(At this time, I identify as a woman and have a high-pitched “customer service” voice. I have just gotten accepted for a job demonstrating a product for [Company A] at the store of [Company B]. The interview on Monday is over the phone, and the job is Saturday and Sunday, except for the first week where I will be trained on Friday. As a college student, I make it clear that I’m not available for any kind of communication between Tuesday and Thursday because I need to focus on classes. My interviewer, who is also my direct manager, agrees to this. Everything is going fine; I’ll see them on Friday. Or so I thought. Tuesday, I receive a text.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], how are things? Don’t forget you need to bring [documents] on Friday if you didn’t submit them by email. I haven’t checked, lol.”

Me: “Please keep in mind, I am not available for any communication on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. I submitted [document] by email. We can talk more on Friday. Have a nice day.”

Manager: “Oh, I wanted you to actually train Wednesday.”

Me: “We never agreed to that. I specifically said I am not available. If you’re unhappy with my availability, I will be informing you now that I am prioritizing my class work over this job. If you want that priority changed, it’ll cost [higher price per hour], as that is the industry standard, above the wages you’re currently offering. I am including any text messages individually as one-hour charges each. Thanks for your understanding.”

Manager: “Jeez, it was just a joke. See you Friday!”

(Wednesday, the manager sends a series of about forty to fifty messages, all varying in tone from casual chatting to borderline sexual harassment, like asking me what I’m wearing and a few ranting about his ex. The final message is the important one.)

Manager: “So, are you still interested in the job or do I need to find someone more dedicated?”

(Pissed about his genuine disrespect of boundaries, and having PTSD flashbacks because of how his messages are similar to those sent to me by my abusive ex, I decide I’m done with his nonsense.)

Me: “I was still interested in the job. And I would have shown up on Friday and everything would have been fine. Everything you sent me could have been discussed on Friday as we had planned, and some of it shouldn’t have been sent at all. But now? No. I no longer want this job. You have shown me that you have no concept of boundaries, and demonstrated an inability to respect your employees. I don’t want to work for someone like you. I don’t get jobs to make friends. I do not and did not ever want to be your friend. I get jobs to make money. Learn to make friends in appropriate settings. I quit. Lose my number.”

Manager: *suddenly back-pedaling* “You can’t do this! We need you! Just take a joke! We already spent five grand securing the location at [Company B]! And you were the only qualified applicant! If you’re serious about this, you need to tell [Company A]’s owner why you’re pissing on his money!”

Me: “No, you can tell him how you threw away his money by being so unprofessional. In fact, show him our text messages. Good luck finding a new demonstration-lady with half as much experience as me, in this economy, for those wages.”

(He gets the hint and doesn’t reply. He tries to call on Thursday, but I ignore the calls, and my voicemail isn’t set up so he can’t yell at me that way. On Friday, I get a call from [Company A]’s owner and he asks me to, in my words, explain why I didn’t show up for training.)

Me: “Is [Manager]’s phone with the number [exact phone number] a company device or a personal device?”

[Company A]’s Owner: “It’s a company device. Why?”

Me: “Go to your account provider for the phone and pull up the text messages from Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Call back and tell me what you think happened.”

(I hang up on him because he’s wasting my time by not having done so in the first place. On Saturday, he calls again:)

[Company A]’s Owner: *nervous* “So, uh, about the issue this week. I just wanted to personally apologize. [Manager] was… totally out of line; don’t worry about a thing. We won’t charge you a penny if you don’t share those text messages.”

Me: *in the most passive-aggressive polite and cheer customer service voice I can manage* “That’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t owe you anything. The expense of training and location rentals is the burden of the business, not of the employee. What you’re attempting is blackmail. I’ll do whatever I want, and you’ll never contact me again unless you want the police involved, mmkay?”

