I’m the assistant manager at a [Hotel Chain] and because we’re so close to the head office branch we get a lot of management stopping in. I get on well with my boss professionally but we rarely see each other as she works mornings. I get on very well with her manager however as he calls in regularly.

One day, a third manager comes up to me in the middle of a shift and says she needs to me to come into my boss’s office straightaway. When I get there My Boss, Boss’s Boss and Other Manager crowed around a bunch of receipts.

My Boss: “[My Name] you’re good with numbers right? Come help us, we need to find receipts for these 3 amounts” *gestures at a piece of paper on the table with numbers of it*

Let’s say the numbers were 771.36, 663.54 and 335.58

Boss’s Boss: “[Owner’s Wife] had her bank account details stolen a few months ago and has to dispute all charges she doesn’t recognize, but she only has the amounts of charges and [Hotel Chain] name to go on.”

It’s a grueling and tedious job but I’ve done it a lot over the years so I jump in and start helping out but I have an awkward seat at the desk so I have to stand up to get a receipt bunch each time I finish a stack. After a while I notice I’m getting weird looks from the other three.

Me: “What? What is it?”

My Boss: *narrows eyes* “How are you getting through them so quickly?”

Other Manager: *nodding* “Yeah, you jump out of your seat so much it’s like you’re going to take off!”

I look down and out of the four stacks of receipts, mine is slightly larger but only about 10 or 15 stacks more.

Me: “It’s not that much more than anyone else has gone through, you just notice me more when I’m done because I have to stand every time. Plus looking for 77, 66 and 33 isn’t super hard.”

A few seconds pass before My Boss and Other Manager look at each other shaking their heads as Boss’s Boss bursts out laughing.

Boss’s Boss: *Points at the other two* “I know you two didn’t cop it either. I guess we’ve been off the floor too long.”

They had been looking at the piece of paper on the table each time they had a new number whereas I was looking at it only if the first two numbers matched! My Boss made a joke that she wasn’t paying me enough and then we all moved a bit faster.

On the bright side, even though it took a few hours we found the charges and My Boss and I have become much friendlier. And yes I did get a small raise a few months later!

Me: “I don’t have that much more

“Bill” and I are the same age, we used to work and drink together. Every weekend we would go to the clubs drink to much and regret it on the Monday.

As we grew older, I felt I wanted something more. I started to work harder to get a promotion. The clubs and excessive drinking didnt appeal as much as they did (nor did the hangovers) I
I settled down had children, got that promotion.

Bill still lived for the weekend. As more people his age settled down, Bill was progressivelygot older than his social group. It was a bit sad to see a grown man hanging around with teenagers.

Bill would tease me about my “boring life” how o was tied down and my life was over. He genuinely thought he was some playboy heartbreaks, living it up.

Then the lockdown hit, no pubs clubs or bars. Bills favourite hobby of destroying his liver was suddenly not so social anymore.
I didn’t see Bill for a year, but eventually bumped into him at work.

Me: Bill?

Bill: oh hey.

Me: what happened to you? You look great. I mean you look good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in an ironed shirt!

Bill: turns out partying isn’t forever, and I thought maybe you were on to something, sorting your life out I mean.

Me: thats great to hear. Listen there is a role in my team coming up. You should think about applying.

Bill: thanks, I have. Think you could put a good work in for me?

Me: sure.

(Bill didn’t get the job, all those years in an entry level job without proving himself. They felt showed he lacked drive and ambition. However he kept trying a eventually got a new role in another department. He seems to be doing well.)

Our tax company has these prepaid cards that your refund can come on. I hand a card to a client, who then puts it in their wallet. Their four-year-old child opens up the wallet and takes it out.

Me: “Um…”

Client: “I have a few other questions for next year.”

Me: “Oh… okay.”

I start answering the questions. The child, who had been intensely inspecting the card, abruptly pops the credit card into her mouth.

Me: “Um…. uh… your kid…”

Client: “Yes?”

Me: “Your kid is chewing on your new card.”

The client turns and looks, sighs, and gently grabs the card away from the kid, who then starts crying.

