(The auto parts store where I work offers a full-time position to a guy who interviews well and has extensive retail experience. Over the course of three weeks, we begin to suspect he lied on his resume. He’ll stick behind the counter doing nothing instead of tidying the store or helping customers. We offer to help train him further but he doesn’t seem to care. It becomes abundantly clear that he is not suited to the role so he is called into a meeting with our manager and store owner to be fired.)

Coworker: *storming out of the office* “You’re going to regret this! You can’t fire me!”

Manager: “[Coworker], you need to leave now.”

Coworker: “F*** you, [racial slur]. I was too good for this job, anyway!”

Manager: “Excuse me? What did you just call me?!”

Coworker: *runs to hide in his car*

Manager: *walks out to the car and knocks on window* “[Coworker], you need to leave or I’m calling security. But first I expect an apology for what you called me.”

Coworker: “F*** you, a**hole. I hope you lose your job, too!” *drives off*

(After he was fired, he set up multiple Facebook and Google accounts to leave negative reviews about our business, which were thankfully removed. I still see him occasionally when I visit back home, and he scurries off quickly.)

Six months after my grandfather dies we receive a letter from a bank he had a credit card with. This is strange in more than one way, being that the estate lawyer has already closed down all the accounts my grandfather had and that the letter was not sent to the estate lawyer or to us but rather to my grandfather’s old address. We only receive it by chance, seeing as we redirected all his mail to our address for a full year after the fact.

We take the letter to the estate lawyer, and when he opens it we find out that my grandfather had overpaid this particular credit card by an excess of a thousand dollars — something that the bank did not mention when the account was being closed down. Instead of transferring the existing balance to the estate, they instead put it on a prepaid credit card in my dead grandfather’s name, saying in the letter that he can use it anytime at his convenience now that his account has been closed, despite the fact that they had to receive a copy of his death certificate in order to close down the account.

This is where the real craziness begins. The bank refuses to transfer the money off of the prepaid credit card. At first, they even refuse to accept any contact from the estate lawyer, saying they have no idea who he is and that they can’t prove he isn’t trying to scam them. They will only speak to my mother, who works full time and therefore has to take time off work to contact them during business hours. Finally, after much fighting, my mother telling them multiple times that she gives them permission to speak to the estate lawyer, and sending another copy of not only the death certificate but also the lawyer’s credentials, they agree to speak to our lawyer.

A few days go past and the bank calls our lawyer, telling him that they need my mother to come into our local branch to discuss this situation with one of their representatives. My mother has to leave work early to do this and when she gets there, armed with the specific representative’s name, she is told that this is something that cannot be done in branch but rather has to be done over the phone, with the billing department. My mother calls the billing department then and there and is told by them that no, this has to be done in branch. The people at the bank location refuse to call into billing to sort this out and the billing department refuses to call the branch, both of them stating it isn’t their responsibility. By this time, the bank location has closed for the day and my mother is ushered out the door. She leaves extremely frustrated.

For the next few weeks, the estate lawyer calls and emails the bank’s billing department multiple times a day. His emails are ignored and his calls are mostly hung up on. Finally, he manages to be escalated to a manager who sends my mother back to the same specific person at the local branch but with a promise that he will call this person first and tell them exactly what needs to be done. My mother leaves work early again and gets to the bank only to be told that person has already left for the day and that she will have to come back tomorrow. In a fit of rage, my mother yells at the person at the bank that she will be contacting a specific national news organization that runs a segment about regular people being scammed by big corporations. She then calls the bank’s billing department, gives her name, and explains the situation, and tells them the same thing she told the person at the bank branch.

An hour later — and nearly a month since this whole mess began — our lawyer is called by the bank and is told that the money is being sent by certified check and should be there the next day. The situation leaves me to wonder how often this bank has done this before and how much money they’ve made off of this because other people probably weren’t as persistent as we were and most likely just gave up partway through the whole rigamarole.

(I work the overnight shift at a grocery store as a custodian, as well as occasionally assisting in stocking the shelves, usually the dog food aisle. I have a coworker who has been consistently dumb for the better part of five months, but our manager has been reluctant to let him go, as we’re short-handed and an extra body — in spite of him being relatively inept — is still an extra body. One Monday night, which is a non-delivery night where we condition the shelves and put up in-store back stock, about four hours into the shift, I’m mopping a spill on the floor and the coworker walks by with his jacket and bag. Our manager is off tonight, and we have another coworker who is the de facto supervisor in our manager’s stead. There are a couple of other coworkers, but they are working elsewhere in the store when the following occurs.)

Me: “You heading out?”

Inept Coworker: “Yeah, I’m about to pass out. I have to get going.”

(I assume, perhaps naïvely, that [Inept Coworker] has informed [Supervisor] that he is leaving, so I say goodbye and get back to my own duties. About five minutes later, I decide to take my break, go outside to get a drink from the machine, and watch as [Inept Coworker] gets picked up. Once I get my drink, I head back inside and lock the front door behind me, thinking nothing of it. Twenty minutes later…)

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], have you seen [Inept Coworker]?”

Me: “Yeah, he left about twenty minutes ago.”

Supervisor: “Who locked the door?”

Me: “I did.”

Supervisor: *curses* “He told me he was just going out for a smoke and fresh air! I told him to finish his aisles before he left.”

(He shows me that the aisles are, in fact, not complete, as there are multiple holes where he could have added the backstock and filled them.)

Me: “Oh, s***, I saw him with his jacket and bag, and just kind of assumed—”

Supervisor: “Nah, don’t worry about it; it’s not your fault. There was probably just a miscommunication there. It happens.”

