In 2016, I was employed in a manufacturer’s warehouse in England. In 2016, the UK was to decide if it wanted to remain a member of the European Union or not. In the run-up to this vote, [Employee] had so much to say about the benefits of leaving. This story begins about two weeks prior to the vote.

Employee: “All I’m saying is when we leave the EU, we will have them begging us at Dover for a better deal! You know it makes sense!”

Me: “Well, I don’t know. I’d like to be more informed first on how we are actually going to benefit from being outside of the EU.”

Employee: “Yeah, yeah, typical Remainer logic. Where’s your sense of patriotic pride? Where’s your faith?”

Me: “It’s not about faith. Just, if you don’t plan ahead to fuel your car to get to work, faith alone isn’t going to make it move.”

Employee: “Pffft, whatever…”

[Employee] has been doing this to nearly all the staff who have Remain concerns. It’s really, really irritating. A lot of complaints have gone to our managers who asked him to stop but also addressed a lot of concerns about the vote to their employees. I should note that a large majority of our staff comes from Eastern Europe, and since we export to the EU, the managers would prefer us to Remain; otherwise, the plant would most likely shut down. [Employee], however, has “defiantly” expressed that his freedom and sovereignty mean more to him than his job. Bear in mind also that [Employee] is by no means a senior employee and holds no managerial responsibility, and because of his recent behaviour, a lot of the staff avoid him like the plague.

So… along comes the vote and the UK votes to Leave. Understandably, the foreign staff is very concerned about losing their jobs. [Employee] however, for a solid week, comes in with a s***-eating grin, totally oblivious to the plant’s mood. He makes a beeline for me.

Employee: “Remember when you said that we would never Leave?”

Me: “No? Because I never said that.”

Employee: “Well, you said something to that effect. I bet you feel really silly now, don’t you?”

For that entire week, he takes enormous pleasure in gloating about it to everybody. He couldn’t care less that the majority of the staff are upset at the decision. A week later, however, the district manager arrives for a meeting.

District Manager: “Right, so I’m sure you are all aware of the Referendum result. I’m now going to be here for four days in which I will one-to-one with all of you and work out a compromise for the plant. Please come and see me before Friday.”

As it turns out, the one-to-one meetings were to help all the staff adjust to what ultimately was going to be a shutdown of the plant, as the amount of red tape and the myriad of legislation meant that the plant would have operated at a loss from then on. The staff was transferred to other locations in or outside the UK, but the meetings ensured that only four people would be made redundant, and that was only because they didn’t bother to turn up. If you guessed that [Employee] didn’t turn up because — and I quote — he could just find new work that the foreigners didn’t want to do, you would be right. But, who’d have thought that working on an immigrant’s wages for sixteen hours a day suddenly didn’t seem so lucrative after all to [Employee]? Last I heard, he was on Universal Credit payments which had been cut off as he refused a job in a hotel as he deemed the work “beneath him”.

I work for a multinational company that has a hand in home appliance insurance. We sell repair plans to people who need their fridge, freezer, or washing machine fixed, or people who want to insure their new TV, etc. Our call volume is through the roof at the time of the first lockdown, so we prioritise our customers who need appliances repaired for such things as storing medical equipment.

Today is a hectic day. I get a call from a rather irate but well-spoken lady. 

Customer: “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all morning. I just don’t know what to do anymore. Can you help?!”

Me: *Bracing myself* “I’ll try my best.”

Customer: “I went to [High-End Supermarket] and purchased their spreadable butter but… and it… it just… it just won’t spread. I’ve ripped holes in all my sandwiches! Tell me, which shelf should I be putting my butter on in my fridge? Is there a specific shelf?”

It’s worth mentioning before I give you my reply that the call before this was from an elderly chap whose washing machine broke down and needed repairing as they needed bedding regularly due to a medical condition. The call before that was from an upset mother whose fridge freezer had broken down and contained her young daughter’s insulin.

This lady not only called to ask for something that could be found on Google in ten seconds, but she had to have lied on the automated options to get through to the priority line, taking the place of someone who actually needed help.

Me: “Did you really call to ask which shelf to put your butter on? I would refer back to the manufacturer of the butter for their guidance or better still, the manufacturer of your fridge freezer. Stay safe and goodbye.” *Click*

I work in a bookstore. Usual day at work at first, some busy times, some slow. It’s during a slow time that a customer walks in, looks at me for an uncomfortably long time and comes over:

Customer: “You’re too fat, you should do something about that. I hate seeing fat people. Some of us actually take care of ourselves.”

I am fat, but it’s largely due to being physically disabled and on a load of meds that cause weight gain.

Me: “Did you want a book or just to say that to a complete stranger?”

