I work at a music store that does repairs on instruments. A dad and kid come in with a saxophone. I pop open the case and get a huge whiff of mold. I look at the instrument and there is fuzzy mold coming out of the pads and tone holes. I try to keep it together, but I wig out a bit – I really hate fungus.

Me: “Okay, this will need a full re-pad; that’s about $800. You’re playing this?! Please don’t it’s covered in mold, and it’s going into your lungs.”

I then slam the case closed. They are spooked and I am freaked out.

My coworker approaches after the fact: 

Coworker: “I just want to make sure you’re okay, because you’re doing the “I got the heebie-jeebies/grossed out” dance while you’re trying to sanitize the table.”

My roommate was stealing my food and not only not admitting it but apparently bragging about it to my other roommates and calling me a “pushover”. I didn’t want to participate in whatever they thought they were doing, especially since I am moving away in two months. But I do want my food.

Today, they were sitting in the kitchen chatting. I came in, took my meatballs from the fridge, and licked them one by one while maintaining eye contact with the thief. Then, I licked several other items, spit into my milk (it’s a waste of milk, but luckily, there wasn’t a lot), etc. 

[Thieving Roommate] looked utterly disgusted. Eventually, she asked:

Thieving Roommate: “Are you mental?”

Me: *Calmly* “I always do this, didn’t you know?”

And I left.

I didn’t know if she would stop, but her face of mixed disgust and horror made it worth it. My food wasn’t stolen the next day!

I was a waitress. I come back from the kitchen and there is this horrible stench in the air; it’s clearly coming from one big table in my section. We thought someone had farted or something and maybe followed through a bit, but it was A LOT worse than that.

We determine that the smell seems to be coming from this one man. The manager goes to check the men’s toilet on a hunch and finds what can only be described as a fecal Jackson Pollock.

It’s EVERYWHERE. On the toilet, on the floor, when on the walls. God know what happened in there. Maybe a stoma bag broke? No judgement there but please make us aware!

He left that disaster and went to sit back at the table IN HIS OWN FILTH and finished his meal like nothing happened. We actually pick up a piece of it from the floor.

We end up having to refund meals of patrons that quite reasonably do not want to stay. The craziest part is that the owner does not let us kick him out as he is a regular. 

The thing that still haunts me to this day is that no one at his table flinched. Like did no one ask around the table “can you smell this?”. No, they went on like nothing was happening. The guy left the restaurant eventually with a jacket around his waist and with his back firmly facing the wall.

I was asked to clean the bathroom at a fast-food restaurant. I walked in to find blood sprayed all over the walls, mirror, sink, ceiling; there was not one surface that didn’t get sprayed.

Turns out a couple was shooting up in there and he hit a vein and she panicked. My superior has already used the mop to clean the trails to the door.

I called the manager:

Me: “That bathroom is out of order until someone else comes and takes care of the biohazard.”

Manager: “Why can’t you do it?” 

Me: “Because just above minimum wage is never going to be enough to deal with possible drug and bodily fluid exposure like that with nothing other than the perforated food handling gloves you’re giving me to work with!”

CONTENT WARNING: Dead Animal
 

My mom works at a library. After noticing a bad smell, she calls maintenance.

My Mom: “I need you to come check out a bad smell. I think there might be a dead animal in the ceiling.”

Maintenance turns up and investigates the bad smell.

Maintenance: “Well, we found the source of the smell.”

My Mom: “What was it? Where in the ceiling was it?”

Maintenance: “It was a dead bird… and it wasn’t in the ceiling.” 

Someone had put a dead bird… in a book.