This actually happened to a fellow homeschooling buddy of mine. She took her son for his driver’s license. Everything was good until they checked out the new license. It had her son’s middle name spelled wrong. Let’s say his middle name is Matthew and his family spells it Maphew. They immediately went back to the counter 

Mom: “Excuse me, but my son’s name is misspelled.”

Employee: “No, it’s not.”

Mom: “Ummm, yes, it is. We should know.”

Employee: “No, you spelled it wrong. I fixed it.”

Mom: “Ma’am. It’s clearly spelled on his birth certificate, Social Security card, and all the legal documentation that was handed to you. Are you saying it’s spelled wrong on all of that?”

Employee: “Yes. It is spelled wrong.”

Mom: “No, it’s not, and I dont think you have the right to make that call. Please change it.”

Employee: “I dont see what the big deal is.”

Mom: “Well, for one, he is about to take the SAT, and it’s been made clear that the name must match the official ID used, especially for homeschoolers. Second, of course, that doesn’t really matter; it is his name, and he has a right to have it spelled correctly.”

Employee: “Ugh, stupid homeschoolers. It’s not my fault you dont even know how to spell your own name. Maybe you should get a real education.”

Mom: “My son came in second at the state spelling bee, so I think he has spelling down pat. Also, what you said is as offensive and unfounded, as if I made a comment about how kids who go to public schools can’t get a decent education. Get me your supervisor, NOW!”

She stomped off and a manager came out. When my friend explained what had happened, he was speechless. He apologized and immediately made a new license with the correct spelling of the young man’s name. My friend went to file a formal complaint a few days after she cooled down, and she was informed that woman was no longer employed there.

When I was twenty years old, I worked at a fast food restaurant to afford textbooks for the upcoming semester. When I am not on birth control, I go through h*** during my periods. I have a condition called retroflexion; instead of bloating forward into my belly, my uterus bloats into my spine and presses my sciatic nerve. If she pushes hard enough, it gets to my knees and I cannot walk. The first three days are the worst. Normally, I had a shift at [Restaurant] fall on the second or third day, and I would just suck it up and take a medically risky amount of Tylenol.

The first day of my period hit the day I had a weekend shift. I knew it was crazy busy and I really did feel bad about skipping out, but I was in so much pain. I managed to get dressed and walk around for a bit before a wave of intense nausea and pain hit, and I had to lie down. I called my manager and let him know I couldn’t make it. I hated working there, but a job is a job and this was the first time I had ever called out.

Me: “Hey, [Manager], I know it’s insane over there, and you know I don’t call out for stupid s***, but I’m really sick and in pain right now. I’m gonna have to stay home today.”

Manager: “Wait, why do you have to clock out? What’s going on?”

Me: “It’s around that time for me, I’m nauseous as h***, and it’s too painful to even walk around.”

Manager: “You can’t walk around?”

Me: “No, the pain is too bad. It’s shooting through my back and legs. I’d be useless today.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what that is. Is this an illness of some kind?”

Me: *Getting embarrassed* “Yes, you know, a woman’s kind of illness. I have it severe sometimes, and it’s hitting very hard today.

Manager: *Pauses* “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of that. I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Me: “[Manager]? Do you have sisters? This is a thing for women; it’s a regular thing.”

Manager: “I’m gonna need you to, like, describe it to me, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Me: “[Manager]! I’m bleeding heavily — from downstairs? My uterus is pressing up against my spine. It is pinching a nerve that goes down into my knees. If I manage to stand up right now, I’m going to pass out. I have intense periods, dude!”

There was a heavy silence.

Manager: “Oh, okay.” *Click*

He was a nice manager, but he wasn’t wearing his thinking cap at all, and I ran out of patience after the fifth question.

I am exiting a music store at the same time an older man is walking in, and we slightly bump into each other. I’m about to apologize when:

Customer: “Stupid d*** kids! Always getting in the way!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, I—”

Customer: “What are you even doing in a music store?! Your generation doesn’t know about music! It’s all streaming and TikTok and…”

His voice trails off as he sees from the shape of my bag that I have purchased a vinyl record.

Customer: “So, they’re releasing teeny-boppers on vinyl now, are they? Trying to make themselves look cool?”

I show him my purchase of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” Flummoxed, the customer then looks directly at me in the hopes of finding something else about me to blame on my generation.

Customer: “It’s so hot and sunny out and you’re wearing that hat! What happened, tried to turn your hair green like some punk and it failed? Young people always trying to look cool with their crazy hair and—”

I remove my hat to show my completely bald head, thanks to my alopecia.

Me: “Please, sir, keep going. This is becoming a fun game!”

The customer muttered something grumbly and stormed into the store, and I went home to listen to my album.

I worked at a local supermarket for four years. Two years and a few months into my time there, one of our local shoppers — an older guy — applies for a position and joins the team. A few weeks after his joining, word spreads that a promotion to supervisor is open, so of course, the new hire becomes the manager’s best friend and starts bossing everyone else around, even though he has less experience than the entire team. The experience is irritating for us all, but the new hire will soon find his bootlicking and alienating himself from the staff will come back to bite him.

Not long after the announcement, I get a call from my manager as they want to trial me for the supervisory position. I’m thrilled; I work my a**e off anyway, and I’m glad my managers have the sense to recognise that over the new hire’s antics. I pass the trial, and of course, when the new hire hears about my promotion in the weekly meeting, he isn’t too pleased. Overnight, he turns bitter, leaving jobs half done when I’m on duty or refusing to communicate with the team, all to make me look bad.

