Many years ago, I worked in a large international chain of building supply stores. Company culture was mostly okay. However, our higher-ups did not like to handle any problem that did not involve the police. We were left to our own devices, and most of the time, things worked themselves out.

Then, we had one floor manager who would be very familiar to any reader of Not Always Working. He was totally incompetent in everything, besides making everybody around him miserable. He used every shred of his power to make every situation worse, mess up our schedules, and cut our bonuses.

One day, my shift decided to retaliate. Our chain took much pride in a store-brand glue, used mainly for tiling, but capable of gluing almost any materials together. You might see where this is going.

On their lunch break, the guys took a forklift to the parking lot. Carefully, so as to not damage anything, they lifted [Floor Manager]’s car and glued all four wheels to the concrete with [Glue]. Four hours later, we all left for home… except for [Floor Manager], who, despite having a gigantic warehouse full of tools and supplies at hand, spent a good part of the evening dislodging his car from the parking lot.

Well, he cried up a storm. I do not know how [Floor Manager] managed it, but the country branch CEO, by far the biggest boss I ever met, came to our store to investigate. He called the whole shift into the conference room, greeted us very civilly, and first asked to hear everything from [Floor Manager]. [Floor Manager] told him everything.

Then, [CEO] turned to us.

CEO: “Gentlemen, is this all true?”

We said yes.

CEO: “You really used [Glue] to completely immobilize a car?”

We, being of a somewhat 47-Ronin mindset, again affirmed. CEO nodded and pulled out his phone.

CEO: “[Personal Assistant]? Send somebody from Public Relations to [Our Store]. Local guys just figured out a perfect plot for a [Glue] TV ad.”

This story is part of the Readers’-Favorite-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

Read the next story!

Read the roundup!

Scammer: “I am calling to inform you that your computer has a virus.”

Father: “My wife uses the computer more than I do. Here, talk to her.”

Scammer: “Hello, ma’am, I’m calling to inform you that your computer has a virus.”

Mother: “Let me give you to my daughter; she’s better with computers than I am.”

Scammer: “Hello, miss, I am calling to inform you that your computer has a virus.”

Me: “You should talk to my brother; he is the family tech guy.”

Scammer: “Hello, sir, I’m calling to inform you that your computer has a virus.”

Brother: “No, it doesn’t.” *Click*

Props to the scammer for staying professional while we gave them the runaround and even more for never calling back again!

Years and years ago, I worked as a bank teller. Ninety percent of my job was just cashing cheques and being a living ATM. This was back when pennies were still in use.

One day, this guy comes in.

Customer: “I need a lot of pennies — a ridiculous amount of pennies. [Local Business] screwed me over, and I want to pull the classic: pay for something with an inconvenient amount of loose change.”

He’s super excited to explain how this business screwed him over. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s pretty clear even in his telling that it is perfectly fair he is being charged this money. He’s practically giggling as he explains how inconvenient it will be for the people he’s paying.

But here’s the thing. Maybe this works down in the States, but in Canada, there is a very reasonable limit to how much you can pay with change. The payee is allowed to reject any loose change payment over a certain amount.

Thinking I might be able to save everyone involved a bunch of hassle — myself included — I explain this to my customer. The guy isn’t having it. He just keeps saying:

Customer: “Pennies are money, so I’m allowed to do it, and you’d better give me my pennies!”

At this point, I figure it’s not really my problem what he wants to do with his money, and I get to work.

He wants a few hundred dollars in pennies. That might not sound like a lot, but it’s like 300 pounds. It’s so many pennies that I have to tell him we don’t actually have enough on hand. We have to make a special order for him. There’s a small fee, but he doesn’t care.

A few days later, he happily loads up boxes and boxes of pennies and leaves.

A week later, he’s back — only now, he’s dragging in a hockey bag of loose pennies. I guess he spent some time opening all the rolls just to make it harder.

Customer: “[Local Business]’s owner refused to accept my payment. So… I’d like to deposit this bag of pennies back into my account, and I’ll bring the rest in later.”

Me: “Sir, we only take rolled coins; you’ll have to do that first.”

I’m not sure when Coinstar machines came out, but my small town definitely didn’t have one.

I missed the man’s return, but I heard that he eventually came back after going through the trouble of rerolling all his money — a lot of trouble to get right back to where he started.

If only he had listened.

I was a substitute teacher during the school year, but in the summer, I didn’t have a regular job. I did do online tutoring, though, to make ends meet. I would work at my computer, which was at a built-in desk in my apartment near the front door.

One summer day, a group of bored pre-teens decided to play ding-dong-ditch — a game/prank where you ring someone’s doorbell and then run away. Since I was one of the few adults at home, my apartment was a target. The first couple of times were slightly amusing, but after that, I was just getting annoyed. They were ringing my doorbell about every five minutes, so after the fourth time, I made sure to stand next to the door.

When they rang, I almost immediately opened the door. I just saw scurrying feet running into the apartment diagonal from mine. I also heard the clattering of one boy’s cell phone, as it had dropped out of one of his pockets. (It turned out to belong to the boy who lived in the diagonal apartment.) I picked it up and went back into my apartment.

This occurred before phones typically had lock codes, so I could pull up the contacts. I called the one labeled “Dad” and told him the circumstances of why I had his son’s cell phone. He agreed to pick it up after he got home.

A couple of minutes later, I heard a polite knock on the door. I didn’t open it but talked through the door.

Me: “Hello?”

Kid: “Sir, did you find a cell phone on the floor out here?”

Me: “Yes. I contacted ‘Dad’, and he’ll be getting it this evening.”

Kid: *Sigh*

I answer my phone.

Scammer: “I’m calling from tech support. Your computer has a virus.”

Oh, good lord. One of these.

Me: “Which one?”

Scammer: “Your computer, ma’am.”

Me: “I have more than one. Specify.”

Scammer: “The one that you are using, ma’am.”

I decide to have a little fun.

Me: “I am not using any computer right now. I’m in the kitchen making Roadkill cookies.”

The scammer ignores that.

Scammer: “Please go to your computer so that we can remove the virus, ma’am.”

Me: “Certainly, as soon as you tell me which computer you mean.”

Scammer: “Your computer, ma’am. You have a very dangerous virus and we need to act quickly.”

I tap a timer so that it makes an audible beep.

Me: “Sorry, you’re going to have to wait. My skunk-chunk-late chip cookies are ready.”

I put the phone down, ignoring the scammer’s protests, and rattle around a bit so it sounds like I’m working with cookie trays before picking up again.

Me: “Okay. Now you say my computer has a virus?”

Scammer: *Frustrated* “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, well, you still haven’t told me which computer has the virus.”

Scammer: “Your newest one, ma’am.”

Me: “Neither of my computers is new.”

Scammer: “Both of them!”

I’m very amused, but now I need to start household chores, so I decide to drop it.

Me: “Well now, it sounds like your story has changed. First, you tell me one of my computers has a virus, now you’re telling me both of them do, and you still haven’t told me which one had it to begin with. I think maybe you need a new career, like roadkill cookie baking.”

I then hung up. I haven’t had a call for months.