Both of my wife’s parents recently died, within two months of each other (one from illness and one from an accident some weeks later). As a result, we have been left sorting through their affairs and gradually sifting through their personal effects.

One task that recently fell to me was to collect a vast pile of catalogues and other communications that have been mailed to them since their passing from companies to which my mother-in-law (and a lesser extent father-in-law) subscribed. There is a surprising number; they lived fully and healthily and had made the most of their comfortable and affluent retirement. The request in all cases was simply to remove their details from their records and stop sending their magazines and catalogues.

The expected response from these companies, on being told the news of my mother-in-law’s passing, would be to reply with a sympathetic message and a promise to remove her details as requested.

However, there were also responses along the lines:

Catalogue Company: “So that we can remove their details from our systems, please send us a copy of the death certificate.”

I passed this message on to my wife, who is handling all the official paperwork, and her response was:

Wife: “They can f*** off!”

Seriously? It’s a stupid catalogue, not a military service record!

But, fair enough, if you WANT to carry on sending us copies of your catalogue, which will go directly into the recycling, then please feel free so to do. It’s no skin off our nose, but if you want to waste the money mailing this great big lump of dead tree to an address that no longer has anyone living there, go fill your boots.

For reference, please remember: this is Britain. We don’t do bureaucracy and top-heavy administration the way certain nations seem to. Apologies to you if it seems natural to have to send a death certificate to a company with whom occasional retail operations have been transacted, but to my wife and me, this comes across as distasteful.

I worked as a cashier at a fast food chain. One day, I was assigned to handle our incoming delivery. The way the building was structured, our walk-in freezer and coolers were on a second floor. Everything else that needed to be put away was on the first floor with the main working area. For our convenience, we had a freight elevator at the side of our restaurant that we could place our frozen products on and send to the second floor.

This day was particularly hot — in the triple digits — and I didn’t want the frozen products and perishables sitting outside in the sun while I was stocking products on the first floor. I gathered them all, put them in the freight elevator for the time being, and began stocking the kitchen and supply room on the first floor.

In the middle of everything, the shift manager for that day suddenly grabbed my arm and began pulling me to the front counter.

Manager: “We are getting murdered out here! I need you up front now!“

Me: “Wait, I have frozen products—”

Manager: “Never mind the delivery! [Employee] is coming in; she’ll take care of it. I need you on the registers now!”

Me: “But there is frozen food—”

Manager: “I KNOW THERE IS FROZEN FOOD OUT! WE’LL DEAL WITH IT! GET ON YOUR STATION BEFORE I WRITE YOU UP!”

I logged into my register and got to work. And yes, there were two busloads of teenagers on a retreat stopping in for lunch. The dining room was packed beyond capacity.

I forgot about the entire thing as just another crazy day at work until two days later when I got a call from the general manager. From the way his voice was quivering, I could tell that he was desperately employing every form of self-restraint he could muster.

General Manager: “You were assigned delivery on Monday, were you not?”

Me: “Yes?”

General Manager: “And you know that it’s your job to finish everything properly, especially with our perishables and frozen products, right? Right?!“

Me: *Springing up* “I’m not the one who put it all away—”

General Manager: “Oh, I quite saw that. You have exactly fifteen seconds to give a logical and rational explanation of why the freight elevator is full of frozen and perishable foods that have been sitting here for two days, or you can consider Monday your last day here and turn in your uniform. Start talking!”

I frantically blurted out what had happened between me and the shift manager. As I spoke, I noticed that the general manager’s voice became frighteningly calm as he would quietly interject with, “Really… Is that so? Reaaaally… Mmhmm…”

General Manager: “Okay, time out. Just so we are both clear on this. You were working on delivery. [Manager] pulled you off delivery, despite the fact that I assigned you for it, and later she told [Employee] to finish it up — an employee who has only been here a month and has never even worked delivery before and probably didn’t even know about the freight elevator since it’s out of sight. Do I have that correct?”

Me: “Yes! I tried to tell her—”

General Manager: *Eery calmness* “No! No-no-no. We’re all set. You’re in the clear. See you at five.” *Click*

I showed up for my shift and noticed several crew members wore uncomfortable looks on their faces throughout the day. The shift manager in question was working that day as well. She was stone silent and looked like she was ready to burst into tears at any given moment. When she spoke with any customer, her voice was forced and raspy and maintained a constant quiver.

As the assistant manager cashed me out at the end of my shift, he told me with a chuckle what had happened.

Assistant Manager: “You know how in the Mortal Kombat games, at the end of the fight, the screen gets dark and an ominous voice goes, ‘FINISH HIM!’? That’s just about what happened. When you told [General Manager] what happened and he got off the phone with you, that was the part of everything going dark and that voice saying, ‘FINISH HER!’ I have never in my time here heard that man scream as loud as he did at that woman. The office door was closed, but the whole building could hear it — dining room and all! He completely shredded her! Then, the store owner called in and ripped her apart on top of it. I mean, that was well over $10,000 of revenue that had to be trashed! Safe to say, that’s never going to happen again.”

