I’m sat at my desk whilst a coworker is sat a few desks away and her manager is walking toward the nearby printer.

Coworker: “Whilst you’re over there, can you grab me [document]?”

Manager: “F****** h***, what did your last servant die of?”

Coworker: “She was killed by the printer, so be careful.”

I work in internal IT for a retail company. Lately, a big portion of my job has been password resets. We have an SSO (single sign-on) system which means almost everything uses the same password. We have the ability to check the status of their accounts — is it locked/unlocked, how long until it expires, etc. We can’t see the password itself or what the user might be entering. I have a user call asking for a password.

User: “I need to set up my password so I can sign onto the computer.”

I check the account and see that there was a password set about a week ago. With the SSO, for some reason, everyone half knows what to call it, but most of the employees don’t seem to understand what it actually means or entails.

Me: “I’m showing that your password was just reset last week. It’s the same password you use for [System].”

User: “I’m not trying to sign into [System]. This is my first time, and I’m trying to sign onto the computer, but there’s nothing that says [System] on the screen.”

Me: “You use the same credentials that you use to sign into [System] to access the computer.”

User: “I don’t see anything that says [System] here. I’m trying to sign onto this computer for the first time.”

Me: “I understand that, but you still use your [System] credentials to sign in. I show a password was set on [date], so that’s what you’ll want to use.”

User: “Today’s my first day. I have no idea what that is.”

Me: *Headdesk*

I realize that I’m going to get nowhere with her, so I go through the process to verify her identity and get her a temporary password. Meanwhile, a manager or someone walks in, and the user kind of lowers the phone and starts half-whispering.

User: “Oh, yeah, Service Desk is helping me get signed in. She keeps saying that I set a password on [date], but I never did.”

Manager: “Yeah, you did. That was when you did [various pieces of paperwork].”

User: “I never did that.”

Manager: “Yes, you did. We filled out [various pieces of paperwork] so you could start.”

User: “No, I never did that.”

I finally got her signed on and everything, but I felt sorry for that manager. I hope it was just a case of early morning/no coffee versus the user actively forgetting doing paperwork, but who knows?

As a little “thank you” to our employees, I hired a catering company to cook lunch for my 150 employees. I presented the quote to [Manager], who approved it immediately and asked me to send out the invite.

The day of the lunch came and I saw several people I did not recognize. I approached one group hanging around [Manager].

Me: “Hi, guys. How are you?”

Manager: “Ah, this is [My Name]! She organized all of this!”

Stranger: “Hi, [My Name]! I’m [Stranger] from the corporate office. [Manager] said you were having a thank-you lunch today, so we came out.”

Me: “Oh, hello. Nice to meet you.”

Every single person I did not recognize had come from other locations specifically for the food. They had contributed nothing to our work but showed up for free food, some of them even jumping the line. I got [Manager] alone a few moments later.

Me: “Okay, no disrespect, but what the f***?”

Manager: “It’s fine, [My Name]. Not everyone will show up, and these companies always bring more food, anyway.”

Me: “So, did you invite them or did they just hear about it?”

Manager: *Uneasily* “I mentioned that we were having this catered lunch…”

Me: “But did you invite them after I gave the caterers the headcount, or did they decide you telling them about it was an invitation?”

Manager: “I don’t remember. It’s not important. They’re here; we have to make them happy. Just make it work.”

As you may have guessed, nearly every employee did show up for the free food and the caterers did not bring extra meals. The corporate employees thought it was a great day, the caterers were furious that we had misrepresented the number of people they were to feed, and about a dozen employees were left out of the luncheon because there was no more food. I made a run to a local restaurant to get more food so that everyone could eat. After the corporate employees left, [Manager] pulled me aside.

Manager: “Hey, look, I’m not blaming you at all, but you should know that there are some pretty pissed-off people out there. When we say we’re going to feed everyone, we have to hold up to it. You know?”

Me: “Nor should I be blamed for it.”

Manager: “What?”

Me: “I arranged a meal for the people working here, not the corporate surprises. I just paid for more food out of my own pocket.”

Manager: “Well, we can’t turn them away.”

Me: “If they weren’t invited, we absolutely can. And next time, I will.”

Manager: *Angry* “You’re being pretty petty right now.”

Me: “Fine, I’m petty. I don’t care. But you should have told me you told them. I’d rather have too much food than not enough.”

I got a lot of s*** from the employees when the word got around that I had “poorly planned” the lunch. No matter what I said or did, I became the one everyone hated. A few months later, [Manager] asked me to plan another meal. I pointedly declined and suggested he do it himself. There was no second meal.

In early 2016, I quit a dead-end job in a call center and was looking for new pastures or at least a way to pay my bills. A certain company was recruiting for a sales team, and I figured I’d give it a go. I mean, if nothing else, a year and a half in customer service had sure fine-polished my gift of the gab.

The interview went fine — so much so that they excused me for ten minutes and then invited me back in to offer me the position. In retrospect, that should’ve been my first warning sign — who hires someone based on a fifteen-minute chinwag and ten minutes of deliberation? But oh, well.

I showed up on my first day for the contract signing, and it was then revealed that we’d be working on commission only. This should’ve been my second warning sign because if I don’t make any sales on a certain day, I don’t eat that day.

