I used to work at a pottery place where everything was hand-painted. Sometimes, some of the small details would be slightly different. I had a customer order five dessert plates in a certain pattern, but two different people had painted the plates so there was a small difference in the size of the flowers. She came in to pick them up.

Customer: *Angry* “It’s ridiculous that these aren’t exactly the same! I waited so long to get these! I desperately need them for Thanksgiving tomorrow!”

She really hadn’t waited that long.

Me: “I can offer you three of the plates for free, and you’ll need to pay for the other two. I can also give you our Black Friday sale price, so those two will be 50% off.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because it just made her even angrier.

Customer: “You can’t do that! How will you track the inventory?”

Me: “I’m the store manager. I have a few ways I can adjust the inventory.”

Customer: “You liar! You’re too young to be a manager!”

She ended up leaving after that without getting her plates.

This occurred when in the 1990s when I was a teen. We were at a church picnic, and a lady was making friendly conversation with me. She asked about my dad and when he would be back to the church. The truth was that my dad had left after endless fighting with my mom and had filed for divorce. To avoid divulging too much information, I said:

Me: “My dad is no longer around. Whether or not he comes back to the church, I’m not sure. Maybe you can ask him if you see him around town?”

Lady: “Hmmm… Okay.”

I didn’t think anything else about it. After the picnic, my mom and I rode with a good friend of our family to their house to hang out for a while. About fifteen minutes into our visit, her phone rang. Our friend casually picked it up, and as she listened to the person on the other end, her eyes began to slowly grow wider and wider to the size of freaking saucers.

Friend: “Um… excuse me? She’s actually sitting right here. Maybe you want to ask her yourself?” *Hands over the phone*

My mom took the phone, spoke briefly, and then immediately excused herself outside to continue the conversation. When she came back in, she looked seriously pissed and asked me to go into another room and amuse myself with some video games there.

As it turned out, the person on the phone was the lady at the church picnic, calling over to the friend’s house to start a rumor chain that my mom had kicked my dad out and speculating that it was because of a possible extramarital affair with the church choir leader because she’d seen them eating lunch together at a restaurant. They’d simply run into each other by coincidence, and my dad even told us about it.

Unsurprisingly, I didn’t see that lady at church services for almost the entire summer, and when she did return, she would sit in the back.

After having delivered an eCommerce site to a client, he called me on the phone, explaining that he had experienced some problems ordering products. While on the phone, I explained to him that I would do a test order to see if I could reconstruct the problem he experienced. The ordering went fine, but suddenly, he said:

Client: “Wow, I got an order from you here. You want that Jacuzzi? I’d suggest [other Jacuzzi], instead!”

Me: “As I explained to you, that was a test order. I don’t want any Jacuzzi.”

Client: “Well, you ordered one; now you have to pay. I’ll just take it off of your invoice.”

I love cooking; it’s something that has helped me massively at university. Even on a budget, I can make a whole week of meals in batches, and they taste pretty good. That turns out so well that I start selling meals to other students. I don’t charge much at all; sometimes I just use the leftovers for a meal for me.

Student: “I’m having a party. Could you do some food?”

Me: “I tend to do odd meals, not whole parties. How many people are coming?”

Student: “I don’t know, whoever turns up.”

Me: “That doesn’t help much. How much have you got to spend?”

Student: “I don’t know, £50? Can you do me a discount?”

Me: “No, no discounts. I buy the food and take a tiny bit for my time and electricity.” 

Student: “Well, how much can you do?”

Me: “I will let you know.”

I look into it and initially struggle, but I work out that if I add the £50 to my normal shopping bill, I can buy bigger batches cheaper. This would give us both more food for our money. I let the guy know how much he will be getting, and he seems happy.

He pays, and I make and deliver the food. I’m pretty happy as it’s more than I thought, it tastes good, and I have a little extra for myself.

A few weeks later:

Student: “I’ve heard you’re selling my party food.”

Me: “I made extra. I’m selling that.”

Student: “But I paid for that; it’s mine.”

Me: “No, you paid for the food you received and were happy about it. You got plenty of food for your money.”

Student: “I’m telling everyone you’re stealing from them.”

Me: “I knew this would happen. Here is the receipt. This is what I used to cook your food. Look familiar?”

He gives me a blank stare.

Me: “See how the amount is more than the £50 you gave me? That is because I bought more than I needed, and what was left over, I used to make the stuff I’m selling.”

Student: “But you’re profiting from my food.”

Me: “What, did you expect me to do it for free?”

Student: “This isn’t on. I’m telling everyone.”

Me: “Tell people I’m selling food for a profit, using my time, my expertise, and my electricity bill. Yeah, I’m sure that they will be appalled.”

He tried to start a massive slander movement against me, but unsurprisingly, people didn’t care and continued to buy from me. If anything, I think business went up a little bit. I didn’t see him the next year, so I can only assume he dropped out. The fact he was studying business makes it all the more obvious why.

It is a fundamental law that even the best offices must have one insufferable bully. Mine is a fifty-eight-year-old woman who dislikes most other women, especially those younger than her. She is fine with me as she thinks of me being this meek, little thing who will roll over. And at first, she is right! But as I get healthier and wiser, I stop putting up with her game. She, therefore, trades her methods of gaslighting and manipulation for some very old-school methods of bullying and harassing: intimidation and blackmail.

Currently, I am refusing to be alone with her and have made it abundantly clear that it has to do with the fact she threatened to fire me over something that was not my fault to try and blackmail me into (again) doing her job for her. It backfired as I already had a resolution, so I immediately sent both the issue and the solution to the owner with a comprehensive, “How did this happen in the first place?”

Basically, I have made it known to her (and to the company’s owner) that we will never be alone with the door closed again nor will I pick up her calls. If she needs something from me that is work-related, she can send an email or mention it in the morning meetings with everyone else present.

Today, though, she sees that I am alone in my office and decides to try once more to offer me “friendship” and “comradery” — aka gaslighting and love-bombing. She starts it by making her presence known by loudly locking and unlocking the main door several times and banging on it in between.

Bully: “Yooooo-hoooo. Anyone here?”

Me: *Sigh* “Hello.”

Bully: “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

I shrug and continue working. The easiest way to get her to leave is to ignore her and not engage. Any form of engagement will result in her thinking she has a free pass to continue.

Bully: “I have been meaning to talk to you about something. It is work-related.”

Me: “Okay. Let’s bring it up in the morning meeting in an hour. I am busy right now.”

Bully: “I—” 

She pauses and looks over my shoulder at something. The parking lot is in that direction, so I know why she turns white as a sheet.

Bully: “Is— Is [Owner] here?”

I look around the dimly lit office, knowing she knows what his car looks like.

Me: “Well, obviously, no.”

Bully: “I got to go.”

She TORE it out the door to go upstairs where her office was located. Turns out, she’d thought [Owner] was already here and in his office, and therefore, she thought she could corner me while he wasn’t paying attention. She’d seen [Owner] pulling into the parking lot through my window and panicked.

She never did bring up what her “work-related” issue was in the morning meeting. It was probably another grand speech about how “us gals” got to stick together against “those boys” (and other women). Barf.