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This Boss’s Attitude Doesn’t Add Up

, , , , | Working | August 24, 2020

I work in one of our local tourism companies as a tour admin. Work is relatively okay and all, except we work under a husband and wife duo. The husband is a fickle, indecisive man, and the wife is an absolute control freak and, quite frankly, a b****.

And for some weird reason, she seems to particularly not like me, probably because I am the youngest member of the team and she thinks I’m incompetent because of that.

She hovers over me from time to time, trying to catch me screwing up. At one point, she accuses me of installing Skype onto the office computer to chat with friends instead of working, when in reality, the app was already in there before I started working there, and I use it to chat with our dealers.

She then decides I am not to be trusted with the computers anymore and makes my supervisor give me menial jobs like cleaning out desks and sorting out their outdated files in order to keep me away from using the computer. After a while, my supervisor says she needs all hands on deck with their latest tour promotion, so I am back on the computer doing admin like I should be doing, much to her displeasure.

Finally, during the upcoming Chinese New Year season, my lady boss decides to take me off admin duty to sort out raincoats for the tourists, as we are also approaching the rainy season. She tells me to count all the raincoats, sort them by colour, and match them with the number of guests — under the watchful eye of the lady boss’s sister, who is also part of the top management.

I soon find out after I am done that the numbers don’t tally, so I make my way to her desk to tell her so.

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve checked all the raincoats. We’re short of about twenty.”

Boss: “What?! That’s impossible! I personally bought those raincoats following the exact number on the packaging! You must’ve counted it wrong! Do it again!”

I oblige and count it twice, and the results are still the same. Needless to say, she is livid.

Boss: “That is impossible! I don’t believe you!”

Me: “Ma’am, I have counted them twice. [Boss’s Sister] also watched me do it. We really are short of twenty raincoats.”

Boss: “There is no way we are short! I bought those raincoats myself! How can we be short?! There is no way! I don’t believe you!”

Me: “Ma’am, as I’ve said, I counted it twice. If you like, you could count along with me to verify it.”

She did, even with the help of her sister, and sure enough, I was right; we were short of twenty raincoats. She huffed and puffed and grumbled audibly in disbelief, and even her sister tried to imply behind my back that I must’ve lost the missing raincoats while I was counting — “That’s because she’s on that d*** phone of hers.” All I did was reply to an urgent text from my husband regarding my daughter’s school issue. It was two against one, so I couldn’t speak up even if I wanted to.

Later that day, I was called into the husband’s office, with both husband and wife there, and the wife told me that she was very unhappy with my work performance and that I was fired. The husband just sat there without a word as he handed me my last paycheck — didn’t even bother to even ask my side of the story — while the wife just sat there next to him with a smug look on her face.

I took the paycheck and thanked them and never went back, not even to book a flight for future holiday plans.

Would Be Totally Destroyed In The Roman Forum

, , , , , | Right | July 30, 2020

I’m doing guided tours in the historical centre of Rome, leading a tour group out of the Imperial Fora and bringing them to the Colosseum. [Tourist #1] from the group approaches me.

Tourist #1: *In English* “By the way, I was wondering, did the Romans ever ask to fix up the ruins?”

Me: “Not really, no, most of Rome’s citizens think they’re better that way.”

Tourist #1: “I mean, I suppose so, but isn’t there a representative body around to protect their interests?”

Me: *Confused* “What do you mean, exactly? The city of Rome has a lot of mayorships in it, but there’s not really one standing one above the other.”

Tourist #1: “So, I guess that you just kind of keep Romans in reservations like First Nations, then? Because that’s what it looks like.”

Me: “First Nations?”

Tourist #2: “[Tourist #1], cut it out, the Romans don’t exist anymore; they can’t be represented in the city body.”

Tourist #1: “Ah, I suppose they all died in the Holocaust, [My Name]? Because I’ve read that ‘Romas’ died in it…”

I bit my tongue and ignored the question, getting to the explanation of the Colosseum. [Tourist #2] did try to offer me a pastry as an apology, but I declined.

They Talk Too Much

, , , , | Right | May 22, 2020

My wife has a tour company, and we often have military reunions — mostly WWII guys — come to town with multiple buses, which require us to have multiple guides. I’m standing at the second coach. 

Customer: “Are you our guide?”

Me: “I’m one of them, yes. Do you have a question?”

Customer: “Yes. Are you going to be our guide?”

Me: “I am if you are on this coach.”

Customer: “Good. I’m just making sure I’m not on the coach with the same guide from yesterday.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. That was the city tour, yes? What didn’t you like about it?”

Customer: “She talked the whole time we were on the bus.”

I ignore the irony of wanting a silent tour guide.

Me: “Okay, do you remember her name?”

Customer: “No, but she’s standing next to the other bus; that’s why I want to make sure that woman isn’t our guide.”

Me: “Oh, you mean my wife? Yes, she’ll be on the first coach. I’ve got this one.”

The customer muttered something under his breath, got on the bus, and sat in the back and talked to his friends during the entire tour. I still have no idea why someone would take a city tour but not want to hear any information about the city!

A Buildup Of Spice

, , , , , | Working | April 17, 2019

(I’m on a bus tour of Eastern Canada, and so far I’ve had no reason to complain about the tour or the guide. One evening, our guide takes our party to the revolving restaurant in the CN Tower for dinner and eats with us. Note that I have Asperger’s, which means that repeated small stresses accumulate into really big ones.)

Me: *between mouthfuls* “Hmm. It’s very spicy.”

(I’m just making a comment here. I’m enjoying the spicy food, as well as the view. However, the guide seems to take this as a complaint for some reason.)

Guide: “Oh, it’s all right. I can get you something else—“

Me: “No, that’s all right. I just—“

Guide: “No, really, let me—“

(I’m starting to get really annoyed at this point, since all I want to do is eat the rest of my meal and I don’t need her constant interruptions.)

Me: “I’m not complaining!”

Guide: “No, seriously, it won’t take me a moment to—“

(By now I’ve really had enough.)

Me: “WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? I AM NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT THE FOOD! I LIKE THE FOOD! I’M STILL EATING IT, SEE? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND LET ME FINISH MY MEAL IN PEACE!”

(I felt guilty about yelling, especially in front of the others, but at least it shut her up and I was allowed to finish eating. I have resolved never to comment on my food in public again in case somebody takes it the wrong way.)

Bridging The Facts

, , , , , | Learning | December 6, 2018

(Our school is taking a trip to New York City, and the teacher in charge has hired a local tour guide to come onto our bus to tell some facts about landmarks. While talking about the Brooklyn Bridge, the guide brings up the architect, John Roebling.)

Guide: “Now, does anyone by chance happen to know where John Roebling is from?”

Literally Everyone On The Bus: “Saxonburg, Pennsylvania!”

Guide: “No, that’s not right. Hmm… I can’t remember, either. Oh, well. Moving on.”

Teacher: “No, they are right and you are wrong. He is from Saxonburg, and that is a fact. Our school is in Saxonburg; our park is named ‘Roebling Park’ after him, and they even have a model of the Brooklyn Bridge in it. If there is one thing we know, it’s where he’s from.”