Several companies have merged. Mine is one of them. The company that bought us is notorious for swallowing up company after company into the gaping maw of its conglomerate.

As a result of this, we software designers are tasked with merging our software as much as possible, so that it is compatible with the various small sub-companies that we now are.

My task in this instance is to visit one of the offices in Switzerland to explain how this tool I’ve built can be used to allow several different software packages to be built using a single command. As you’d expect, it’s complicated and messy, having to cater for a number of options and handle goodness knows how many edge cases and special workarounds.

I know the manager of the team I am presenting to. I’ve worked with her on a previous project, and met her in person at a big workshop meeting that turned into a glorious party a year or so before in a beautiful eastern European capital city.

Her team, however, turns out to be hostile, as they feel that the parent company’s decision to make them use our software in their applications is a bit of a slap in the face. So, from the very first moment of my presentation, they pick holes, they challenge, they question every single decision, and they reply to my justifications for those decisions by telling me bluntly that the decisions were bad ones.

I’m used to this sort of challenge, because it’s little different from a software peer review session. But by mid-afternoon, it has been a hard day and I’m starting to lose patience.

Me: “Okay, here’s the software. It is what it is. I have been tasked with presenting it to you. Take it or leave it. I’ve explained how it works and why it was designed that way. I’m afraid I don’t really have anything else to contribute here.”

Into the silence, the manager, who has been trying all day to get her team to work towards a resolution, bursts out:

Manager: “He’s come all this way to give us an app that will help us! And all the time, you people have just been, so… so rude!“

The meeting wound up soon after that, and I returned to the hotel to overeat and overdrink before my flight home the next morning.

Happy days.

I work for a company that is often visited by journalists. As I am the spokesperson for the company it’s my job to show them around, explain things, organize media conferences, etc.

There are sometimes weeks with no visits at all and then days with three journalists wanting to visit, meaning long days for me. I am fine with that but this also means that I use my car quite a lot. No worries, I like driving my car and I get a certain amount of money per driven kilometre that more or less covers the cost of the gas I use.

Since the company desperately needs to save money they decide:

Boss: “No more money for car trips inside the country; use public transport. We’ll pay for the yearly bus ticket.”

Me: “I probably won’t be able to make as many appointments. Also, if you count the cost of the bus ticket plus the additional time for travel it’s bad maths for you.”

Boss: “I don’t care.”

Fine with me. I cancel the contract for my parking spot which I had to pay for myself anyway, so I can save some money.

The new rule comes into effect, I have my bus ticket and start coming to work by bus. On the second day I do this one of the project managers I am organizing a media conference for walks in.

Project Manager: “I changed plans for tomorrow. You need to pick up a few things before the press conference.”

Me: “Sure thing. Since the conference is quite early can you send our intern with me to pick it up?”

Project Manager: “Why? It’s not that much to pick up.”

Me: “I know but it’s too much to carry by myself. Since I’ll have to change buses at least once it’d be a lot more efficient, and the conference is too early to make the trip twice.”

Project Manager: “Just use your car.”

Me: “Since you won’t pay for gas anymore I will not do that. Plus I cancelled my parking spot here already.”

Project Manager: “Do you really have to start your green experiments in a month like this?”

Me: “Go talk to the boss. It’s his decision, not mine, I told him this would happen.”

Two days later we are back to getting money for gas, but the project manager had to use his own car to go get those additional things. Since my parking space was already rented out to another person I still came to work by bus and if there were a lot of appointments I just had them pay for the daily parking as well!

This story takes place in a time before instant messaging services on mobile phones. The customer has an account that covers her daughter’s mobile phone, as well.

Me: “Welcome to [Company]. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you today?”

Customer: “This might be an awkward question, but what will I have to do to disconnect the service on a mobile phone?”

Me: “May I ask why you want to disconnect? Did you happen to lose your phone or did it get stolen? Was there any misuse?”

Customer: “No, it’s none of that. I threatened my daughter to disconnect her mobile service if she doesn’t do her chores. And today I decided to make that threat a reality.”

Me: “Well, it’s technically two clicks in our system.”

Customer: “And how fast will it take effect?”

“Me: “This is a measure to prevent you from financial damage in case of misuse or losing the phone, so any connections will be cut immediately and the device won’t be able to log in until you tell us to do so.”

Customer: “Okay. You might want to turn down the volume on your headset. Please click on the count of three. One… two… three…”

I disconnect the service. At this moment, the daughter seems to have been in a call with her friend. I learn many new Swiss curse words.

Customer: “I think a week without phone should teach her.”

Me: “May I suggest that we set a password for the reconnection of that phone, preferably one that your daughter can’t guess?”

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I work at a rather expensive clothing store. My coworkers and I work on commission as well as a fixed salary, so making sales is not necessary to get a decent wage, but can enhance the salary quite nicely. Also, whenever business is slow, we get to leave an hour or even two early to save the store some money.

Since I wouldn’t get home until after 9:00 pm — after having been at work for ten hours — I am delighted when my manager tells me I get to leave early. However, ten minutes before I am allowed to leave, a customer approaches me and asks for help finding some clothes. I am not allowed to say no and I am not supposed to “hand him over” to a coworker when I get to leave early instead of my shift ending.

So, begrudgingly, I put on a customer-service smile and help him find the clothes. Many of the items he wants are either in the back or on a mannequin so I need to ask coworkers to help me locate them or undress the dolls; I have been working here for two weeks.

Some of the clothes I pull for the customer don’t fit, so the customer is happily trying on several items as I watch the minutes passing by, and I finally see that I won’t get to leave an hour early as I was planning to. When they are done, however, they smile and go, “I’ll take them all,” dumping about six items of — very expensive — clothing into my arms. They then go on to ask for several other items and, realising that they are actually going to buy clothes — a lot of people just come in, make us help them find a good size, and then go somewhere else to buy it cheaper there — my mood lightens dramatically.

I put the clothes on “my” table and go on to advise the customer for another half-hour, at the end of which the customer has selected clothes that come to a price of more than 500$. When they are done, I fold the clothes as quickly as possible to get them to the cashier and mark some as my sales, as well as putting down some as sales of the coworkers who helped me locate them.

My manager catches me with over fifteen items on my arm and asks me what I’m still doing in the store since I should’ve been gone for over an hour. When I point to the clothes and tell her that I have to get them to the cash registers ASAP for a customer, her jaw drops and she lets me get on my way.

That is the one and only time I was happy to stay later than planned.

(My boyfriend has to have emergency surgery to remove an abscess in his a**. As he recently moved here he doesn’t have a place of his own and is staying with me, which is handy as he does need some help to look after the wound. As he needs to shower after every time he poops and I’m the one who washes his wound, I often wait in the bathroom for him to finish. He has been feeling down with all this, so I start give him a hug while he is on the loo.)

Boyfriend: “Why don’t you find this uncomfortable or disgusting?”

Me: “You’re not pooping out of this end.”