I gave a relieved laughed, and we went our ways. Sometimes, it really is best for the boss to listen to what the employee has to say and not be so focused on being in charge!

I worked in a rather toxic library with terrible management. I had a coworker who was diagnosed with prosopagnosia (face blindness) during my employment. She wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t recognize anyone — she got to learn all our faces eventually — but she had an extremely difficult time learning the names or even recognizing our regular patrons.

Our boss was the exact opposite. After meeting someone one time, she knew everything about them: their families, where they worked, where they went to school, etc. It really was an amazing memory. But as a result, our boss couldn’t understand why [Coworker] struggled.

About once a month, our boss took my coworker around and introduced (or reintroduced) her to everyone who happened to be in the library at the time. It was during this that [Coworker] was going through appointments to get diagnosed with prosopagnosia, so I forget at which time exactly [Coworker] was formally diagnosed with the condition in relation to all these events.

During these tours, our boss would chat with our regulars. “It’s great to see you again! How is your statistics class?” “Hello, it’s been a while! How are your three kids? How are your two dogs?” “Wow! Look how much taller you’ve gotten over the past year!” Those kinds of things. All the while, my coworker just looked very bewildered as she tried to process a dozen names and faces and life stories all at once. Afterward, my boss would ask [Coworker] about people’s names, and she couldn’t do it. My boss expressed great disappointment in my coworker.

Boss: “So much of our job is community outreach and relationship building! How can you give good customer service if you don’t know anyone’s names?”

Coworker: “I’m polite to everyone and try to help them to the best of my ability.”

Boss: “You need to know our people! Come on, this one is easy. They’re here all the time. What’s his name?”

She pointed to a little toddler boy.

My coworker was just speechless and looked as if she was going to cry. She just shook her head and pointed out that there were THREE blond toddler boys running around our library at that moment and she couldn’t tell any of them apart. To be honest, I couldn’t tell them apart myself, and I’m there more often than [Coworker] and don’t have prosopagnosia. 

My boss sent my coworker into the back where I found her crying five minutes later. She was terrified she was going to get fired, written up, or (most likely) docked in her upcoming employee review because she couldn’t tell faces apart and couldn’t recall the names of people she only meets once a month. I did my best to reassure her and pointed out that [Boss] has an exceptional people-based memory and that not everyone is like that. I could maybe only name a third of the patrons present on that day, after all. 

Of course, this being [Boss], she didn’t let up. Now, it was a well-known fact that [Coworker] was a huge fan of “Steven Universe,” so my boss took [Coworker] aside one day — though not far enough since we all heard the conversation.

Boss: “Listen, [Coworker]. If you can tell apart all the characters in Steven Universe, you can tell apart the children who come into our library.”

Coworker: “It’s not the same! In Steven Universe, they’re all different colors, for one. And second, they all have really different designs. It’s like saying that just because I can tell a cat is not a dog, I should be able to tell one little blond boy apart from another little blond boy.”

Boss: “Think of it this way, [Coworker]. It’s not as if a Steven Universe character is going to walk through our doors. You’re much more likely to meet real people, and you need to put an effort into remembering their names. It’s like you care more about fictional characters than our real patrons.”

Coworker: “That’s not true at all! My brain just literally doesn’t remember them! I try and try and try, and as soon as they look away, my brain tosses out all information related to them.”

She was once again almost in tears.

Boss: “It’s a matter of priorities, [Coworker]. If you can remember Steven Universe, you can remember real people.”

I wound up leaving the library myself shortly after this due to the toxic nature of that boss, among many other things. I never did hear if [Coworker] pursued the issue with the Union or the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission due to what likely qualified as disability discrimination, especially once she got her formal diagnosis. I did a bit of reading on my own about prosopagnosia — enough to know that our boss was being MASSIVELY unfair and unfactual, as the part of the human brain that processes 2D images (like “Steven Universe” would be) is completely different than the part of the brain that processes facial recognition.

I am waiting outside my store for my late shift cover to show up to open. A dude walks up to me and hands me a $20. I am a large, bearded man and am bundled up in my trench coat as it is February.

Me: “Oh, I’m not homeless. I’m a shift supervisor here. Thanks, though, that’s really thoughtful.”

I try to hand him the twenty back.

Customer: *With an air of superiority* “You work here? You need it more than I do, then.”

That was my greatest challenge in maintaining composure.

I am attending one of the largest furry conventions. When I first arrive and am still in the process of getting everyone signed in and organized, I overhear a woman in the lobby loudly complaining.

Guest: “I don’t approve of there being a furry convention at the same place I am staying! Whoever arranged my stay should have checked with me for something like this! I tell you, I’ll have someone’s head for this when we get back!”

Me: “Oh, here. How about mine?”

I then promptly took the head off of my fursuit and offered it to the woman.

She was less than amused by this generous offer and stormed off.