(I’m three years old and I am with my teenage uncle and grandmother. Grandma makes me a peanut butter sandwich, and my uncle gets a movie for me to watch.)

Me: *watches the tape go into the VCR* “Where go?!”

Uncle: “It ate it! Om nom nom.” *goes into next room*

Me: *studies the apparently hungry VCR*

Grandma: *comes into room* “Where’s your sandwich, [My Name]?”

Me: “It ate it!”

Grandma: “What ate it?”

Me: “Om nom nom!”

Uncle: *from next room* “Oh, no.”

(Yup. I fed my peanut butter sandwich to the VCR. Over 20 years later, my family still tells this story.)

(I am pregnant with my first child and trying to train girls to take over my job when I go on maternity leave. I have already hired and fired several girls who just cannot get the hang of answering a phone, being an office manager, and a host of other duties. I have one girl who, after only 30 minutes on the job, says she has a headache and needs to go get aspirin out of her car. I never see her again. The next girl thinks work is the best time to catch up on calling her friends. I fire her before lunch. I FINALLY think I have found an older woman who might work out. She has several problems understanding how to use the computer to order supplies and send messages, but she seems willing to learn. Her first four days go okay… until Friday, which is casual dress in our office; the rest of the week is business dress. She comes in wearing a tube top, a denim mini skirt, and flip-flops.)

Me: “What the hell are you wearing?”

New Hire: “Well, you said it’s casual Friday, so I put the business suit up and came casual!”

Me: “Hon, it’s casual Friday, not bar-hopper Friday!”

(The bosses were not amused, and she was let go that afternoon after some of my customers complained.)

(My girlfriend and I are waiting in line to check out at a store. We’re in our late 30s, and while I’m into a lot of geeky things, she’s not. While in line, a rather attractive younger woman comes up behind us. She’s wearing librarian glasses, a [Popular Old Video Game] pendant necklace, and a t-shirt printed with one of those parody [Role-Playing Dungeon Game] alignment charts. I can’t help but notice and start to read her shirt, which means I’m staring directly at her chest. My girlfriend notices after a moment, grabs my sleeve, and gives me a nostril-flaring death stare.)

Me: *doesn’t get it at first* “What?” *gets it* “What? I was reading her shirt!”

Young Woman: *also doesn’t get it* “Oh, you like?” *pulls shirt out a bit making it easier to read*

Me: “Yeah, that’s really cool. Have a great day!”

(The girlfriend and I get through the register quickly, fortunately. Let’s say that her driving on the way home is a bit, um… aggressive. After she takes a turn that screeches the tires:)

Me: “I really was just reading her shirt. It was a [Role-Playing Dungeon Game] alignment chart, but with [Popular Space Movie] characters.”

Girlfriend: “Uh-huh.”

Me: “No, see, there’s this idea of a grid that your character can fall into, and that determines what you..”

Girlfriend: *cutting me off* “SHUT UP!”

Me: “But that’s–”

Girlfriend: *cutting me off again* “SHUT. THE. F***. UP. NOW!”

(After getting home, she shut herself in the bedroom. I have a feeling I’m sleeping on the couch tonight, all because I couldn’t not know that whole chart.)

(I have a coworker at a hotel who we think maybe has a drug addiction. There are several times she has come in to work jumpy as hell and super spacey, with eyes red as tomatoes. One day, I get a call from my ops manager:)

Ops Manager: “Did you leave a bunch of clean laundry on the laundry room floor?”

Me: “No.”

(I am thinking to myself that it must have been my druggy coworker, as she was the only one in there after me.)

Ops Manager: “Okay, then.”

(I ask no more questions about it that day, but I do hear the ops manager on the phone with [Coworker], and it sounds a lot like she is trying to explain herself and yelling at him. That night, she comes in to relieve me after my shift — a half-hour late, mind you — and launches into a massive rant about how our manager is out to get her.)

