In our big open-plan office, some colleagues would buy sweets in bulk, selling them at higher prices to others with profits going to charity. It was a win-win for everyone: people with a sweet tooth need not go out to nearby sweet shops, the charity would get an income, and we’d get to meet people from other departments who’d stop and chat for a minute or two. It was all a very nice atmosphere. The sweets were laid out on a spare desk, with a price list and an honesty box next to it.

One day, a colleague realised that instead of making a profit, the operation was currently running at a loss.

I had noticed a pair of young men, both late teens I suppose, who’d saunter up to the sweets desk, pick things up, put things down, pick things up again, put money in the box, take change out, and so on. They always seemed to be trying to act casual. I had been privately suspicious of them because of this behaviour, but I didn’t say anything as one shouldn’t judge by appearances.

However, when my colleague pointed out there was a discrepancy, another colleague said, “Well, I wonder who it could be,” in a pointed way, and I got the distinct impression they already had a good idea who it was.

From then on, they started doing a complete stock-take and accounting of sales and income after anyone bought some sweets (but out of view). When the teens came for their sweets, with their usual performance, colleagues leaped up after they’d gone to do a complete check of the stock and cash. They found that there was money missing, and it seemed to not be a surprise to anyone. From then on, the sweets were kept on someone’s desk, and people had to hand over cash to someone, just like in a normal shop.

Months later, the two young men burned down a train. On their way back from an evening on the south coast, they started mucking around with a lighter and singeing the furnishings for fun, and the train went up in flames. Fortunately, there was no one hurt, but they got jailed.

I’m sitting at a bus stop outside a popular shopping centre, waiting for my bus. A well-dressed woman with a somewhat sour expression struts up, examines my clothing, and apparently decides that I am good enough for her to sit next to. Before I can say anything or even nod, she starts grumbling under her breath about the homeless in the area and how every teenager these days is doing drugs, trying to catch my eye. I need to get this bus, so it’s not like I can get away.

It takes five minutes for a suitable target to cross her path. It’s a teenage boy dressed in black jeans, a graphic tee, and platform boots. He’s wearing a wallet chain — probably what catches the woman’s eye — and carrying a plain white paper bag.

Woman: “Kids these days! Look at him!” *Spotting his tidy Padawan braid* “And with hair like that!”

Teen: “…ma’am?”

Woman: “What’s in that bag, huh? Drugs? You look the type.”

The teen blinks, looks down at his bag, and then looks back up at her.

Teen: “What?”

Woman: “You heard me!”

He reaches into the bag and holds up a maki roll.

Teen: “…ma’am, this is sushi.”

I have never seen someone turn so red so fast. I hope he enjoyed that sushi.

I worked in a newly opened store many years ago. For argument’s sake, let’s say we were a toy superstore. In the same town was a shop selling cheap, off-brand toys. The owner of that shop was never very well-liked by most customers but had had a monopoly for a long time.

Once we opened, people realised they had another choice, and after about half a year, the smaller store closed down. Sad, but the owner had been nearing retirement anyway, and the building sold for a lot of money because it was in a valuable spot.

The section of the store I worked in was the furthest from the doors and tended to be the least populated. Two teenage boys figured this out, and after the other store closed, they would come to my section and talk loudly about how megastores kept pushing out smaller store owners and what a shame it was, and how embarrassed they would be to work somewhere like this! I didn’t interact with them much, but I did let my manager know once it was obvious that they were going to keep doing it.

One day, they came up to the counter, did their usual routine, and then noted that I looked stressed. I agreed that I was and that annoying customers did that to me. Note that I did not say that they were annoying, just that annoying customers stressed me out. They knew what I meant, though, and demanded to see my manager. I happily called her and absented myself from the conversation.

Another coworker told me that [Manager] absolutely decimated them. She told them she knew they’d been abusing her staff for weeks, how dare they accuse us, that she’d be well within her rights to ban them. She made them apologise to me. I literally walked out, listened to the apology, said, “Fine,” and walked away again.

They have been in the store since, but they don’t approach me, and they haven’t been saying anything to anyone else, either!

This story was pieced together by a coworker and me. I get a call and it sounds like a teenage boy.

Teenage Boy: “Hi. One of your colleagues is getting shouted at by my dad right now. I’m really sorry about that. He’s been on the phone for twenty minutes if that helps identify him, but anyway, I know what’s wrong. The Internet is down because…”

The teenager goes into some technical issues that are most likely the issue and provides all the security details. We actually get the issue fixed in about five minutes!

Me: “Glad I could help!”

Teenage Boy: “Thank you! I’m going to go and save your colleague now.”

