(I’m a university student looking for a part time job to help with my tuition fees. This year I’m rooming with someone who works at one of the delis around the city, and they tell me their place of work is in need of additional staff. I call them up, do a short phone interview, and initially the job sounds ideal. I will be able to work hours when I don’t have class, the pay is decent, and the commute is manageable. I ask about training, having never done food service before, and they assure me it’ll be provided. Fast-forward to my first day. I turn up, greet the manager on duty, get handed my hat, apron, and name-tag, and am asked to put on gloves. Upon doing so, my manager gives me a nod.)

Manager: “All right, you look good. Now start serving; the lunch rush is about to begin.”

(He walks into the back, leaving me alone at the front store with no idea of what to do. After a moment’s hesitation, I head into the back.)

Me: “Um, sir?”

Manager: “Yes? What are you doing back here? You can’t leave the food counter unattended!”

Me: “Well… it’s just… I was told I’d get training. This is my first day after all.”

(The manager just shrugs.)

Manager: “You cut meat and put ingredients between slices of bread. It’s not that hard. Now get back out there. I’ll be out shortly to man the register.”

(He shoos me out of the back. I am thus left by myself to try and figure out how to make the menu items. There are dozens of ingredients to deal with, and as the customers start pouring in for lunch, I start panicking, as each time someone orders something, I have to repeatedly check the menu behind me for what is used to make what. Of course, it doesn’t list the amounts I’m supposed to use, so that’s a different problem. When the manager does come out to ring up folks’ food, he ignores any questions I try to ask, and just shoots the breeze with the customers. The only saving grace is that most of the lunch rush people are regulars, who are kind enough to help me along with how to make their sandwiches, which bread to use, which spreads, and so on. Even so, the line keeps growing and growing as I keep making mistakes and having to redo orders, until finally the manager notices the hold up and sends me to sit in the back while he finishes the lunch rush. After the store quiets down, he walks back, sifting through a small wad of bills.)

Manager: “Here, that’s for the hours you worked today. This clearly isn’t a good fit for you, so you can go now.”

Me: “What? It didn’t work because I had no idea what to do! As I said on the phone, I’ve never worked in a deli before! I was told you’d provide training!”

(The manager shrugs again.)

Manager: “The training was to see if you can sink or swim. You sank, and made the lunch rush a total mess. I need someone who can come in and get straight to helping out. Leave your apron and hat on the desk please. I need to start cleaning up now.”

(Not wanting to argue further, I head back to my dorms, chalking this up as just a harsh learning experience. That is, until my roommate storms in later that evening looking utterly enraged.)

Me: “[Roommate], what are you doing back? I thought you had your shift at the deli right after your classes were over.”

Roommate: “So did I, until I showed up. [Manage] told me what happened during your first day, and said he didn’t feel comfortable having me work for him, since we’re rooming together. He claimed ‘conflict of interest’ or some crap like that and told me I was fired.”

Me: “Wait, what!?”

Roommate: “Yeah, seriously a**-hole move.”

Me: “I… I am so sorry!”

Roommate: “It’s not your fault. Honestly, I guess I should’ve paid more attention to how often he let me run the food counter solo, and only came out when his regular customers came in to chat. Kind of a red flag now that I think about it.”

Me: “So… what do we do now?”

Roommate: “Well, he said my apron was dirty and that I had to launder it before returning it.” *He pulls his work clothes from his bag.* “Want to vent some anger by running over this with my bike a few times?”

(Sadly, to this day, four years later, that deli remains in business, though it apparently has a ridiculous staff turnover rate, and every time I’ve passed it by, there’s an ad for new employees in the window.)

(I’m the manager of a small copy center, which is part of a larger store. The store manager refuses to pay more than minimum wage for the work that needs doing in my department, and therefore, our only applicants for open positions are the sorts of people who have never used any of the print machinery before and are just in need of any old job they can get. We go through employees like crazy, because none of them can seem to learn everything that’s needed to work effectively in the department. Customers complain, important and high-dollar print orders are ruined, turn-around times or prices are botched, we’re left bending over backwards to make the problems right with the customers, and the new hires are let go. Rinse, and repeat. The most recent new hire takes the cake…)

Me: “Okay, [New Hire]. I need to go take my lunch break really quick. All I need you to do is take the packages out of THIS box, and put them into THIS cabinet.”

(Note that I have put the box beside the indicated cabinet, and I have showed her both the box and the cabinet she needs to put things into. It’s a super simple task, but having the new hire handle it will help her familiarize herself with how we handle delivered supplies, and where this particular product belongs in the shop. I ask the new hire if she’s okay if I leave for lunch. She says, “Yep!” and off I go to my lunch. Thirty minutes later, when I return, the box is still sitting where I left it, full.)

