My first job is about a year working at a supermarket on the night shift. My manager is a horrible hard-a** who seems to think there is no good reason to not come to work. Sick and vomiting? [Manager] doesn’t care; you shouldn’t be absent. Injured with doctor’s orders to recover at home? [Manager] doesn’t care; you shouldn’t be absent. Live half an hour out of the city, and there’s a hellish blizzard tearing through the fields that has covered the highway in snow? [Manager] doesn’t care; you shouldn’t be absent.

As you can imagine, the turnover rate is awful, but I have the fortune to not end up in anything that inhibits my ability to get to work. During the course of my employment, I meet and become friends with [Coworker], which directly leads to me quitting.

Our work starts by sorting products on pallets which are delivered to the front of the aisles by forklift. Owing to [Manager] being the only one qualified to use the forklifts, he doesn’t take a headcount until the pallets are out. Tonight, I’ve received some very somber news that has me in an unpleasant mood as my compatriots and I arrive in a position to get to work.

Manager: “Hey, where’s [Coworker]?”

Me: “She’s not coming.”

Manager: “What? Why the h*** not?”

Me: “Because her grandmother just died.”

Manager: “That’s not an excuse!”

Everyone turns to glare at [Manager] as my brain struggles to process the fact that his mouth opened and those words came out.

Me: “I really hope you didn’t just say what I think you said.”

Manager: “I said, ‘That’s not an excuse!’”

Me: “…Right. You can go f*** yourself with that forklift now.”

I turned and walked out of the store, with [Manager]’s indignant yells chasing me until I hit the employee exit. As I was getting into my car, I noticed what seemed to be EVERYONE ELSE who was working that night following me outside, leaving [Manager] coming to the door and shrieking at us.

I sent [Supermarket] my resignation in the morning. I later heard that [Manager] had been fired, but by then, [Coworker] and I had already found new employment.

I’m waiting in line at the grocery store. There are three people ahead of me. I’m in my thirties, but I have a baby face.

A woman in workout gear who looks to be in her forties comes over, pulls out her phone, stares at it, sighs, and attempts to scoot in front of me.

I step forward to block her.

Me: “I think I’m the end of the line.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m not confused. I’m just seeing how much time I have.”

She looks at her phone, sighs, and taps her foot.

Customer: “Can I get in front of you?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “How rude.”

She stomped off, muttering about “young people.”

Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 23
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 22
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 21
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 20
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 19

I run a retail store with only one other person. We’re both twenty-year-old women. Some guy in his fifties came in and cussed at my coworker. Literally, the first thing he said to her was, “F*** YOU!” I took over.

Me: “We won’t help you if you’re gonna be swearing at us.”

He made fun of me for telling him he couldn’t swear. I just ignored him and gave him the solution to the problem he was coming in about.

I watched him run outside to his truck and check his back seat multiple times, and after about fifteen minutes, he came back in. He sat down and just glared at me. My coworker was helping someone else.

Me: “What do you need, sir?”

Customer: “I’ll tell you, but only after that other customer leaves.”

Me: “You can tell me now.”

Customer: *Standing up* “I will leave when she leaves.”

Me: “Listen. I’ve been nothing but pleasant with you the entire time you’ve been here, and you’ve been incredibly hostile. I’m giving you two options. You can either talk to me right now so I can try to help you, or you can leave, because at this point, what you’re doing — sitting down and saying nothing — is loitering.”

He was pissed. He got right up in my face to intimidate me and gave me the most evil look I’d ever received. I stared right back at him.

Me: “What’s it going to be?”

He broke eye contact.

Customer: “I’ll leave.”

He walked out the door, but he did not leave. He sat in the front of his truck and kept looking through our window at us, waiting for our only customer to leave. I pointed this out to both my coworker and the customer, an older woman.

Customer #2: “You should call the cops immediately. That man is not mentally sound.”

I was hesitant, but she was right. I called the cops, but in the meantime, the man kept checking his back seat over and over again.

When the cops arrived, they said hi to me first and then went outside to speak to the man. After about five minutes I saw the man trying to fight the cops.

One of the cops came in later and told me the situation.

Cop: “So, he’s going to jail tonight. There was something in the back seat of his truck he’s going to jail for. He was actually a wanted man. Are you all good here? One of us can stay here if you don’t feel safe.”

I told him we were fine and he had me write up a witness report.

Makes me wonder what was in the back of the guy’s truck.

My husband and I are both shy, non-confrontational people. A fabric and crafts store is having a good sale, and we’ve gone there to do some shopping and get some fabric. As we go along, we put the bolts that we’re going to get cut in our cart. The cutting table is in the middle of the store, and browsing the fabric racks takes us right past it where a fellow customer has been standing and chatting with the employee. She spots us and speaks up very loudly.

Customer: “You need to take a ticket to get fabric cut.”

Husband: “We’re still looking.”

Customer: “You need to get a ticket! You can’t get your fabric cut without a ticket!”

Me: “We’re not ready; we’re still looking around!”

I gesture around the store. She seems to think for a moment.

Customer: “Get a ticket! They’re right there!”

At this point, my husband and I realize she’s not going to get it and will keep yelling at us, and we both bolt, walking briskly in different directions away from the fabric counter. I’m safe, but my husband makes it to the end of an aisle with the cart and…

The woman appears around the end of the aisle where she has run to cut him off so she can yell at the top of her lungs.

Customer: “YOU DIDN’T GET A TICKET!”

Husband: “ARGH!”

He yelled in surprise, pushing past her and walking much faster to the other end of the store away from the cutting table.

Thankfully, at that point, the woman gave up on chasing either of us. We stayed over in the craft section until she finally left before we finished our fabric shopping, and then, yes, we got our ticket and waited our turn to get fabric cut.

If you’ve ever spent a significant amount of time browsing the websites for (or visited) a humane society or animal shelter, you’ll notice that some of the rescue animals tend to have rather unusual names. I assume this is because the shelter employees don’t want six dogs named Spot and eight cats named Kitty running around and eventually run out of “normal” names to give out.

I adopt a dog with a rather unfortunate and strange shelter name. I immediately decide to change it and spend the next few hours mulling over the perfect one. After much hemming and hawing, I name her after a relatively obscure mythological figure. For the sake of the story, let’s say it’s Ariadne.

I am quite proud of the name I picked because I think it fits her appearance and personality well. With my dog now named, I sent a text and a picture of her to my friend.

Me: “This is Ariadne!”

Friend: “How cute! Are you going to change her name?”

Ouch. Fair, but ouch. (The dog kept the mythological name.)