(I’ve noticed that since summer ended, one of my employees has been routinely late, but clocks in almost exactly 20 minutes after his shift starts. Most of the time, however, I see him before his shift, early. Too many tardy notices and we have to let someone go; its corporate policy and out of my control. I like to give people a chance, so I call him into the office to see if I can help him.)

Me: “So, there’s the trend I’m noticing on your clock-in times. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Employee: “Well, in the mornings, I put my kids on the school bus, because I don’t like them standing alone in [Sketchy Part of Town]. Then, I take the bus that stops a block over to work. But sometimes the school bus gets there late, I miss my bus, and the next one isn’t for 30 minutes, so I’m late those days.”

Me: “Okay! Well, I wish you’d brought this to my attention sooner. Here’s what we are going to do. I’m moving your entire shift back a half hour. That way, if you catch the later bus, you’ll be on time, and you don’t have to stress.”

Employee: “Seriously? That will help so much. Thank you!”

(Two weeks go by, and I notice the employee is up for a written warning for another three tardies, having clocked in 20 minutes after his new, later start time. I pull him aside.)

Me: “What’s going on here? I moved your shift so that we could fix the issue with you being late, but you’re late more often now!”

Employee: “I’m sorry! It’s just… I don’t want to stand at the bus stop everyday for a half hour. It’s a really bad part of town. So, I’ve been going home to do a few things, and I get distracted, I miss the bus.”

Me: “You’re going to have to figure out how to fix that.”

Employee: “Okay, can we push the shift back another hour? A half hour isn’t much extra time, but I can be back if you give me another half hour.”

Me: “I actually need the 11:00 to 7:00 shift covered, so I’ll allow it, but I need you to understand: this was your last warning. If you are late at all in the next three months, I have no choice but to let you go.”

Employee: “Okay! Thank you!”

(A few days later, the mans supervisor pulls me aside.)

Supervisor: “Just so you know, [Employee] called you a b****.”

Me: “What?”

Supervisor: “He says he took the 10:00 to 6:00 shift specifically to be able to pick up his kids from their after-school program by 7:00. Now, you changed his shift, and he can’t get them in time.”

Me: “Okay, let me tell you what really happened.”

(The situation resolved itself when [Employee] showed up a half hour late two days later. I let his supervisor handle his termination papers, because I was still furious with him.)

(We have earpiece walkie-talkies to communicate through the store. One day, all staff are treated to the following:)

Employee #1: “This is stockroom number two. We need maintenance immediately to… OH, MY GOD!”

(There is a loud series of bangs, screams, and crashing noises.)

Me: “Stockroom! What the h*** is going on?!”

Employee #2: “There’s… Jesus! Run, man, run!”

(There was another series of crashes and screams, and a moment later I looked out the window to see [Employee #1] running at top speed across the parking lot away from the mall. I got to the stockroom at the same time as maintenance and security, and we burst in to find boxes knocked over, water on the floor, chairs upended, and our staff missing. For a moment it was like seeing the aftermath of a horror movie. Then, we spotted the culprit: a rather angry possum who had gotten trapped in the room overnight and surprised the stockroom staff when they moved a pile of boxes. A call to animal control later, things were back to normal, but I still tease the staff that I was pretty sure I’d find zombies in the stockroom, based on their reactions.)

(I am running the parts counter when a customer approaches me. I don’t speak Spanish and a large portion of the customers that come in don’t speak English.)

Customer: “I’m looking for this.” *shows me a picture of the entire front suspension*

Me: “What part?”

Customer: *points at nothing specific* “The penis. I need the penis.”

Me: *trying to contain laughter* “The what?”

Customer: “The penis. This one.” *points at nothing specific again*

(I get a Spanish speaker to handle the customer because of the language barrier. Shortly later he leaves.)

Me: “What the h*** did he want? He kept asking me for a penis.”

Coworker: “Peñas is a Spanish word that is pronounced a similar way; it has something to do with pins.”