(I agree, and we get back to work, picking up [Inept Coworker]’s slack and getting everything finished, as he didn’t complete frozen foods or dairy, the sections to which he was assigned. We have a third coworker take pictures beforehand. Cut to Wednesday night — I am off Tuesday — and I’m on my first fifteen-minute break, two hours into the shift, when [Supervisor] calls out to me that the manager wants to speak to me. I walk with him to the back, where our manager is talking with a very angry and defensive [Inept Coworker], who is saying that he’d definitely told [Supervisor] that he was leaving, but the minor point of contention that I need to clear up is who had locked the door behind him.)

Me: “Yeah, I locked it; I’d gone outside to the vending machine—”

Inept Coworker: *interrupting me* “No, you didn’t! I already said so!”

(He doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise, ranting about how everyone’s “snitching” on him about his work, and what he says, and what he does and doesn’t do, etc.)

Inept Coworker: “It’s like all y’all are against me or something!”

(I am pissed, since he basically called me a liar to my face, and I’m burning to ask him how much time and energy he thinks we have that we are coordinating and committing to a plot just to piss him off, but I refrain, letting [Inept Coworker] get a head full of steam all by himself. [Manager] cuts in that I have been asked a question, and to let me speak. [Inept Coworker] fumes as I explain that I went outside just as his ride pulled up to get a drink from the vending machine, and he was already gone by the time I’d locked the door.)

Me: “…so I locked the door; you just didn’t see me do it.”

Manager: *speaking to [Inept Coworker]* “So, you told [Supervisor] that you were just going out for a smoke—”

Inept Coworker: “No, I told him I was leaving! I was already done with all my stuff!”

Manager: *turning to me and [Supervisor]* “Was he?”

Supervisor: “No, he wasn’t. [Coworker #3] has pictures—”

Inept Coworker: “I don’t care what he has! I did all of the frozen aisles and dairy!”

Manager: “So, what were you doing for four f****** hours?”

(I’m assuming at this point that they’ve already discussed everything up to my involvement before I arrived at the discussion, so I step back but am still present.)

Inept Coworker: “The aisles! I told you, I finished them!”

Manager: “[Supervisor] says you didn’t, and if they have proof–“

([Inept Coworker] starts deflating at this point, muttering to himself about snitches again, saying, “Whatever.”)

Manager: “If you’re gonna mumble, you might as well speak up; we’re all adults here.”

(And in his infinite wisdom, [Inept Coworker] says the magic words.)

Inept Coworker: *as though this is a threat* “I don’t have to be here, you know.”

([Supervisor] and I exchange looks as there’s a brief pause. [Manager], who is clearly completely done with [Inept Coworker]’s attitude, draws himself up and speaks very calmly and clearly.)

Manager: “You know, you’re absolutely right. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you where the door is.” 

(There was another pause, in which [Supervisor] and I turned around and walked away. Our now former coworker gathered his stuff and left, leaving us once again to pick up his slack. Later, [Manager], [Supervisor], and I were talking, and we all came to the conclusion that, had [Inept Coworker] simply admitted there was a miscommunication and apologized for leaving on Monday, the worst-case scenario is that he’d likely have just gotten a write-up, if not merely a reprimand.)

For a while, I was a psychology major in college. The major had some interesting electives, including “psychology of animal and human interaction.” I loved animals and thought psychology was interesting so it was a no-brainer to me.

Our final, worth a considerable portion of our grade, was a group research project. Groups of four to five students had to find participants and animals, and record how people talked to the animals. Each student had to have their own set of data so that the professor could still grade our individual contributions.

Enter Lazy Classmate, who, while seeming soft-spoken and nice, absolutely refused to participate meaningfully in this project worth a huge part of our grade. He was never confrontational, but he never delivered on anything promised and we had to write his portions of the paper for him, etc. Standard useless project member things. The real surprise was when we all reviewed the final paper and data.

The lazy classmate had apparently failed to collect his data set, as well, and it was incredibly obvious. He had taken my data and copy-pasted it completely. This was an upper-level, restricted elective. He couldn’t have been that stupid, right?

He was that stupid. The teacher noticed immediately and our feedback on his contributions to the project was the final nail in the coffin. The project was graded out of 100 total, and then divided for each student. So, a 100% for an individual student was a 20/20. Imagine my surprise when the lazy student didn’t show up on the final day, and the rest of the group had found we’d all been given 25/20. The teacher had not only reported the student, but had given us his points, as well, giving us all a big grade boost right before the semester’s end.

I’ve ordered a small fabric patch with the logo of my favourite band. The product ships from Germany — I live in Canada — and the only shipping option is expedited shipping through a well-known company. As such, my item should arrive in less than a week. 

I follow the tracking and my package gets from Germany to a centre in the US practically overnight and hangs there for several days with no updates. One evening, I see that it suddenly has a notice attached. No details are given, but there was some issue.

I call the local branch for the shipping company. They look into it and tell me the package arrived at their American facility empty. At this point I ask, was the parcel observed to be empty (i.e. through x-ray, if they even go through one) or was it simply weighed? The patch weighs next to nothing, after all.

They don’t give a straight answer, but chalk it up as a lost item and tell me to get in touch with the store. 

The store is very understanding and ships a new package at no additional cost. This one, thankfully, arrives. However, I am immediately concerned.

The box, which is hilariously large for what it contains — seriously, a small bubble mailer would have been more than sufficient — is only taped across a third of the openings at each end. Fearing the worst, I open it.

It looks empty! Crap. For whatever reason, I look closer and realize the patch is lodged under the flap at the other end, very close to falling out.

This band has several high-budget videos and an insanely involved live show, but their shop can’t spare an extra two cents of tape to ensure products aren’t lost? I’m glad it arrived the second time, and they handled it very well. It just could have been easily avoided.