I own a small retail store in which we also repair items in the category of what we sell — think like a cell phone store that also repairs phones — but with various items.

I bumped into an old friend at a trade show where I was selling my wares, and we got to chatting. She mentioned she had recently gotten surgery on her arm due to a workplace accident, and the employer (a multi-million-dollar corporation) was fighting her tooth and nail on paying compensation and benefits that she was entitled to. I sympathized, as the reason I opened my own business was similar to the situation she was in. She mentioned she was out of work and trying to collect disability but was also getting pushback.

She asked if I had a position she could work in, and of course, I obliged.

At first, everything went great. [Employee] caught on quickly to how I operated the store and was excellent with customers. About a month into the job, I started to feel quite comfortable and gave her a key to the store for emergencies. I have a young child, and as a single parent, sometimes things happen (such as an ill babysitter or ill child) and I have to close for the day or end up coming in late. She took the bull by the horns and would cover for me on days such as that. It was a blessing!

Two months in, [Employee] asked me if she could have a week off to take a mental health vacation. She was still fighting with the compensation board and disability board, so I understood. She asked for a pay advance, and there was no reason not to give one, so I sent her off with a week’s pay in advance. I wasn’t well off financially, but I have a bleeding heart.

She returned a week later seemingly much happier, and all was well… until payday. I had given her $800 in advance, and her hours and commissions for that week were a net of $840, so she received the remaining $40. She came in the next day with a horrible attitude and made a few snide comments throughout the day, but we were incredibly busy so I couldn’t address it right away.

After the rush, I sat her down and asked what was wrong.

Employee: “I don’t work for free. How dare you only pay me $40 for all the hours I worked last week?!”

Me: “Oh, gosh, now I understand! Remember when you left on vacation, I gave you the $800 advance? So, last week was thirty hours, and you made $240 in commissions. That’s $840. Subtract the $800 advance, and that’s $40.”

Employee: “Um, no. That was a gift. You told me it was a gift.”

Me: “I’m so sorry, but no… See, we wrote it down on your payroll sheet for that week, and here is this week’s based on the hours and sales you filled in.”

Employee: “This is so stupid. I can’t afford to live on $40!”

Me: “I’m sorry, [Employee], but that’s what we agreed.”

She still didn’t seem to understand entirely but accepted it, and we moved on from it.

A week later, [Employee] didn’t come in on time to work. I sent a text but heard nothing back until 1:00 pm when she called me crying. She said her boyfriend had been in a horrific car accident and was in surgery as we spoke. I was immediately forgiving, expressed my condolences and well wishes for him, and told her to take as much time as she needed off work.

Two weeks later, she returned to work in a rotten mood. I checked in but didn’t want to push. Then, she asked for her pay for the last two weeks.

Me: “Oh… well… you didn’t work the last two weeks, so there is no pay.”

Employee: “What? You told me to take as much time as I needed, though! I thought it was paid leave!”

Me: *Visibly frustrated* “I’m not sure when or where that was ever said or even implied, but no, you don’t get paid when you’re not at work. I have a child I need to take care of. I can’t pay you for time you haven’t put in.”

Employee: “Well, I was in a pretty difficult situation, as I’m suuuuuure you can imagine! I need money for bills!”

Again, my bleeding heart took over, and I gave her a $500 advance, but I made it CLEAR that it was an advance, and we both signed a contract stating this.

Over the next week, [Employee] showed up HOURS late and/or left HOURS early, if she showed up at all. I’m talking about showing up at 10:00 and leaving at 1:00 in the middle of a rush. In total, she only netted five and a half hours and did only $24 in commissions. She was to be paid $134, leaving her owing me a balance of $366 from the advance.

The following Monday, I was immediately met with hostility again over her inability to pay bills because I “didn’t pay her”. By this point, I was done with the games, and we had a very serious conversation about her future, if any, working with me.

She apologized profusely as soon as the phrase “may have to let you go” left my mouth. She explained that she was struggling with her mental health, her boyfriend was using a wheelchair still, she was behind on all their bills, their electricity is due to be shut off, etc. I gave her another chance, and she asked for the rest of the week off, which I agreed to.

Cue the insanity. [Employee] showed up the following week in a different car and then bragged to me and a customer how she’d”only” spent $4,200 on it. She showed off her new shoes that she’d “only” paid $110 for. Honestly, her attitude had done a total one-eighty. Long story short, I let her go that week after discovering she was pocketing some money from the till after a customer accused her of shorting their change.