We both look at the card. It’s now all bent and mangled, with warped plastic and giant tooth marks in it.

Me: “How about I fetch you a fresh new card?”

Client: “How will my taxes know to go on the new card?”

Me: “Don’t worry, it’ll be linked to same bank account as the old card. Just… not destroyed.”

Client: “Does it cost extra to get another card?”

Me: “No. Free of charge”

Client: “Sure. Why not.”

I get the client a new card. When I come back the old card is now in splinters.

Me: “Did you cut it up with scissors?”

Client: “No. I handed it back to my daughter.”

Me: “Really?”

Client: “No, I’m just f****** with you. I don’t think it’s that healthy for a child to ingest credit card plastic. I have a multi tool in my wallet and used that to destroy the old card.”

Me: “Oh! Good. Here’s your new card, have a nice day!”

Client: “You too!”

And they left.

I’ve submitted this story as NAW. However I feel there’s an element of NAR to it, because I didn’t handle the situation the way I wanted to. You’ll see what I mean!

One evening years ago, I fancied something to eat from a certain fried-chicken fast food restaurant. I drove over to my nearest branch, and after a few moments of deliberation, decided to go drive thru rather than go into the restaurant. I already knew what I wanted, so I drove straight past the menu boards and up to the speaker. I gave my order, a [fried chicken burger meal], with no mayonnaise or ketchup on the burger. The order taker confirmed what I wanted, and then asked me to drive up to the window to pay. I drove up, said hello to the guy at the window (who I assumed was a manager because he was wearing a white shirt where regular employees wore red) and paid for my meal.

The manager handed me my receipt and walked away to sort out my order. I sat, patiently waiting, and before long the manager handed me my food. “I’ll just get your drink” he said, and walked away again. While he was away, I opened the bag and checked my burger – just to make sure there was definitely no ketchup or mayonnaise on it. The thing was SMOTHERED in both! I felt physically sick looking at it, but kept my cool. I closed the burger box, put it back in the bag, and when the manager came back with my drink, I took it from him. Then, taking a deep breath (I hated confrontation) I nervously, but as politely as I could, said “Listen, I’m really sorry about this, but there’s ketchup and mayonnaise in this burger, and I ordered it without-“.

Before I could say anything else, the manager sighed, loudly and angrily. “FINE!” he snarled, “GIVE IT TO ME!” He reached into my car, SNATCHED the bag from my hands and stormed off. I felt myself getting upset. This was NOT what I had wanted to happen. A few minutes later he came storming back, practically THREW the bag at me and said, “THERE. ENJOY!” and slammed the drive through window. I drove off. I found a car park as far away from the restaurant as possible and sat, in tears, eating my burger. I didn’t enjoy it. I normally did enjoy these meals, but I didn’t enjoy this one.

Years later, I look back and still wish I’d dealt with the situation differently. Had I been the person I am today I’d have challenged the manager for his bad behaviour and pointed out that it was unjustified since I was polite and apologetic the whole time. But back then I was a young, single man on the Autistic Spectrum, I had little to no self-esteem and didn’t know how to assert myself, so instead I went away feeling sorry for myself.

I haven’t been back to that restaurant since.

My husband and I just moved into our new home. We have not been put up on the roster of houses the garbage trucks visit yet; so we drive our garbage to the center of our village where some containers are located. Its summer, and if we put it in the car and forget about it and park the car and go about our business, when we come back to the car its very unpleasant.
One day, we leave for the city with the garbage. My husband, who is driving, gets a business call and is totally absorbed by it, on the speakerphone. As we approach the containers in the village center, I whisper to him, very emphatically: ‘Trash!’ …which is in our language also an insult word, as in ‘you are a piece of trash’. Absorbed in the call as he is, he has no idea about our garbage problem anymore, and he looks at me deeply insulted, confused, blinking hard, and it gets even worse after he sees that I am working hard to not burst out in laughter. A minute later he tells the caller he will call him back, and turns to me: ‘What is wrong with you??!!!’….giving me the opportunity to remind him that we need to throw our trash away. He laughed so much :-)))).