(Towards the end of a seven-hour shift standing under speakers blasting music, my hearing is a bit out of whack.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager], what was it you were saying about dead spider glasses?”

Manager: “Nothing, hopefully. I said I’d managed to find a place for that last red spiral glass.”

(Later, I answer a call from a customer whose enunciation isn’t the clearest.)

Me: *to my manager and a nearby coworker, after I’ve placed the customer on hold* “Do either of you know if we carry Candy Cane Nectarine Holders?”

Coworker: “Nectarine holders?”

Manager: “Try napkin rings.”

(I check on the candy cane napkin rings. We don’t have any either in our store, online, or in the local area, so I take the customer off hold to let her know.)

Me: “I figure, either way, we didn’t have what she was looking for, so I wasn’t lying per se.”

Manager: “Go home.”

My mom goes out of town for a weekend for a nursing conference, leaving me at home to watch the house, animals, and my younger brother. I’m fairly confident in my ability to handle things… until I lock myself in the pantry by accident.

At first I keep calm, figuring that someone will be home soon to rescue me. Then I remember that Mom’s not due home for over twenty-four hours, my brother is spending the entire day at a Cub Scout activity, and there’s no way for me to call a neighbor from inside the pantry. And to make things worse, we have two young puppies that aren’t completely house-trained and will probably wreck the house while I’m stuck in here waiting for rescue.

Long story short… By the time my brother finishes his Scout activity and is dropped off by the Pack leader, I’m out of the pantry, but there’s a fist-sized hole in the pantry door. Mom takes it pretty well when I call her to tell her what happened. At least, she takes it well after she quits laughing. We never do get around to fixing the hole.

Upon hearing my explanation for the hole, my brother’s only response is, “It’s the pantry; at least you wouldn’t have starved to death.” Thanks, kid.

(A customer brings in a Windows 8 computer to repair. It is full of adware and viruses. Additionally, the customer complains about to having to type a password every time she logs in, so I offer to do a factory reset and set her computer up with no passwords. A couple of days later, the customer comes back, very agitated.)

Me: “What happened?”

Customer: “You told me that you were removing all the passwords from my computer, and you lied to me.”

Me: “We did restore to factory default. Everything that was there is gone, and I was sure I set up your computer without a password.”

Customer: “Well, you didn’t remove all the passwords. I still have to put a password to get into [Website], and I don’t remember it.”

Me: “[Website] is online, and there is no way I can remove that password, ma’am.”

Customer: “But you said you would remove all the passwords!”

Me: “I am so sorry this happened to you; let’s see if we can recover your password. Can I have your email address?”

Customer: “Yes. It is [address].”

Me: “Let’s sign into it and resend your [Website] password there, so we can recover it.”

Customer: “But I don’t know my email password!”

Me: “Let me make you one, and a new [Website] account, and we will be sure to write this down for you.”

(The customer left happy, somehow. I was just glad she didn’t hit me!)

Related:
The Final Word On Passwords, Part 5
The Final Word On Passwords, Part 4
The Final Word On Passwords, Part 3
The Final Word On Passwords, Part 2
The Final Word On Passwords

(I work in the dining room of an assisted living home as a waitress. My manager is a super great guy who trusts his employees and is usually laid back. This all changes whenever he has to work the line though, which is fortunately a rare occurrence. One night the head chef calls out sick, so the manager works the line. He comes by me, carrying a stack of 20 incredibly heavy plates.)

Me: “Whoa! Hey, those are really heavy. You should probably limit yourself to ten at a time, at most.”

Manager: “They are not that heavy, and I’m out of plates. I need as many as possible! This saves me time!”

Supervisor: “[My Name] is right; you—”

Manager: “Just because you two have trouble lifting things doesn’t mean the plates are heavy! Now grab your dishes and go!”

(My supervisor and I share a look, but we both silently decide to drop it. We grab our plates from the line and drop them off at the tables. As I’m walking back, I hear an enormous crash and I run back to see what happened. The entire kitchen floor is covered in shattered pieces of ceramic. My manager is standing in the middle of it, staring down at the broken ceramic, completely flabbergasted. My supervisor rushes in behind me.)

Supervisor: “What happened?”

Manager: *sheepishly* “The plates fell…”

Supervisor: “How many were you carrying?”

Manager: *looking like he wishes he could disappear* “Twenty…”

Supervisor: *sighs* “[Coworker], go grab the brush and dustpan, and clean this up. [My Name], go get [Manager] some plates from [Dishwasher]. [Manager], go back to the line and don’t leave until service is over.”

Manager: *muttering while sulking off* “But the plates aren’t that heavy…”

(He wasn’t allowed to carry plates after that.)

(I’m a woman, working for a video game publishing company that also publishes smaller games by indie creators. I’ve actually worked in the industry for almost ten years, and I get along great with all my colleagues, who are mostly male. We’re in a video conference call with a young developer who is pitching us his first game. Everyone in this call, except for me, is a guy.)

Boss: “We’ve all had a chance to look over your packet, and we think it looks pretty promising, though we’ll have to play the prototype to be really sure.”

Developer: “Ah, I have that uploaded to your FTP server.”

Coworker #1: “Great. We’ll all give it a try and get back to you with feedback.”

Me: “I’m excited to check this out; I love this type of game.”

Developer: “Oh.” *looks visibly uncomfortable onscreen* “[Boss], I didn’t know… she would be playing. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Boss: “Uh, yeah. Why?”

Developer: “Well, I mean, she’s… she’s a… g… ” *trails off*

(It seems to dawn on everybody at once that he’s uncomfortable with me testing his game because I’m a woman.)

Coworker #2: *sputtering* “What? Wh… WHAT?”

Boss: *looking furious* “Yeah, well, don’t worry; when it comes to her feedback, I’ll be sure to have it read to you in a deeper voice so you can understand it! If you’re lucky enough to hear back from us!” *slaps laptop case shut, ending the call*

(My boss and all my coworkers are angrier than I’ve ever seen them, probably angrier than I am.)

Me: “Okay, let’s all calm down. I agree that was pretty gross, but… I don’t know, he’s pretty young. Maybe this can be a teachable moment and he can have a chance to redeem himself?”

Coworker #1: “Yeah, but then we’d have to time-travel back to the 1950s to work with him. UGH.”

Boss: “I do NOT want somebody like that representing us! I don’t even want to talk about it right now.”

(We did NOT end up working with that kid. I felt a little bad for him, in spite of everything, but also grateful that I worked with such awesome people who had my back. To his credit, he did send me a private e-mail about a year later apologizing for his behaviour, saying we were right to turn him down because it made him think about some prejudices he had, not just about women but other people as well. I accepted his apology, and I hope the rest of his life is a lot more fruitful… and less ignorant!)

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