I was so confused about how, since she’d started, the store had begun struggling financially and how she’d suddenly changed her tune toward the end. I went through the receipts, finances, customer database, and everything that night, and I found that for every hour she worked, she would write down two hours. For every $100 in commission she made, she wrote down $200. I was missing over $2,500 in stock and parts from the storage room, including a $400 machine reserved for special repairs that was rarely used so it was pretty much ignored until I needed it. You get the picture.

I attempted to confront [Employee] but found that she had blocked my number AND blocked me on all social media. The next morning, I awoke to a bombardment of one-star Google reviews and both comments and messages to my social media pages calling me a crook and a bunch of horrible names, all from friends of [Employee]’s. According to her friends, I verbally abused her, never paid her on time if at all, owed her over $3,000 in wages, was manipulative, cheated my customers with inferior products and shoddy work — you name it.

I chose to block and ignore these people, but the damage was done both financially and reputationally. My business went bankrupt a month later.

While job hunting, I met with a friend who worked at a competing store to mine who also happened to be [Employee]’s cousin. He and I grabbed a coffee and caught up… and then he mentioned [Employee]. Apparently, she had gone in there for an interview while working for me and casually mentioned that she had also been doing side work in the evenings and on days off. She said if they hired her, she had a “special machine used for special repairs” she could bring with her — aka my machine. They didn’t end up hiring her as her schedule conflicted.

I asked how [Employee]’s boyfriend was recovering from his accident and was met with the most bewildered look I’d ever seen. [Cousin] said, “Accident? What accident?” So I explained what I was told and mentioned the dates. He pulled out his phone and showed me photos of [Employee], her boyfriend, [Cousin], his wife, and their three other cousins, drunk on a cruise ship, dated THAT WEEK and several days after! [Employee]’s boyfriend was never in an accident.

[Cousin] went on to say that their grandfather passed away last year, and finally, after the family fighting over it, they got their inheritances a week before the trip… to the tune of around $40,000 each. All the cousins (grandkids) took a vacation together and went on a cruise last minute and had shopping sprees galore.

It is years later now, and I’m nearly done with my bankruptcy hit on my credit, but I have struggled immensely since then. It goes to show that not all friends are true friends.

This story is part of our Not Always Working Most-Epic Stories roundup!

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Six years after I finish my BA degree, I start a new job as a Senior Investment Advisor at one of the largest financial institutions in Canada. Unlike my previous job, I get to have my own office which has my nameplate — also reflecting my position — on the door.

One day, I gave to stay a bit past office hours (9:00 to 5:00) to finish up some tasks. Just when I start getting ready to leave, the night shift janitors arrive to service our floor. Among the cleaning staff members, I recognize one of them as someone I went to university with. I do not approach her to say hi because: A) we just had one class together and we barely even spoke to each other, B) it has been a very long time since I last saw and heard of her, and C) she was a “mean girl” back then and enjoyed tearing people down.

I particularly remember [Cleaner] because, one time, the professor asked me an opinion-based question, which I answered. [Cleaner] disagreed with me and even said my answer was s***ty in front of the entire class. It did affect me, but not for very long because I eventually moved on and put the situation behind me.

Most people, like me, leave their office doors open. We have never had an incident where someone has reported something missing from their office. As I head out toward the elevator, I can see that [Cleaner] has reached my office to clear my garbage bins. I don’t think anything of it because it is part of her job to step into my office to do her work. When I am getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, one of the junior advisors calls me.

Me: “Hey!”

Junior Advisor: “Hi, [My Name]! I’m sorry for calling after hours. This might be a long shot, but are you still in the office?”

Me: “Well, I just got into my car at the building’s parking lot. But yes, technically, I’m still at work. What’s up?”

Junior Advisor: “I just noticed that my card case has been misplaced. I checked my bag and looked everywhere in my apartment, but it is nowhere to be found. If you can, would you mind terribly going back upstairs and checking my workstation and drawers? I would greatly appreciate it.”

Me: “Of course, that’s no problem. I am heading back up right now and will give you a call when I’m done.”

Junior Advisor: “Thank you so much! Lunch is on me next time whether you find my card case or not!”

Me: “No worries. Talk to you later.”

Junior Advisor: “Okay, bye!”

When I am back upstairs, I go straight to [Junior Advisor]’s desk. Unfortunately, I do not find the card case, but I decide to let one of the janitors know and ask them to hand it to the lobby’s security if someone from the cleaning team finds it.

