I was a telecom sales representative and worked closely with our support department to ensure any issues with our commercial customers were resolved properly. I had a particular customer who constantly told me that she liked working with us because we were all based in the USA and didn’t outsource our support or billing overseas.

We had a new hire in our support department who was an amazing tech. He was highly recommended by a local college we got a lot of employees from, and he came on board knowing more than some of our other techs from day one. His family was from Senegal, and although he had lived in the US for many years, he still had a trace of an accent. Of course, this customer of mine happened to get this tech on a call and immediately demanded to be transferred to me.

Customer: “You lied to me! You said you’re in the US, but you’re not! You’re sending all your calls overseas!”

Me: “Uh… I can guarantee you that everyone is in one of our offices here on the East Coast. Who did you speak with?”

Customer: “Someone who claimed his name was Jeff! He was lying! He’s a foreigner, and you’re sending our business there! I want a copy of my contract so I can see when I can cancel with you, you liars!”

Me: “Okay. Hold on for me just one minute.”

I parked the call on hold, walked across the hall to our support department, and spoke with the tech in question. His name was indeed Jeff. I gently explained the situation and let him know what I was about to do, which got him to laugh. I picked up the call and put it on speakerphone.

Me: “Hello! I’m over here in support with Jeff! Say hello!”

Tech: “Hello! Is everything running properly now? All the tests from our end look fine, and your bandwidth looks great from here.”

The customer sputtered incoherently for a minute.

Customer: “What’s going on here?! Why are we on a three-way call?!”

Me: “Nope, I just walked across the hall, and now I’m standing next to Jeff. I just wanted to let him know you were following up on the closed ticket. Everything good now? Did you still want me to send a copy of your contract to review?”

Customer: “Ah… no. Everything’s fine. Goodbye.” *Click*

I wasn’t terribly upset when she didn’t renew her contract with us a year later.

Maybe twenty-two years ago, I had a phone interview with a baking company. I didn’t care to have my peers know what I was up to, so I took the call on my cell phone in my car. The call was crystal clear and had no technical issues.

At one point, the interviewer mentioned the weather.

Interviewer: “How’s the weather where you are?”

Me: “I’m sitting in my car, and it’s actively snowing right now.”

Interviewer: “Are you taking this call on a cell phone?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Interviewer: “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Interviewer: “I think it’s kind of rude to take a formal call on a cell phone.”

Me: “I would be more than happy to conclude the interview if talking on a cell phone is an issue. If you are interested, I’d be happy to continue it tomorrow when I’ll be at a desk.”

Interviewer: “It’s so rude that you called me from a cell phone. There’s no need to continue with the interview process.”

I disagreed with the first point but did agree with the second. 

To this day, I wonder what the h*** he was talking about and where he was coming from.

My five-year-old sister is obsessed with Rapunzel (the Disney version from “Tangled”) right now. She wants to be Rapunzel when she grows up, so she refuses all haircuts and every so often sings to her hair.

My mother bought her a Rapunzel costume for a costume parade we had, and my sister was so excited about it. On the day of the parade, she told me this:

Sister: “You know what’s sad?”

Me: “What?”

Sister: “Mama said I have to wear socks and shoes. But Rapunzel has bare feet!”

She also got very disappointed when the long blonde braid didn’t glow with the magic song.

Today, we were singing the song “When Will My Life Begin” and we sang the line “…stuck in the same place I’ve always been.”

Sister: “But she wasn’t always there.”

Me: “That’s true, but she didn’t know that. She thought Mother Gothel was her real mother. She never learned about genetics, so she couldn’t tell it didn’t make sense.”

Sister: “What’s genetics?”

Me: “Well, a mother and father both give something to the baby. So, since Mama and Daddy both have brown hair, you can’t have blonde hair.”

Sister: “But Rapunzel had blonde hair.”

Me: “Well, yes, so maybe if Mama drank a magic flower when she was pregnant with you, you’d have magic hair. But she didn’t.”

Sister: *Very matter of fact* “I know. Sadly.”

At least she’s come to terms with the ending of the movie, though. When she first saw it, she cried when Rapunzel’s hair got cut and barely noticed that Flynn was dying. And through her tears, she asked me this:

Sister: “Is she crying for the same reason I am?”

I am the author of this story. This event occurred about fifteen months later.

Late on a Thursday afternoon, I was asked to help set up the conference room that was located diagonally across from the mailroom where I work. There was a “breakfast” meeting scheduled for the next day at 7:30 am. They wanted it set up with tables and chairs for thirty-eight people so they would have a place to sit and eat, along with a table in the back for the food and one in the front for the presenters.

The next morning, everyone arrived for the meeting. At 8:00 am, I noticed a Vice President arriving for the meeting along with a Human Resources representative — the same one to whom I had complained about my situation the previous year.

After barely even ten minutes, the doors opened and people began filtering out one or two at a time. I got this feeling of foreboding that something was up — you know, just that sense that something is wrong. Everyone coming out of the conference room had this gloomy, depressed expression on their face, and each one had a manilla folder in their hands.

Afterward, I spoke to several of the people that I knew particularly well, having worked with many of them for ten years or more. They had been told the previous afternoon to attend a 7:30 am breakfast meeting scheduled for the next day and to “be on time or a bit early” to allow for a prompt start. Many of them did arrive five to ten minutes early so they’d be done eating before the presentation began, which they were informed would start promptly at 8:00 am. By 8:00 am, everyone was finishing up with their breakfast when the Vice President came in with the HR representative and gave this brief presentation to the thirty-eight people who were called to this meeting.

Vice President: “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming to this early breakfast meeting. Has everyone had a chance to enjoy their breakfast?”

The breakfast served was a full breakfast with scrambled eggs, French toast, bacon, sausage, coffee, and juice. The group responded with all sorts of positive comments and thanks.

Vice President: “Okay, very good. The reason you all were called to this meeting is that you’ve all been laid off, effective immediately. [HR Rep] here has your folders with your respective severance packages, so please line up, and [HR Rep] will explain everything to you.”

At that, he turned and left the room, displaying no more emotion than if he’d just gotten a haircut. He left the remainder of the task to [HR Rep] and three Benefits Administrators, who arrived shortly after the Vice President left. They all said that [HR Rep] seemed genuinely upset and felt bad about the rather callous way it had been handled.

The Vice President gave no explanations, no sympathies, no kind expressions, no “thank you for your many years of loyal service”, no “I’m sorry we had to do this due to…”, or anything. Just a short, cold, emotionless dismissal.

Related:
Not Taking Anyone’s S*** Today

CONTENT WARNING: Needles

When my brother was first diagnosed with diabetes, he was eleven years old. He didn’t do the insulin injections himself, and he didn’t have his pump yet, so he had me or one of our parents do them. For some reason, I was his person of choice.

One night, as I was eating supper, I saw my brother put down his food at his place across from me and then come to hover behind my chair.

Me: *Slightly passive-aggressively* “Can I help you?”

Brother: *In a super-sweet tone, with a large smile* “Yes!”

Me: *Pretending to be super frustrated with him* “I will stab you.”

Brother: *Still overly sweet* “Thank you!”