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.

Phone etiquette and cultural varieties aren’t easy. If you are an immigrant child and mostly only hear your parents on the phone with friends and family, it can be quite difficult to grasp proper phone etiquette for the country you’re living in now.

At my work, we had a phone the students could use in the kitchenette next to the teachers’ lounge, but you needed to enter a code to call outside of the school network. Thus, a teacher always had to enter a code before the student could use the phone.

Next to the phone was the only computer available to us teachers, and it could be annoying to be interrupted by someone having to call if you were in a time crunch to finish printing the exam that would start in thirty minutes and you had to rush downstairs to the copy machine in between.

I was writing some minor weekly test when [Student] asked to use the phone. I knew that he was late finishing a term-long assignment, and one of the things he had left to do was to visit a local company and describe it. He was far from the only one, and the teacher responsible was getting antsy.

[Student] called the company he had selected after I entered the code and told me I could continue to work; he didn’t mind if I heard the conversation. He was very blunt and rushed on the phone, almost incomprehensible, and the receptionist refused to have him visit.

I saved and closed my document and sat down with [Student] at the kitchen table as we talked about his phone call. He knew it hadn’t been good, but he had no idea how it could improve.

Me: “Let’s try roleplaying. I worked a summer as a phone operator, so I can play the receptionist. You can explain to me what you want.”

He improved with each attempt, but after ten minutes, we both had to leave for class.

As soon as recess hit, [Student] was back for a new round of roleplaying.

The next day, he returned to try his luck again on the phone.

Me: “Should I leave you alone?”

He gave this little cry as he grabbed my hand and plonked me down on the chair closest to the phone. During the call, he wouldn’t let go of my hand.

And this time went much better. He presented himself and his project quickly and succinctly and got an appointment.

The following day, [Student]’s best friend asked me if we could roleplay his phone call. One of the main reasons that both had waited so long to make those calls was that they knew they’d flub it. Apparently, neither of them had thought to ask for help.

We practised for a few recesses, and then I listened in on [Best Friend]’s call per his request. He did great. (That was unsurprising; he runs a major corporation these days. He’s a quick learner with a great drive.)

The others who had procrastinated all came one by one and asked to roleplay and then have me listen in on their conversations. They were all immigrants, and I don’t think it was a coincidence or that immigrants were procrastinating in general. They knew that their phone etiquette wasn’t up to Swedish corporate standards and were scared.

And sure, it wasn’t part of my job to teach them phone etiquette. I wasn’t actually the teacher of any of them. But it took maybe an hour and a half in total to assist them all and help them finish their projects — and gain new phone skills!

My mother got into an argument with an alcoholic family member. Now, this family member was calling us every ten minutes and harassing us; she was blitzed out of her mind drunk and thought this was a good idea. This was causing my mother undue stress, and my mother could not get a word in edgewise because this family member would scream obscenities at her until my mother hung up on her. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, after the third call:

Me: “Let me answer the phone next time. Don’t let her get to you. Go calm down.”

The phone rang again and I answered. [Family Member] started screaming obscenities at me, thinking I was my mother. I tried to get it through to her that she had me on the phone and my mother wasn’t going to be talking to her anymore, but like my mother, I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Then, finally, I let out a deafening scream into the phone.

Me: “SHUT YOUR F****** MOUTH FOR ONE G**D***ED MINUTE, YOU F****** DRUNK, STUPID PIECE OF S***!”

There was a pause, and then she screamed back.

Family Member: “F*** YOU!”

She hung up on me, but she never called back again.

When I put the phone down, my mother was staring at me with eyes wide and jaw on the floor.

Mother: “I… have never heard you swear in my life!”

Me: “Sorry. It was the only way I could get through to her!”