My neighbour and I are discussing his eldest son, who he just can’t motivate into work or further education. Having an adult in the house bringing in no money yet expecting to get paid for every holiday, day out, takeaway, etc., is draining the bank account and causing frustration.

I suggest getting him a job where I work. They are pretty open to training people, and if I take him, my neighbour knows his son will be there every day.

The son gets a job and I take him to and from work. He often isn’t ready in the morning, but he whines every time I’m not at the car waiting to drive him home. No thanks, no pleasantries. He complains constantly about everything: the job, my car, his parents, etc.

He’s just a bit of an ungrateful brat, honestly.

He impresses everyone by sticking at it for three months. I hear that he is getting into a lot of trouble at work, but he hasn’t got fired yet, so that’s a plus. 

One day, I’m called into a meeting with my boss [Manager #1], the kid’s boss [Manager #2], and another senior manager. I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.

Manager #1: “Oh, good. You’re here. Where is the other one?”

Manager #2: “On his way.”

I’m even more nervous, but then, who walks through the door but my neighbour’s son.

Manager #2: “We’ve had a number of complaints about your son.”

Senior Manager: “He’s rude and disrespectful, and frankly, after several attempts, we just can’t train him.”

Manager #2: “If he doesn’t buck his ideas up soon, we will have to fire him.”

Me: “Firstly, he’s not my son — I just bring him to work — and secondly, I think you should just fire him now.”

Manager #2: “What?”

Neighbour’s Son: “What? Come on, man!”

Me: “No, you screw up and it looks bad on me. I have my own kids; I can’t afford to lose my job because of you. I’ve gone out of my way to get you this job and drive you back and forth, all with no thanks. So, yeah, do me a favour: sack him.”

Neighbour’s Son: “No, wait! I can do better!”

Me: “Yeah, yeah, heard that before.”

Manager #2: “Hang on. I think we might be being a little hasty. We could give him one more chance.”

Neighbour’s Son: “Yes, please. I will do better.”

Me: “Well, I guess.”

The meeting dissipates. My manager pulls me to one side.

Manager #1: “Pretty ballsy. How did you know he wouldn’t fire him?”

Me: “Oh, they never fire anyone without going to a written warning, even when that guy set fire to the place. Now perhaps [Neighbour’s Son] will get on with it.”

To be fair, he did. No more complaints, and he actually spoke to me and thanked me for taking him to work. He started to pay his dad for some of the bills and is working toward getting his own car.

It’s not the nicest thing I’ve ever done, but it did work!

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I’m the author of this story.

I’m in a meeting with a guy from the IT department, trying to sort out a security program for our public computers. The IT guy, being a professional IT guy who mostly works with other professional IT guys, is having problems understanding the average patron’s IT skills.

In the middle of my meeting, one of my coworkers knocks on my door.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], one of the public computers won’t connect to the Internet. You need to come and fix it.”

Me: “Did you check that all the cables are connected?”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Me: “Did you try to reboot it?”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, we’re in luck today because [IT Guy] is here. I’m sure he’ll be able to figure out this emergency.”

We all march out to look at the computer. I immediately spot the problem. 

Me: “Well, would you look at that? The network cable has been disconnected. Didn’t you say you checked them?”

Coworker: “Well, I can’t be expected to know how to do that!”

She wanders off. The IT guy turns to gape at me.

IT Guy: “Wow.”

Me: “Yep. And she’s supposed to be an information specialist. I rest my case.”

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How Do These People Operate Their Cars To Get To Work?!

I worked for a gym years ago. Some of our “regulars” were homeless people from a nearby camp who used the gym to shower. They were all pretty nice, but one guy told me he watched to see if my car was there and made sure to come in when he knew I was working.

Then, we got a kiosk in the mall, and he found me there and followed me around. An employee at a nearby store showed me this dude’s mugshot with a charge for something inappropriate with a minor. I was twenty at the time, but I was often mistaken for a teenager. Naturally, I got even more uncomfortable.

My coworker went to our manager because she and a few members were concerned about this guy. My manager told me to stop “spreading rumors” about members and did nothing.

I usually closed the gym. We closed at 11:00 pm, and I was alone. One of the guys from the camp was very large and intimidating. He told me about all these fights he was getting into on the street. I got in trouble with that same manager for not closing on time. I didn’t close on time because the big scary dude would work out until exactly 11:00 pm and then spend at least thirty to forty-five minutes in the shower.

