A day before a journey to a foreign country, my dad drops his phone and it doesn’t work anymore. I give him one of my old phones and I plan to go to a phone repair shop the next week. I already saw that his screen is broken (it’s not cracked), so it might just be a loose connection. The shop I visit has been in my town for over a decade, so it must be trustworthy. 

I am greeted by an older man who speaks little Dutch, but we manage to communicate. He calls someone, speaks to them in another language, and then gives me a (reasonable) quote. He asks me to go to the repair shop. I didn’t know it was separate, but it’s about 200 meters away and they can fix it within six to eight hours. Sounds great.

I go to the repair shop and I am greeted by a younger man. (He later introduces himself as the older man’s son.) He sees the phone and starts talking in the same language to his coworker. He does mention the brand of the phone a few times, so I know they are talking about the phone. He puts the phone on his workbench on some sort of plate. 

Man: “Miss, I can fix this phone for [slightly higher but still acceptable quote], but wouldn’t you rather have a whole new phone? I have this phone, which is the next gen, and it’s only 50 euros more.”

He shows me a phone out of its package, with a barcode sticker on the back and fingerprints and scratches all over it. I can see that even from the distance I’m standing away from him.

Me: “Oh, like a refurbished phone?”

Man: “No, no, this one is brand-new! It would be a lot better than changing the screen on this phone. I can do it — in thirty minutes, even — but I can’t guarantee that will make it as waterproof as before. This old phone is slow and already two years old.”

The coworker starts talking in their language again to the man who is helping me. I get a weird feeling, especially after seeing that banged-up “brand-new phone”.

Me: “Well, it’s actually my dad’s phone, so—”

Man: “Then he should definitely upgrade! This new phone here is very easy to use, and I can move any data from the old phone to the new one. You’d be doing good by not repairing this and just getting a brand-new phone for him.”

I’m feeling pressured, so I decide to trust my gut.

Me: “I’ll have to consult my father on this. Thank you.”

The man doesn’t move, speak, or anything.

Me: “May I please have the phone back?”

Man: “Why? Didn’t you want it repaired?”

Me: “Yes, but I need to talk to my dad about what he wants: a repair or a new one.”

The man hands me the phone.

Me: “Why is the phone so hot?”

Man: “Ah, it was on the heat plate, to ‘melt’ the glue. It will cool down soon.”

Me: “Sure, thanks. If my dad wants the upgrade, you’ll be seeing me again.”

I turn around, and immediately the two start talking in their language again, one slightly annoyed. When I am home, I call my dad.

Me: “Yeah, don’t go to that place. They tried to pressure me into buying a banged-up secondhand phone, out of the box, claiming it was brand-new. And I don’t know if they were talking about me, but my gut told me to get out of there. I’ll look for another store.”

I went to a phone repair shop that was recommended to me in the next town over. They looked at the phone, gave me a quote HALF the price, and told me they’d be done in about three hours. I did some shopping, had a drink at a cafe, and was called back half an hour later than estimated. When I got back, the shop owner showed me the broken screen (and what exactly was broken) and the now wonderfully working phone. The phone had even been charged.

Dad was very pleased when he came home from his vacation.

I own a small retail store in which we also repair items in the category of what we sell — think like a cell phone store that also repairs phones — but with various items.

I bumped into an old friend at a trade show where I was selling my wares, and we got to chatting. She mentioned she had recently gotten surgery on her arm due to a workplace accident, and the employer (a multi-million-dollar corporation) was fighting her tooth and nail on paying compensation and benefits that she was entitled to. I sympathized, as the reason I opened my own business was similar to the situation she was in. She mentioned she was out of work and trying to collect disability but was also getting pushback.

She asked if I had a position she could work in, and of course, I obliged.

At first, everything went great. [Employee] caught on quickly to how I operated the store and was excellent with customers. About a month into the job, I started to feel quite comfortable and gave her a key to the store for emergencies. I have a young child, and as a single parent, sometimes things happen (such as an ill babysitter or ill child) and I have to close for the day or end up coming in late. She took the bull by the horns and would cover for me on days such as that. It was a blessing!

Two months in, [Employee] asked me if she could have a week off to take a mental health vacation. She was still fighting with the compensation board and disability board, so I understood. She asked for a pay advance, and there was no reason not to give one, so I sent her off with a week’s pay in advance. I wasn’t well off financially, but I have a bleeding heart.

