(The company owner is a man well-known for only hiring young women to work for him, and he openly brags that he wants all of his employees to be scared of him. We have hired a new intern who is very good at her job, but she’s quite a confident girl and isn’t visibly cowed by him, so he goes out of his way to make her life difficult. This whole communication is via email.)

Boss: *to Intern* “I have decided that since you are not integrating into the company very well, you need to make everyone in the office tea once a day. I would like you to do this at precisely 3:45 everyday, without fail.”

(We are all a bit taken aback by this request, as there are 21 people in the office, and generally we all make our own tea when we feel like it. We all help her out by giving her a heads up when 3:45 comes round, and she is expected to drop whatever she is doing, no matter how important, and make 21 cups of tea, even if we don’t want one. One day, the boss is in an afternoon meeting.)

Boss: *at 3:50* “Would you care to explain why I did not receive my cup of tea at 3:45 as instructed?”

Intern: “I am very sorry, but I was told you were in a meeting which was not to be disturbed under any conditions. Next time, I will bring your tea in.”

(The next day, the boss is in another meeting. The intern knocks, and asks if any of the clients would like a drink and also brings the boss his tea as instructed.)

Boss: “I am extremely unimpressed by your behaviour this afternoon. I don’t expect to have important meetings interrupted by a junior member of staff for non-emergency matters.”

(Both she and I were fired within the month, and couldn’t be more glad!)

(I’m going to university the next day and am finishing my packing up. My university is on the other side of the country. My mum isn’t taking my decision too well, and has been trying everything in her power to stop me.)

Mum: “Can’t you just stay here? I’m begging you, just stay!”

Me: “I’ve already told you. I really like the course, and this gives me more independence. You’ve spent the past three years saying you can’t wait to be rid of me. So here you go.”

Mum: “Yes, but I meant down the street, not on the other side of the world.”

Me: “Mum, calm down. It’s three hours away.”

Mum: “I just can’t understand why you want to leave us. We’ve never abused you or anything!”

(She continues like this all day, getting more and more desperate. Come early morning, and I hear a lot of noise coming from the garage. My dad is already walking down the stairs and we meet. He thinks it’s my mum so we check. We find her slashing my car tyres by torchlight. When my dad confronts her, all she can get out is “NOW HE CAN’T GO!”  My dad arranges for new tyres later in the morning, and my move is still set for after noon. I come down to say my goodbyes, and my parents are in the kitchen. My mum is still sobbing while my dad argues angrily.)

Dad: “You slashed his tyres, for Christ’s sake! I’m surprised he isn’t running for the hills!”

(When I finally said goodbye, she refused to leave the kitchen and I ended up saying goodbye to my brother, dad, and grandparents. My mum still refuses to speak to me, and during the times I have visited, she refuses to look me in the eye, and leaves the room altogether. I haven’t had an actual conversation with her in months.)

(I’m looking round a food market with some friends. I pause to look at a wok filled with a chicken and rice dish, which looks interesting but smells a bit hot.)

Vendor: “Would you like to try a spoon-full?”

Me: “It’s not spicy, is it?”

Vendor: “Oh, no.”

Me: “Not at all?”

Vendor: “Nope.”

Me: “I actually mean that. I have very low tolerance of spice.”

Vendor: “Nothing to worry about.”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude; it’s just I get people who’ll tell me ‘This isn’t spicy at all. Just a couple of chilies to bring the flavor out.’”

Friend: “You are being rude.”

Me: “Sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you of that. I’m a fussy eater, you see.”

Vendor: “Actually—”

(Too late. I take a bite and feel a slight but noticeable burning, which it takes some effort not to respond to.)

Vendor: “Yeah, that thing you said about the chilies…? It’s actually true.”

(I’m working at the auto desk in an auto parts and cycle store. There’s a separate desk for the cycling department, but people usually come to the auto desk if the cycling one is busy. This takes place on a hectic Sunday afternoon:)

Customer With Child: “What size is he?”

Me: “Uh… In regards to what, sorry?”

Customer With Child: “What frame size does he need?”

Me: “Oh, I’m not sure. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk with the cycle colleagues for that. Auto colleagues are only trained with car things.”

Customer With Child: “But they’re busy. Just help me or call someone over.”

Me: “All of the cycle colleagues are serving at the cycle desk, but as soon as one is free they’ll be able to help you.”

Customer With Child: “Just tell me the frame size, for f***’s sake!”

Me: “I couldn’t even guess. They can help you at the cycle desk.”

Customer With Child: “Say a number! JUST SAY IT!”

Me: “…3?”

Customer With Child: “Ugh, you’re useless.” *rolls eyes and walks out*

(I and several others have started working as part of an office team, and our manager has been doing an induction. He is wearing a ridiculously bright furry jumper that is almost offensive to the eyes. We have all remarked on it in private, but not directly to him. One man in the group takes serious issue with it, criticising him heavily during our lunch break while he isn’t in the room. It has gotten to the end of the work day and induction.)

Manager: “…and that is pretty much it. Any questions?”

Man: “What’s with that jumper? Are you gay or something?”

Manager: *taken aback* “I am, actually, but that isn’t why I wear it.”

Man: “Okay, why then? I don’t want to have to work with THAT—” *pointing* “—assaulting me every day.”

Manager: “I’m sorry you feel that way. Our commercial manager has a daughter who is autistic, and sometimes she has to bring her in if she can’t find a carer. She responds well to bright colours. She doesn’t fuss as much, she’s more comfortable, and it makes her smile. So I have always tried to wear something bright on the off chance that she appears.”

Man: “It isn’t your responsibility to do that.”

Manager: “But it is. Sometimes life deals you a bad hand and you just have to handle it as best you can. I employed [Commercial Manager] because she’s good, and if wearing a silly bright jumper makes her want to stick around a little longer, then that is something I am willing to do.”

(I was actually moved to tears by this, as was everyone else. The man just grunted and since then made it clear he wasn’t interested in mingling with the rest of us. Thankfully he has an office that he doesn’t come out of often. I’ve also taken to wearing bright cardigans to work. They aren’t as bright as our manager’s, but the commercial manager’s daughter seems to appreciate it. It really brightens your day seeing her come in with a smile from ear to ear at you all in acid green.)

This story is part of our Autism roundup!

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