(Part of my job is to be a go-fer for the office and the higher-ups — an errand girl, basically. One day, as I’m leaving to get something from the store, I see a couple of guys talking with three of our Loss Prevention and Facilities guys, all looking confused and somewhat alarmed. I don’t think much of it until I get back and see three cop cars in front of our loading dock investigating a truck. One of the LP guys points me out, and as I get out of my car, a cop comes jogging over.)

Cop: “Ma’am, you need to come with me.”

Me: “Wait, what? Why? What’s going on?”

Cop: “Ma’am, for your safety, you need to come with me.”

(I’m super confused but do what he says and walk over to the loading dock, where I realize one of the officers has a Geiger counter and is running it over everything in the truck.)

Me: “What’s going on?”

Coworker: “You know those guys I was talking to earlier?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Coworker: “Apparently someone from Turkey shipped a package to us to be picked up by those other guys, like we’re FedEx or something.”

Me: “But our building looks nothing like a post office.”

Coworker: “Exactly. And those two guys were from Turkey, too, and flew all the way out here to pick up their package with the intent of taking it back to Turkey. With those bombs being sent to some people lately, we figured better safe than sorry.”

Cop: “Ma’am, I need to you hold out your arms.”

(I do so, and it finally hits me as they’re running the Geiger counter over me.)

Me: “Wait, you think I was exposed to radiation?”

Coworker: “You were in the mailroom this morning, and they’re scanning everyone who was there.”

(Startlingly enough, my chest area measured as somewhat radioactive. It took the cops another ten minutes to realize it was my necklace, which had a reading of .001 from God knows what, and that I had not inhaled anything radioactive. I still don’t know what was in that package that someone in Turkey had to ship it to the USA to be picked up by a couple of guys and brought back to Turkey on their flight. I’m also amazed it wasn’t a fever dream.)

When I’m sat at my desk at work, I can see directly into our small kitchen area. There are about three different teams in our office, and we don’t really mix. My team is small, and on this day there is only one other person in, so I offer to make us both a cup of tea.

I make the teas, deliver them to our desks, then pop back into the kitchen to refill and boil the kettle, as is customary here if you empty it.

While I am filling it, I can hear my desk phone start ringing, so I quickly put the kettle back on its base and rush out to answer the phone. As I sit down, I realise I didn’t flick the kettle on, so I make a mental note to do that when I’ve finished my call.

As I think this, I see the department head — my boss’s boss — and his boss, who is visiting for the day, wander out to the kitchen. Our department head touches the kettle to see if it is hot — which it still is from my recent tea-making — and proceeds to pour water into both their cups.

The cold water, that I’ve just put into the kettle… Oops!

(I work for a small IT service provider and I’ve just finished preparing a new computer for a customer. I had it here, installed the OS, requested software, and so on. The customer comes by and takes the computer home after I am finished. A while later, he calls.)

Me: “[Company], [My Name]. How can I help?”

Customer: “This is [Customer]. I just set up the computer you prepared for me. It does not work.”

Me: “Okay, can you start the remote maintenance program so I can connect to it and check it out?”

Customer: “No! It does not work!”

Me: “Wait… You mean you can’t start it?”

Customer: “Yes! That’s what I said. You sold me a broken computer!”

Me: “Well, it is a brand-new computer and it worked just fine a few hours ago. Did you connect the power cable?”

Customer: “Of course I did!”

Me: “Okay, did you flick the main switch in the back like I showed you?”

Customer: “Yes, I did! It still doesn’t work! It’s broken! I’ll bring it back. Now I have to crawl back under the table!”

Me: “I could come over and…”

Customer: “No! I’ll bring it back! I don’t want a broken computer!”

Me: “Okay. I’ll be here until six pm. I’m sorry about the problems.”

(The customer hangs up. A few minutes later the phone rings again.)

Me: “[Company], [My Name]. How can I help?”

Customer: “This is [Customer] again. Well… the computer works now.”

Me: “Oh? What was the problem?”

Customer: “When I use a multiple-extension outlet, it might be a good idea to actually turn the thing on.”

(The customer apologized for getting mad at me. I stayed on the phone with him while he checked if everything worked, in case he needed further assistance.)

(I’ve been asked to help out at my husband’s work for a couple of weeks. I am shown to a room where I can complete the work. I’ve been working for a few hours when the phone rings on a nearby desk. There’s been no one else in the room.)

Me: “Hello. [My Name] speaking.”

(I notice the caller ID is showing that the call is coming from my husband, but the voice at the other end is not his.)

Caller: *very stern and gruff male* “This is [Caller] and I am a representative from [extra-long Union name]. I’ve had a phone call reporting that you are working over there at [work site]. I need to know who you are and what you are doing on those premises.”

Me: *frightened* “I am [My Name] and I am working on [job].”

Caller: “And are you a member of [Union]?”

Me: “No.”

Caller: “Well, that’s unacceptable; you are here taking jobs away from union employees.” *goes on rant about it, ending with…* “…you’re in big trouble. We’ll be handing this matter over to our lawyers, and you can expect a call from them. You’d better get yourself a good one.”

Me: *even more frightened* “Uh, okay.”

(As I hang up, I notice the time and see that it’s lunchtime. I decide to go and meet my husband. When I get there he is sitting at a table with another man, who looks at me and starts laughing.)  

Caller: *laughs* “I got you good! I bet you were scared getting that phone call from the [Union].”

(He laughs, and keeps crowing about how he got me.)

Me: *when I can get a word in* “Wasn’t scared.”

Caller: “What? Yes, you were.”

Me: “The phone has caller ID; it said [Husband]’s name on the screen.”

(The man went bright red as [Husband] and his boss cracked up. My husband told me that he had dialled the number to let me know it was lunchtime, and the other guy had taken the phone from him.)

Back in the 80s, I was new to my career, and one November I started work in the workshop of a fly-by-night company that provided basic computer equipment to the financial sector — little more than glorified monitors, badly designed and cheaply made. The management were as cheap as their product, and were ungenerous and demanding of their staff. However, this was made up for somewhat by the fact that they provided free lunch — toasted sandwiches, etc. — and by the legendary Christmas office party, at which all employees were to receive a lavish hamper, filled with sumptuous seasonal goodies and expensive delicacies such as champagne, caviar, VSOP brandy, cheeses, and the like. I was not getting on too well with my colleagues, some of whom — particularly one supervisor — were a brash and insulting bunch of bullies. No big deal, just a pain to work with.

Come the week of the party, I was taken aside by one of the team seniors and informed that as I had not been at the company long enough — just over a month — I was not entitled to take part in the Christmas party, and I would not be getting a hamper. A little disappointing, I thought, but not far off what I had come to expect from the management there. I shrugged it off, while working on preparing an exit strategy.

Come the week after Christmas, when we were all back at work, the supervisor in question came into the workshop and crowed, “You fell for it, then!” One of the other guys in the office said, “Yeah, we split the contents of the hamper between us. We weren’t wasting it; since you obviously didn’t want it, we all had it.”

Apparently my non-attendance was taken by the higher management as a bit of a slap in the face, and I was not looked upon with favour by the company director — not that I would have had the chance of speaking to him face to face, as one was not encouraged to communicate directly with anyone higher than one’s own direct line manager.

Within a month I had found a new place to work.