She returned a week later seemingly much happier, and all was well… until payday. I had given her $800 in advance, and her hours and commissions for that week were a net of $840, so she received the remaining $40. She came in the next day with a horrible attitude and made a few snide comments throughout the day, but we were incredibly busy so I couldn’t address it right away.

After the rush, I sat her down and asked what was wrong.

Employee: “I don’t work for free. How dare you only pay me $40 for all the hours I worked last week?!”

Me: “Oh, gosh, now I understand! Remember when you left on vacation, I gave you the $800 advance? So, last week was thirty hours, and you made $240 in commissions. That’s $840. Subtract the $800 advance, and that’s $40.”

Employee: “Um, no. That was a gift. You told me it was a gift.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, but no… See, we wrote it down on your payroll sheet for that week, and here is this week’s based on the hours and sales you filled in.”

Employee: “This is so stupid. I can’t afford to live on $40!”

Me: “I’m sorry, [Employee], but that’s what we agreed.”

She still didn’t seem to understand entirely but accepted it, and we moved on from it.

A week later, [Employee] didn’t come in on time to work. I sent a text but heard nothing back until 1:00 pm when she called me crying. She said her boyfriend had been in a horrific car accident and was in surgery as we spoke. I was immediately forgiving, expressed my condolences and well wishes for him, and told her to take as much time as she needed off work.

Two weeks later, she returned to work in a rotten mood. I checked in but didn’t want to push. Then, she asked for her pay for the last two weeks.

Me: “Oh… well… you didn’t work the last two weeks, so there is no pay.”

Employee: “What? You told me to take as much time as I needed, though! I thought it was paid leave!”

Me: *Visibly frustrated* “I’m not sure when or where that was ever said or even implied, but no, you don’t get paid when you’re not at work. I have a child I need to take care of. I can’t pay you for time you haven’t put in.”

Employee: “Well, I was in a pretty difficult situation, as I’m suuuuuure you can imagine! I need money for bills!”

Again, my bleeding heart took over, and I gave her a $500 advance, but I made it CLEAR that it was an advance, and we both signed a contract stating this.

Over the next week, [Employee] showed up HOURS late and/or left HOURS early, if she showed up at all. I’m talking about showing up at 10:00 and leaving at 1:00 in the middle of a rush. In total, she only netted five and a half hours and did only $24 in commissions. She was to be paid $134, leaving her owing me a balance of $366 from the advance.

The following Monday, I was immediately met with hostility again over her inability to pay bills because I “didn’t pay her”. By this point, I was done with the games, and we had a very serious conversation about her future, if any, working with me.

She apologized profusely as soon as the phrase “may have to let you go” left my mouth. She explained that she was struggling with her mental health, her boyfriend was using a wheelchair still, she was behind on all their bills, their electricity is due to be shut off, etc. I gave her another chance, and she asked for the rest of the week off, which I agreed to.

Cue the insanity. [Employee] showed up the following week in a different car and then bragged to me and a customer how she’d”only” spent $4,200 on it. She showed off her new shoes that she’d “only” paid $110 for. Honestly, her attitude had done a total one-eighty. Long story short, I let her go that week after discovering she was pocketing some money from the till after a customer accused her of shorting their change.

I was so confused about how, since she’d started, the store had begun struggling financially and how she’d suddenly changed her tune toward the end. I went through the receipts, finances, customer database, and everything that night, and I found that for every hour she worked, she would write down two hours. For every $100 in commission she made, she wrote down $200. I was missing over $2,500 in stock and parts from the storage room, including a $400 machine reserved for special repairs that was rarely used so it was pretty much ignored until I needed it. You get the picture.

I attempted to confront [Employee] but found that she had blocked my number AND blocked me on all social media. The next morning, I awoke to a bombardment of one-star Google reviews and both comments and messages to my social media pages calling me a crook and a bunch of horrible names, all from friends of [Employee]’s. According to her friends, I verbally abused her, never paid her on time if at all, owed her over $3,000 in wages, was manipulative, cheated my customers with inferior products and shoddy work — you name it.

I chose to block and ignore these people, but the damage was done both financially and reputationally. My business went bankrupt a month later.

