(I have just returned part-time to the store where I used to be an assistant manager. The assistant manager who replaced me transferred from a different store. I left after a car accident had left me a paraplegic. I can do everything apart from cashier and stocking. Because of my injury being incomplete, I suffer from muscle spasms and nerve pain. On a bad day, I can’t even get out of bed, let alone sit in my wheelchair. I’ve been told to call in sick as soon as I can and there won’t be a problem. The new assistant manager knows this. This happens the first time I have to call in:)

Me: *slightly slurred speech due to medication* “Hi, its [My Name]. I’m sorry but I can’t come in today.”

Assistant Manager: “What? Just because you’re hungover, that’s no excuse to not come in. You better be here, otherwise you’re fired.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not hungover. I’m in extreme pain and I’m having such severe muscle spasms that my legs are locked up stiff as boards. If you have a problem, talk to [Store Manager].”

(I hang up on her and call my store manager and explain. I’m told not to worry, just rest and get better. The assistant manager is given a verbal warning. The next shift I work is with the same assistant manager.)

Assistant Manager: “[My Name], I need you on register three.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, but I can’t work a register. It’s too high up.”

Assistant Manager: “God. Fine. I need you to stock [department].”

Me: “I can’t. It’s not safe.”

Assistant Manager: “What? Why the f*** not?”

Me: “Because most of the shelves are too high up for me to reach, and it would require too much bending.”

(There are plenty of other duties I can do; I’m specially trained in the photo lab and electronics department, as a door greeter, at the customer service desk, etc.)

Assistant Manager: “Well, what f****** use are you, then? I don’t understand why they’d even hire a [disabled slur] in the first place! First, you call in still drunk and give some bulls*** excuse, and then you say you can’t do anything. You’re f****** useless!”

(She says this in front of other coworkers who I have worked with before. By now I’m in tears.)

Coworker: “You can’t talk to her like that. [My Name], go to the staff room and calm down. You can work in the lab and I’ll do the register.”

Assistant Manager: “What? No. I’ve told her where she’s working. If she ‘can’t’ do it, she can go home and not bother coming back. And as for you—” *points to coworker* “—you can count this as your first warning, for talking back.”

Me: “You know what? You’re a b****. If I have to work with you, I quit. But I will be talking to [Store Manager], and you can expect to hear from my lawyer for discrimination.”

(I ignore the assistant manager and head back to the staff room, grab my bag, and head home. The store manager rings me ten minutes after I get home.)

Store Manager: “Hey, I’m sorry to do this but [Assistant Manager] said she fired you after she caught you stealing from the staff room.”

Me: “What? That’s bulls***. Don’t take my word for it, but you need to talk to [Coworkers #1, #2, or #3].”

Store Manager: “I don’t believe her. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out and call you tomorrow.”

(The assistant manager was fired for not only discrimination, but it turns out she was stealing merchandise and money from tills, as well. I also found out from a mutual friend the reason she didn’t like me was because her son had applied for a job at the same time I came back and she blamed me for him not getting it.)

(These two regulars come in who have always been incredibly nice to me, always making jokes, etc., and always order the same thing. When I see them walk in, I start getting their cider’s uncapped, and they’re super happy.)

Regular #1: “Oh, hey, darling. You know us so well!”

Regular #2: “You’re such a sweetheart!”

(They start sipping away and I start to realize how drunk they actually are: drinking very slowly and slightly swaying. I keep an eye on them while I go upfront to grab someone’s jacket from coat check, when I see [Regular #1] putting the two ciders into his pea-coat jacket pockets. The liquor laws in my city are very strict, and we have a liquor inspector come by roughly every two weeks. At this point he hasn’t come for three weeks, so I am expecting him.)

Me:  “[Regular #1], what are you doing buddy? You know you can’t take those outside. Nice try, though!”

Regular #1: “You got me this time!”

(I go back to the bar, and I’m in the middle of serving someone, when I see the two of them just book it outside. Mind you, they haven’t even paid yet. I finish the transaction quickly and run after them.)

Me: *at this point I’m getting peeved* “Hey! Buddy! What did I just say?”

Regular #1: “Oh, don’t be such a spaz; we won’t tell anyone.”

Me: “If you want to finish your drinks, you have to do it inside. I will not risk getting our liquor licence suspended.”