He hangs up, and I take a quick break to walk the floor. It doesn’t take me long to find my flustered coworker being shouted at on the phone. Suddenly, he stops looking so anxious, actually smiles, says the sign-off spiel, and puts down his headset. He tells me this is what went down.

Coworker: “Sir, I am trying to help you, but—”

Coworker’s Caller: “You ain’t trying to do s***! I’m trying to get my Internet back here, and all you’re telling me to do is type in some numbers and all this other complicated s***, and that’s your job! You’re just being lazy!”

Coworker: “Sir, that is just our standard IP address for your router, and—”

Coworker’s Caller: “You think I am dumb? You have the means to fix it from your end, but—”

Suddenly, there is another voice on the call: the teenage boy.

Teenage Boy: “Dad… Dad! The Internet is fixed! Look!”

Coworker’s Caller: “What? But… how?”

Teenage Boy: “I called them and got it fixed. It was pretty simple if you actually just followed their instructions.”

Coworker’s Caller: “But that’s what I have been doing!”

Teenage Boy: “No, Dad, you’ve been being an a**hole. Now hang up the phone! Those poor workers are scored based on call times, and it’s been nearly half an hou—” *Click*

There is hope for the next generation.

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I have just sat a family down at their table and handed them their menus. They are parents, an adult daughter, and a teenage son. I am about to come by to take their drink orders when the adult daughter approaches me. She stuffs a twenty-dollar bill into my hand.

Daughter: “Here, take this. This is to say sorry for whatever is about to come. Wait a minute and then come back to the table.”

Confused, I oblige and check in on another table quickly before going back to theirs.

Me: “Are you guys ready for your drink orders?”

Mother: “We are not ‘you guys’. We are not your buddies, so don’t refer to us that way. And yes, I will have an Arnold Palmer.”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am.”

I take everyone else’s orders without issue and bring them out to them.

Me: “Hi! Are you… ready to order your meal?”

Mother: “The last time I was here, I ordered the chicken parmesan, and it was a complete disappointment.”

She lets the sentence hang in the air without any follow-up.

Me: “I… I am sorry to hear that. So, will you be ordering something else?”

Mother: “Are you stupid? I want that again, but I better not be disappointed this time!”

Me: “What was it about the meal last time that you found disappointing, ma’am?”

Mother: “Just… all of it.”

Me: “It’s just… it’s likely to be prepared the same way as it was before unless you wanted to make any changes?”

Mother: “Why are you still talking?”

Daughter: “Oh, my God, Mom! What the h*** are you doing?!”

Mother: “What? I’m just letting them know not to disappoint me.”

Daughter: “Mom, we all know that no matter what they do, you will be ‘disappointed’ and will find something to complain about, and you’ll ask for the manager and try to get some kind of discount. It happens every time with you.”

Mother: “It’s not my fault that their service is lacking.”

Daughter: “We could go and have tea with the freaking Queen in Buckingham Palace, and you’d find something about their service to complain about, Mom! It’s embarrassing. Stop it.” *To me* “Sorry about that. Bring her the chicken parmesan, as normal. She’ll find something to hate about it, but that’s on her, not you.”

Everyone else gives me their orders, looking slightly embarrassed and apprehensive of the mother, and things go smoothly for a while. I bring out their food and top up their waters, and I am especially attentive to the table, checking in and keeping on top of their needs so as not to give the mother any ammo.

When they appear to have finished their meals, mother included, I come back over.

Me: “Did you guys want to see the dessert menu?”

Before I realized I said it, Mom’s eyes go wide.

Mother: “That’s it! You called us ‘you guys’ again! I want to speak to the manager!”

Me: “Apologies, ma’am. It’s just a force of habit. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Mother: *Almost screeching* “Managerrrrrr!”

I’m about to turn and get the manager when the adult daughter speaks up again.

Daughter: “And say what, Mom? You’re offended because the waitress was friendly? Your life is so coddled and privileged that someone calling us ‘you guys’ is enough to set you off? Can you even hear yourself right now?”

Mother: “I’m only—”

Daughter: “—only being a b****! You’re never going to change! This is the last time any of us eat out with you, and you only have yourself to blame.” *To me* “Thanks so much for your amazing service. We’ll just take the check, please? No need to fetch your manager.”

I bring them the check without argument. The mother is seething but remaining silent. While they discuss the situation and who pays for what, I give the manager an update on everything that happened.

Manager: “You did good. Nothing is ever going to satisfy people like that, so don’t waste energy trying.”

They pay and start heading out of the door. My manager goes up to them as they’re exiting and shouts out with a beaming smile.

Manager: “Take care, you guys!“

The mother was about to go on a rampage, but her husband dragged her out silently, in a move that looked like it had been practiced.

The family has since been back to eat on several occasions. I’ve never seen the mother ever again.

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Stories-Of-2023-(so far!) roundup!

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