One of the most frustrating things about the warehouse work I used to do was the complete disconnect between the sales staff and the warehouse. Sales staff would promise the moon and stars to customers to secure a sale, with little to no consideration for what it would do to the warehouse staff, the worst promise being that we would wait for a customer to come back and pick up goods.

After a few months of these ridiculous promises, I finally went to management and said that if sales staff expected us to stay past close to assist a customer, then we would be billing that time as overtime.

Management downright refused, as the company couldn’t “afford” overtime.

A few days after that conversation, I was on the sales floor unpacking a new range of rugs when a salesperson approached me with this woman who immediately had the “I want to speak to your manager” vibe.

I could tell already from this lady’s smug smirk that she had worn down the salesperson and made them promise her something that would be against policy.

Sales Associate: “Hey, [My Name], this lady has bought a few rugs from out the back. Can she come to pick them up later?”

Me: “Sure, you can pick them up between now and 5:00 pm.”

Customer: *Smugly* “Your salesperson has already said I can come back at 7:30 pm and pick them up.”

Me: “Well, miss, I’ll be here until 5:00 pm. After that, the warehouse is closed for the evening. If you’d like, I can always help you tomorrow morning—”

Customer: “I’ll be here at 7:30, and you’d better be here, or I’m calling the manager and f****** complaining.”

I just gave her a shrug and went back to my work.

Customer: “Oh, and make sure you clean the rugs before I pick them up. I’m going to be inspecting them, and they’d better be f****** spotless.”

She then turned on her heel and walked off. The salesperson walked away, assuming all was good. There was no way I was waiting two and a half hours for such a condescending, crabby woman.

I grabbed my trolley and made my way back to the warehouse, passing the clearance area.

As I was walking, I noticed a lady’s purse sitting amongst a stack of cushions. I walked over and picked it up to take it to the counter, and I had a gut feeling. Could it be? I opened the purse and found a driver’s license; it was the customer’s license and purse!

I chuckled to myself as I walked back to the warehouse, made my way into the warehouse office, and took extra care to safely secure her purse inside our safe.

I then started my closing-up process, and as a little extra slice of pettiness, I typed in the all-purpose alarm code and reset the alarm system code so only I could unlock the warehouse when I showed up for my shift the next morning.

Apparently, this lady showed up at 7:30 pm only to find the gates locked, everything pitch black, and no rugs.

She filed a complaint and wanted a full refund — not for the clearance prices she paid but for the FULL PRICE of the rugs.

When I was questioned about this, I provided my manager with the emails from the general manager stating that they wouldn’t pay employees to work any overtime.

They also questioned me about the change of alarm system code, and I just said that we had a potential security issue, and with this lady’s expensive purse being left in the store, I figured it’d be best resolved the following morning and kept in a safe and secure spot.

When the customer did show up to pick her rugs up, I also helpfully pointed out that it was illegal for her to be driving without a license.

She shot me the most amazing death glare I’ve ever seen.

I work in a daycare and am currently pregnant. It is a high-risk pregnancy, so during the last two months, I’ve had appointments twice a week involving growth ultrasounds and non-stress tests. I work four tens, so I schedule one of the appointments on my day off, but I need additional time off on one of the days I am scheduled to work.

I inform my director of the situation and provide a doctor’s note explaining why these appointments are necessary. He tells me he will inform the rest of the administration and they will work with me to make sure I have coverage.

I plan my appointment around my lunch break and ask for a two-hour break instead of one hour to give some wiggle room, but I am always back within an hour and a half, if not earlier. I give reminders as my appointments come up and on the day of.

However, every time I am gone for an appointment, I get multiple calls asking when I will be back and to hurry up. The person who covers for me complains, as well. I talk to my director about how it is extremely stressful for me when this happens, but nothing changes.

One day, the assistant director asks if she can speak with me.

Assistant Director: “Having you gone additional time during the week isn’t working for us. You’ll need to have your appointments on your day off.”

Me: “[Director] said he was willing to work with me on this. It’s two appointments every week. I have one of the appointments on my day off. I still need additional time for the second appointment. I am also always back earlier than what was planned. I only drive there, do the appointment, and drive right back to work.”

Assistant Director: “We really need you here instead. Do you honestly need to have two appointments every week? With my pregnancy, it was only once a week toward the end.” 

Me: “Yes, I do. If you need me to come in earlier on those days, I can, but I really need to attend these appointments. I could also come in on my regular day off after my other appointment if needed.”

Assistant Director: “Did you know you’re allowed to refuse procedures or appointments? Your doctor can’t make you go.”

I take a long pause before I respond.

Me: “This is a high-risk pregnancy. The tests are to ensure that my child is able to tolerate labor and survive birth. Are you denying my doctor’s note?”

Assistant Director: “Well, no. It would be you denying your appointment with your doctor.”

Me: “Ah. Understood.”

Assistant Director: “Perfect! I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

The following day, I go in and explain what happened to my director. I then hand him my resignation letter. 

Director: “What’s this?”