Coworker: “I just want you to know, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at [Ops Manager] because he’s out to get me fired. I was here last night doing laundry, and I was told me to put the phone on night mode and take the cordless phone with me so I could answer the phone while I was folding. But I came back to the desk a half-hour later and [Hotel Owner] called and asked me why the phone has been saying we were closed for 30 minutes. I told him I had been using the cordless and doing laundry, and he told me to stay at the front desk so I could answer the phone, and not to worry about laundry. So, I did, and that’s why it isn’t done. And [Ops Manager] tells me, ‘It’s not going to get you fired.’ Well, it had d*** well better not, ‘cause it ain’t my fault!”

(She keeps insulting him and ripping on him. Through all of this, I am slowly getting more angry, because our manager is a really cool guy. Our general manager decides to swing by the next night. Our crazy coworker doesn’t know he’s planning on doing this. She gets there — again, about 30 minutes late — and doesn’t say much to me. Honestly, she doesn’t seem sober. So, she goes out to smoke on the curb, and I leave. My general manager gets there about 20 minutes later and calls me at home.)

Me: “Hey, what’s up?”

General Manager: “You said [Coworker] came in, right? Her car’s not here and the lights are off in the lobby.”

Me: “That’s weird. Yeah, she got there about 10:20. I left about 10:45 and she was still there.”

General Manager: “Okay… Weird. All right, well, see you tomorrow.”

(I hang up and go to bed, when he calls me again.)

Me: “Hey, is everything okay?”

General Manager: “She’s not here!”

Me: “Um, what?”

General Manager: “[Coworker], she isn’t here. Her car isn’t here, the lobby lights are all out except by the breakfast bar, her purse is spilled across the floor, and she isn’t here!”

Me: *instantly thinking something horrible happened to her* “Oh, my God! Did you check the bathrooms and laundry to make sure she didn’t have a seizure or pass out or something?”

General Manager: “Yes, and I checked the cameras, and she’s nowhere in the hotel.”

(Suddenly his side of the line goes quiet and I can hear someone in the background.)

General Manager: *to person* “Where ya been?”

(More quiet.)

General Manager: “[My Name], can you come back in?”

Me: “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

(When I arrived, we found out that this coworker has been LEAVING the hotel every night when our general manager and the owner weren’t here. When she wasn’t answering phones for a half-hour, she simply wasn’t in the hotel. We could’ve been robbed or lost business, or a fire could’ve started; anything could’ve happened because the place wasn’t locked up and she wasn’t there to help. Of course, she was fired, and from that very night it’s a big joke between the managers and me. The best part is, when the lady who does breakfast in the morning came in, she was mad at me for not making coffee for her, because [Coworker] usually did it for her.)

(I’ve been working at a grocery store for a few months with a manager who is, frankly, a miserable human being. He’s aggressively rude, blunt in all the wrong ways, and quick to lambaste you for minor mistakes and ride you on them for weeks. And, unfortunately, upper management is terrified of doing anything to him because he’s openly, flamboyantly gay and cries discrimination and homophobia the second someone so much as criticizes him. After finally having enough, I’ve decided to quit and decide to let him — the main reason for it — know exactly what I think about him.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], I heard you’re ending your employment with us. That’s a shame. Is there any reason in particular?”

Me: “Well… It’s a coworker issue, mostly.”

(He shoots me this toothy smile like he knows I’m about to say something he can twist. Not wanting to give him even a shadow of a chance of playing this game with me, I cut in.)

Me: “Let me tell you something about myself. I’m in a romantic situation that would make churches in this area try to exorcise us: I’m in a polyamorous relationship with three other people, including a trans-woman and another man. I’m so comfortable in my pansexuality I make you look straight; I’ve just never dared use it as an excuse for abusing people and getting away with it. I’m quitting because you’re an abusive creep of a manager and absolute scum of humanity; it has nothing to do with you being gay, or camp, or whatever. You’re just an a**hole.”

(At that, I flick my name-tag onto the table and toss my company vest off, while he and the rest of the office stand there, too stunned to respond.)

Me: “By the way, last night when he came in, I told your husband I saw you kissing [Coworker] a week ago. I heard you say you wondered why he went to his parents’ and didn’t call you last night; there you go.”

(I left just in time to hear him process what just happened and start freaking out. To his credit, though, a coworker I kept in touch with told me I humbled him pretty badly — even if I ruined his marriage — and he has started taking criticism on how to be a better person.)