As I make my way out, I notice that [Cleaner] is still in my office. From where I am standing, it looks like she is snooping around my desk. I manage to quietly sneak into my office and stand there for a good ten seconds. She opens one of my drawers, so at this point, I can confirm that she is snooping.

I wait for [Cleaner] to turn around and give her a “surprise”, but she is too focused and is taking her sweet time going through my stuff. I decided to break my silence.

Me: “Can I help you find anything?”

Cleaner: *Startled* “Oh, geez, you scared me! You’re too quiet. Oh, my God, [My Name], it’s you! I saw your name on the door but didn’t know that it was the [My Full Name] from uni. It’s so great to see you! Not sure if you remember me, but I’m [Cleaner’s Full Name]. We had a class together.”

Me: “Oh, hi, [Cleaner]. I can see that you have already done your job, which was clearing up my bins. Can I ask what else you were doing?”

Cleaner: *Nervously* “Oh, yeah, because I saw your name on the door… And I was looking to see if you have any cleaning supplies so I could wipe down your desk and disinfect your keyboard and monitors. You know, I want to go the extra mile with the service so I can get positive feedback.”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

I know she is lying. From what I’ve heard, the janitors are not supposed to be wiping up the staff’s desks and equipment. This is an add-on service that is not covered, and if someone from the building wishes to do this, they must submit a request form, and it must be approved by the property manager. The policy she is violating could lead her to dismissal.

Cleaner: “Look, I didn’t have to do this. I was simply being nice to an old friend.”

Me: *Firmly* “Right. Well, I’m going to ask you to stop. You already cleared the bins, and I don’t need you to do anything else.”

Cleaner: “Wow, okay. You don’t need to be so b****y about it. No good deed goes unpunished.”

I decided not to waste my time with her and just went home. I also called [Junior Advisor] to let him know I didn’t find his case card.

I don’t have any valuables in my office, so I wasn’t worried about stuff going missing. The next day, I told my boss about what had happened, and she agreed that [Cleaner] was only supposed to clear the bins. My boss emailed the property manager about the incident. They responded promptly.

Weeks passed, and my boss told me that the cleaning company addressed the situation by letting [Cleaner] go. Apparently, I was not the only one who had complained about her. Other tenants saw that she was taking office supplies from their units, and her own coworkers said that she would often help herself to anything in the fridges of the units her team was assigned to service.

I used to fly from Toronto to Europe on business multiple times per year. When electronic boarding passes first came into use, I was slow on the uptake, and I generally printed my pass when checking in online. After a few colleagues extolled the benefits of the electronic version, I tried it out on a few trips while keeping a paper copy in my laptop bag just in case.

The first time I went solo with just my electronic pass, I was flying from Toronto Pearson to Amsterdam Schiphol, a flight I had taken several dozen times by now. As usual, I only had a carry-on bag, so I was able to skip the baggage check and proceed directly to security.

Before entering security, you have to show your passport and electronic pass — Check #1. Before you get in line for one of the security stations, the passport and pass are checked again — Check #2. I had no issues at either checkpoint. From there, my journey to the gate for my flight was about ten minutes.

At the last set of doors before the departure lounge itself, there was another “security” staffer performing the same document check as the ones I had just sailed through. This is where it got interesting.

I joined the short line to get through this last check, and when my turn came, I showed my passport and the electronic boarding pass on my phone.

[Security] looked over my passport.

Security: “And your boarding pass, please.”

I gestured to the phone in my hand.

Me: “Right here.”

Security: “That’s not a valid pass, sir. You need to go back to check-in and get your boarding pass.”

Me: “Pardon? This is an electronic pass issued by the airline. It is a valid boarding pass.”

Security: “You can’t use that. I said you need to back to check-in and print your boarding pass.”

Me: “You can’t be serious. This is an electronic boarding pass. I’ve used these on multiple occasions. I proceeded through security with this pass and it is valid. Are you trying to tell me I have to go all the way back out to print a paper copy and return through security— “

Security: *Interrupting me* “I am not letting you through without a valid boarding pass. NEXT!”

I’ll dispense with the rest of my attempted dialogue with this individual as she simply refused to acknowledge my existence. Not sure what to do, I walked back to the end of the X-ray stations and flagged down one of the agents who looked like he might be a supervisor and explained my predicament.

Supervisor: “No, she is wrong. You have a valid pass. Go back and—”

Me: “Excuse me, but she refused to deal with me, and I am not going back by myself unless someone corrects her. I cannot be the only person going through here with an electronic pass.”

