CONTENT WARNING: Bloody Injury

We’re a tax office. We have a special stapler that was originally designed to staple corrugated cardboard sheets together, but we’ve repurposed it to staple particularly large tax returns together.

One day, I’m working on some clients’ taxes. The clients have brought their thirteen-year-old boy with them. The boy is a little rambunctious and, eventually, asks permission to leave the office and wander around outside, which his parents grant.

A little later, we hear a very loud scream.

We walk out to see that the boy has used our massive stapler to drive a staple through the back of his hand.

The clients grab their son and leave for the hospital pretty much immediately, but that leaves us with quite a lot of blood to clean up.

After that, we set up a locking cage around the massive stapler.

We later come to an agreement with the clients: they won’t attempt to sue us for medical expenses from their son’s stupidity, and we won’t attempt to sue them for the expenses associated with shutting down the office and hiring an emergency cleaning company to clean up the blood. 

Honestly, I make it seem more dire than it was. They didn’t blame us, and they were actually more worried about us suing them for cleanup expenses than anything else, which we didn’t plan on doing in the first place.

During a brief enrollment at a local community college, I was taking a Spanish class. The professor was originally from Mexico which, for some reason, a lot of his students thought was in South America. (Thank you, Kentucky public schooling.)

Eventually, he got so annoyed by this that he decided to have a whole day devoted to nothing but geography, not just to clear up where Mexico actually was, but a full-on “These are the countries in Asia, these are the countries in Europe” lesson.

When he got to Africa and mentioned Libya, a girl sitting next to me turned to her friend.

Girl: “Hey! Libya! That’s similar to labia! You know, that little dangly thing in your throat!”

I swiftly had to leave to avoid laughing like a hyena.

I am a female shopping in a major big box department store in Kentucky. The store rents out space in the main aisle passing the electronics department for a local cable and Internet provider to sell their services.

I am walking to the arts and crafts department when one of the cable and Internet provider’s representatives steps in front of my path. It is worth noting that I am originally from New York and I have been known to cuss a little bit.

Representative: “I think that you really need to sign up for my service!”

He goes into a long pitch while I am attempting to step around him, and he continually moves so I can’t walk past him.

Me: “Look, dude, I am not interested in your service! I live in an extremely remote part of the area, and your service isn’t even available where I live! Leave me the f*** alone and stop blocking me!”

I am able to get past him, and he continues to follow me to the arts and crafts department, which is a full seven aisles away from the electronics department.

I turn back to look at him.

Me: “What did I tell you?! Quit f****** following me! You are really making me uncomfortable!”

Meanwhile, an elderly employee of the store’s arts and crafts department steps into my path to confront me about cussing at the cable and Internet salesman.

Employee: “Miss, you shouldn’t cuss! All you have to do is tell him, ‘no, thank you,’ and keep walking! I am going to call the police and report you for using foul language in public!”

Me: “The dude was following me and he wouldn’t quit! What else was I supposed to do? Get me your manager now!”

The store manager is called over, and I explain what both the representative and the employee did.

Manager: “[Employee], why didn’t you stop the rep from following this young lady? And [Representative], why did you keep following her when she told you to leave her alone?”

Employee: “But she cursed, and it is offensive! No woman should be allowed to curse!”

Representative: “I just really wanted to make a sale, and she kept trying to avoid me! What else could I do?”

Manager: “Both of you are wrong! [Employee], I am going to write you up for harassing a customer! And you, [Representative]! I have received multiple complaints about you and the other reps harassing customers! Your company is about to have its lease terminated due to your behavior!”

The manager apologized to me and promises me that the incident would be dealt with.

The next time that I went into the store, the company’s booth wasn’t there, and one of the employees told me that the company’s lease had indeed been terminated! The store employee now gives me dirty looks whenever I come into the store.

I am a shelf stocker at a well-known retail and grocery store chain. I am on my lunch break, paying for my food, when the front-end manager calls me.

Front-End Manager: “[My Name], could you get the dustpan and broom and—” *pointing to a box of spilled cereal* “—clean up that spill over there?

Me: “I’m on lunch, [Front-End Manager].”

Front-End Manager: “You were asked to do something; now do it. Go over and clean the cereal.”

Me: “I can’t. I’m off the clock.”

Front-End Manager: “It’ll take you two minutes tops.”

Me: “I cannot work off the clock, [Front-End Manager]. Can you ask someone else?”

Front-End Manager: “No. I asked you, so you clean it.”

Me: “I’m not going to clean it while I’m on lunch.”

Front-End Manager: “That’s it. Come with me. Now.”

She writes me up for insubordination and makes me get the dustpan and broom. I’m not even halfway over to the cereal spill when she calls me back to the desk.

Me: “Yes, [Front-End Manager]?”

Front-End Manager: “You’re fired.”

Me: “On what grounds?!”

Front-End Manager: “Working off the clock.”

Me: “But you made me get the dustpan and broom!”

Front-End Manager: “I know. I just didn’t realize you were off the clock. You should have told me.”

Me: “I did tell you. Three times!”

Front-End Manager: “Well, I must not have heard you, then. Go clean out your locker, now. If you’re not out of this store with your things in five minutes, I will be calling the police.”

I don’t bother arguing any further at this point and go to the breakroom to clean out my locker. While I am cleaning, the store manager walks past.

Store Manager: “What’s going on?”

I told him what happened. He didn’t believe me at first, but when he confirmed it on the security footage, he was absolutely horrified. He called the front-end manager to the office to rip her a new one and sent her home early.

My firing was overturned, and the write-up was stricken from my record. As it turns out, the front-end manager didn’t even have the authority to write me up or fire me to begin with since I wasn’t in her department.

The store manager apologized for what happened but gave me a stern warning to let him know if I was ever asked to work off the clock in the future. I don’t blame him; I should have gone straight to him the moment I was asked to work off the clock.

As for the front-end manager, she had to explain her actions to the district manager, who then fired her for deliberately violating labor laws.

I work at a gelateria, and most new customers don’t know what gelato really is.

Customer: “Is it like Jello?”

Me: “No, it’s similar to ice cream, but it contains a lot less air, which gives it a richer and denser texture.”

Customer: “So… it’s a pudding?”

I end up explaining to her EXACTLY what gelato is and what it’s made from in more technical detail. 

Customer: “So, you make it out of cheese?”

Me: “…no. Milk, cream, and sugar.”

Customer: *Getting mad* “Well, why not?!”