I told my manager he could come tell the dude to leave.

I work in a department that is connected to everything and we typically research where a process went wrong. I assist in updating procedures and cleaning up current FUBARs where someone didn’t follow procedures. I try to be as proactive as I can to assist departments when projects are going on or when new processes are launching.

I notice that a new project is going live in thirty days, so I check all of the entries to make sure everything is set up correctly. I see that the main entry has not been done yet. If this is not done, it will not work; the members will not be able to access the program without a lot of hassle. I have access to the system and can fix it with a couple of keystrokes, but this is something [Project Manager] has gotten on, saying they are the project manager and it’s their responsibility. So be it.

I send an email to [Project Manager] and their team stating that they have thirty days and this new step needs to be completed. I don’t get a response.

Two weeks later, I check on the project and show that it still hasn’t gotten completed, so I send another email to [Project Manager], their team, and their manager. No response.

One week before launch, it’s still not updated. I send a third email to [Project Manager], their team, their manager, and the VPs with “Urgent” in the title.

Three days before launch, it’s still not updated. I set up an urgent meeting with [Project Manager], their team, their manager, the VP, and my manager with a message that we have a project going live in three days and that it will not work correctly for the members.

At the meeting, [Project Manager] tries to throw me under the bus, stating that it is my responsibility to update a system that I technically do not have access to with the new steps as I was the one that required them in the security update my team set out.

My Manager: *To the VP* “Are you going to start paying [My Name]’s salary if they’re going to be taking over [Project Manager]’s duties?”

VP: *To me* “Why did you look in on the project if it was outside your role?”

Me: “It becomes my responsibility on day one of rollout to coordinate damage control and fix issues. As [Project Manager] is typically why I am called in at 2:00 am, I have learned to keep an eye on their projects.”

[Project Manager] suddenly dropped from the call, and the VP stated that they would have it taken care of by the end of the day, which they did. 

For the next few rollouts, I did not see [Project Manager] listed on any of them, which would have affected their bonus, all because they didn’t want to spend three to five minutes updating a system form.

My dad cannot leave my youngest sister alone to go shopping and bringing her with him is inconvenient, so he usually sends me and my middle sister, much to our displeasure. I’m around fifteen or sixteen and my middle sister is around ten or eleven. It’s only a twenty-minute walk between our house and the supermarket.

Because he’s a fussy sod who won’t drink tap water, every time, we have to get multiple two-litre bottles of lemonade. Usually, we spread the weight across our backpacks, but today, we forgot to bring them, and we don’t notice until we’re at the self-checkout. Two-litre bottles of liquid and flimsy plastic shopping bags do not mix, but I mistakenly believe it will be easier to carry my two if I put them in a bag.

The walk home is a nightmare. I’m stopping every few steps to put the bags down because I’m a spindly little nerd. My sister, on the other hand, is built like an ox, holding her share like it is nothing, and getting quite impatient with how much I’m struggling. She’s also carrying less than me, because age matters more to her than how strong she is, and I’ve been pleading with her while we walk to help me. She does not care.

We’re halfway home, and it’s definitely been more than twenty minutes, and I’m panicking that our dad is going to yell at us for being late. The lemonade bag broke long ago. I’m trying to not drop anything else. I just need to get down this road of houses, cross three more roads, turn onto our street, and walk all the way down to our house at the end.

The front door of the house I’m next to opens, and I’m panicking more. Someone is trying to go somewhere, and I’m in their way, and I can’t move out of their way fast enough. My brain goes haywire imagining all the nasty things this stranger could say to me.

Instead, the little old lady who lives there passes me a sturdy bag and some advice.

Lady: “Hold the bag close to the ground and spread the handle’s weight across both arms.”

I thank her and make a note of where her house is so I can return it, despite her claiming I don’t need to.

Finally, walking is bearable again. I’m still very slow, but my hands and arms hurt less. Then, my sister walks back toward me. Naively, I hope she’s finally listened to my pleas for help. Instead, she takes out the single bottle of lemonade she was carrying and adds it to the two I’ve already been carrying. And then, she walks home without me, ignoring everything I say to her.

When I finally get home, I’m complaining to my dad about how difficult it was to walk home carrying everything in my hands with a sister who would not listen to me. 

Dad: “Tough. You need to figure out how to get on with your sister. I can’t keep intervening between the two of you. Next time, you’re not going to forget your backpacks, are you?”

I did not forget the backpacks again.