Supervisor: “Okay, don’t worry. I’ll go with you and sort it out.”

We quickly walked to the last checkpoint and up to the security troll. As soon as she saw me with the supervisor:

Security: *To the supervisor* “Yeah, he doesn’t have a valid boarding pass. I can’t let him through.”

Supervisor: *To me* “Go ahead, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a good flight.”

I dodged through the door to the lounge as the security troll began arguing, very forcefully, that I still didn’t have a valid pass and had to have a proper printed pass, etc. After a few paces, I turned around to watch the two of them in what looked like a rather heated dialogue; all the while the lineup to pass the checkpoint was growing quickly. After a minute or so, with neither appearing to back down, I just turned and headed to my flight.

Toronto Pearson is Canada’s largest and busiest airport, handling hundreds of flights per day. It was utterly incomprehensible to me that any security agent with basic training could not know that electronic boarding passes were widely in use by then. How else would I have made it to your checkpoint if it wasn’t valid?!

Years ago, a friend of mine, Bob, owned a comic store. (He passed away in 2014, and I lost one of the greatest friends I have ever known and my favourite-ever comic store.)

Like many comic store owners, Bob sold premium comics — older issues with a VERY high value. Bob rated the comics himself and, unlike a lot of services, was absolutely honest and fair in his ratings from Good to Near Mint and, if anything, he underrated what should have been a higher rating. This meant you could get a real collector’s item for cheaper.

 Truth be told, Bob preferred to sell to real collectors, not speculators. A friend of ours got major discounts on his back issue purchases because Bob knew they were for him.

[Customer], however, would buy books from him, get them “officially” rated and sealed in plastic (a small, hard plastic box), and put them on eBay. With the world’s largest garage sale, he made a profit. 

One book was an early “The Amazing Spider-Man” (issue number somewhere in the thirties) and it was valued, in its condition, at around $3,600 to $4,000. As I said, Bob often underpriced things, erring on the side of the customer. Bob put it out for $3,300.

[Customer] came in, bought a whole bunch of stuff, and asked Bob how low would he was willing to go on the “Spider-Man”. Considering the overall sale, he dropped the price to $3,100.

[Customer] left and life moved on.

Cut to a couple of months later. [Customer] was back, trying to talk down a couple of wall books. (The highest-value comics were on pegs on the wall, to show off stock.) He was complaining about the last deal. He had sold the comic for $3,800; this was lower than he had expected. So, to sum up, Bob gave him a discount, and [Customer] made a profit on that. H***, if [Customer] had paid the original price, he still would’ve made a profit.

But it was not enough. [Customer] felt that Bob should offer him a discount on some wall books, on the order of 50%, so he could make the money he should’ve — on books with values in the $2,000-to-$3,000 range.

He seemed upset that Bob did not agree. Bob gave him a more than fair deal. And, even if he had lost money on his speculation, that was Bob’s business, literally.

Bob: “No.”

Customer: “Do you know how much money I spend in this—”

Bob: “I’ll save you even more. I am not selling these books to you, even at full price.”

This story takes place many years ago at a fun family arcade-type place that turns into an adult arcade place with alcohol and bars after hours.

It’s my friend’s friend’s birthday, and we all go out to the bar and restaurant together. There are twenty of us all together. I’ve never met any of them besides my friend, including the guy celebrating his birthday.

My friend and I sit at one end of the table together with the guest of honour.

There are two servers managing our table — one for the three of us and one for the rest of the seventeen. Our server does not even speak to anyone else at the table. We’re basically a table of three and a table of seventeen.

Everything is fine, we have a great time, and the food is okay — about what you’d expect from this kind of place. We all discuss the bill, and everyone will pay for their own bill. My friend and I decide that we’re going to cover the guest of honour and we’ll put it on my card. Cool.

The server arrives and we tell her not to worry; we’ll make ours easier and she can give us the one bill for the three of us. She brings it and walks away.

I notice the forced gratuity of 15% for more than eight people on the bill. I wave her over.

Me: “Hey, you only served the three of us. Should the forced gratuity be there?”

Server: “More than eight people at the table. Yes.”

Me: “But you didn’t deal with the eight. You only served us. It’d be better for you if you removed it.”

Server: “No way. Too bad.”

Me: “Okay, then.”

I paid and we left.

I too am a server and have been since I was seventeen. I have never left under 25% on a tab… except that one time. Oh, well.