I’m on the phone with a client.

Client: “Wait, let me make a note of that. Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

Me: “Are you talking to me?”

Client: “Who else would I be talking to?”

I was opening the store one day. About twenty minutes before we opened, the phone rang. It was a customer who wanted to order pizza.

Me: “We open at eleven.”

Caller: *Grumbling* “Well, why are you answering the phone, then?”

Me: “Because it could be my driver phoning to tell me that he was going to be late or out sick, or my supervisor with important information I need to know before we open, or…”

Caller: *Click*

I’ve worked for the same restaurant chain since I was legally allowed to work at sixteen. At first, it was just a part-time job to make money while in high school. At eighteen, I ended up transferring to a location a few hours away where I was going to college and being promoted to supervisor.

After a semester, I ended up dropping out of school due to the effects it was having on my mental health. I’ve never been very motivated by money; I just want to pay my bills and have a simple life with good friends and family nearby. So, I decided to stick with this company and continue to work my way up until I could manage my own location.

Ever since I dropped out of college, though, my dad took every opportunity to try and persuade me to do “something more serious” with my life. He’s always been very motivated by money, so it’s hard for him to understand why I don’t feel the same way. I could understand that to some extent, but after two years of every single conversation with my dad ending in an argument over my career choice, it heavily impacted our relationship. It’s very demeaning being constantly reminded that you’re “wasting your life” or “not being responsible” even though I was in my own apartment with my own car at just eighteen years old. We didn’t have a healthy relationship to begin with, so this added disagreement just made me even more resentful.

So, one day, I finally had the opportunity to move out of state where a lot of my extended family lived, along with being promoted to assistant manager at this new location. When I told my dad this, he BEGGED me to look for another job. He said he was embarrassed by my profession and wished he could post about my accomplishments like he could with my siblings.

He ended up offering me $2,000 if I found a job that would pay me $14 an hour or more. Generous, yes, but I’d rather have a dad who supports me or at least doesn’t belittle me, you know?

I texted the manager I had been in contact with about my transfer to ask if we could discuss my pay. I convinced her to increase the offer from $13.75 to $14.25.

I told my dad I had gotten an offer for more than $14 and asked for the $2,000 as it was time for me to put down my deposit and first month’s rent for my new apartment. He said he would pay me eventually, but technically, he had never clarified when he had to pay me. He had PLENTY of money but was always stingy with it.

I told him I’d just ask my grandma for a loan since he wasn’t following through, and I’d use his money to pay her back “eventually”. I had no plans to actually ask her for money; I could pay it on my own. Of course, my dad didn’t want our family to know he was being an a**, so he sent me the money.

Afterward, he asked me about my new job.

Me: “I’m not getting a new job; I’m just getting a raise.”

I could hear the steam coming out of his ears over the phone. He started yelling and demanding I send back the money.

Me: “Well, you’re right; you never clarified when you’d have to pay up. But you also never clarified that the wage I needed had to come from a different job.”

I hung up and kept the money. We didn’t talk for a while. That was eight years ago, and we still hardly talk now.

I answer my department’s phone.

Me: “Radiology.”

Caller: “I’m looking for my test results. It’s [Caller].”

Me: “I can’t find the results using that name. It might be easier if I use the name of the animal.”

Caller: “What animal? I’m asking about my wife’s test!”

Me: “Sir, this is a veterinary hospital.”

Caller: “What are you trying to say? I dialed the wrong number?!”

Me: “I hope so. If this is the right number, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the police.”

I’ve worked in an office for almost two years now. I have a teammate with the same job title but with a slightly different role. We essentially work together as a team, working on our separate tasks to complete shared projects.

I answered a phone call at my desk a couple of months ago that was for [Teammate] and went to verify the information to transfer the call to her. This is something the receptionist normally did, so I wasn’t sure what her specific extension was.

Me: “You have a phone call. What is your extension?”

Teammate: “It’s for me? That’s weird.”

Me: “Why is that weird?”

Teammate: “It’s usually for you, so I don’t answer it.”

Me: “What are you talking about?

I really was stumped.

Teammate: “When someone calls either of us, both our phones ring. It’s usually not for me, so I don’t answer it.”

Me: “It’s normally not for me, either. I just take a message or get the call to the right person. As I’m trying to do now.”

[Teammate] didn’t really have anything to say about that. I got her extension and then transferred the call to her.

Back in my office, I was kind of steaming. For almost two years, I had been taking every call and message when the receptionist was away. [Teammate] had been simply ignoring the phone that entire time, leaving all the effort to me.

I looked at my phone and thought, “I wish I could just unplug it.”

Then, it occurred to me that the cord extended from a port on the floor and connected under my phone. The phone essentially sat on top of the cord with a gap space under the phone to accommodate the cord.

So, I unplugged my phone and placed it on top of the cord so it simply looked as though it was plugged in.

I have no idea who is answering the phone now when the receptionist is away from her desk, but I guarantee I won’t plug in that phone again unless someone figures it out, and then I’ll simply play dumb. I mean, who would do something like that on purpose?

It’s a small anarchy, but I’ll take it.