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Good Thing She’s Getting Out

, , , , , , | Working | February 28, 2022

My coworker has just put in her two-week notice. She hasn’t told anyone where she is going yet but has vaguely mentioned to me and one other person that she is getting into a completely different industry because she is tired of the type of work she has been doing. However, she hasn’t said this to our bosses, who are the owners of the company.

About halfway through her two weeks, a very bizarre string of events happens. I am not in the office that day, but the story is relayed to me later. Apparently, our bosses, who are both usually very chipper and friendly, spend half the day talking in their office or in hushed tones around the common areas, barely communicating with anyone else in the building. They look aggravated or upset anytime anyone passes by them. They also glare at my coworker whenever they see her.

Finally, at the end of the day, they approach her office and tell her to delete all of her online accounts related to the company while they watch. She obliges but is confused why they are asking her to do this — one, because she still needs some of these accounts to get work done for the next week, and two, because it is not standard protocol for an employee to delete all of these accounts themself; usually an admin will do it for them after they leave. Once she finishes doing this, they tell her to pack up her things and that she will be escorted out of the building!

Now getting very upset, she asks them why she is apparently getting fired a week before her last day. They tell her that they find it insulting and unacceptable that she would leave this company to go work for a direct competitor, bringing them all of the knowledge and trade secrets that she had learned during her time here. Extremely confused and upset, she tells them that she isn’t leaving for a competitor at all; she has accepted a position as a salesperson in a completely unrelated industry. They immediately back off, and with barely an apology, they leave her alone and return to their usual chipper selves.

The next day, the bosses tell the rest of the staff that we will be meeting at a nearby restaurant for our coworker’s going away party. They treat the whole situation like it never happened, and it is never figured out why they thought my coworker was going to work for a competitor. She spends her last week barely getting any work done since she no longer has any company accounts.

Ugh, Tourists

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Bae_Mes | February 27, 2022

This is my father’s story, and it took place about ten years ago. My father works in an industry that is involved in building, but he isn’t a contractor.

He was out at a new site in a small town on the Maine coast. The town was a typical small fishing and lobstering village. It was also a well-known destination for tourists. The town survived on fishing and lobstering all year round and tourism during the summer.

While he was working, a woman wandered over from her very large, very expensive house next door to say hello. They got to chatting, and the woman, who only lived in Maine three months out of the year, started complaining to my dad about the fishing and lobstering boats starting up at 4:00 am every morning and going by her house and waking her up. Most of these boats had old diesel engines, and they were loud.

Woman: “I’ve complained to the town clerk about the noise. I want them to ban fishermen and lobstermen from starting their motors before 8:00 am.”

This didn’t sit well with my father, but he’s a polite and considerate man.

Father: “These men and women often go far out to sea to pull their traps, so they have to get up very early. Some also have secondary afternoon jobs, so going out early is their best option. This is their livelihood and going out later would negatively impact the local economy.”

She was miffed.

Woman: “Well, not only am I going to propose the ban at the next town meeting, but I have the money to ensure that the ban will be enacted.”

My father chuckled and shook his head.

Father: “You’re wasting your time.”

Woman: “We will just see about that.”

Obviously, the ban was never enacted, and she sold her summer home a couple of years later. I’m told she was fairly well hated in the area because of her complete disregard for the town’s main livelihood, and apparently, after this incident, certain fishermen and lobstermen would gun their engines hard past her house early in the morning.

She really thought her sleep was more important than an entire town’s livelihood.

Mom Needs A Tablet To Write This Stuff Down

, , , , | Related | January 20, 2022

My mother bought my daughter a laptop for school and speech therapy. Despite being five at the time — seven years old now — my daughter takes pretty good care of it, and nowadays, I make sure it has a spot and its charger does, as well. My daughter also has had her share of tablets: two that died out after getting their money’s worth, and one that for some reason stopped responding to her finger.

My mother is asking me about it one night.

Mom: “Hey, where is that tablet I got her?”

Me: “The old Windows one? That broke at [previous address]. Remember?”


Me: “No… you didn’t.”

Mom: Yes, I f****** did! It was $700!

Me: “None of her tablets has ever been that much.”

Mom: “The one with the keyboard!”

Me: “The old Windows one. Yeah, that’s the one that finally died after two years of use.”

Mom: “Where is her tablet?!”

Me: “Do you mean the ONN brand? Either in the house or car.”

She becomes very annoyed at this.

Me: “Do you mean her Switch? It’s in her room.”

Mom: “What the h*** is a Switch?!”

Me: “That pink console she had at Thanksgiving.”

