(I have a coworker who is doing his job terribly. He has a permanent contract, so getting rid of him is not easy, according to my manager. If he doesn’t like doing a chore, he only does it half. He leaves important documents laying about — we have a clean desk policy — doesn’t lock his pc, leaves a heater unattended — fire risk — and even once didn’t close the door of the office building, allowing people to get in an out. One day, I enter the office and notice things lying about once more. While I clean up, my manager enters the building.)

Me: “Good morning, [Manager]. Let me ask. [Coworker] was last to leave yesterday?”

Manager: “How did you know?”

Me: “Well, he left the heater on and these documents… Could you put these documents away for me, please?”

Manager: “Sure!”

(My manager leaves and I set up shop for the day, starting thirty minutes late due to my coworker. I then start looking at the email in a shared inbox; all team members have access to this box. Due to a coincidental misclick, I accidentally click on “sent items” and I notice the top email.)

Email: *from [Coworker] to his private email address* “I will have to decide what to do about [Employee]. She is incredibly hot and I don’t want to lose her. But why does she want me to close? I really want to.”

(What follows next is a quite graphic description of what he wants to do with her in an exotic way. I don’t think the object of his affection is in any danger, but this is really, really too much info and absolutely inappropriate text for the workplace. I call my manager.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager], could you please take a look at the sent items in [shared box]? I’m seeing a rather… personal email from [Coworker], and I don’t really know what to do with this.”

Manager: “All right, what did he send?”

(At first my manager is humming, which he often does, but then he goes silent. I can’t even hear him breathe any more.)

Manager: “All right, [My Name], thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll take care of this, but please, don’t mention this to anyone, not even [Coworker].”

(I don’t know if anything will be done about this. My manager deleted or moved the email from the sent box, so no one else will read about it. I don’t mind keeping this silent, since it was most likely a mistake — sent through the wrong account — and it was personal, but boy, I did not want to know all that.)

(My family loves the food from a local Chinese place that delivers, although their customer service leaves something to be desired. Once they accidentally double-charged my credit card and refused a refund, only offering a credit to our account. That left a sour taste in my mouth, but since I have the credit, I decide to order again.)

Operator: “Okay, and your card number for the purchase?”

Me: “I should have a credit on my account from last time. Can you look?”

(After about a five-minute wait, they get back on the line.)

Operator: “Okay, it will be there in forty-five minutes.” *hangs up*

(An hour passes so I call to check on the order.)

Me: “Yes, I am just checking on the status of a delivery? It’s been about an hour since I called in.”

Operator: “Hold, please.”

(Another five minutes pass.)

Operator: “Yeah, it’s on its way.”

Me: “But I didn’t tell you my na—“ *clicks*

(Another thirty minutes passes, so I call to tell them never mind.)

Me: “Yes, it’s been an hour and a half, so I’d like to cancel my delivery.”

Operator: “Okay, what’s your name?”

(I tell them.)

Operator: “Hmm, I don’t see any orders placed under your name tonight.”

Me: *laughs incredulously* “Okay, why am I not surprised.”

Operator: “Do you want to place an order?”

Me: “No. No, I don’t. Goodbye.”

(It’s been a few months, and I think this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.)

(My freshman class is reading “The Odyssey.” I have long been a fan of Greek mythology, so whenever the teacher asks, “Does anyone know what [something] refers to?” I am often the first person to raise my hand and answer.)

Teacher: “Does anyone know what the Labyrinth was?”

Me: *raises hand*

Teacher: “[My Name], how about we give the other students a chance to answer?”

Me: *drops hand*

Teacher: “Well? Does anyone know what the Labyrinth refers to?”

(There is an awkward minute of silence as no one else raises their hand.)

Me: *tentatively raises hand*

Teacher: *sighs heavily and puts his face in his hands* “Go ahead, [My Name].”

(I am teaching a fairly large first-year physics class. After an exam has just been returned, two students visit me during office hours; it’s the first time I’ve seen either of them there all term. Only one speaks; the second student stands silently behind her friend and glares.)

Student #1: “We’ve heard you do re-grades.”

Me: “Sure. Can you show me where you disagree with your scores?”

Student #1: “We don’t disagree with anything specific; we just want a re-grade.”

Me: “Sorry, but there are almost two-hundred students in this class. I can’t just grade everyone’s exam again, but I’ll be glad to discuss any specific questions you have.”

([Student #2]’s glare grows more intense as if she is trying to incinerate me on the spot.)

Student #1: “Well, can’t you just give us some extra points?”

Me: “No. Why would I do that?”

Student #1: “Because we cared enough to come in.”

Me: “All that proves you care about is your grade.”

([Student #2] passes the “Glare Event Horizon.” I’m pretty certain she’s still glaring to this day.)

Student #1: “But you’re supposed to want us to care about our grades!”

(A prolific chain has started the ability to order online and have them load up your car when you arrive for groceries. I have never used it before this because they aren’t all that close to where I live, and the grocery store is literally two blocks away. Normally, my wife does the shopping herself while I watch our son, but I do not want to be in the house on my day off, so I go with her. She knows where everything is and it doesn’t take us too long to get what we need. The store is pretty busy in anticipation for a winter storm coming in, and it looks like almost every register is open. We are waiting in line when the previous people move up, and suddenly a woman and her three kids cut us off with a cart full and start to unload directly onto the belt.)

Me: *to my wife* “What the…”

Wife: *sighs* “People here do that all the time!”

Me: *to woman* “Take it all off, now.”

(The woman ignores me and starts to unload faster.)

Me: *to cashier* “Hey, I know you saw that. Are you going to do anything about this?”

Cashier: *just looks at me defeated* “I can’t, really…”

Me: “Okay, then. You deal with the consequences.” *to my wife* “Leave it. Leave all of it. We’re going somewhere else.”

Wife: “What?!”

Me: “Leave the cart here. If there are no consequences, people will keep doing it. Make them suffer for it. Come on.”

(I take my son out of the cart and start to walk away. At first, my wife doesn’t know if I am serious, and after I take a few steps away, she follows me.)

Cashier: “Sir! SIR! You can’t leave that here! SIR!”

(I keep walking out and wave him off as a manager comes rushing up to us, trying to stop me, but I keep walking.)

Manager: “Sir, what is the problem?”

Me: “A woman ran in front of us as I approached the belt and began unloading. Your cashier said he wouldn’t do anything about it. You can put all those groceries back yourself, then. If you’re going to encourage bad behavior, encourage this.”

(I continue to walk out, and when we get into the car my wife is a little heated.)

Wife: “Now what?”

Me: *pulling out my phone* “Drive to [Specific Store]. I’ve got this covered.”

(I proceeded to do the shopping through their app from everything on our list. By the time we got there, the order was ready slightly ahead of us and we had them load it up into the car. Turns out my little stunt/temper tantrum had a small bit of an effect, because my wife said the next time she went in that store, they were telling people they couldn’t cut ahead in the lines anymore and she has only had it be a problem a handful of times since then.)