We then went off to a morning meeting in what they called “the Atmosphere Room”. This meeting consisted of everybody pairing up in twos and practicing the (near-identical) sales pitch on each other — with a boombox blasting loud dance music at the same time. According to the trainers, this was to “motivate us to talk loudly and confidently”. I was a bit skeptical, but I didn’t want to be “that guy,” so I played along nicely.

Then, we actually got off to work. It turned out we’d be doing “campaigns in residential areas” — which I quickly learnt was door-to-dooring — so as to recruit benefactors for a cancer fund/research organisation. “Commendable purpose, if nothing else,” I thought to myself. But I soon wised up.

For starters, said organisation had no operations in Northern Ireland (NI), so that alone made it tough to tickle anyone’s interest. Moreover, NI already had a variety of local organisations and hospices doing an amazing job. Lastly, I was no sales expert, but even I knew that knowing your demographic group is key. I also knew that NI was still shaky and divided despite the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, and saying the wrong word at the wrong place at the wrong time could still get you into a heap of trouble.

With that in mind, it’d make sense to focus only on Protestant/Unionist areas, right? Nope. We’d be sent off to random neighbourhoods with no regard for sectarian division. Now, imagine walking into a staunch Catholic/Republican area, asking people to donate to a London-based English organisation that doesn’t even operate in NI. In retrospect, I believe it was only my non-Irish/non-Ulster accent that saved me from major carnage. (“Ach, some weird Caneedien or Austreelien… Lad don’t kno’ any bettur!”)

The trainers kept telling us that for every thirty doors knocked, we’d be invited into thre homes, and out of those three we’d perhaps make one sale — in plain English, a conversion rate of 3%. We shouldn’t be discouraged but instead be more assertive and positive. We were expected to cover 100 to 150 households during one ten-hour day in the field, while keeping a tally of the number of houses visited, doors answered, invitations inside, and sales closed. After we’d visited the last house, we were to return to point of origin and revisit all houses that hadn’t answered the door the first time. After Round Two, it was lunch — which, by the way, wasn’t company-paid, so everyone had to find something on their own. With a very limited selection of shops and food outlets in no man’s land, it always ended up being overpriced fast food. On average, I’d spend £4 to £5 on lunch each working day. And unless one of the trainers would take us in their car to our respective patches that day, bus tickets were, too, funded by us. A day ticket in Belfast was £4 back then if memory serves.

At the office itself, things were getting more and more ludicrous. We were not allowed to drink beverages of any sort in the “Atmosphere Room”, and we weren’t allowed to go near the reception area if there were visitors in the waiting area. (They probably didn’t want us to warn inadvertently any “new fish” about this whole madhouse.)

On my fourth day, I started crunching some serious numbers. If, best-case scenario, I’d close a deal with 3% of the households visited, and each sale gave a commission of £2, I’d have to knock on 200 doors a day just to cover lunch and bus tickets that day! Never mind rent and utilities that whole month! There are only so many residential areas in NI! 

The drop that finally tipped the scale, though, was when I’d just returned to the office one evening. The dress code mandated trousers and a dress shirt, and as it’d been a fairly warm summer’s day, I was beat and rather dehydrated. Toilet facilities were scarce in the field, so everyone tried to limit their fluid intake.

As I still had a soda left in my backpack, I helped myself to it. One of the trainers walked by, and I jovially raised the can in a sort of toast. She flipped! What was I doing here? I wasn’t supposed to be out here drinking soda, but instead, I should be in “Atmosphere” to deliver the final tallies! I was like, “Gee, hold yer horses; I only got just in like thirty seconds ago!”, but she’d have none of it. 

And that’s when I left. I couldn’t even be bothered to hand in a formal resignation. I just left and never came back. Rack off, ya collection of lunatics!

I took over payroll for a small company of about fifty people. An employee came into my office while I was on a call with a supervisor. He did not knock on the closed door; he just came in and started yelling.

Employee: “What the f*** is wrong with you?!”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m on a call right now, but I will help you when I’m done. Please have a seat outside.”

Employee: “You spelled my name wrong, and now my bank won’t accept my paycheck.”

Me: “Okay, I apologize. However, I am on the phone with [Supervisor] right now, so I will be with you when—”

Employee: “You’ll fix it right now or I’ll knock your f****** teeth down your throat. I worked; you owe me my money.”

[Supervisor] had been on the phone this whole time and heard everything via speakerphone.

Supervisor: “Hey, [Employee], how about you come down to my office and talk like that?”

Employee: *Losing color* “What?”

Supervisor: “Come here. I’ve got teeth, too.”

Employee: “Oh. I— No, I was—”

Supervisor: “Actually, hang tight. I’ll come to you.”

[Employee] opened the door, presumably to leave, but [Supervisor] was already there. Apparently, he’d started walking as soon as he heard [Employee] come in.

Supervisor: “Give me your badge.”

Employee: “No, but she—”

Supervisor: “I don’t care. You do not talk to anyone like that. Give me your badge now.”

[Employee] handed over his badge.

Supervisor: *Looking at the name* “Spell your name.”

[Employee] does so.

Supervisor: “[My Name], how is it spelled on his file?”

I read it; it’s the same spelling.

Supervisor: “Your name tag matches your file and you haven’t had this issue before, correct? I suggest you go sort it out with your bank, and we will mail your final check today.”

Employee: “But—”

Supervisor: “Get. Out.”

[Employee] was escorted out of the building. He called [Supervisor] a few hours later to apologize for his behavior — but he would not speak to me — and admitted that the bank teller was mistaken. He asked if he could be reinstated but he was denied.