I am a white-passing femme-presenting person. It’s winter and it’s snowing, so I’m wearing a matching knit set of gloves, beanie, and scarf. Since my hair is kind of short, I like to make sure my neck is 100% protected from the cold wind by wrapping the scarf and tucking it against the lower edge of the hat firmly, leading to it vaguely looking like one long piece of knitwear.

Some old guy is standing in the middle of campus whining about democrats, Obamacare — which isn’t even available in this state at the time — and tuition, face as red as a toddler throwing a tantrum. He’s yelling at some very disinterested-looking young people who are unfortunately waiting for the bus and are thus a captive audience.

Man: “I don’t want to pay for your college! That’s your problem! It’s not fair to make me pay for your liberal arts degree! You need to pay me!”

I glance back at the sign for the dental school’s building, not twenty feet from him, which is very much not considered a liberal arts program

Me: “Sir, you’re disrupting anyone taking their pre-dental classes in that room. Please quiet down. No one cares what you think.”

Man: *Yelling* “AND WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU [ARABIC SLUR]?”

Me: “I’m a Native American. And I’m also paler than you. Maybe you should go back to your own country.”

He loses steam; he is clearly not used to being challenged by people half his size.

Man: “Uh, well! Well! The f*** do you call that dumb thing on your head?!”

I unwrap the scarf a little bit, speaking slowly to mock his intelligence.

Me: “This part is called a ‘scarf.’ The other part is a ‘hat.’”

The people waiting for the bus started laughing, causing this gigantic toddler to kick the pole for the bus sign in rage, then cuss in pain and limp away. Whenever I saw him harassing my fellow students after that, he’d put his tail between his legs and hurriedly leave like I was Satan himself.

I am a single father with an eight-year-old son. My wife was killed in a car accident when my son was three. My son’s second-grade teacher is the kind of teacher we all pray that our children can avoid; she takes great joy in yelling at children for such heinous crimes as “writing with your left hand” (which my son deals with every day, because this is the twenty-first century and I refuse to force my son to be uncomfortable when he’s writing) or “girls playing with boy’s toys” and vice versa, or “having a nickname that is different than the name on my class roster” (such as going by Katie when the class roster says Katherine).

Not only does she regularly yell at children for these oh-so-dangerous acts, but she also calls their parents afterward to ask what they will do to “fix” their child, and she often belittles their parenting skills. Several parents, including myself, have petitioned the school board to have her removed, but the school board keeps giving her “one last chance” to improve. The school principal has also voiced his belief that [Teacher] should not be in class, but he cannot fire teachers without the school board’s approval, so he’s in the same boat we are.

The final straw is when the teacher calls me with this.

Me: “Hello, [Teacher], how can I help you?”

Teacher: “Hello, Mr. [My Name]. Is Mrs. [My Name] available?”

Me: “No, she’s still in the grave, as I’ve told you many, many times now. If this is about [Son], what is it?”

Teacher: “Oh, well… [Son] was fighting with another student today.”

Me: “[Son]? Today?”

Teacher: “Yes. I have informed [Principal] of the fight, and [Son] will be given recess detention for one week as punishment.”

Me: “[Teacher], I can guarantee you that [Son] was not fighting anyone at school today. He—”

Teacher: “He certainly was! Now, please speak with him tonight about his behavior, because this is clearly unacceptable. You know, you really should find a wife. [Son] clearly needs a mother figure.”

Me: “Goodbye, [Teacher].”

I hang up before she can say another word, and the next morning, I head to the school to speak with the principal. The principal calls [Teacher] down to his office, as well.

Principal: “[Teacher], I understand you called [My Name] last night about [Son]’s fight?”

Teacher: “Yes, I did. You have my report on the fight.”

Principal: “Well, then we have a few problems. First, are you aware that [Son] was not in school yesterday? According to [School Secretary]’s notes, [My Name] called in yesterday morning because [Son] was sick and would be staying home.”

Teacher: “That’s impossible! I very clearly remember yelling at [Son] for fighting.”

Principal: “[My Name], can you verify that [Son] was at home yesterday?”

Me: “I can go get the T-shirt he puked on while we were cuddling, if that works.”

Principal: *Chuckling* “Understood. Please accept my apology for [Teacher]’s behavior. I’ll let you get home and take care of [Son]. I hope he feels better soon. [Teacher], can you stay behind for a few minutes, please?”

I said my goodbyes and headed home. A few hours later, I got an email from the school to the parents of all students in [Teacher]’s class. [Teacher] was finally fired! I later heard from other parents that, while there had been a fight, [Teacher] had knowingly falsified her report by including my son’s name, despite her own attendance records showing that she knew my son was absent that day. This prompted the school board to investigate other reports she had filed, and enough reports were found to contain false information that she was fired.

As of my writing this story, my son has recovered fully and returned to school, and his class is being taught by the school principal until they can find a long-term substitute.

This story is part of our Best Of July 2021 roundup!

Read the next Best Of July 2021 roundup story!

Read the Best Of July 2021 roundup!

It’s the summer of 2020. I joined my boyfriend on a camping trip to the woods, planning to relax while he worked. We both work in tree removal, but I didn’t have a current project. I accidentally got a job as admin support for my boyfriend’s boss after hanging around the office one day and giving Excel tips. (He didn’t know what Ctrl+F did.)

At first, I helped with building spreadsheets, reports, and sending emails for him. Every day, he asked a new task of me, and every day, I did it well. Eventually, I had developed a schedule and even included running programs to check for mistakes while I took calls to increase productivity.