While job hunting, I met with a friend who worked at a competing store to mine who also happened to be [Employee]’s cousin. He and I grabbed a coffee and caught up… and then he mentioned [Employee]. Apparently, she had gone in there for an interview while working for me and casually mentioned that she had also been doing side work in the evenings and on days off. She said if they hired her, she had a “special machine used for special repairs” she could bring with her — aka my machine. They didn’t end up hiring her as her schedule conflicted.

I asked how [Employee]’s boyfriend was recovering from his accident and was met with the most bewildered look I’d ever seen. [Cousin] said, “Accident? What accident?” So I explained what I was told and mentioned the dates. He pulled out his phone and showed me photos of [Employee], her boyfriend, [Cousin], his wife, and their three other cousins, drunk on a cruise ship, dated THAT WEEK and several days after! [Employee]’s boyfriend was never in an accident.

[Cousin] went on to say that their grandfather passed away last year, and finally, after the family fighting over it, they got their inheritances a week before the trip… to the tune of around $40,000 each. All the cousins (grandkids) took a vacation together and went on a cruise last minute and had shopping sprees galore.

It is years later now, and I’m nearly done with my bankruptcy hit on my credit, but I have struggled immensely since then. It goes to show that not all friends are true friends.

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

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Me: “I can repair this watch for you for free if you’d like, ma’am.”

Customer: *Screaming* “That’s not good enough!”

And she stormed out.

I do freelance PC repairs. I’m called by a lady who owns a repair shop for TVs and home appliances.

Repair Shop Owner: “I want to add PC repairs to my services. I can offer you 50% of the charged price.”

Since I’m not working much at the moment, I agree. She calls me to the first service and wants to be there for the first repair to see how I treat the client.

We are at the client’s home.

Me: “Can you tell me what the problem is?”

Client: “The PC doesn’t turn on.”

I sit next to it and switch the “on” button, and it turns on.

Client: “It turns off after a while, though…”

I am troubleshooting when I hear the repair shop owner go to the kitchen with the client, who comments that her microwave isn’t heating the food. The shop owner opens it, sees that it’s a bit scratched, and says one of the stupidest things I have heard.

Repair Shop Owner: “Well, since it’s all scratched up, the lasers can’t bounce off the walls, and that’s why it’s not heating up.”

I facepalm so hard.

The seven-year-old kid who is there with the client speaks up.

Client’s Child: “Microwaves don’t work with lasers.”

The owner then argues with the kid, making up stuff to defend her argument. Finally, the kid comes to the PC and speaks to me.

Client’s Child: *Politely* “Could I use the PC for a second?”

He went to Wikipedia, looked for the entry on microwave ovens, and printed it. Before the kid showed her the article, I simply stood up, called the lady up, said there was nothing wrong with the PC, and left. I never worked with that lady again.

Related:
Microwave For A Micro-Brain

My parents have a repairman at our house fixing something. I live with my parents and am helping my dad out in the yard. The repairman finishes the job and drives away.

Dad and I finish the yardwork and head inside. Dad hops in the shower first to clean off all of the dirt, and then it’s my turn. The bathroom is heavily steamy when I come out, and I open the bathroom window.

That’s when I hear it: a clatter.

I put my glasses on and inspect the window sill. A small, triangular piece of broken plastic is in the track of the window.

I’m concerned, initially thinking some part of the window broke, but no. The window is intact. I can’t find a single spot where anything could have gotten damaged. Then, I get a cold feeling of dread.

I come out and talk to Mom.

Me: “Mom, did the repairman ask to use the bathroom?”

Mom looks a little surprised.

Mom: “Well, yes. I told him to go ahead. They’re people, too, and need to do their business. Why?”

I show her the bit of plastic, which I left where it was without touching it.

Mom: “What’s this? Is the window broken?”

Me: “No, I think that’s the piece of plastic he stuck in the window to prevent the window from latching when we closed it.”

Mom went very still for a moment and then shared a horrified look with Dad. The local newspapers had been detailing a rash of home burglaries where the burglar gained access through a window, usually the bathroom.

Long story short, a police officer talked to all of us, got the “repairman’s” name from our paperwork, took the plastic, and left. I’m not sure about the details of the investigation, but the burglaries did stop afterward.