I work in a very share-and-share-alike-style office. We often bring in treats to share with the office, such as pies, muffins, cupcakes, etc. I’ve brought my fair share of things to share with the office, as well!

But… I really like cheesecake. And I find, during my break, a huge fourteen-inch cheesecake that’s on clearance for only $8. I buy it and put it in the work fridge, intending to take it home and share it with my family, who also like cheesecake.

The next thing I know, all of my coworkers are walking around with slices of cheesecake. I realize I forgot to put something that says, “Not for sharing,” on the cheesecake! I rush to the breakroom… and find that only one slice is left.

With a sigh, I eat it before anyone else can get to it.

Later, I hear someone asking around about it.

Coworker: “Who brought in the cheesecake?”

Me: “That was me.”

They handed me a thank-you card from most of the office for the cheesecake.

So… I’m frustrated, but simultaneously, it’s a somewhat warm, fuzzy feeling. I’m conflicted.

I work at a store in Minneapolis. During the George Floyd Protests, we locked up and went home, and headquarters hired contractors to clad the windows in wood to protect them.

Frankly, I don’t think it was necessary, because when we returned to work, the wood was untouched. It was clear that no one had tried to break in. We did an inventory, and not a single item was missing. The wood had not even been spray-painted.

But the funniest thing was that when we returned to work several weeks after the protests broke out… we discovered that the front door had been left unlocked the entire time.

I’m sitting in my cubicle waiting for my next client. I sit near the front, so I hear clients discussing everything. 

One of my coworkers has had a traumatic brain injury in the past. He’s not always all the way there, but he’s friendly, he works hard, and frankly, he’s not incapable of doing the job, he just gets to the result a little slower.

Some clients are complaining about him up front. He’s slow, he made errors — that sort of thing. Then, they say something that really bothers me. One of them says:

Client #1: “I can’t believe they let that r****d work here.” 

Client #2: “I heard he had a traumatic brain injury! He should have just retired and not kept working. He’s incapable of the job.”

Every year, we’re required to take workplace harassment training. The training is very clear on what to do in this situation. It doesn’t matter if it’s a client or a coworker; if someone is being discriminatory about a protected class — and disabled people are a protected class — report it to Human Resources immediately.

I call the Human Resources phone number and report it. The clients are sitting right there. I know who they are. I pull their names from the schedule.

Human Resources listens to my complaint.

Human Resources: “Okay. And… what do you expect us to do about it?”

Me: “Well… I don’t know. Isn’t it your job to figure out what to do about it? Training said to report everything to you.”

Human Resources: “Well. Consider the report made.”

Then, he mutters, so quietly that it is hard to hear over the phone:

Human Resources: “Thanks for wasting my time.”

And he hung up.

I feel like maybe I need to make a second report to HR.

My wife and I go to [Famous Swedish Furniture Store]. I’m tired after a long day at work, so I sit down on one of their chairs and guard the stuff we’ve picked out so far.

A guy grabs something from our pile of stuff and starts walking away. I follow him.

Me: “Hey! Give that back! That’s mine! Hey!”

He brings it to his wife and kids.

Customer: “The cats will love this. And look, it’s on clearance!”

Me: *Catching up to him* “Hey, my wife and I already picked that out, and I was guarding it.”

Customer: “Sorry, I thought you were some homeless person taking a nap on the chair.”

Me: “Look, can I have the laundry hamper back, please?”

Customer: “It’s a cat castle. If you’d really picked it out, you would know what it was.”

Me: “It says laundry hamper on the tag. Please, I was guarding it for my wife.”

Customer’s Wife: “Honey, just give it back to him. We can find another.”

Customer: “Fine. It’s your fault if our cats don’t get this cool cat castle.”

I didn’t even reply. I just walked back to the chair and put it back on our pile of stuff.

I work in a tax office. We get a phone call from a client wanting to schedule an appointment to look at a letter from the state of Minnesota about her taxes. I can’t find her in the system. She keeps going off at me.

Client: “You make a mistake every year, and I get a letter every year! This is the absolute last time I’m using you!”

I keep looking for her in the system, and there are no records of her existing. She keeps chewing on me about that, too, because she’s such a loyal customer.

I set up an appointment with her and reconfirm the location. She hangs up. A little later, she calls back.

Client: “This appointment reminder text you sent said my appointment is in Minneapolis. Don’t you know my usual office is in [City about an hour’s drive to the south]?”

I talk with her more, try to figure out which office she usually goes to, and look its address up on Google.

Me: “Ma’am, you’re not even going to our chain. You’re going to one of our major competitors, [Office].”

Client: “Can I set up an appointment with you, then?”

She’s in a different district from the one I have, and we don’t have transparency with that office’s appointment scheduling system. I explain this to her rather carefully and tell her she has to call her local office, and she goes off at me again.

This time, while she’s ranting, I say, likely with ill-concealed pleasure:

Me: “Unfortunately, as there’s nothing I can do to help you, I’m going to hang up to free the line-up for other customers.”

Then, I hung up. Never have I felt so happy to be unable to help a customer before.

She called back, and I repeated the same line again and hung up again. This happened about three times. I’ll admit that it didn’t feel QUITE as good as the first time, but it’s still good to be able to cut someone off mid-rant.

The next day, my manager said they got a complaint through the corporate headquarters about it. I explained the situation. “Good job. Keep up the good work,” was my manager’s response.

Related:
Has No Hang-Ups About Hanging Up, Part 2
Has No Hang-Ups About Hanging Up