Mom: “No! Her tablet I got off of [Website]!”

Me: “You mean her laptop?

Mom: “Oh. Yeah. Where is it?!”

Me: “Corner of the kitchen table on its charger.”

Mom: “Okay.”

Dad: “How did you forget it was the laptop that was that much money?”

Me: “Had you said that first, I would have told you exactly.”

Mom: “Is it charged?”

Me: “What part of ‘on its charger’ did you not hear?”

Mom: “…”

Me: “I didn’t think your memory was that bad, Ma! Also, you bought that when the [health crisis] started… which was last year.”

Mom: “Oh…”

She looked around after that and I just started laughing. I try not to let arguments that she and I have get too much in the way because I know that in some cases, like this, my mother’s memory will not serve her well, or in any justice whatsoever.

A Beary Well-Earned Bit Of Chow

, , , , , , , , | Working | December 20, 2021

I’m visiting family in a small town and I stop by a local bakery.

Employee #1: “Oh, hey. You’re [Dad]’s kid, right?”

Me: “Hey, yeah, I’m [My Name].”

Employee #1: “Great, great… So, you’re the biologist, right? Mind helping us settle a little dispute?”

I’m expecting a question about vaccines or masks, and I’m about to start explaining that I can’t help when the second employee whips out her phone. She opens a picture but doesn’t show it to me yet.

Employee #2: “So, I was hiking recently, and I got this picture. Now, I don’t want to bias you in any way, so I’m not gonna say what the argument is just yet, but can you tell us — exactly and scientifically — what kind of animal is… this?

She flips around her phone, showing a very clear picture of a bear.

Me: “I’m the wrong kind of biologist for that, but… I’ve got a friend who does wildlife bio. Let me send him a picture and we can get an expert opinion.”

Me: *Texting* “Hey, [Friend], can you tell what kind of bear this is?”

Friend: “Hmm. Black bear, Ursus americanus, but I can’t tell the subspecies. Let me ask [Professor].”

Me: *To the employees* “Okay, he’s going to bring this to an expert.”

Employee #1: “If you can give us a definitive answer, then you get a slice of pie on the house.”

We chat for a bit, but they refuse to tell me any more about the picture until a final judgment is made.

Friend: “Okay, I have your answer. It’s a good picture, but it’s hard to tell from this angle. However, I showed it to [Three Professors and Two PhD Students] and we compared photos online. Almost certainly Ursus americanus, the Eastern black bear. [Professor] thinks it’s male, but we can’t determine for sure. That’s all assuming this was taken locally. If it’s not in Maine, let me know.”

Me: “Okay, we’ve got an opinion from the experts. But first, do you know where the picture was taken?”

Employee #2: “Yeah, about twenty miles due north from here. I can point it on a map if that helps.”

Me: “No, they just wanted to confirm it was in Maine. I give you… Ursus americanus, the Eastern black bear.”

Employee #2: “Knew it! So, what kind of pie would you like?”

Me: “Pumpkin, please. [Employee #1], what did you think it was?”

He folds his arms and doesn’t answer.

Employee #2: “And here’s one slice of pumpkin pie for knowing the difference between a bear and a Chow Chow.”

Ankle-Deep In Litigation

, , , , , | Right | November 12, 2021

I am working in the garden center. It’s one of those REALLY hot days and I am cashiering outside. No big deal for me, as it’s a preferable option to be able to stroll through the rows of flowers instead of standing at the end of a register inside.

An older woman comes in to browse for a few. I don’t pay her too much notice until I find her sprawled out on the ground. Rushing over, I help get her a seat and some water and then call for a manager who also comes out and offers assistance.

Customer: “I just came from a very air-conditioned car and the change from that to the extreme heat must have caused me to faint.”

The manager offers to call an ambulance, but she refuses.

Customer: “I left my car running for my dog who’s still inside the car. I don’t want to leave him alone.”

After we have her sign a release stating that she is refusing help, she limps off to her car and drives away. I am asked to write up an incident report and I think that is the end of it.


A month or so later, the same woman shows up at the garden center again, this time sporting a crutch and a leg cast.

Me: “Oh! What happened?”

Customer: “I finally decided to go to the doctor after I got home, and I found out that I had a broken ankle.”

I express genuine concern when hearing that. She then goes on to talk about how much it costs and how much it hurts… and then hits me with this zinger:

Customer: “I’m going to find out how much I can get from this store!”

Then, she limped her way in to find the customer service desk. Sure, lady. Lucky for us, there was a paper trail of her refusing treatment and cameras capturing her fall. She didn’t get a cent.