My boss — the owner of the company — decided he had nothing to do with me there, so he went home (to a different state and time zone) and I ran things. There were about three months of this. I wouldn’t really hear from him except for the occasional, “How much money did we make this week?” or, “Has anyone told you you’re doing a great job?” I’m a very modest person so believe me when I say that I was great at this job. Nothing got by me. I kept everything organized and always knew where to find any kind of information I needed.

A few weeks into the fourth month, my boss came back and brought his family. His wife would hang around the office and watch me like a hawk. If I took too long of a bathroom break or doodled while on conference calls, she would tell me that I was on company time. And honestly, I didn’t mind too much; she was very nice a lot of the time and I’m pretty easygoing.

During a standdown, my boyfriend and I went home. We were having dinner with his family when my boss’s wife called. She was angry from the start of the call. “Where is [Employee]’s paperwork?” she demanded.

I told her it was scanned and in the locked folders in our company files and walked her calmly through how to find it. She then yelled at me for not organizing files. As I said, I always knew exactly where everything was. Everything she asked for, I told her where to find just off the top of my head. She demanded that, due to my incompetence, she wanted to organize all files from now on because that was her job and this was her company. I was a bit upset but didn’t let her know and apologized for any mistakes. Remember, she and her husband had not been present or in much contact for months.

Following this call, every file, paper scrap, receipt, etc., that needed filing, I sent her in an email stating that it needed filing. She eventually told me that I didn’t need to send her everything and to just file it, but I let her know that, due to my history of “incompetence,” I didn’t want to jeopardize the company or create issues by misfiling, and that it was important to me that she did her job so she could be present in her company. She hated filing. I don’t know why she did what she did, but I never let her get out of that hole she dug.

A few years ago, I worked for a furniture store in the back store. My job consisted of unloading and loading trucks, assembling furniture, and placing it on the main floor of the store. After around six months there, my supervisor announced that he had resigned, meaning his post was up for grabs. I had all the technical requirements, so I applied, but they gave the job to another one of my colleagues who had more experience, which was totally reasonable.

After maybe one year, my new supervisor just stopped coming into work for no reason; he just decided he’d had enough and he just left, no two-week notice or anything. So, while the director tried to get to him, I took over the role of supervisor as I was the one with the most experience. That meant that, combined with my regular work, I was now the one telling people what to do and when, doing the schedule, and doing all the paperwork for the shipment. Three weeks later, my colleague was officially “fired” by my director. In those three weeks, I kept doing the job of supervisor, and I was doing it pretty well so I thought that the promotion would come to me, but my director did nothing. I went to see him, explained what I had been doing, and asked if I got the promotion. He answered that I was not qualified, nor smart enough, to do this job.

After some thinking, I just decided that if I was not smart enough to do the job, then I shouldn’t do it, so I went back to doing my regular job, and I also started looking for something else.

Four or five days after I stopped filling in, my director came to see me in the back store, asking why the f*** the job wasn’t being done. After all, without me to organize it, nothing was getting out of the store to be delivered to the clients. I just reminded him of our previous meeting and he told me, “Yeah, I remember that. What I meant is that you’re not qualified to get the pay bonus for the job. You still have to do the job, you idiot!”

I have to admit, I still wonder how he thought that would work. Still a bit dumbfounded, I just told him that if I wasn’t going to get paid for it, I certainly wouldn’t do the job, and that considering we were already short staff with my old supervisor gone, he should be a bit more polite. Apparently, this was an unreasonable request, a total lack of respect to him, and worthy of firing me. I still don’t get how that would fix anything, but hey, he’s the boss.

I packed everything and left, knowing that the back store — which needed five people to operate — was now down to three, with the most experienced worker having a total of four months’ experience. It only took my boss one day to call me back, telling me that maybe he had gone overboard and that perhaps we could arrange something for the promotion.

I replied that I would not be coming back since I had a few interviews lined up. I hung up while he was still cursing at me.

After a few months at my new job, I heard some surprising news: the store had closed down after two other back store employees resigned. I have to admit that it felt good to see my old boss finally get what he deserved.

We work with heavy machinery, some of it pretty hazardous. The whole shop floor requires safety boots and chemical-resistant overalls, and some areas also need earplugs and safety glasses.

The company has decided that, because people walk between these areas and a sister site recently had a bad eye accident, the whole site will now require safety glasses.

I don’t think it’s a big deal — it’s clearly for our safety — so I wear mine without complaint. 

Some people, however, have taken massive issue with it and routinely don’t wear them or wear them on top of their head.

It has gotten so bad that anyone who “forgets” their glasses at home more than once has to go home unpaid. Anyone who refuses to wear them gets written up. Repeat offenders get escalated through the discipline process.

Most people comply. Of those that don’t, most only get told off once, but one guy constantly complains, constantly takes his glasses off when he isn’t being watched, and ridicules everyone for wearing them.

One day, [Coworker] gets caught again wearing his glasses on top of his head, this time with his head inside the machine he is cleaning, where there’s a massive risk of getting something blown into an eye.

He storms back out of the office and throws his safety glasses across the workshop. The manager sees this and follows him out, shouting after him. [Coworker] shouts back, pausing only to wipe something from the side of his eye.

But he does it with greasy hands not washed since he cleaned the machine. He gets tiny splinters of metal in his eye. Everyone thinks he is joking, but when he starts to scream in pain, they get him to hospital to pick out the metal.

I don’t think he got written up for not wearing his glasses, but I think he learnt his lesson either way.