(He hung up on me. I happened to go to [Company B] on personal business, and saw [Company A]’s demonstration booth set up but unmanned. It remained unmanned for three weeks, until another lady started working there. After a brief conversation, I found out that [Manager] was doing the same harassment to her, and she was going to quit after only two shifts because of it! The next employee to man the booth was a man, who was a Poe’s Law-subtype of sexist with a familiar voice. Thankfully he got banned from entering [Company B]’s premises after talking too much about the anatomy of female customers, and [Company A] hired someone much more decent.)

(When I first get promoted to management, part of my training is learning to interview a potential employee. My first interview, monitored by my boss, is of an older gentleman who is retired and just needs something to occupy his time, part time. It goes like this:)

Me: “Are you capable of multitasking, and if so, can you give an example of when you did?”

Interviewee: “So, let’s just say there’s a terrible car crash. And you—“ *points to me* “—are horribly mangled; your limbs are everywhere! But he—“ *points to my boss* “—just has a concussion. Clearly, I would help you first right?!”

(Okay, not an example of multitasking, but I guess it’s good prioritization? I proceed with my final question.)

Me: “Have you ever worked with an unproductive coworker, and if so, how did you handle the situation?”

Interviewee: “What does that mean? Unproductive? I don’t know what that means.”

(End of interview. But my boss said it was a great example of who not to hire.)

(I work at a women’s fashion retailer. I am wearing a purple lace top that is loose around my stomach. This exchange happens one day with an older lady.)

Customer: “When are you due?”

Me: “I’m not pregnant.”

Customer: “Then why is your stomach sticking out?”

Me: *looking down* “I just ate. Your total is $12.98.”

(She didn’t even apologize, and she had the nerve to look offended that I wasn’t pregnant.)

(I work in a small grocery store that has a delivery system where customers order with email, via phone or through the online store. You can use either cash or credit card as a payment method. In credit card cases, the driver has a mobile payment terminal with him, and the payment is made at the customer’s front door. No numbers are required in the online shop. In cash cases, we pay the delivery with written checks which we’ve given the nickname, “Monopoly money,” and once the actual money is received from the customer, the Monopoly money in the counter is traded into the actual money. A cashier who is working on the school holiday gets one of these cash deliveries.)

Me: *hands the Monopoly money* “We are using these as a payment in deliveries. Treat this note as a normal [amount] bill.”

(Then I start packing. A minute later the cashier asks:)

Cashier: “What is the purpose of this note?”

Me: “We are using these as notifications that this account has received a delivery of this sum.”

Cashier: “Okay, then I will toss it in the trash.” *throws the monopoly money to the bin*

Me: *all the veins in my head explode* “NO! YOU’RE DEFINITELY NOT TOSSING IT TO THE TRASH!”

(My manager overheard this and repeated what I said to the cashier. Ever since then, she handled them like normal money. If you just listened to me for even ONE second…)

(It is the rush before New Year. I have just started my shift, sitting on a crate behind the bustling registers. I begin to fold some PJs back into their packages that have been pulled apart over Christmas. A customer comes out of the queue for the registers, items in hand, and speaks directly to me with a stern look.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *brightly looking up from my folding* “Yes? How can I help you? Do you have a question?”

Customer: “You can help me by putting this through; I want to buy this!” *shoving her items towards me*

 (I take a moment to look at the queue and back at this lady. I have two coworkers running our two registers at full pace, and I know full well that every other register in the store is much the same.)

Me: “Ah, unfortunately, as you can see, there are only two registers here. I have no way of ringing that up for you, unfortunately. You shall have to wait in line for my lovely coworkers to serve you.”

(Shocked and dismayed her cunning plan had failed, she huffed and returned to the back of the queue. I sat back down to fold, a little dumbfounded, as I obviously didn’t have a register, and this was well before the times when we could ring through customers on a tablet. Did she think we had a secret register out the back or one I could pull out of my a**, but chose not to so that those queues could go on forever?)

 Related:
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 10
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 9
Lack Of Register Does Not Register, Part 8