Me: “My two-week notice.”

Director: “I thought you were going to work up until you gave birth?”

Me: “And I thought administration would be more understanding.” 

When the assistant director found out, she tried guilting me into staying for the kids and said that I should have talked to her first and we could have “figured something out”. 

I made sure during my last two weeks to take my time during my appointments and take the full two hours instead of hurrying back. 

I also enjoyed not working the last few weeks of pregnancy and can happily say I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy little girl.

I witnessed the worst way to handle yourself in an interview at my job. Our big box store is, naturally, organized according to a plan created by corporate. Like any similar big box stores of our brand, the makeup section is in the same location in every store, the groceries have their own area in a specific corner, etc.

My general manager was interviewing people for a vacant managerial spot.

In walked a woman whom I can only call [Failed Applicant]. Being lower on the totem, I wasn’t involved with the hiring process, but I happened to be within earshot of the incident.

[Failed Applicant] stormed into the store, looking (and smelling) as though she had jumped out of bed without a shower. She was disheveled and absolutely REEKING of cigarette smoke. The brown cloud of noxious fumes surrounded her in a three-foot fog and trailed behind her to hang in her wake for what felt like an eternity. Her hair could have been an eldritch horror monster.

She headed to the nearest employee, yelling orders as though she was already hired for the position. The employee just stared at her, stunned. Since he didn’t leap to obey, she sucked in a huge breath and roared at him like a GI Instructor.

Failed Applicant: “When I tell you to do something, you had better be in the air before asking, ‘How high?’!”

My boss, who was nearby waiting for the interview, sprinted over to see what the fuss was about. She spun on him with barely a pause for breath and just went off. She laid into him at top volume, listing all the ways things WOULD be changing under her leadership because she didn’t like the way the store was organized.

Failed Applicant: “The makeup will be relocated! The groceries will now be moved to the front of the store and to the left of the entrance doors instead of their current location! And boy howdy, there will be no more of this inclusivity bulls***; toys will be clearly labeled for boys or girls from now on.”

My boss was silent, his face slowly turning to stone with every word that came out of the woman’s mouth, and his arms slowly crossing. He waited for her to pause and stopped her tirade like a mountain stops an airplane.

Boss: *In a calm, cold voice* “I don’t like your attitude. Nastiness like yelling at the employees is completely banned here. You have zero say in how the store is set up, and in no way, shape, or form, are you going to be employed here or in any store of our brand. I will be blacklisting your application as unhireable in our system.”

Failed Applicant: “You’re a man! So you just don’t like me because I’m too much of a strong woman; that intimidates you!”

Boss: “No, I just don’t hire people who will get the store sued.”

Then, he showed her the door. 

I could only shake my head and go back to what I was doing with a new story to tell.

My restaurant and bar used to have a cop hang out around closing time just to keep an eye on things.

A couple pulls a dine-and-dash. I go to pick up their check and notice they’ve left without paying. I’m just starting to grumble when I notice they left their car keys behind. I go and hand them directly to our cop friend, who is hanging by the front.

The couple comes back in a minute later.

Couple: *Sheepishly* “Have you… uh… Have you seen our keys?”

Cop: *Taking over* “Yes, they’re right here next to the check you didn’t pay.”

That was satisfying to see even though I didn’t get tipped!

Related:
Their Dine And Dash Hopes Were Dashed, Part 2
Their Dine And Dash Hopes Were Dashed

My dad is gone now, but he was an easy-going, jovial kind of guy with the gift of gab. In the 1960s, he owned a fast food restaurant that specialized in hot dogs called “Queenie’s Weenies”. At the restaurant, nobody called my dad by his real name; everybody just called him Queenie

At the time, I was fifteen years old. I would work with my dad at the restaurant on weekends. One Saturday, we were driving to work and stopped off at a supermarket to pick up some supplies.

We grabbed our purchases and got into the checkout line. I noticed something while we waited in line: our cashier was in a very, very, bad mood! She offered no smiles, no greetings, no small talk, no “have a nice day”. Her “anger aura” was palpable and kind of scary to me.

When it was our turn, I was thinking that we should just get our stuff and leave quickly before the cashier went “Death Star” on us. My dad had a different idea. When it was our turn, he started chatting her up, looking at her name tag.

Dad: “Hi, [Cashier], how are you today? Isn’t this weather great? This is my son; we work together. Do you like hot dogs? I have a restaurant. It’s called ‘Queenies Weenies’. We specialize in chili dogs. Do you like chili dogs, [Cashier]? Drop by my restaurant sometime and I will treat you to a chili dog made special, just for you, by me, Queenie.”

By the time we were done checking out, [Cashier] was smiling.

Cashier: “Thanks, umm… Queenie. I hope you and your son have a very nice day.”

Back in the car, he “dad-splained” it to me.  

Dad: “[Cashier] was obviously having a bad day. Who knows why, but it happens to everyone. A warm smile and a few kind words were all it took to brighten her day. I made her a little happier and it didn’t cost me a dime. Try it sometime.”