I was nineteen and had just entered the world of retail after graduating from high school. I knew that customers would be very immature and entitled, but I never expected one of my coworkers to be like that, as well. Unfortunately, I would learn that I had a lazy and entitled coworker — but mostly lazy.

[Lazy Coworker] was not very well-liked by anyone in general, and it was plain to see why. He would often ignore his task of attending the registers and would find anything else he could do to occupy his time. He would process film that was either going in or out, which was fine, but he would do this when customers were present. He also liked to fill the cigarettes, but the problem was that you only opened a new carton when there were two or fewer packages in a slot. [Lazy Coworker] would fill every spot, whether or not it needed to be filled. If he ran out of room, he just put them in the next spot, lather-rinse-repeat.

Another thing about him I hated was that he ignored our protocol about calling for backup when we had three or more customers in line. I would go to do something and come back to see that he had a line of at least half a dozen customers, yet had not once bothered to call for backup. He was very slow with how he did transactions and was even notorious for rounding off with change amounts.

To round things out, he was notorious for making personal phone calls on the clock. Initially, he would ask to make a “quick phone call”. From there he would call one of his friends and chat with them, and then he’d disconnect and call another friend. He would do this numerous times during his shifts, and eventually, he got so comfortable doing it that he stopped asking permission.

Worst of all, he always seemed to target me with his unusual form of workplace bullying. He was very condescending and treated me like a child who didn’t know what they were doing, such as telling me which buttons to press, what type of tender he was using, etc., all while scanning his own items, which really felt demeaning. He also called me goofy nicknames that I did not like at all.

His other method was trying to get me to work his extensively long shifts — like ten hours long — or stay until closing when I was supposed to get off before him, all because he had some kind of emergency situation that he had to take care of. If I said no, he would beg me continuously until I caved in. After several times, I put my foot down and vowed not to cave in anymore.

Unfortunately, despite supervisors telling him not to ask me to work for him, he never got the message and continued pleading with me to work his shifts. One time, I tried explaining that he would have to switch shifts with me and he threw a tantrum. I was shocked; here I was, a high school graduate who was more mature and had more common sense than this guy who was at least twenty years my senior.

The management understood that we didn’t like him, but they couldn’t fire him. They claimed that he was one of the few workers who could work the closing shifts, and unfortunately, because I had full availability, I had to deal with him a lot.

Things finally came to an end a little over a year after I started when he broke his ankle and was out of work while getting workman’s compensation. His entitlement and ego apparently got the best of him, since he was apparently looking at it like a paid vacation and never kept in touch with the store. They took that as a sign that he didn’t care about his job, so they let him go.

It still mystifies me how someone older than a teenager could act so immaturely. Another mystery for the times.

I’m at my local pharmacy picking up prescriptions and an energy drink, breakfast of champions. The clerk is an older woman who is always super friendly and competent but not very assertive. She greets me and I hear something off in her voice; I look over and there’s this dude standing next to her register. He is standing about where you would if you were checking out, only leaning on the counter so that actual customers have to walk around him and wedge themselves awkwardly between him and the credit card input in order to pay.

I clock him immediately; I know his type all too well. I make eye contact with the clerk and she is keyed up. He keeps talking at her. It’s obvious he’s settled in for the evening and has no intention of going anywhere. It is even more obvious that the clerk is extremely uncomfortable.

As I walk past the photo counter, I see the manager standing and making small talk with another employee, in full sight of the register where his clerk is being harassed by what appears to be someone who’s not a paying customer. Doing nothing, of course.

As I said, I know this type. I also know how to antagonize them. Mostly, you just make a point of not being friendly to them when they think you should be.

We make eye contact as I’m coming up to pay. (I am female and small.)

He gets a big grin on his face.

Guy: “Well, hey there!”

I give him a look that I hope conveys the sentiment, “I don’t know you. Don’t you dare come one step closer.” He shifts his weight off of the counter to do just that, and I veer widely around him.

Guy: “Whoopsie-daisy, sweetheart. That’s okay; you’re not in the way!”

He reaches out to put his arm around my shoulder. I duck and veer so that it slides awkwardly across my back instead and bark:

Me: “NO. Do not TOUCH ME.”

Everyone in sight turns to stare at us. He starts backing off with his arms out.

Guy: “Hey, hey, I’m not doing anything.”

Me: “DO NOT TOUCH ME AGAIN!”

Just as the manager finally came up, Mr. Touchy-Feely just high-tailed it out the door.

