A few years ago, I worked at a janky, two-bit company. The boss thought he was Billy Big B*llocks and God’s Gift simultaneously. He had such a big head, I’m surprised he could get through doorways. He used to drink beer at his desk for lunch and would often arrive at work late. He was also an insufferable muscle-bro and walked around as if carrying rolls of carpet under each arm.

A few months into my time there, the company starts winning large orders, so he asks me to set up a small-scale production line to increase capacity and tells me the new hire will be situated there.

I design it, set it up, test it all works, and I’m feeling a sense of pride with what I’ve accomplished; it worked like a dream. I was confident it would work really well for the new hire. Because I’m an engineer by trade, everything was perfect and only I knew how to fix the broken s***. Nobody else asked how it worked.

A while later, there was an issue; he couldn’t hire anyone willing to accept such a crappy wage and boring work. So, Billy Big B*llocks had a bright idea to demote me and make me governor of my creation.

No way, not for £9k less.

I immediately started job hunting, and I told him, “If that’s your final offer, regard tomorrow as my final day.” He panics that he’s committed the company to a £1m order due for shipping in three days’ time. During his alcohol fuelled panic, he tells me to write up highly detailed technical manuals and processes for my replacement (the production line included some precise handwork).

I can’t do that in one day! He also didn’t specify what they should contain, and considering I had no help from him with this project, just complaints, I thought, ‘f*** it.’ So sure, he got his manuals.

I created Word documents with convincing titles like ‘Technical Manual – Product Version 2.0’ and ‘How to Do This Precise Task.’ Inside the documents were, for example, the surprised Pikachu face, and Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys looking lost. Then, below just one line of text reading, ‘This manual contains all the information I could find or was given.’

The file sizes would also indicate a lot of text was contained within, thanks to the images; therefore, at face value, they looked legitimate.

I saved them to my laptop in an equally legitimate-looking folder that afternoon. Early the next morning, I came to work to collect my belongings and do some handovers, and found the laptop had vanished. I said my goodbyes to my colleagues and looked over to see him looking incensed with a beer in one hand. He was so angry, he didn’t look up from his desk.

A friend told me later that the company missed the production deadline despite his working twelve-hour days to try to catch up. Apparently, the client was extremely f***ed off!

It’s the day before Thanksgiving, so as usual, the store is overflowing with last-minute shoppers, heck-bent on making sure they have too much food for tomorrow. Every lane is packed with customers.

I’m about to start scanning the next customer. She has a full cart. Actually, that’s an understatement; she has an overflowing cart, easily one of the largest I’ve had to scan today.

The next customer behind her meekly asks:

Next Customer: “Excuse me, I only have these two things, and the parking meter for my car is about to expire. Would I be able to go ahead of you?”

Current Customer: “No. First-come, first-served! You should have planned better!”

As much of a jerk as she may be, my current customer is indeed next, so I have no choice but to start scanning her items.

Current Customer: “The gall, asking to skip the line!”

Next Customer: “I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. No need to keep going on about it.”

Current Customer: “The nerve of your generation! The entitlement! I hope your car gets towed!”

I get through scanning it all as fast as possible, as the customer’s ranting is making me uncomfortable. The current customer pays and wheels away her massive cart of items.

I start scanning the current customer’s two items as fast as possible.

Me: “Sorry about that. I have to go in the order the customers are in the line.”

Next Customer: “Don’t worry about it. Oh, and when that miserable person gets home and realizes they don’t have their cornbread and canned cranberry sauce, it’s because I threw them under the counter behind the shopping baskets when she was too busy insulting me to look.

The next customer scans their card, grabs the receipt, and walks out with a victorious gait, leaving me there, finding the situation equally hilarious and horrifying.

I have non epileptic seizures. Depending on how bad they are, I will sometimes keep working after a seizure if I feel well enough. 

