know and I know, but do you want to waste more time hoping that she eventually gets it?”

Employee: “Uh… okay… You’re fired.”

Me: “Okay.” *To her* “Satisfied?”

The employee and I look expectantly at the woman, who looks at me with her mouth open for a moment before bursting out:

Shopper: “No! How can you be so callous?! You millennials and your crappy work ethics. How can you so simply brush aside losing your job in this economy?! Do you think you’ll find another one with this attitude?”

I’m over forty and looking it.

Me: *Sigh* “Fine…”

I put down my trimmer and tumble back against the nearest wall, raising my arm theatrically to the forehead.

Me: “Woe is me! How should I explain it to my wife?! What can I tell my kids?! I was fired from a minimum-wage job where I had the joy of helping idiots find rubbish they don’t need! Now I have to return to the cruel world of computer networks! Please, please have mercy!”

I sink to my knees with a few fake sobs, and then I let my arm sink from my face and look up at the woman.

Me: “Better?”

She stares at me for a long time, and then she grumbles and stomps off toward the exit.

Me: *To the employee* “I have no idea what they pay you to deal with crap like this, but no matter how much, it ain’t remotely enough.”

I’m at the checkout serving customers when a voice comes over the tannoy system.

Voice: “Could the owner of the BMW with the registration [number] please come to Customer Services?”

A short time passes, and the tannoy goes again.

Voice: “Could the owner of the BMW with the registration [number] please come to Customer Services?”

Another amount of time passes, and yet another call-out is made. I am serving a customer who happens to know what it’s all about.

Customer: “It’s some old guy who has an £80,000 BMW. He’s parked over three spaces.”

I gasp at this blatant lack of respect for other customers.

As it happens, the BMW owner is being served at the checkout behind me, so my customer tells him that he is being called out about his car and that it’s stopping other people from parking there. This old guy looks at my customer.

Car Owner: “I am better than anyone else in this shop. I can park wherever and however I like!“

And with that, he walked out of the store.