I used to work for a small, locally-owned supermarket chain with a small level of bureaucracy and a high focus on getting stuff sold.

After a few years, we were taken over by a national chain, which introduced much bureaucracy where emails and phone calls from the bottom to the top would be lost to the ether and left unanswered. Their focus was heavily on image, with staff at the head office who seemingly worked to ensure similar-sized products sat next to each other on each shelf so that it looked nice.

They also changed the shop managers’ incentives; their bonuses were the operating budget of their store minus wages, expenses, and written-off stock. So, obviously, we were now operating on a shoestring budget so the managers got as much money as they could.

Before the takeover, we had an award-winning butcher department that worked with local farms and catered to customer requests. The new firm immediately closed the counter and filled chillers with pre-packed sliced meats, instead, which we frequently discounted to prevent them from going to the bin.

One time, we received a dozen cases of a high-end cut of meat. It was way more than we would usually stock of an affordable packet, and it was therefore at risk of running past its sell-by date and being thrown out.

As it was a new product, we didn’t have a price label for it. After waiting a weekend for the system to update, I emailed the head office for a label and filled the chiller, using a pricing gun left over from the takeover to label each individual packet.

We had sold a few by the time I came back in the following week, but I was pulled aside by the management. The area manager had been in to inspect the shop, was “horrified” at the “ugly” labels, and demanded they be taken off the shelves until a label was ready.

I explained the issue, but they wouldn’t have it, so I took the packets out as instructed and left them in the big fridge at the back of the store. They sat there for a month until they expired, after which someone else recorded them for disposal.

A few days later, someone at the head office noticed the enormous increase in wastage and reported it. Down the chain it came, and the red-faced area manager stormed in to shout at the stern-faced store manager, who in turn called over the tannoy for me to drop everything and get to his office.

“I’m just waiting for the label,” I told them both, as they searched for a scapegoat for the £3,000 write-off.

I’ve since had similar experiences at other employers where department heads had bonuses tied to sales but didn’t like me pricing up produce, so hardware would sit and gather dust. I’m paid by the hour with no bonus, so I’m not going to argue the case.

One night, I am making a pasta bake with a bacon tomato sauce that I want to try. It is going well; it is basically all finished, and I am just waiting for the garlic bread to cook in the oven.

The extractor fan for my kitchen is on the wall right near the pavement outside, so that’s where it vents the heat and whatnot from cooking. I can also hear people’s conversations through this hole — word for word if the road is quiet. It can be funny sometimes!

I’m about to check the oven when I hear a knock at my front window and see an angry-looking dude staring at me. He is standing SO close to my front window that he can see me through the net curtains.

I cautiously go to the door in my cooking apron with a large wooden spoon. (What was I going to do, stir him?!)

Man: “Are you cooking?”

Me: “Uh, yeah. Some pasta.”

Man: “Can you stop? The smell is making my daughter feel ill.”

Me: “Uh. That’s… not my problem, sir?”

Man: “How dare you?! It’s making my daughter ill! Stop it right now!”

Me: “Sir. I am in my own home; I am allowed to cook whatever I want. If the smell is making someone sick, go away from the smell.”

Man: “UGH!”

He stomps off in a right mood.

I return to the kitchen and continue cooking. I can hear the man’s voice through the extractor fan hole.

Man: “He won’t stop! He was very rude to me, and he threatened me with a rolling pin!”

Did I? A rolling pin for making pasta, huh? Sure.

The next part is a little hard to hear; he must have walked further up or down the pavement or something as I can’t hear it all. I think he is on the phone with his poor, poor wife, because not long after that, a woman comes hurrying up to my window and taps on it.

Woman: “Hello? My husband said you made my daughter sick?!”

Me: “Miss. I was cooking my dinner in my kitchen. Your other half then banged on my window saying the smell made your kid ill.”

The woman said nothing and walked away in silence. I heard nothing through the fan hole. I have no idea what happened after that.

My food was nice — a little dry, though, as I was distracted.

On Monday, June 13th, I receive an email from [Vice President #1], who isn’t over my department. I am told that my team will be required to work on the Fourth of July. I politely tell her no; our team has been scheduled this day off and people already have plans. My team is the IT team, and the IT team gets shafted every time it can get shafted by any company.