Regular #1: “But I paid for these!”

(Classic drunk person excuse.)

Me: “Yeah, that’s why I said you can finish those ciders inside. Either walk inside with me, or give me the bottles.”

Regular #2: “Ugh, let’s go [Regular #1]. We don’t need this s***.”

(They proceed to shoo me away and turn around to walk. Now I’m really angry.)

Me: “HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU! You’re in the business; you know how this works. Give those back now! I will not say this again.”

Regular #1: “Do you have any idea how much money I spent here? I paid for these, okay? And I am going to enjoy them.”

Me: “Yeah, [Regular #1], thank you oh-so-much for the $16 you spend here once a month. Without you we’d be bust, right?”

(It’s at this point that [Regular #1] gets right up in my face with all the attitude in the world.)

Regular #1: “Look here, b****. You’re really nice, okay? Let’s keep it that way. Now take that little mouth of yours and f*** off.”

(Realising I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless the situation got physical, I let them walk. I found the bottles around the corner an hour later after we closed the bar. They were still almost full.)

(I’m working the front register at a large pharmacy when a woman comes up from the pharmacist’s desk with her items. She looks like a zombie with bleary, watering eyes and a red nose. I try to speak gently.)

Me: “Hello there.”

Customer: *clearly super congested* “Ngehh.”

(She dumps painkillers, nasal decongestants, cough medicine, and an inhaler on the counter, and then sniffles and gives me a glum look.)

Me: “Not feeling well today? I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Mrrr..”

Me: “Hopefully some of these will help you feel better!”

Customer: *coughs and whimpers*

(She pays, and then picks up and cuddles the bag of medicine.)

Customer: *sniffle* “Egh.” *sniffle* “Ehh… thangks. Have a dice day.”

Coworker: *to me* “Wow. So, her manners were the only thing not broken? What a nice change.”

Last Thursday at school, the whole school was under a medical lockdown for two periods in the middle of the day; no one was allowed to leave the room they were in. We later discovered a much-loved teacher had collapsed, and suffered a heart attack in front of his students and fellow staff.

Unfortunately, paramedics were unable to revive him, and he passed away just after third period started. Our whole school was very shocked, and understandably a lot of students and staff were very saddened at the news.

The next day, there was a “dark cloud” over the whole school and the lessons were certainly not as cheerful as normal. A boy in my class took it upon himself to bake cupcakes for all the staff at school — 144 cupcakes in one night — plus ice them all, and leave a note saying, “It may not be a relief but just know that we are all here for you. -A message from all of your students.”

He really did restore my faith in humanity.

(A year previous to this story, my husband and I moved down the hall in our apartment building. We did everything the landlord asked of us, including taking our blinds to be professionally cleaned. This turned out to be a huge inconvenience, as the landlord required a receipt from one specific cleaning company, who did not make house calls and was located outside the city in a near-rural area. We had to make two round-trips to drop the blinds off and pick them back up. We also did not get reimbursed for doing this. Now fast-forward a year: We are moving overseas. My husband has already left, and I am extremely stressed from dealing with vacating the apartment on my own, as well as the emotional toll of saying goodbye to all my family and friends. I also no longer have access to a vehicle. This conversation takes place on moving day as I am handing my keys over.)

Property Manager: “Okay, I’ve had a look through your place, and it all seems really clean. The only thing is that I haven’t got your receipt from [Blinds Cleaning Company].”

Me: “That’s because I haven’t done the blinds.”

Property Manager: *condescendingly* “Well, that’s going to come out of your damage deposit. The fee for bringing someone in to clean the blinds is [fee].”

Me: “Oh, I know. That’s fine.”

Property Manager: “Why didn’t you do it?”

Me: “Because I did it last year, paid [same fee] to the cleaning company, and didn’t get reimbursed. It also took ages to get out there and back.”

Property Manager: “But you’re supposed to get the blinds cleaned!”

Me: “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense if you’ll just take the same amount out of my damage deposit. The way I see it, by not spending the gas money going all the way out there and back — twice — I’m actually likely saving a bit.”

Property Manager: *silence*

Me: “To be honest, I don’t know why anyone even bothers going out there if you just charge them, anyway.”

Property Manager: “But… it’ll come out of your damage deposit.”

Me: *sigh*

(I don’t think he ever really understood my point!)