I’m the closing manager at the store I work at. My coworker, without fail, is always late to work on payday Fridays by three hours or more because she’s getting her nails or hair done. She gets those super-long fake acrylics done. She’s just a cashier, so it’s not like she’s moving boxes and stacking shelves.

One of my closing duties is to count the registers out to make sure they equal $200. If I notice the till is getting low on dimes, quarters, etc. I will open the rolls up and refill the tills’ coins. If you have ever worked with rolls of coins, you know how much they suck to open; I’ve noticed with her especially she struggles to open them because of said nails.

One day, I decide to get my revenge. I don’t refill her till’s coins.

Also, we have two types of coin rolls, one that you have to crack open in the middle and peel the paper away to get to the coins, or one where you just open one side and dump them. Guess which ones I make sure she has every time.

It’s not much, but it helps keep me sane during the workday.

I don’t typically buy a lot of designer clothing, but when I do go shopping, I dress pretty casually. Last week I was strolling through the mall, and there was a designer backpack on display that caught my attention. I went inside the store (wearing a hoodie and ripped jeans) and went to inquire about the price of the backpack.

I waited around for ten minutes for someone to help me until I decided to go up to one of the sales representatives myself.

Sales Rep: “Wait, I’m helping another customer.”

So, I sat down and waited. I saw her in the corner of the store just standing, not doing anything. I decided to wait another five minutes for her to come back, but she never did.

I walked back up to her and told her I wanted to inquire about the backpack. I asked her:

Me: “Can you bring one from the backroom so I can take a closer look at it?”

Sales Rep: “I won’t be able to do that unless you’re planning on purchasing the item.”

She seemed annoyed with my request. Before I could say anything else, she quickly walked away to help another customer. I’m quite young (twenty-five), and I could tell she didn’t think I was serious about purchasing it and didn’t want to waste her time. I would have actually purchased it then and there if she hadn’t been so dismissive.

A few days later, I went back into the store. This time, I made sure to dress even more casually than before. I walked in with a pair of sweatpants, running shoes, a tank top, and a zip-up. The same lady was working that day and turned her back to me as soon as I walked in.

I went up to one of the other sales representatives (this guy was younger, smiling, and seemed eager to help).

Me: “I’d like to purchase the backpack.”

He gladly went inside and got it for me.

Other Sales Rep: “Would you like to take a look at it before buying?”

I thanked him, and he checked me out. The store manager was also by the cashier.

Me: “I came in last week, and that lady wouldn’t let me see the product before purchasing it.”

Manager: “I’m sorry to hear that. This isn’t the first time I’ve received a complaint about her.”

The item was a few grand, and all the commission went towards the junior. He was so kind and grateful. She avoided eye contact with me after she got told off by her manager, and I smiled at her as I walked out of the store.

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

I was young, maybe fifteen years old or so, and would pick up the odd babysitting gig for extra money.

I took a night for a household that was on my paper route. They asked me to be there on a Saturday for 8:30 PM, and I arrived a few minutes early. The parents were still getting ready, and they asked me to watch the kids while they prepared to head out. They left the house at about 9:15 PM.

Before they headed out, the wife gave me some very specific instructions. I could have a snack… two Oreos on the counter. Nothing else. She said she poured a glass of milk for me and left it in the fridge… it was right next to the plastic milk jug, with a piece of tape on it showing the level. She told me she’d check it when she got back, and if I took any extra milk, I would have to answer for it.

The kids were okay, went to bed without any fuss, and the parents returned home at 12:20 AM. The mom paid me for three hours, about ten minutes after they arrived.

Me: “Excuse me, but this isn’t right. I got here before 8:30, and it’s now almost 12:30, that’s four hours, not three.”

Mom: “We didn’t leave until 9:15, and we got home at 12:15. I’m only paying you for three hours.”

Me: “But I was watching the kids from 8:30…”

Mom: “That doesn’t matter, we were home, and you weren’t in charge, we were.”

I took the money and rode my bike home.

A couple of weeks later, they did pretty much the same thing. 

Two things are important: first, the wife was a neat freak. I’m guessing now she had OCD. Everything was lined up perfectly. One of the kids spilled his drink, and I was looking for some paper towels. The cleaning supplies under the sink were perfectly lined up. Same with the pantry… every jar and can was in a row with the label facing directly to the front. 

Second, this was in the mid-1970s, and all canned food had paper labels.

So, the third time they called me in to babysit, they were late leaving AGAIN, and I knew that I was going to get shortchanged for the time I was there. I was steaming.

So I went into the pantry and tore the labels off each and every can. All of them. She had a shelf for Campbell’s soups, another for canned veggies, another for canned fruits…and I scrambled the unlabeled cans.

When they got home, sure enough, she tried to short me.

Me: “You know what? Keep your money. I don’t want it, and I am never babysitting for you again. And as of today, I’m stopping delivering your newspapers as well. So, if you want to read the paper, you’re going to have to go buy it at a corner store.”

I stormed out.

I wish I could have seen the expression on her face when she opened the pantry door…and saw shelf after shelf of bare metal cans.

