I moved cities six months ago, and my new job site has a twelve-hour shift system: 8:00 am to 8:00 pm or 8:00 pm to 8:00 am. Since I have a very high metabolism and am a total foodie, I have been packing a lot of food from home — breakfast, two snacks, lunch, or dinner, and baked goods for tea time.

I usually eat with my team (four people), and they get their meals from the on-site cafeteria. I share my meals with them because I love feeding people and I pack extra.

But then, I get a call from another coworker, one whose husband is part of my team. She works on our opposing shift. This lady is aggressive from the get-go.

Coworker: “You need to stop bringing in your elaborate meals! You should just get what the cafeteria is serving like everyone else.”

Me: *Firmly* “I am not going to change my habits, and you don’t have a right to demand that.”

Then, she goes on a rant.

Coworker: “My husband has been comparing you to me — cooking, presentability, and cheer — and complaining for the last six months!”

I admit that I feel bad for her; it appears from her rant that her husband is as entitled as she is.

Me: “Those kinds of issues should be discussed with your husband, not with me. But again, I will continue bringing food from home.”

Coworker: “B****!”

And she hung up on me.

I worked at a museum in the Navy Yard that focused on the history of a particular ship. The Navy Yard was a confusing place because there were two historic ships: one run by the Navy and one by the National Park Service. There was also an NPS visitors center and then our museum: a private nonprofit.

Because we were all in the same area and covered overlapping subject matter, it felt like we should all be run together and have the same hours and admission, but we didn’t. About half of my job was just explaining this ridiculous setup to people over and over and bearing the brunt of the anger and frustration of upset tourists who came on days when the Navy ship was closed for tours.

I had visitors yell at me and beg me to get them onto the ship for a tour, something that was absolutely not in my control as my museum was not the Navy. I witnessed tears and tantrums from adults. I got stern talking-tos about how our website or Google or Yelp or a third-party website didn’t give the right information, other things I have no control over. (Pro-tip: if something is confusing about a tourist destination, call the place directly and talk to a human.) Our website DID explain all of this, but I can’t make people read it.

And yet, by far the worst tantrums I ever witnessed were during the week when the gift shop was closed for renovation. The sheer outrage of tourists who were unable to buy souvenirs was something to behold.

One woman in particular absolutely berated every person she could find.

Woman: “I’m a business owner myself, and you are running a terrible business! This is unacceptable!”

The specifics of the conversation have been lost to time (probably for the best), but I do recall her yelling:

Woman: “I only want one postcard! How dare you not sell me one postcard?!”

My coworkers and I were very shaken. When we reported the incident to our manager, she said:

Manager: “Well, the education department has some free postcards; we could have given her one of those.”

I felt that missed the point entirely that the public-facing staff was being verbally abused. Yes, we probably should have called a manager sooner. I think there was a reason she wasn’t available at that moment, but again, the specifics have been lost, maybe blocked out.

Between being regularly yelled at by the visitors, the management’s lack of understanding of the mental and emotional toll that takes, and the lack of support, I left and never looked back.

I used to work in a “nikkei restaurant” — a Peruvian-Japanese fusion place — many moons ago. I was a server and life was good, except for one guy that the kitchen brigade and I had nicknamed “The Scourge”. He looked unassuming at worst, just a young man that dressed sharply and regularly visited.

The problem with him, and the nickname’s provenance, was that he abused the All You Can Eat system. The owner advertised that lunches were All You Can Eat buffets at 10€ per head, with the idea that each client would take either one or two bowls of pokè or two sets of fancy sushi, both highly expensive, to eat and otherwise fill themselves up with much cheaper things like chili beans and salads.

The Scourge, however, either because he wasn’t taught politeness or just didn’t care, usually actually ate several bowls at a time, and with him around (which for a time was practically every other day) sushi rolls often finished as soon as they were brought to the table. He took tiny portions of the cheaper foods, and nothing could be recovered from drinks because he only drank water at 1€ a bottle, but since he always ate everything down to the last bite, I wasn’t allowed to kick him out.

When he started to visit, the weekly expense ledger soon started to look bad, and after some time, the owner started accusing me and the other server of stealing from the cash register. Nothing could convince him to try to either raise the AYCE formula’s price or explicitly say that each client was allowed to take a specific amount of bowls and pieces of sushi.

Soon, The Scourge’s presence had started to clearly drive other lunch clients away, as they barely ever found the best bits, and our regular menu was too expensive for people who just wanted a quick bite. At one point, for three days in a row, we only had him as the sole client all day.

On the fourth day of utter client drought, I was at my breaking point. I didn’t care for the consequences; I just wanted to tell The Scourge how things were. When I saw him sit down and then pick up two bowls, I stopped him in his tracks and explicitly told him that his behavior was putting the whole restaurant at risk of bankruptcy. Looking suitably contrite, he put one bowl back and ate much less.

However, once he left, he never returned, and basically, any sort of lunch income stopped. The owner fired me, telling me he had no place for thieves in his establishment.

The joke’s on him: he closed two months later as the scars of The Scourge lingered on and basically annihilated any and all sort of activity in the place.

During some time of unemployment, I apply for a job at a new restaurant they plan to build in a nearby city. I haven’t worked in a restaurant for several years, but I know I can do it if I want to, and I need a job.

After some time, I receive an invitation by email for a general meeting of applicants. At the meeting, a presentation is given about the plans for the new restaurant. It sounds quite cool. There is also a round where you introduce yourself to the group, which seems promising. After that, they take individual interviews. During the interview, I get the usual questions about what days and hours I can work. I go into it with an open mind and am prepared to work a lot for them.

Later, I receive a rejection by email anyway. I’m not terribly disappointed — just a little bit. Hoping to learn from the experience, I ask them if they could explain their motives for rejecting me.

Their answer?

Hiring Manager: “As we said in our previous email, it’s based on your experience and traveling distance.”

Right. But you knew all of that already from my resume, so what was the point of inviting me for the job interview, anyway?

This happened in the early 1990s, during the start of the registered pharmacist shortage. I was paying off school loans and trying to save up for a house, etc., so when I was called for extra shifts, I rarely turned them down.

On this particular day, I was off and laying in bed. At 8:45, my phone rang. It was my district manager.

Manager: *Sternly* “I need you to be in [Store] by 9:00.”

This store was an hour away from my house, and I had never worked there before.

Me: “I’ll go in, but I can’t get there until 10:00.”

Manager: *Gruffly* “No! Be there at 9:00!”

Me: “Look! It’s an hour-long drive, so I will get there as soon as I can, but it won’t be by 9:00.”

I got there just before 10:00. In walked my district manager with four of his higher-up bosses, and he immediately started berating me in front of them and customers.

I took it for a couple of minutes, hoping he was just trying to impress his bosses, but he started getting worse and worse about how bad the store’s inventory, tech budget, etc. were.

I’d had enough. And since, at that time, a pharmacist could get a job the next day, I lit back into him.

Me: “You know good and d*** well that I’ve never even been in this store before and that those things aren’t my fault! If you’re going to humiliate me in front of your bosses, then consider this my two-week notice.”

I never heard from the district manager again, but his bosses all came back down to try to talk me into staying.