(I am the head store manager. One of the department supervisors has recently gone through a rather dramatic divorce. For a few months, he has gossiped to all of us about his ex, who claimed he was irresponsible, much to his anger. With the holiday season approaching, we have a meeting of all management and supervisors one Sunday night. I’m out front handling some customers when one of my employees comes out. The supervisor has arrived an hour early and has his kid in the back stockroom, which is against the rules; it’s full of pallets, boxes, and machinery. I head to the stockroom and find the child climbing on a rack with no shoes on, his father nowhere to be seen. I ask the kid to sit, and ten minutes later the supervisor appears from the break room.)

Me: “You know you cannot let non-employees in the back, especially not a minor!”

Supervisor: “He’s just playing. I have custody of him this week, so I had to bring him with me.”

Me: “You can’t bring your kid to a business meeting.”

Supervisor: “It’s okay; there’s lots of girls around the shop to keep an eye on him.”

Me: “Absolutely not. You need to arrange a babysitter, or miss the meeting and take the write-up.”

Supervisor: “Hey, I’m just trying to be a parent.”

Me: “You’ve known about this meeting for a month. Most of the management are parents; they’ve all found babysitters ahead of time.”

Supervisor: “Ugh, I’ll try calling my sister.”

(He calls. I agree to let them stay in the break room until his sister arrives, and head to my office to prepare for the meeting. Fifteen minutes go by, and I hear the supervisor talking to one of our security guards, then he knocks on my door.)

Supervisor: “Hey! My kid is hungry.”

Me: “Yes, and?”

Supervisor: “You got any graham crackers or goldfish or anything in your purse?”

Me: “No.”

Supervisor: “My mom and my ex always have food for him in their purse, but you’re, like, the third female I’ve talked to, and none of you have anything!”

Me: “I don’t carry food for your kid.”

(The supervisor shrugs and leaves. His sister arrives just before the meeting starts and we can hear an argument as she picks up the kid. The rest of the management team is gossiping while we wait on him.)

Coworker: “He asked if his son could play with my phone, because he didn’t want the kid accidentally breaking his!”

Supervisor: “Hey, sorry I held up the meeting. My sister was being a b**** because I didn’t have shoes or a coat for my kid.”

(Since then, we have had no problems seeing why his ex thought he was irresponsible!)

(As the head host of a very expensive steak house, I have had my share of celebrity run-ins. All of them have been nice, except for one. We have a baseball player who is well known in my city and is very fond of my restaurant. He usually comes in with his whole family, about twelve or thirteen people. He always demands a private room, which we normally charge for; he gets it free, and his family always destroys the room. Every time. I am talking food ground into the carpet and everything. Just a wreck. They will run up a $900 check, and then tip the server ten bucks. Servers DREAD him coming in. One Friday night around 10:45, I get a phone call:)

Agent: “Hi, this is [Baseball Player]’s agent. Have you heard of him?”

(For some reason, the agent ALWAYS says this when he calls.)

Agent: “Well, he would like a table after the game.”

Me: “Uh, it’s 10:45 and we close at 11. I am able to see the TV in the lounge, and he is on it right now at the stadium, so there is no way he can make it in time.”

Agent: “Oh, I don’t think you understand; this is for [Baseball Player].”

Me: “I don’t think you understood me; we close at 11, he can’t get here in time, and the answer is no. Have a nice day.” *hangs up*

(I am really irritated as it has been a long night. I watch out for my servers and I KNOW there would be a revolt if I allowed it. Five minutes later, I get another call.)

Liaison: “Hi, this is [Liaison] with the [Baseball Team]. I am a public liaison, and I am calling—”

Me: “I’m going to stop you right there. His agent called. I said, ‘no.'”

Liaison: “Oh, I am sorry; I didn’t know someone asked.”

Me: “Oh, yes, you did; that’s why you are now calling. No means no. Have a nice night.”

(I am really steaming by that point. But as I am quick to get ticked, I cool off just as fast. I start thinking maybe I should have said yes because the owner is good friends with the team. So, I go to the general manager and tell him what happened.)

General Manager: “I am glad you said no; I would have been here all night!”

(The baseball player DID show up at 11:30 and tried to push his way past me. I held the door closed, shook my head no, and pointed at my watch. He should have treated his servers better in the past. Your past actions dictate your future treatment.)