(I have recently applied for an EBT card, aka food stamps. While we are not nearly as bad off as some people, and I do work full-time, my significant other has been out of a job, and money has been extremely tight. I complete all my interviews, and I am told to drop off a signed letter describing my income to the local Assistance Office. I start off by talking to the front receptionist.)

Me: “Hi! My name is [My Name], and I was told to drop off this signed letter pertaining to my case.”

Receptionist: “It’ll be a four- to five-hour wait before you can speak with a case worker. Have a seat and wait for your name to be called.”

Me: “Well, I really don’t want to wait that long, and I don’t really need to speak to a worker; I just need to drop this letter off.”

Receptionist: “It will take twice as long to process that if you don’t speak with a worker today.”

Me: “That’s fine; I was prepared to wait before getting my card.”

Receptionist: *looking me up and down* “If you can afford to wait an extra three days, then clearly, you don’t need assistance. Why are you even bothering to be here? You’re wasting everyone’s time!”

Me: *not wanting to explain my whole situation to this lady* “Look: can’t you just process this paper? I’ve already had all my interviews. I’m sorry I don’t have an envelope.”

Receptionist: *snatching the letter from my hand* “If you can afford food for the week, you can afford an envelope. No wonder people like you can’t get good jobs; you don’t even know how to be professional.” *to the line behind me* “Next!”

Me: *pause* “Have a nice day.”

(I just don’t understand how people whose job is to help those less fortunate can be so rude!)

(I work at a company that sells medical equipment. The moment my boss goes on maternity leave, the department is restructured and her job eliminated — a common work-around employers use in the UK to circumvent maternity rights. That restructuring has been catastrophic for the office, and people are leaving left, right, and centre, not that management have noticed any change but the savings. Many suspect they’re just trying to constructively dismiss the old guard on full-time contracts and replace us with zero-hours workers, a process which has already begun. I’m at the reception desk one day; this is not my job, but my team has gone from five to two people in a few weeks, and someone has to do it. A few colleagues come through.)

HR Worker: “Hi, [My Name].”

Me: “Hey, you all right?”

HR Worker: “Yeah. Still here. Are you?”

Me: “Yes?”

HR Worker: “Well, look at that. I honestly didn’t know you were still here.”

Me: *speechless*

HR Worker: “Ah, well. Determined to be the last man standing, are you?”

Me: *resolving to use company time to review my job applications the moment his back is turned* “Not exactly, no.”

(We are invited to a family party by my in-laws. As usual, they only remember to call on the day of the party. I work most weekend nights and am not able to attend as I have to give more than two weeks notice. I mention to a coworker that I am missing out on a party and that I wish it could have been held the next weekend when I have the Saturday night off.)

Coworker #1: “You should do what I do; you should have just called in sick and gone to the party.”

(I go to work the following Sunday. I notice that I am working with a different staff member.)

Me: “Oh, is [Coworker] sick?”

Coworker #2: “You didn’t hear what happened?”

Me: “No, is she all right?”

Coworker #2: “She got fired last night. The idiot called in sick so she could attend her boyfriend’s staff Christmas party.”

Me: “Um… Doesn’t her boyfriend work here as security?”

Coworker #2: *nods yes* “And the party was held here, and our management was invited, too.”

(I work at a middle school office, and parents need to bring in a doctor’s note if their student missed school because of an appointment. One day, a mother walks in with a note.)

Mother: “I’d like to clear my child’s absence. He had a dentist’s appointment.” *makes no move to hand me a note*

Me: “Sure thing! However, to verify your child was at the dentist, we need a—”

Mother: *interrupting* “That’s fine! I know the date! It was January 8th, 2015!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but… Wait. Did you just say, ‘2015’?”

Mother: “YES! What, are you deaf or something?”

Me: “That was four years ago. There’s only three grades in middle school. Your kid doesn’t even attend this school anymore, ma’am.”

Mother: *now nearly shouting* “BUT I KNOW THE DATE! YOU NEED TO CLEAR THIS! I CAN’T LET THIS GET ON MY SON’S PERMANENT RECORD!”

Me: “Ma’am, even if your child still attended this school, I could not excuse it, because it’s long after the gradebook closed for the year. You don’t need to worry about his permanent record; that’s only for—”

Mother: “AGH! FORGET IT! YOU’RE JUST BEING UNREASONABLE!” *storms out of the office*

(I read a story about Japan on this site and I remember a story a coworker once told me.)

Coworker: “I was in Japan for a business trip and we went to a cafe of some sort. It was quite noisy, and I thought one of the Japanese businessmen asked me what I thought about Japanese cows. I thought it was weird, but since I was just served steak, I just went with it. I told them I thought their cows were nice and firm, having good meat on them. As a response, the businessmen started laughing. It turns out they asked what I thought about Japanese girls.”