I had used up all of my confrontation energy for the night, so instead of turning to the manager and giving him a piece of my mind, I just gave him a Look — one that said, “This is what I have to deal with when I come to your store?”

Dear reader, I must confess: I may have sneered.

I am a forty-year-old white woman of comfortable means, and I truly believe that it is my duty to use the Entitlement powers with which I have unwillingly been bestowed to further the causes of truth and justice, or at least make people able to get through their shifts without having to kiss a harasser’s hindquarters.

The clerk whispered, “THANK YOU! I thought he would be here all night!” as I checked out.

My friend’s flatmate was working for a big advertising agency on a sponsored working visa. Apparently, if he lost his job, he couldn’t stay in the country. One day, he was called into the Creative Director’s office.

Creative Director: “Stand by the window and look at that window on the building across the way.”

Employee: “Why?”

Creative Director: “Just keep looking at it.”

He stood there for ten or fifteen minutes while the Creative Director went back to working on his computer. He went to move.

Employee: “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

Creative Director: “It’s really important to our next major campaign that you just stand there, keep looking, and don’t move.”

Eventually, the Creative Director said:

Creative Director: “Okay, I’m done. You can go now.”

He provided no explanation. As my mate’s flatmate left the room, he noticed that his shadow had been blocking the sun from the Creative Director’s monitor. 

He had spent over an hour staring out of a window so the Creative Director could finish writing a presentation without screen glare.

I’m working near the front of the store.

Customer: “Where is the toilet paper?”

Me: “It’s in the back of the store, across from toys.”

This is maybe 100 to 150 feet away. She gets all huffy, turns to her boyfriend, and says:

Customer: “I’m not walking all the way to the back of the store! Let’s go to [Other Store], instead.”

I was working my first real job as a cashier, but I was also trained in the grocery and fashion departments. For cashiers, it was our job to keep the candy section organized. The head cashier was responsible for doing any reorganization that was sent down from head office. My head cashier almost never did ours.

One day, we were informed that someone from the head office was coming, so [Head Cashier] was worked up over everything she had to do. It was a slow day, so I offered to do the reorganization for her since I knew how from working grocery. She gave me the paperwork without a thank-you and told me to do it quickly. As I worked, I marked up the paper. I was halfway done when I went to lunch.

While I was on my lunch, [Head Cashier] came in angrily waving a paper.

Head Cashier: “What do you think you are doing?!”

Shocked, I didn’t answer and stared at her.

Head Cashier: “You are doing the wrong plans!”

She then threw a paper at me.

Head Cashier: “This is the one you were doing! And this is the one you should be doing!”

And she threw the other.

I took a moment to look at the papers and saw that neither was the one I was doing since there was no writing or anything on them.

Me: “You are the one who gave me the paper before; I was doing exactly what you told me to do. And for the record, neither of these is the one I was doing.”

Head Cashier: “Well, this is the one you should be doing. You’d better fix it after you are done with your lunch!”

After lunch, I started over but shortly realized I was basically putting everything back.

One time, as [Head Cashier] walked past, I asked if she was sure it was the right one.

Head Cashier: “Just do as you’re told!”

About an hour later, I was almost done thanks to help from another cashier when [Head Cashier] came back.

Head Cashier: “Are you stupid? How hard is it to do your job properly?!”

Me: “What are you talking about? I’m doing exactly what you told me to do.”

Head Cashier: “It’s wrong!” *Holding up yet another paper* “This is the one you should be doing! Seriously, you are completely useless!”

To make it utterly clear, we were in the candy section surrounded by staff and customers.

Me: “I am sorry I am so useless and stupid. I was only trying to help you since there was so much to do, but since, technically, this is not my job, I will stop now and let you do it correctly.”

I then turned to the other cashiers and told them I was going on my coffee break.

I went to the back and the grocery supervisor, having heard the screaming, asked what was going on, so I told her.

Two days later, I was pulled into the manager’s office. Together, we realized that [Head Cashier] was like eight plans behind. First, she gave me something like plan five. Then, in the staff room, she accused me of doing plan three and made me do plan one. She actually ended up doing plan six herself, and the person from the head office noticed. If it had been plan seven, she could have claimed she hadn’t had time to switch it yet, but it was two plans off.

She was also told she cannot speak to me or any staff like that, especially in front of customers, and she was made to apologize to me in person and write me a letter. From then on, she was required to do all plans herself, and after that, no matter how crazy things were, no one ever offered to help her again.