Over the course of the week, I let my team know what is happening and that I have been reaching out to higher-ups to fix it. I also tell them that if their plans are ruined, I will make it right at work.

Over the course of three meetings, it starts to look like things will not go my way. In response, I send an email to the CEO of the company. All of my higher-ups know I intend to do this, and they say I should do it as he is very family-oriented and would not allow ANYONE to work on a national holiday.

Well, he is on vacation in the Bahamas until July sixth. But his assistant informs me that he will look at this after he gets back. I feel like repeatedly slamming my head into my desk.

I tell everyone that the holiday will be work-from-home and that we will be setting my cell phone as priority in the call routing, meaning I will get most of the calls. To be honest, I am expecting almost zero calls, especially since I was asked to send out a notification that IT support would cover the Fourth of July, and I never sent that email out.

A day later, I am given another outrage. I am told in an email from [Vice President #1] that my employees will be required to be at the office, and no one is allowed to work from home. They will be checking the door badge-ins to verify that we are at the office. I ask why in an email, and [Vice President #1] says that she wants to make sure no one is playing video games on the clock. We normally work from home about two-thirds of the week, and video game playing is a normal occurrence on the clock.

So, I walk into [Vice President #1]’s office. After a very long conversation where she is losing the logic war with me, she says:

Vice President #1: “It’s just IT; you guys don’t have lives.”

No, I am not kidding you; this is exactly what she tells me.

I report this to the vice president in charge of my department, [Vice President #2].

Vice President #2: “I will take care of this. It likely won’t be until after the fourth, so get creative.”

I know this man well. We have worked together a long time, and “Get creative” is code for corporate f***ery, so I go back to [Vice President #1].

Me: “Do you care if we have an office party?”

Vice President #1: “No, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the call flow.”

She even suggests using my new company card to pay for it, telling me, “Go wild.” Pro-tip: never tell me to go wild.

At this point, it is Tuesday, the 21st. I let everyone know what’s up, but I let them know that I have something planned. I ask who has or had plans for the holiday. Two people tell me they are planning to shoot off fireworks with their family, and the rest are planning BBQs with friends.

I write up an email to [Vice President #1] and [Vice President #2]. I tell them all that I’ve let everyone know that we are all expected to work until 8:00 pm on Monday, the fourth. Per the conversation with [Vice President #1], I will be having an office party as a sort of sorry to the guys and gals who got shafted by this decision.

[Vice President #1] replies.

Vice President #1: “Thank you for your understanding. Also yes, I would expect an office party if I had to work on the Fourth of July, as well, so go wild and enjoy your time. Use your new company credit card if you need to cover a few expenses. Also, I should not have to remind you or anyone else: no fireworks or alcohol on company property.”

Now, it is time to tell you about my office. A while back, the IT team was moved from the main corporate office into a smaller building by itself. It has a nice gaming break room, a decent-sized gym, and a full-on drink bar — soft drinks, mind you, no alcohol at work. Out back is a big patio that crosses county lines as soon as you cross a small creek — a creek that just so happens to have a footbridge over it leading to an empty field.

I start making phone calls.

On Monday, June 27th, I call up everyone into a meeting an hour before work starts. I explain to them all that I will be making things right. I ask everyone to invite their friends and family to the office. No supplies need to be brought by anyone. I tell them all that this will be a non-alcoholic party but that I will be planning something for everyone. I tell them to expect all food to be provided, and they don’t need to bring anything unless they want to bring some fireworks. They won’t have to spend a dime.

The Fourth of July comes, and the entire day, we do absolutely no work. No tickets and no calls come in. Well, seven calls do come in, but they’re all from the same person [Vice President #1]. She is calling to make sure we are manning the phones. All of us are playing video games or watching movies.

Six o’clock rolls around, and everyone is told that the food was ready.

