I took a job that requires traveling to different states for long periods of time, sometimes over a year at each assignment. I got a PO Box at my first assignment and requested that all of my mail be forwarded to that PO Box. When I moved to my next assignment, I went online and applied to move my PO Box to a post office near my next place.

In order to finalize the transition, I had to go to the new post office and present my ID. It was a few weeks before Christmas, and the office was slammed, with one employee behind the desk.

At first, I felt bad for her, then I heard her talking to the people waiting in line. To summarize, the first person wanted to buy a single stamp but she would only sell the entire book and the second was asking to buy a roll of tape to affix a shipping label to a box, but the employee kept repeating that she could do nothing until the label was attached to the box (while standing beside a display filled with rolls of tape for sale).

Finally, it was my turn.

Me: “Hi, I’m transferring my PO Box here.”

Employee: “You what?”

Me: “I transferred my PO Box to this location?”

Employee: “Okay, and?”

Me: “You … need to verify my ID?

Employee: “Okay, so give it here.” *She takes my IDs.* “Nope. Next!”

Me: “Wait, why?”

Employee: “You gotta have a Georgia ID for a PO Box.”

Me: “No I—”

Employee: “—Yeah. Next!”

I left instead of arguing, but I did call customer service to verify that I was correct.

Customer Service: “Well, you do not need an in-state ID to open a PO Box, much less transfer one. Will you be able to go back tomorrow?”

Me: “I can.”

Customer Service: “Okay, my name is [Name], and I will be there from [hours].”

Me: “Thank you.”

I went back the next day, and the same woman was at the desk.

Employee: “I already told you—”

Me: “—I spoke with [Name], who confirmed that I do not need an in-state ID, and she said she would be here today. Please go get her.”

Employee: *Rolls her eyes.* “This is ridiculous. You went and told because you didn’t like the way I was talking to you.”

Me: “Please get [Name].”

[Name] came out and processed my transfer with ease. [Employee] stood by, glaring at me the entire time. I smiled and waved to both as I left with my new PO Box keys.

I work at a Dairy Queen. One wintry day, it is roughly -30°C (about -22°F) and the wind is absolutely howling; it’s the kind of weather that makes you regret having skin. But it’s not snowing, which means driving is quite safe, which means the city is as busy as ever – as much as many of us would rather stay home than even walk between a warm car and a warm building. As such, we’re getting quite a few customers.

Or, rather, we should be. 

I have one customer eating in; the rest are going through the drive-thru. They’re also LEAVING, without placing any orders, and because of the layout of this location, I am fully aware of the cause – my coworker, who is manning the drive-thru window. I try and stop it from happening, and am constantly insulted in return. It’s not long before the manager comes out of his office, looking equal parts upset and confused.

Manager: “Okay, what is going on? I keep seeing customers come up to the drive-thru and then speeding through so fast it’s a miracle they’re not crashing in this wind. Why isn’t anyone placing any orders?”

Me: “Because every time a customer comes here, to a business best-known for selling ice cream, and places an order that contains ice cream, this jacka**, who works for a business best-known for selling ice cream, insults them for ordering ice cream, and tells them to order something other than ice cream.”

Manager: “What the h***?! [Coworker], is this true?”

Coworker: “It’s f****** minus thirty! What sort of dumb s*** eats ice cream in the middle of winter?”

Manager: “People who like ice cream! Are you seriously telling me you are mistreating our customers and refusing to take people’s orders because you wouldn’t order the same thing?”

Coworker: “I’m not taking those orders because they’re f****** stupid!”

A brief shouting match ensued; [Manager] ended up firing [Coworker] on the spot and taking over the drive-thru for himself.

Customer: “I’m looking for [product]. It’s usually right here, but you’ve gone and moved it again!”

Me: “Normally it would be there, ma’am, but the product has been discontinued by the manufacturer. I know that because I buy [product] too, so it’s very annoying.”

Customer: “Well, why the h*** would you do something stupid like that?!”

Me: “Why would I… buy it?”

Customer: “No! Discontinue it! Why would you do that?!”

Me: “Ma’am, we didn’t discontinue the product; the manufacturer did.”

Customer: “Well then, why did you let them?!”

Me: “It’s not up to us. The manufacturer can do whatever they want.”

Customer: “You need to call them up and tell them to bring it back.”

Me: “You can message them via their website to let them know you’re upset about their decision, but here at [Store] we can’t do much.”

Customer: “No, you need to call them up and tell them that Mrs. Rosenberg is very disappointed with them; they’ll know who I am; I buy one every week, and that I demand them to bring it back.”

Me: “Again, ma’am, that’s something you’ll have to do yourself.”

Customer: “No, you need to do it for me.”

Me: “I can’t, ma’am.”

Customer: ” Don’t get in my way. I’m used to having people do things for me, and I’m used to getting what I want.”

Me: “I can tell, ma’am.”

Mrs. Rosenberg did not get her way that day, even after speaking to me, my supervisor, the store manager, and finally the regional manager over the phone. Some people just have time to burn…

I’m grabbing a few things from the local store on New Year’s Eve. I’ve gone early before any last-minute rushes. The self-checkout machines are scanning super slowly, and then they totally crash. The other customers all seem to have the same issue. We look around for the attendant, but there doesn’t seem to be one. 

I walk up to the customer service desk to see a worker there on the phone. At first, I wait a moment out of politeness, but then it becomes apparent that this is not a work call:

Worker: “So what time are we getting to the party?”

Pause.

Worker: “No, girl, that’s too early.”

Me: “Ahem.”

Worker: “What are you wearing?”

Me: “Excuse me.”

Worker: “No, I’m at work.”

The worker looks up at me, and we make eye contact.

Worker: “It’s okay. It’s totally dead here…”

Me: *Loudly.* “I’m not a ghost!”

The worker tuts and says she “has to go” to her friend. I tell her about the self-checkouts and point to the area that is now ballooning with waiting customers. The worker’s eyes bug out, and she calls a manager over to fix it.

It’s Christmas Eve, and one of my flakey, lazy coworkers comes over to me.

Coworker: “Yo, can you work my shift tomorrow?”

Me: “Christmas Day? Hard pass.”

Coworker: “But it’s not like you even celebrate Christmas!”

Me: “Huh? What makes you think I don’t celebrate Christmas?”

Coworker: “Aren’t you Muslim?”

Me: “Uh…no? But even if I was, Christmas isn’t all that religious these days anyway.”

Coworker: “Oh… but you look Muslim!”

Me: “Pray tell, [Coworker], what does a Muslim look like?”

Coworker: “Like… brown?”

Me: “That’s a tan, you idiot, and I’m Filipino!”

Coworker: “Oh… Do Filipinos celebrate Christmas?”

Me: “Dude… It’s like one of the most Catholic countries in the world.”

Coworker: “Oh… so about tomorrow’s shift?”

Me: “Are you Christian?”

Coworker: “…uh, sure.”

Me: “Awesome! I’ll see you at the midnight mass at [local church] tonight, then?”

Coworker: “…whatever.”

[Coworker] moves on to trying to get someone else to take his Christmas Day shift.

I’m Filipino, but a suuuuper lapsed Catholic, so I gladly stay home with family that night and sleep in the next morning. My boss calls me asking if I would come in to cover [Coworker], who, shockingly, did not show up for their shift. I gracefully declined, and when I went back to work on the 26^th, I was told that [Coworker] had been fired for too many no-shows.