It’s the early 2000s in the video game store where I work. My manager is at the counter when the customer line rings. He picks up.

Manager: “Thank you for calling [Video Game Store], this is [Manager’s Name]… Uh-huh… Yes… Uh-huh… I think I understand.”

He hangs up and looks at me.

Manager: “A mom just called. Her son has some friends over. She overheard them planning to prank-call the store, so she gave me a heads-up and instructions.”

I grin. He grins. We wait. Two minutes later, the phone rings.

Manager: “Thank you for calling [Video Game Store], this is [Manager’s Name].”

There’s whispering on the other end, then a boy tries to deepen his voice.

Kid: “Uh, yeah, do you guys have… um… Grand Theft Auto: Donkey Edition in stock?”

Manager: “We sure do.”

More whispering. They weren’t expecting that.

Kid: “Uh—okay, cool. Do you know wh—”

Manager: “—no, we don’t have the exploding controller accessory in stock today. It’ll be in Wednesday.”

There’s a long silence.

Kid: “Whoa. Are you psychic or something?”

Manager: “No, but your mom is. And we’re all very scared of her. Also, she told me to tell you your PlayStation privileges are revoked for the whole weekend… and your new copy of Devil May Cry has already disappeared from your gaming collection.”

There’s a gasp on the line.

Kid: “No. She couldn’t have—SHE DID! NOOOOOOO—”

He hangs up so fast the click echoes.

Almost ten years ago, I worked at a company where my department analyzed survey and secondary data, compiling it into handbooks each quarter. After six months of joining the department, my manager, who joined us two months after me, reorganized our tasks in an attempt to improve our efficiency.

This manager was promoted internally and was notorious for kissing up to management. He was technically not qualified for the promotion due to a different background required for our department, but one of the C-suite members liked him a lot. He did have some expertise in other areas, but generally had an unpleasant personality, so, many people in the company didn’t like him much.

Along with three new projects, I was assigned the handbook task for the first time. I carried out the handbook project smoothly along with my other tasks, and by late July, the only thing left for me to do was to proofread the content. A whole two weeks before our target timeline to send the design to the Unit Head, this conversation happened:

Manager: “I need you to finalize everything today, because we are sending the design to the Unit Head on Monday.”

Me: “Next Monday? Why? We have two weeks.”

Manager: “Well, the Unit Head wants to see some changes around here, so I thought we could speed up the publication of this handbook to start. I told the Unit Head we would send the design to her on Monday.”

Me: “Okay… you could have discussed this with me first. I mean, the proofreading is almost done, I can get it done by today, but we still need to sit down with the designer to finalize and sign off. The appointment is in a week.”

Manager: “Can you do it tomorrow? Go ask the designer.”

Now, it was not normal in our company to come to the office and work on the weekend. And, of course, I already had a plan for that weekend, so this was really annoying to me. At least I knew that the designer would have no issue moving it to the next day, because he is very cooperative.

Me: “I can try… but tomorrow is Saturday. I’m not sure if he can make it. And are you sure we want to rush this? Because even if we meet the designer tomorrow, the hardcopy will be delivered just two weeks earlier than the normal deadline. Is it that significant?”

Manager: “Yes! Just go ask the designer now.”

So, I called the designer, and as expected, he had no problem meeting on Saturday.

Me: “Mr. [Manager], the designer is okay to meet tomorrow. Is 10 AM okay with you?”

Manager: “Huh?” *Puzzled look.*

Me: “Uhm… You also need to be there for the sign-off.”

Manager: “I do?”

Me: “Yes, you literally need to sign off on the final version to send to the Unit Head. It’s the normal procedure.”

To be honest, he didn’t need to be there aside from following procedure. He had already seen the design a few times and likely wouldn’t have contributed much to the meeting. I would have loved for him not to be there anyway. But at that point, I was quite excited to make him come to the office on the weekend when he obviously didn’t realize he ALSO had to be there with the designer.

Manager: “I can’t tomorrow, I’m going [somewhere] until Sunday.”

Me: “Well, if you want to send this to the Unit Head on Monday, then YOU HAVE to be here tomorrow.”

Manager: *Sighs.* “Let me get back to you.”

About half an hour later, he came up to me with the sourest face ever.

Manager: “10 AM tomorrow is fine.”

And he walked away.

I’m guessing he must have p***ed off someone when he had to change/cancel his weekend plan.

So, the next day, he came in one hour late, not smiling at all, and was rude to the designer and me. He was really unhappy to be in the office on that day, but we got it done by 1 PM.

The following week, the story of how I made my manager come to work on Saturday was told around the company. Apparently, the plan that he had for the weekend was a group trip with some of his buddies who also worked in the company, and he had to make new arrangements to get to the place by himself and arrived late. A lot of people thought it was really funny (including the Unit Head and some of his buddies) and laughed at the image of him walking into the office on Saturday for some trivial yet necessary work.

Nevertheless, during the next two years that I worked on the handbook, he never promised anyone to have the handbook ready before the six-month timeline.