People are expecting hot dogs, hamburgers, and maybe a bratwurst or two. What they get is a full-on BBQ feast with pizza and other foods. We have smoked brisket, spare ribs, smoked sausage, smoked turkey, both kinds of potato salad, coleslaw, green beans with bacon and onion, potatoes au gratin, pizza from two different places, excellent hamburgers, and bratwurst hot dogs. On the dessert side, we have cake, very good cookies, four different kinds of pies, and about two pounds of fudge.

Families and friends start showing up between 6:00 and 6:15ish. Some have brought alcohol, but I tell them they need to leave that in their cars as I am not THAT crazy. Some are not too happy about that but agree as it is a free dinner for random strangers.

So, let me set the scene for you. I am out there with all calls routed to my cell phone, and everyone is just having a good time. We have a TON of people there enjoying the fun night, chatting about random stuff, eating the food, and occasionally lighting off some sparklers or throwing firecrackers into the stream. (It’s not stocked with fish and is only a foot deep.)

[Vice President #2] shows up with his family and brings some water balloons for the kids… and the adults.

Around 8:30ish, it’s getting dark, and people want to shoot off more than the simple sparklers and firecrackers we have been using. [Vice President #2] has everyone cross the footbridge — over the county line and off company property — and we set up a big wooden board to use as our launch pad.

We fire off what we have for an hour or two and sort of just hang out for a little while. At around this time, people are tired and ready to head home. I tell people to take home leftovers, within reason. We all clocked out at 8:00, and no one leaves until about 10:30.

[Vice President #1] does call once more while we are out back at the party. It is 7:50 and she calls asking for a status update. My exact words are:

Me: “Well, you were the only one to call us today. The rest of us are on the back patio enjoying the Fourth of July shindig.”

She simply acts like my boss and says:

Vice President #1: “As long as no alcohol or fireworks are on company property, I do not care.”

We ate roughly half of the food catered; the rest was taken home. A small group volunteered to stay behind to clean up, including [Vice President #2]. We had a funny conversation about how this would make waves with the bosses, but he said he had my back and asked me how much this had cost. I just gave him a sideways look, which made him laugh.

On Tuesday morning, I submitted the expense report to [Vice President #2]. This email would inevitably make its way over to [Vice President #1] and up the chain to the CIO of the company. This Fourth of July party cost over $6,000, and because of it, new rules were put into place. Any expenses of $4,000 or more must be approved by the direct supervisor and the vice president over the department, and the full expense report must be sent to the finance department for review after the fact.

This was the most expensive office party in the history of the company. The only things more expensive than this were some business meetings for which the CEO rented private rooms in high-end restaurants.

As for the CEO, he was outraged — not at the cost of the party, mind you. He knew that the party would not have been necessary if people had been allowed to go home. He was outraged that IT was the only group required to work that day. When I submitted the logs showing how we received no real phone calls and no service requests and that we basically watched movies and played video games during our shift, he had heard enough. He apparently sent out a scathing email about work-life balance and the importance of our holidays to every upper management employee.

It was kind of funny as people wanted me to get in trouble for what I did, but the reality is that other departments have done similar things in the past, just not on the scale that IT did. [Vice President #1] was admonished quite effectively and sent me an apology email. I forwarded it to the team with a strong hint to not reply.

Then, [Vice President #2] let the CIO and the CEO know about what [Vice President #1] had said — “You guys don’t have lives.” [Vice President #1] did actually confirm that she’d said it in a meeting. It did not go over well. I have never heard people yelling in an office meeting like that before. The CEO of the company came to our office and YELLED at her.

I’m not sure if she was fired as of writing this on July 6th, but she was not at work today. I’m not 100% sure what happened to her, but I know she lost whatever clout she had at this company with her attitude.

And strangely, there is now no longer any pushback for my bid to get everyone back to working from home.

This story is part of our Not Always Working Most-Epic Stories roundup!

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CONTENT WARNING: Graphic Threats Of Violence, Slurs, Vulgar Language

I work in a call center for a public transportation agency. It is a hard rule at this place that we are not allowed to hang up on a caller, at all, even the likes of the degenerate at the heart of this tale. We can transfer to a supervisor but never hang up.

I guess whenever this guy is having a bad day, he calls to scream at us and insult us because he knows we can’t hang up on him and basically just have to take the abuse.

