We have recently hired a new employee to work exclusively with a particular client. At our company, we have a ninety-day probationary period for all new hires. Unfortunately, the new employee is not a good fit, alienates the client right from the start, and appears to have exaggerated the skills he listed on his resume. We make the tough decision to let him go before the probationary period is up.

Me: “…so, unfortunately, the client is just not happy and we don’t feel you are working out in this position. We have to let you go.”

Associate: “Wow. Okay. So, what happens now? Is this effective immediately?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Associate: “But like, can I still get on my computer? I have a few things to do.”

Me: “We don’t need you to do anything; we’ll take care of anything that is still in progress. You can just take your personal belongings and head out.”

Associate: “Can I get on the computer for a few minutes to delete some personal stuff?”

Me: “What kind of stuff? You’re not supposed to have anything personal on your work computer.”

Associate: “Oh… Like… paperwork and things like that. It has my social security number and personal info on it; I want to delete that.”

Me: “We hired you. The company already has that information. Anything on there will be kept secure, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Associate: “I would just feel better if you let me delete things.”

Me: “I’m going to have to go with ‘no’ on that.”

I never did find out what he had on there that he was so worried about. IT did their job and kept anything that was on there private.

The recent quarantine has been hitting my wife especially hard, in part because it’s prevented her from using her prime coping and therapy mechanism: petting dogs.

At home one day, my wife complains that she’s not in the proper mental state to take an online course on assessing happiness. The course is for happiness at work, but I didn’t hear that part. 

I come up with my own suggestion.

Me: “Drink good wine, eat good food, pet good dogs, and have good sex.”

Wife: “It’s for work happiness.”

Me: “Oh.”

Wife: “Besides, I can’t have sex all the time.”

Me: “That’s a very defeatist attitude.”

My parents and I are at a Russian-style bar for a few drinks. I’ve kept my purse behind my back to use as a sort of pillow for the iron chair I’m sitting on. I use a laser pointer for my work, which I keep in my purse.

Waitress: “Excuse me, ma’am, but the table behind you has asked if you could stop flashing them.”

I turn beet red, stutter, and start wondering if my shorts are sliding down or if I’m showing something I shouldn’t be. Eventually, I find my voice.

Me: “Um… flashing them what?”

Waitress: *Giggles* “Oh, it seems that whenever you lean back, your purse lights up.”

Me: *Sudden realization* “OH! You mean my laser pointer flashlight? Sorry, I’ll keep my purse on the table.”

Waitress: “Sounds good.”

The waitress smiled and left, giggling. I get that she was trying to be funny, but that freaked me out for the rest of the night! I was so paranoid that I kept pulling at my clothes every two minutes to make sure they were in place!

A customer wants to make a payment over the phone.

Me: “Are you using a card or a bank account?”

Customer: “I have a card I’d like to use.”

Me: “And do you have an email that I can send the confirmation to when we’re finished?”

Customer: “Can you give it to me orally?”

I had to mute the speaker because I burst out laughing and instantly thought, “That’s what she said!”

I work in tech support, fixing computers. We have a problem customer who regularly comes in with his virus-infected laptop for us to clean, not bothered about the reams of adult material that we can clearly see have caused the issue.

This guy is vulgar and rude and looks down on us, calling us “geeks” and “tech nerds,” not to mention regularly joking that we’re all virgins and live in our mothers’ basements — the usual stereotypes.

One day, he comes in with an older lady, who I learn is his mother. She needs her older laptop updated, and she is very pleasant to deal with. Her son, however, remains rude and awful.

Completing the paperwork, I note that they have the same address, so I surmise he lives at home with his mother, which is a delicious irony in and of itself. However, the next time he comes in with his infested laptop, I come up with an idea.

I ask him if he is okay with me adding some free software to his browser that will help with his… uh… recurring issues. He nonchalantly agrees, just browsing on his phone.

I install the software, which is designed for less-abled people, and set up the settings to speak aloud, in the loudest volume possible, the name of every site he visits on his browser. I also “accidentally” misplace the volume controls on his user interface and move around some hotkeys. When I am done, I smile as I hand it over.

Surprisingly, we haven’t seen him since. I can’t know for sure if living with his mother presented a problem when every barely-legal website he visited had its name announced at full volume, but I can certainly hope.