Of most concern, he gradually turns up later and later for his shifts. One day, he turns up to my shift almost one hour late. I give him a good dressing-down in the office, reminding him that his behaviour and lack of care for his role are not going to get him far. He goes back to work, but somehow I feel this isn’t over.

Fast forward a few weeks, I’m one hour into a night shift with [New Hire] and another employee. [New Hire] has turned up on time for a change and is on the shop floor whilst I’m in the back office. My phone rings with a call from [Employee #2].

Me: “Hello?”

Employee #2: “Hi, [My Name]. Um… I-I am gonna be a bit late tonight…”

From her tone of voice, it sounds like she has been crying. She informs me that her brother was just in a very nasty car accident and she’s going to the hospital with him.

Me: “Oh, my goodness. Look, it’s a Sunday night. Don’t worry about coming in. I’ll let [Manager] know. Keep us updated, okay? Take care, [Employee #2].”

I then dwell on how I’m going to break the news to [New Hire]. These are the types of excuses for his behaviour that he loves to exploit. Any time somebody’s late, he has a say on it. Any time somebody doesn’t stack beans correctly, he makes an entire show about how HE and he alone has to do it properly. He is almost fifty years old and picking fights with people half his age. It’s really, really pathetic. I take a deep breath and walk out to the floor.

Me: “[New Hire], [Employee #2] isn’t coming in tonight. It’s just going to be me and you.”

New Hire: “Oh, right?”

He folds his arms and pouts.

New Hire: “So, uh, who’s doing the stock for the floor, then?”

Me: “You will. I will try to help, but I have also the backlogs on the computer to finish tonight.”

New Hire: *Rolling his eyes* “Well, I mean, I might get busy with customers, sooo…”

Me: “Well, it’s a Sunday night, and it’s a week before payday, so I don’t see why it could get so busy for the next eight hours. But if you do need help, buzz for me.”

New Hire: *Scoffs* “Why is she even late, anyway?”

Me: “That I do not know.”

[New Hire] rolls his eyes one more time and says under his breath:

New Hire: “Don’t know a whole lot, do you? F****** idiot.”

I let the last comment go. I didn’t tell him the gravity of the situation because I don’t want to spread [Employee #2]’s affairs before she returns. Besides, it’s none of his business; why does he need to know? The next week, [Employee #2], [New Hire], and I are working. [Employee #2] arrives for work.

Me: “Hello, [Employee #2]. How are you doing? How’s your brother?”

Employee #2: “Hey, yeah, he’s all right. He’s sti—”

[New Hire] marches up behind her.

New Hire: “What’s this? You go AWOL for one day, and then you come back and everything’s just as if it didn’t happen?”

Me: “Uh… [New Hire]—”

New Hire: “No! I’ve got a right to be upset. I had to do all of her f****** s*** that day, including my own jobs. And I haven’t received so much as a thank-you or apology for it! And if this was me not bothering to show up like she f****** has, you would be tearing my head off!”

Me: “I think you’d better sit in the break room for ten minutes and cool off.”

Whilst he stewed and sulked, [Employee #2] was very obviously upset by [New Hire]’s remarks. I privately told her that he hadn’t been made aware of why she didn’t turn up. I then also called my manager, who arrived with brimstone in her eyes.

I wasn’t there to see it, but according to what my manager said later on, she explained first about [Employee #2]’s brother, and [New Hire] turned sheet white as she gave him quite possibly the biggest bollocking in his life. [New Hire] was sent home for the rest of the day and [Employee #2] carried on like a trooper as [Manager] and I closed up.

[New Hire] was allowed to remain employed, but he was later fired when he was found out for stealing gas credit from our top-up machine. Not a single person was sorry to see him go, and he would occasionally “pop by” to gloat about his new “amazing job, which he loved” until he was then banned when he was spotted weeing on our building.

By the way, [Employee #2]’s brother recovered, though he will need to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life as a result of his injuries.

It’s just after midday on Friday, and I am in the post office to send off a parcel for work. The post office is very short on staff; there’s only one person on duty. As a result of the staff shortage, the post office is closing early. It’s located inside another shop, and an employee of that shop places a barrier across and puts up signs saying the post office is closed.

There are perhaps half a dozen people still in the queue, and the post office worker is going to serve us and then go home — late.

There is another post office in town, but it’s at the bus station about ten minutes’ walk away.

A number of people come to the post office, see the barrier and the signs, and then go off, some sighing in frustration, others muttering to themselves. But one man looks at the signs and the barrier and then moves the barrier, climbs in front, and smirks to himself. He’s a fit, healthy young man, well able to go to the bus station. I give him a harsh look from four people away, but he just smirks. He thinks he’s got into the queue.

A few minutes later, the employee who put up the barrier comes back. The man is still smirking to himself when the employee speaks to him.

Employee: “Excuse me. The post office is closed. That man in front of you was the last man in the queue when the barrier was closed. You need to go to the bus station; they’ll serve you there.”

Man: “But there’s a queue here.”

Employee: “Yes. These people were here before the counter closed. Once they’ve been served, that’s it. You won’t be served.”

Man: “But there’s a queue.”

Employee: “Yes, and all the people in the queue were here before the counter closed. You won’t be served. You need to go to the bus station.”

Man: “But there’s a queue here.”

Employee: “And you’re not in it. Go to the bus station.”

Defeated and no longer smirking the man left — hopefully, to go to the bus station.

I know it’s frustrating, but the poor counter clerk had clearly been there since about eight in the morning and looked quite exhausted when she served me. If there’s a barrier and the counter is closing, you can’t join the queue.