Play With Fire, Get Fired

| Working | August 2, 2017

(Last year, we on the maintenance staff had a coworker who got on everyone’s nerves. He would not listen to the supervisors, did things his own way, and sometimes did weird and random things that, when combined with his attitude, made us genuinely concerned about his mental stability. Somehow he managed to last six months because the timing of his shifts rarely crossed over with our boss, so he rarely pissed off the boss personally. One day, he is scheduled for a 6:00-12:30 evening shift, but when 7:00 arrives and he hasn’t shown up, Supervisor #1 marks him as a no-show. He finally shows up around 9:00.)

Coworker: “Hey, I can’t stay and work the whole night. I have to leave at 11:30.”

(This is not the first time he has taken it upon himself to decide whether or not he should work when he’s scheduled.)

Supervisor #1: “I don’t think so. You’re already late; I marked you as a no-show an hour after you were supposed to start.”

Coworker: “You can’t mark me as a no-show! I’m here! I showed up!”

(He starts working while Supervisor #1 calls Boss.)

Supervisor #1: “[Boss] wants to see you in his office tomorrow morning.”

Coworker: “Oh, tomorrow doesn’t work for me. Tell him it has to wait until Tuesday.”

(It is Tuesday. He’s saying he’s not going to show up in the office until next week even though he’ll be working other shifts in between. Come Tuesday, it has been agreed that Coworker will meet with the boss at 5:00 pm, shortly before Boss has to go to his other job. I arrive around 5:30 so I can eat before my own 6:00-12:30 shift. Around 5:45, Boss enters in a bad mood and punches out.)

Boss: *to [Supervisor #2], who is in the break room with me* “When [Coworker] gets here, tell him he’s fired.”

(I do an internal happy dance, and around 7:00, I overhear this:)

Coworker: *to Supervisor #2* “He can’t do this! I couldn’t come in at five! I had to eat first! I’m going to the labour board!”

(I have no idea if he actually went through with it, but I never heard from him again. There’s no way the labour board would take the side of someone who couldn’t be bothered to go to work on time and STOOD UP HIS BOSS instead of just having supper later.)

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Perhaps You Should Be Teller Her Straight

| Learning | July 15, 2016

(I’m chatting with someone at a sports club, who also is one of my classmates at school. With us is a younger girl. We’re discussing the merits of turning sixteen.)

Me: “Well, I’ll be able to get married with my parent’s consent.”

Younger Girl: “Why? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Me: “No, but—”

Classmate: “Yeah, she’s still in her ‘hates boys’ phase.”

Me: “Not really; it’s more of a permanent phase—”

Classmate: “She’s been in it since, like, year seven!”

Me: *looking her in the eye* “Actually, it’s more of a condition—”

Classmate: *goes on about how funny it is that I ‘hate’ boys*

Me: “…You really don’t get what I’m telling you, do you?”

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She’s Rotten To The Core

| Related | January 25, 2016

(I am 11 years old and whilst my mother plays netball, I score games at the sports centre for a few dollars a game. I sit on a row of chairs on the sideline, and often players or their family members sit beside me. The 50+ year-old mother of one player often sits right next to me to make sure I’m scoring correctly as her daughter plays. She is not particularly nice, and to top it off has dreadful halitosis. I complain to my mother about this.)

Me: “… and her breath is terrible.”

Mum: “Well, honey, when a woman reaches a certain age, her insides start to rot. When this happens you can smell it on her breath.”

Me: “Oh, okay…”

(I didn’t realise until years later this wasn’t the case and was just my mother’s way of being funny.)

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