Me: “Uh, [New Hire], was the department busy while I was away?”

New Hire: “No.”

Me: “So… what happened to putting the packages into the cabinet?”

New Hire: “…I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do.”

(After a couple more attempts at explaining, I actually had to take a ream of paper from the box, open the cabinet, and put it on the shelf before she grasped what I meant. And this gal was a high school graduate who had just started college!)

(I work at a fast food restaurant with a girl that acts like a drill sergeant. She is in charge of the training of newbies. This particular new hire is obviously from Africa, and doesn’t speak much English. I’m a new hire, too.)

Trainer: “[New Hire]! Come here!”

New Hire: *comes over*

Trainer: “This dish goes over to that table! Now, what is this dish?”

New Hire: “Ah, um…”

Trainer: “Faster! Customers are waiting!”

New Hire: “…ah…”

Trainer: “STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. I’M NOT GONNA TELL YOU! SO, STOP AND THINK! WHAT IS THIS DISH CALLED!?” *slams hand over and over on the counter-top loud* “WHAT IS IT CALLED!”

(There is a long painful silence while the foreign new hire stutters and stammers, turning beet red, and on verge of tears. The GM finally speaks up with the dish’s name.)

Trainer: “[Dish Name]! It’s [Dish Name]! Why couldn’t you remember that? Now go and repeat it to yourself! What is it called?! Gimme its name! NAME NOW!”

New Hire: *pronounces dish’s name incorrectly, due to a thick accent*

Trainer: “NO! IT’S [Dish Name]! GOD!”

(She threw the dish all over dramatically and the GM said nothing as she threw a screaming fit everywhere. I quit that day, along with a lot of others. Sad, but this wasn’t the only restaurant that was mean to minimum-wage workers like this.)

(The first shift for a new hire is always spent one-on-one with a manager, training. I’m working with one new hire, and we are a little over an hour into his first training shift.)

New Employee: “Hey, I’m going to grab a break.”

Me: “I don’t have you scheduled for a break for another hour.”

New Employee: “But I’m already overdue for my first break!”

Me: “Your first break? You are only scheduled for four hours. You only get one twenty minute paid break.”

New Employee: “The law says I get more than that!”

Me: “No, that’s actually more than we have to give you legally.”

New Employee: “But I’m a smoker! I get smoke breaks.”

Me: “You only get the one break.”

New Employee: “You’re probably too young to remember. Back when George W. was in office, he signed a law. Said you have to give smokers a break every hour.”

Me: “Uh, no.”

New Employee: “No, seriously you’re breaking the law. I could have you arrested.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll send an email to HR about this, but for now we will go by my break schedule.”

(I sent an email to HR, CC’ing the employee. I know the HR person, so I got a rather confused text on my phone asking if the employee was serious. I said he was. She sent me and the employee a dry response, saying that smokers are not a protected class, and copying the employee manual on break policy. However, if he could provide proof that smoke breaks are legally required, they would reconsider. A month later, I fired the employee after he set off the smoke detector while trying to sneak a cigarette in the employee bathroom while on shift. He still claimed those smoke breaks were his legal right!)

(Once in a while, and only on Saturdays, they have four to eight people working on papers at a table in the back. It’s literally the easiest thing you can do there since all you have to do is put a paper in a bigger pile of papers, carry it over to a machine, and push it through. That’s it. One night, a new girl comes in.)

Me: “Hello.”

New Girl: “Hey…”

(Shortly after that we get the papers. We start and then about an hour later this gem happens:)

New Girl: *sigh* “I’m going on break.”

Me: “Uh, you can’t just go on break. Wait until they send you.”

New Girl: “Well, when are they going to do that?”

Me: “It’s gonna be a short night so, honestly, I don’t think we’ll get one, but maybe we’ll get a ten minute break later.”

New Girl: “No break…? Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

Me: “Well, no. New Jersey law says that you only get a half hour break after six hours. Since this only takes about four hours, we won’t get a break. I’ve done this a few times, though, so I know that eventually we’ll run out of paper and we’ll get a short break. It might be even longer if the machine breaks down instead.”

New Girl: “So you’re telling me that after touching this dirty paper for about an hour, I’m not even going to get a break.”

Me: “Yes… but there’s a good chance we wi—”

New Girl: *scoffs* “I’m going on break.”

(She grabbed her phone and left. I and other people working at the time were flabbergasted. We did eventually get our break, but she wouldn’t know since she was gone for about an hour or two. She eventually came back and continued to work for the remaining hour and then left. I’m glad she didn’t look at me during that hour, since I’m positive I glared at her every time I looked her way. Luckily, that was the only time that happened since I haven’t seen her there since.)