Such was the case today. He calls up, and before I even get the greeting out, he’s already calling me a stupid [racist slur], an ignorant c**t, a c**-sucking [homophobic slur], etc. He just goes on and on and on and on with every ridiculous, racist, homophobic, ignorant insult you can think of.

Used to this bulls*** by now, I just tune him out and start checking the baseball scores on my phone, knowing he’ll wind down in a couple of minutes and hang up when realizes he’s not getting a rise out of me. I don’t even usually say a word. He’s a small, pathetic little thing with a small, pathetic little life so why give him the satisfaction?

But something inside me today just can’t help it when he starts singing — yes, SINGING — about how I’m a stupid [racist slur].

I laugh at him.

Me: “Really? This is the best you can do with your life? That’s grade-school insults, man. Come on! You can do better than that.”

I guess I’ve struck a nerve because he goes silent for a moment. Then…

Caller: “How about I bury a claw hammer in your skull? Is that better? How about if I come down there and shoot every last one of you motherf***ers? IS THAT BETTER?!”

And then he hangs up.

Because of the threat, I have to report the call. So, management listens to it…

And I get a formal write-up for my snarky comments. Of course, nothing happens to Mr. Racist Homophobe.

But that’s work for ya. Good times.

I show up to work a couple of days later and am told I have a meeting with my supervisors and Human Resources.

When this all happened and the death threat started, I documented exactly what the caller said in a group chat used by the supervisory staff to monitor just these types of things so there’s a written record of any threats. I documented exactly what the guy said, including the exact wording of the slurs and insults, unedited.

And that is the problem. This meeting with HR and my supervisors is because MY use of bigoted, homophobic terminology was “triggering” to other members of the staff.

So, what is the outcome? A three-day suspension.

That’s right. I’m suspended for three days for documenting the s*** this dude called me. According to them, I should have edited it or just used vague terminology like “party using vulgar terminology and bigoted slurs.”

I do ask if there will be any consequence for the trashy scumbag who called in.

Me: “Can we block his number? Will you file a police report? Anything?

I get a hard no.

Supervisor: “We don’t have the authority to block the public’s access to basic services, regardless of their opinions as to the parties performing those services. However, security has been notified of the threat, and if there is determined to be any credibility to that threat, it will be addressed accordingly, up to and including involvement of the police department.”

So, yeah, nothing happens except I get suspended for three days.

Don’t feel too bad for me; I have already filed a grievance with my union, and I’ve been guaranteed by them that my punishment will be overturned and I’ll get my back pay — apparently, it’s not the first time something like this has happened — and in the meantime, I get a three-day vacation.

In my last place of work, when I was looking to hire someone for my department, I would offer cold drinks and coffee at the interviews in order to make the candidates feel welcome. We could take the cold drinks out of the storage, but we had to order coffee from the kitchen and someone from the kitchen team would bring it out.

One day, they called me back.

Kitchen Team: “We can’t bring you the coffee you ordered. [CEO] has decided that coffee will only be provided for whole-day events.”

Grr, that cheapskate. [CEO] and I didn’t get along anyway after an incident where he tried to f*** me over financially. This was not a problem, though, since I had a boss that was between him and me in the hierarchy, and if I ever needed anything, I just told her and she made it happen. I didn’t really have to deal with him.

After that, I provided my own coffee for interviewees because, to me, the welcoming impression was more important than the, like, thirty cents a cup of coffee costs.

But I plotted my little revenge since I had been asked to do a workshop for the other department heads and the CEO also wanted to participate. For some reason, he loved workshops.

The day of the workshop came, I prepped the room, and the participants trickled in and got settled, including the CEO. I greeted the group and laid out the plan for the next few hours.

Me: “Are there any questions?”

CEO: “Can we maybe call the kitchen and ask where the coffee is? They seem to be running late.”

I made a point of taking a sip from my travel mug before answering.

Me: “There will be no coffee. This is a half-day workshop, and our new rules say that coffee will only be provided for whole-day events.”

I still cherish the surly look he gave me in response. He did not say anything and instead opened a bottle of water.