(At work, we’re sat in groups of four on one pod — basically four curved desks pushed together so all the computers are in the middle. [Coworker #1] of the pod has a cat called Margaret — her first cat. [Coworker #2] and I have had many cats in the past but not currently, and [Coworker #3] has never had a cat but understands how they work. We’re just generally chatting when the topic goes on to Margaret the cat.)

Coworker #1: “Ugh, Margaret was being a little b**** last night.”

Coworker #3: “Cats cannot be b****es.”

Me: “They can be a**holes, though.”

Coworker #3: “Yes, they seem to do that a lot.”

Coworker #1: “Fine. Margaret was being a little not-b**** last night.”

Coworker #2: “Why was your cat a little not-b****?”

Coworker #1: “She wouldn’t go out!”

(There is a pause.)

Coworker #2: “And?”

Coworker #1: “We put her out every night, and last night she wouldn’t go out.”

Me & Coworker #2: “Yes?”

Coworker #1: “We had to chase her round the house to try and get her to go out!”

Coworker #3: “Isn’t that normal?”

Me: “Yup.”

Coworker #1: “Is it?”

Me & Coworker #2: “Yup.”

Me: “If a cat doesn’t want to go out, it will not go out.”

Coworker #2: “They’re even worse if you’re trying to get the a**hole in.”

(I nod mock-solemnly in agreement.)

Coworker #1: “But if she’s in, she runs about the house in the middle of the night!”

Me: “She sounds like a normal, healthy cat.”

Coworker #1: “THIS IS NORMAL?!”

Me & Coworker 2: “Yup.”

Coworker #1: “Shouldn’t she be asleep at night?”

Me: “Cats are mostly nocturnal. So… no.”

Coworker #1: “Why can’t she just love me unconditionally, sleep at night, and do as I say?”

Coworker #3: “Well, those kinds of animals do exist… They’re just called dogs.”

(My boyfriend brings books to work to read when it’s slow.)

Boyfriend: “Hey, should I read [Book #1] or [Book #2]?”

Me: “Uh… [Book #1].”

Boyfriend: “But what about [Book #2]?”

Me: “I dunno, what about [Book #2]?”

Boyfriend: “I really want to read [Book #2].”

Me: “Then why did you ask?!”

(I’m applying for council housing. I have waited three months for a reference number to sign into the account they’ve made for me. I call the office.)

Me: “Hi. I’m calling regarding my application on the [Local Area] website? I haven’t received my reference number; it’s been about three months.”

Employee #1: “Okay. What’s your name?”

Me: “[My Name].”

Employee #1: “And your address?”

Me: “[Address].”

Employee #1: “Are you currently a tenant with us?”

Me: “No, but I signed up and selected you on the drop-down list for who I’d like to deal with my application.”

Employee #1: “Sorry, you’ll have to go to your local council housing office.”

(I go there and explain all this to the employee.)

Employee #2: “Sorry, as you selected them to deal with your application, only they can handle it.”

(I go home and call back. The first two times, I am told they can’t help as I’m not a tenant, but on my third call, they agree to send me out a letter with the reference number. Lo and behold, when I get it, it doesn’t work. I call back several times and I’m told that I can’t speak to them unless I already live in one of their properties. In the time it’s taken to get to this point, I’ve had a baby. I go back to the local council office.)

Me: “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but—“ *explains the whole situation*

Employee #3: “I’m sorry, we can’t change your details here, but I can do a search and find your reference number. It’s [completely different, longer number].”

Me: “Thanks so much!”

(I go on the website. I now need a two-bedroom property because of the aforementioned baby. I can’t apply for one as I’m down as a single adult, so I need to get my details changed. I call the people dealing with my application again; it takes another three calls, spread over a week, before someone can update my details. During this week, I find that my current landlord has decided to evict me, probably to avoid doing necessary work — there’s black mould and I have had to stay with my mum to avoid potential risks to my baby for the past three months.)

Me: “Look. I know it’s not your fault, but this situation is absolutely untenable, and I’m being passed from pillar to post. If you can’t help me, can you transfer me to someone who can?”

Employee #4: “I can transfer you to lettings, but I doubt they can help.”

(I am transferred.)

Lettings Employee: “Sure, I can update those details!”

(It took three minutes. All in all, I had been running around trying to sort this out for six months when this could have been done in a matter of minutes!)

I work for a national bank, and as the most senior member of our team, I’m sometimes asked to train our newer employees. I’ll often provide materials to hand out so people can make notes and add them to their files.

One time, I had trained our entire staff on a new process, and afterward, my boss sent me an email saying I needed to be more careful when using actual client names and account numbers in my training materials. I asked my manager to look at the materials again.

“Account name: John Doe. Account number: 12345.”

I am serving my notice period for a job. On a Monday, the guy hired to replace me starts. He’s apparently been out of work for a few months, due to some chronic medical issues. He does complain of feeling feverish and run down, and is wearing a wrist brace for an apparently long-standing strain injury. Overall, though, he seems keen to be back in a job.

On Tuesday, he isn’t in when I arrive. Our manager advises me that he’s called in sick, citing the fever he mentioned the previous day. We agree it’s not a great start to a new job, but one can’t plan for sickness, so we shrug it off.

I work from home on Wednesday, as the trains aren’t working. The new guy doesn’t answer any emails in the morning, and at lunch, my manager tells me that he hasn’t been in again due to something medical, but is due to be in for the afternoon.

On Thursday, I get in late — train issues again — and New Guy is, once again, not there. My manager fills me in on the details:

Wednesday morning, he had to make an urgent doctor’s appointment to get his inhaler refilled, as it had run out, and it’s something he really shouldn’t spend a whole day without. Once more, it’s something that doesn’t reflect hugely well, but it does seem reasonable enough.

While he was at the GP, however, he decided it was also worth the doctor taking a look at his wrist — yes, the one that had been injured for a least a month prior to starting this job. The result of this investigation necessitated a trip to the hospital for x-rays and other stuff, which my manager was promised would only delay his arrival until just before lunch.

Two hours after lunch, New Guy calls to say he’s gone home and won’t be in — all the excitement of the day has left him “not really feeling it” — but he swears up and down he’ll be in on Thursday.

When he does arrive Thursday morning, after consulting with the department head and HR, my manager politely tells him that it’s not working out.

It’s hard to feel too sorry for him, though; our contracts enforce a one-month paid notice period during the first six months of employment, which applies no matter who makes the decision to terminate your employment.

So, for a day’s training, a sick day, and a couple of medical appointments, the guy got about five weeks of pay.