From Zero To Sixty To Zero

, , , , , | Working | November 28, 2018

(I take a bathroom break, and my supervisor tells me I have one minute. Twenty seconds after I get in the stall, another employee enters the bathroom and to use the urinal. Five seconds later, the bathroom door again opens.)

Supervisor: “Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…”

(The supervisor leaves.)

Other Employee: *whose voice I recognize as the supervisor of the receiving department* “What was that about?”

Me: “He told me I have a minute.”

(The receiving supervisor leaves, and then I finish up, wash my hands, and head back to the sales floor. The way the store is set up, to go from the employee bathroom to the sales floor you have to pass by the store manager’s office.)

Manager: “[My Name], can I see you for a minute?”

Me: “Sure, what about?”

Manager: “Did [Supervisor] tell you that you only had a minute to use the bathroom?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “Okay, that’s all I needed to know. Go back to work.”

(I head back out onto the floor, and from there the parking lot to gather carriages. As I walk out the front door of the store, a coworker’s radio crackles to life.)

Manager: “[Supervisor], can I see you in my office?”

(Five minutes later I saw another supervisor, who I know lives around the corner and is supposed to have the day off, get out of her car and head into the store. Ten minutes after that, the first supervisor left the store, gave me a death glare, got in his car, and tore a** out of the parking lot… only to get pulled over by a state trooper for running the red light at the parking lot exit. When I got back inside, I learned he had been fired, and later that year I learned the incident with me was the straw that broke the camel’s back; he had been harassing several employees for the past year, but this was the first time it was witnessed by another supervisor.)

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What Came First: The Egg Or The Baby?

, , , , | Right | March 7, 2018

(I’m 16 and working a six-hour shift as a bagger. It’s been a long day and I still have an hour until I go home, and I’m feeling stressed and grouchy. A little boy comes up with his mother, and while she talks to the cashier, the boy talks to me.)

Little Boy: “What’s your name?”

Me: “My name is [My Name]. What’s yours?”

Little Boy: “I’m [Little Boy]. How old are you?”

Me: “I’m 16. How about you?”

Little Boy: “I’m four. Do you know how to drive?”

Me: “Yes, I do.”

Little Boy: “Do you know how to cook?”

Me: “Yes.”

Little Boy: “Do you know how to make a cookie?”

Me: “I do, indeed.”

Little Boy: “Do you know how to make an egg?”

Me: “Yep!”

Little Boy: “Do you know how to make a baby?”

(I crack up.)

Mother: *coming over* “I’m sorry! He asks the craziest things!”

Me: “No worries. He made my day!”

(He did! It’s been two years and I still tell this story.)

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Some Doors Shouldn’t Be Open At Christmas

, , , , | Right | December 25, 2017

(I work at a pet store as a cashier and have to make the closing announcements, but we let the customers shop for a couple of minutes after closing if they can tell us what they’re looking for. When I finish the announcement on Christmas Eve, a customer immediately approaches the register.)

Me: “Welcome! Find everything all right today?”

Customer: *already incredibly angry* “I would have, but I’m being forced out of here! How could you close an hour early?!”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that. I would love to help you find what you’re looking for. Just remember that it’s Christmas Eve and we’d like to get back home.”


Me: “I’m really sorry about that, sir. I would be happy to ring you up. Do you have our store card?”

Customer: “H***, no! I’m never shopping here again!”

(I realize that it was probably best that I just ring the store card through rather than try to ask him any more questions, plus he can’t leave a bad employee review.)


Me: “I put the store card in. I don’t want you to miss out on any deals.”

(I scan his items through, and the transaction was luckily uneventful; however, the doors are locked and I cannot let him out because I don’t have keys.)

Me: “Just give me one second. My manager locked the doors after we closed.”

(I page my manager and the customer walks to the doors. After 30 seconds the customer comes back inside. I am at this point terrified; there is something wrong with the customer.)

Me: “I’m really sorry, sir. My manager must be taking out the trash. I’ll page him again.”


Me: “I don’t have the key.”

(The customer says something unspeakably rude and starts waiting at the door again. My manager arrives and unlocks the door. my manager begins sliding the automatic door open manually when the customer grabs the door and pushes it so hard that I could hear it outside the atrium, and runs out the door. My manager tries to close the door, but nothing happens.)

Me: “What are we going to do?”

Manager: “Well, I guess you can go home. I’m stuck here until I can get somebody to fix the door.”

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