I work in a retail chain in a small village. One day, I had just had a seizure and was still feeling a bit shaky but well enough to work, so I went up to the cash register and served this lady. When I had scanned all her items, she spoke up in a rude tone and said (I am paraphrasing as this event was a while ago):

Customer: “You know, you really should offer people a bag before scanning, it would be much quicker that way.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, I’m just having one of those days.”

Customer: *Rudely snapping back.* “Well, I’ve had a really bad day, so that’s no excuse!”

I was taken aback, but decided to be petty; I changed my tone to sound extra apologetic.

Me: “You’re so right. I’m so sorry, I just had a seizure, so I’m a bit wobbly, but you’re so right. I will definitely do better next time.”

Customer: *Shocked.* “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry.”

But I doubled down.

Me: “Oh no, you were right. I should have done better; I am so sorry.”

She quietly paid, muttering a sorry as she left.

I recently attended a friend’s wedding a few hours away from home, and the girlfriend and I decided to get an Airbnb so she could bring her dog. We found a nice place that allowed pets, took off early from work, and arrived on Friday late afternoon.

About thirty minutes later, the owner shows up to see how we’re doing while we have the dog on the porch. We make some small talk, and he mentions that we didn’t indicate we were bringing a dog. I felt bad, as it was an honest mistake, and I’d never lie to someone to get out of paying the pet fee.

We tell him that and offer to pay the $25 fee on the spot. He refuses to take the money and says that he loves dogs and eventually heads out.

We don’t think too much else about it, but when we leave, we decide to give the place a much more thorough cleaning than was in the instructions. The dog didn’t chew any furniture or leave any other damage or mess.

In our minds, the trip was a success, and the Airbnb was a great fit. I got the email from them to leave a review, and I left a five-star review and said the house and the owner were great.

But then I saw his review of me, and a private message where he blasted me for not telling him that I was bringing a dog, how dogs cause them so much more work, and how we shouldn’t leave dogs alone in the house.

This didn’t sit well with me at all, since I thought we had handled this person-to-person when he came by on the first day. I was still happy to pay for the pet fee, and there was no indication anywhere on the posting that we couldn’t leave the dog alone for a few hours while we were at a wedding, nor did he say that while we chatted and told him we were here for a wedding. For him to post that on my Airbnb profile felt like a cheap shot.

I responded to him in the chat and said as much, and while Airbnb couldn’t do anything about the review since it didn’t violate any of their policies, my girlfriend did point out that hosts aren’t supposed to show up to the property unannounced.

I had no idea and figured this was his property, and he is allowed to show up, at least to check in with the guests. Normally, I wouldn’t care, especially since it was a very cordial interaction, but since he took a cheap shot with my review, I decided to do the same.

I reached out to Airbnb support to tell them about his unannounced visit, and they forwarded it to their security team. I answered a few questions about the interaction, and they spoke to him.

A week or so later they let me know that he was in violation of their policy, and they refunded me two-thirds of what I paid, which came out to about $200. All because of a bad review.

I head into a random fast-food place as I’m getting hungry, and by coincidence, I see my grandparents ordering ahead of me. I’m about to go say hi when I realize they’re shouting and berating the poor teenager serving them to the point of tears because they were out of stock of a particular flavor of sundae.

I felt embarrassed and so bad for the worker, but I didn’t know how to handle the situation, so I just left and decided to eat somewhere else. I felt especially bad because they know I also work in a fast-food place while I’m in college, so I thought they’d have a bit more compassion.

That weekend, my grandparents invited everyone over for a backyard barbecue. I intentionally arrive late (one of my grandma’s pet peeves) and she confronts me:

Grandma: “[My Name]! You’re an hour late! You told us you finished work at midday on Sundays, so what’s your excuse, young lady?!”

Me: “Sorry, Grandma. A couple was shouting at my poor teenage coworker, and she was crying and had to take some time to calm down, so I had to take over. Can you imagine? Adults doing that to a poor teenager over an ice cream that’s out of stock?! Something that they have no control over? Those people must live very miserable and meaningless lives if that’s how they treat children. Anyway, how are you?”

Suddenly, my tardiness was forgiven!