Customer: “I did want a book, but I refuse to give money to fat slobs. It’s a bad company image for lazy people to be visible. Some of us work hard to be healthy.”

Me: “Okay, if you’re just here to insult me I’m going to ask you to leave”

Customer: “Not till you promise to take better care of your health. Come on, just a quick jog!”

Me: “Get. Out. Now”

Customer: “Oh, what you gonna do? Finally get off your chair and throw me out? Most movement you’ve ever done.”

Me: “No, gonna radio the security for the shopping centre.”

I pick up the radio and this guy flees immediately. I still called them and they promised to find him and ban him. Haven’t seen him since so guess it worked.

I borrowed a large number of craft books, all pretty big and bulky and HEAVY, from our local library. The library is right next to the supermarket, so patrons park in the supermarket car park. The library book drop is literally right next to the trolley bay; in fact, if the line of trolleys is too long, they block the book drop. Yes, it’s a bad design.

I was doing my weekly grocery shop, so I piled the books into the car, parked at the supermarket, did my shopping, and took the full trolley back to my car. That’s where the fun began.

An employee was in the car park collecting trolleys, and he spotted me unloading my trolley. He headed my way with his long line of trolleys.

Employee: “Hi! I’ll take that for you when you’re done.”

Me: “It’s okay. I’ll take it back to the trolley bay.”

Employee: “No, it’s fine. I’ll wait.”

Me: “I’m going to use it to carry my books. I’ll leave it in the bay when I’m done.”

Employee: “You can’t take it away from [Supermarket]. I’ll just take it now.”

Me: “I’m not taking it anywhere! I’m just going to take my books to the book drop.”

By then, I’d finished putting my bags into the car, and he tried to grab the empty trolley. I quickly grabbed a book bag and put it in the trolley.

Employee: “This is for [Supermarket]! You can’t take it anywhere else.”

Me: “I’m literally taking it back to the trolley bay. Honestly, it’s not going anywhere else.”

As I turned my back to get the second bag, he obviously saw his chance. He put the first bag on the ground, added my trolley to his line, and started pushing them back to the store.

I picked up both very heavy bags and walked to the library. I literally walked right next to him all across the car park, across the forecourt, and right up to the trolley bay. And then I darted in front of him and stood feeding my books into the book drop. He had to wait because I was blocking him from putting his line of trolleys away. Petty? Yes. But satisfying.

Working in a breakdown (roadside assistance) call centre, we would naturally have extremely busy periods in a day, but equally, there could be times when we wouldn’t get a call for ages. These times were useful for getting some admin work done — especially for the team leaders — but now and then there simply wouldn’t be anything to do.

In one of these rare periods, my coworkers and I are sitting about and chatting. The conversation has turned to discussing particularly memorable calls, whether for spectacular rudeness, unusual situations, or otherwise amusing conversations.

All our calls are recorded, and evidently, the team leaders keep a “hall of fame” directory in the system, and people begin requesting their favourites. The first they play is from one of our team to the recovery agent.

Teammate: “Hi, this is [Teammate] calling from [Breakdown Company]. I’m just checking in on the progress of the [car model] you’re recovering for us?”

Agent: “Ah, yes, in Harrow?”

Teammate #1: “Hello, yes, can you hear me?”

Agent: “Yes, Harrow.”

Teammate #1: “Harro, yes, can you hear me?”

This goes on for longer than you might expect.

Agent: “Mate, I’m NOT saying, ‘Hello’, I’m confirming the location of the recovery, which is in the TOWN, Harrow!”

Teammate #1: “Oh… right. Sorry!”

We stop the recording there and move on to the next one. It starts off as a pretty standard call; the driver sounds a little agitated but is polite to our teammate. Partway through taking some details, the caller suddenly explodes:

Caller: “WILL YOU STOP F****** TALKING TO ME WOMAN?!”

Teammate #2: *Who is a woman* “Erm…”

Caller: *Talking over a raised voice in the background* “Sorry [Teammate #2], I wasn’t talking to y— SHUT THE H*** UP! I’M TRYING TO TALK TO THE BREAKDOWN PEOPLE!”

There is a heated discussion between the caller and the woman in the car. Shortly, there is a sound of a car door being opened and then slammed shut.

Caller: “Sorry about that. The wife thinks it’s all my fault the car’s doing this. You know women, all a bunch of b****es, right?”

He makes a strangled noise, seemingly remembering he’s talking to both a woman and a complete stranger.

Caller: “…and men, we’re all b*****ds, too! Haha… Anyway…”

The rest of the call proceeds without incident. As it’s wrapping up:

Caller: “Okay, thanks, [Teammate #2], we’ll wait to hear from you! And sorry for calling all women b*****s! Bye!”