I have a coworker who has zero boundaries and is pretty much disliked by everyone. I have caught her several times going into my desk to take personal items or steal food. Unfortunately, we do not have locks on our desks or doors, and she is in human resources, so there isn’t much I can do in the way of complaining.

We have a coworker leaving and I come to find the “Goodbye” card I got for him missing. I know instantly who took it, as she mentioned coming into my office the night before. But I have a spare and decide to just call her out to her boss when she hands over the card to him, gently reminding her that I told her last week that she shouldn’t be removing items from people’s offices.

Our departing coworker’s last day is Monday, so I have everyone — except Ms. HR, as she has her own card — sign the card Friday afternoon and put it on his desk. I seal it up.

Monday morning, I come in to find the card unsealed. Ms. HR has written a note on it for him. And, of course, she still decides to hand in the stolen card with a more “personal” message to make herself look good. Ugh.

This happened back in the 1990s. For a couple of years, during the summer, I did residential voluntary work at a charity holiday home for the elderly and disabled, until the charity sadly had to sell the property. It was the opportunity for couples and individuals to go away for two weeks and have other people help look after them.

There were a lot of volunteers, and we were each assigned to one or two guests to provide as much help as they needed throughout the day and night. We were also expected to help other guests if their volunteers were not available. There was always at least one fully trained nurse or doctor on the premises at all times.

It was hard work, but I loved every minute of it… except possibly that time I was woken up at 2:00 am by the nurse to help change my guest’s sheets, as they were urine-soaked. He’d not wet the bed, but the idiot who emptied his catheter the evening before had forgotten to close the tap. But before anyone says the nurse should have woken up the idiot and gotten him to clear up the mess, I can assure you she did. Let’s just say that half-asleep me soon woke up and was very apologetic. Both the guest and his wife were all right about it; it wasn’t the first time that had happened to them, and I made certain I didn’t do that again!

To say this next thing was an annoyance would be a massive overstatement. It was more a mild frustration that quickly become a bit of a running joke: no one could remember my name. We all had name badges — those plastic types with a removable card. Mine clearly said, “Stephen”, but I was always called “Simon”. Everyone else was called by the right name, but for some reason, no one could remember mine.

I didn’t get cross, nor did I blame anyone. It could be because of their eyesight or memory; that’s hardly their fault. I did always politely correct them, which worked briefly, but by the next time they saw me, I had reverted back to being Simon. One of the biggest “offenders” was a lovely gentleman who was recovering from a stroke. It was all taken in good humour, but I really did want people to stop calling me Simon.

So, after a day or two of this, I removed the card, turned it over, and wrote, “NOT SIMON”. And it worked! They stopped calling me Simon!

Everyone — the staff, the volunteers, and the guests (especially Lovely Recovering Stroke Chap) — happily called me “Not Simon” instead. Ah, well.

And as an epilogue, LRS Chap improved incredibly well over the course of his holiday. He was wheelchair-bound at the start, but after every meal, he would try walking a few steps. He went from only managing three or four steps at the start of the holiday to managing over one hundred unassisted steps by the end!

I had a client, retirement age, who was looking for a website for his new business. It was a pretty simple website since he was just starting so I quoted him a basic package of up to five pages. He sent over content for us to get started; it wasn’t a lot so it really only warranted one page, broken up into sections. We designed it fairly quickly and emailed the dev link for review.

The client calls with some simples edits and he is referencing where the edits are by page numbers. I was super confused and kept asking him for the sections titles so I knew where he was talking about. I soon realized he had printed his website and therefore was referring to his page numbers. We finally got through his edits when he asked if according to the quote he could have another page.

Still confused, I then realized that since his website was printed on 4.5 sheets he assumed that he has met his page limit for his website.

I didn’t want to make him feel stupid so I told him adding an additional page wouldn’t be a problem. I guess there is a first time for everything!

My work has always been anti-smoking. They have been slowly tightening restrictions over the past few years. This year, they said that everyone has had ample opportunity to quit, so now there is no smoking on site.

With the walk offsite being ten minutes, smokers have to wait until lunch or go without. By the lack of smokers on lunch, I guess most people have quit.

[Coworker] has always opposed the ban and smokes the moment he gets on-site to the moment he leaves it. He always stinks of cigarettes but more so after the mid-morning break, which is odd as he can’t be going offsite.

One day, I get curious and I follow him. Instead of heading for the exit, he heads the other way, past the toilets, and disappears.

Lunchtime comes around and I look around. I realise that there is an old storage cupboard; it’s mostly for first aid so not used.

Being a first aider, I have a key, and as soon as I open the door, the stench of old smoke and air freshener hits me. [Coworker] made himself a nest amongst the supplies; I can see a ring of ash where he sat.

Not only did we need to replace a load of medical equipment, but the smoke alarm had to be rewired as he had torn it off.

He was called to a disciplinary meeting but quit immediately.

We live in a house across the street from an old brick building that has been converted into four apartments. It was empty when we moved in but was soon renovated and filled with new tenants. Most of them have been nice and respectful of the quiet neighborhood… except for one person: a young woman in her twenties. She moved in with a man about her age, and like every other household on the street, she had a dog.

It’s a town ordinance (and common courtesy) to clean up after your dog, but I soon began noticing brown patches on our neighbors’ grass and clumps of dog poop on ours.

I had a hunch that it was the couple with the dog, but I couldn’t prove it… until one day. Our house is situated on a slight hill from the street, whereas the apartment building is right on the street, so from our windows, we can see very well everyone coming and going. While walking past a window one day, some movement caught my eye, and I saw the woman leaving the apartment with her dog on a leash. She dragged him across the sidewalk, across the street, and straight to our front yard.

Aha! Caught in the act!

I immediately ran to the front door to confront her. She tried to tell me that “she’d clean it up,” but I pointed out she hadn’t ever before, and I saw her deliberately lead the dog over to my yard!

Suffice to say, we haven’t had a problem with dog poop again, and thankfully, the couple moved out within a year.