Cutting Off Your Employees Cuts Both Ways

, | USA | Working | March 1, 2013

(I tend to be very accident prone. One very early morning, I’m working the front of the store by myself when I hurt myself and get a nasty gash in my hand.)

Me: “[Manager]! Get up here right now!”

(As I pack paper towels around the cut, my manager stomps up to me looking pissed.)

Manager: “What are you screaming at me for? I’m your boss! You can’t talk to me in that tone!”

Me: “But I—”

Manager: “No! I don’t want to hear any of your excuses! Don’t even bother apologizing. I’m writing you up right now.”

(He stomps back to the office and slams the office door behind him, leaving me standing there in shock. Fortunately, my only coworker finds the first aid kit and fixes me up. My manager eventually comes back out of his office, still angry.)

Manager: “I just finished writing you up. [Store Manager] is coming in this morning so she’ll get to hear all about your behavior problem.”

Me: “Okay. I’m sure she’ll love to see this too.” *holds up hand*

Manager: “Oh my God! What happened to your hand?!”

Me: “I sliced it open pretty bad. That’s why I was screaming for you, but [coworker] got me bandaged up so it’s all good.”

(Not only did I not get in trouble, but he sent me home early with a full day’s pay!)

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Pay It Backward

| Working | February 28, 2013

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A Rant He Can’t Recant

| VA, USA | Working | February 28, 2013

(My manager has always hated the general manager with a passion for some reason. He never lets the opportunity go to verbally bash him behind his back, especially to me. On this day, he sees his computer is out of order.)

Manager: “What the F***! How many times have I asked the GM to fix this! He is nothing! But! A! Piece! Of! S***! C***sucker! A**hole!”

(I roll my eyes and ignore him as he goes off on a tirade about how worthless the GM is. At that moment, the GM himself walks in from the back. He stands there, out of sight by my manager. I try to signal to my manager, but he is ranting at the tops of his lungs that he doesn’t see.)

Manager: “#$*@#&@!”

General Manager: “Excuse me.”

Manager: *shuts up*

General Manager: “Right now I have to do something, but I want you in my office when I get back in 15 minutes. We have to TALK.” *leaves*

Manager: *to me* “Why didn’t you say something to me?!”

Me: “I tried!”

(Somehow, the manager didn’t get fired even though the GM clearly heard his insults. He got written up though. All day, he blamed me, for not telling him the GM was standing there! Since then, though, I’ve never heard a hate filled rant ever again.)

Not Getting To The Meat Of The Problem, Part 3

| Baltimore, MD, USA | Working | February 28, 2013

(I am at a diner with a group of friends. The waiter comes over to take our order. One of my friends with many allergies starts asking questions.)

Allergic Friend: “Do you ever cook anything with dairy on the same grill you use for burgers?”

Waiter: “Um, yeah.”

Allergic Friend: “Okay, well, I’m really sensitive to dairy, so I can’t eat anything that’s been on the same grill.”

Waiter: “We could cook your burger on the vegetarian grill.”

(The other vegetarians and I at the table stare at the waiter in shock and horror.)

Allergic Friend: “That… wouldn’t help anyone.”

 

Companies Will Pay For Not Paying Attention

| Wicklow, Ireland | Working | February 28, 2013

(I am 26 but look younger so I often get asked for I.D. when buying alcohol. I place a packet of ravioli, a jar of sauce and a bottle of Shiraz on the counter.)

Cashier: “Can I see your I.D. please?”

Me: “Ah, I think I’ve forgotten it today. I’ll just pay for the pasta and sauce then. Do you want me to put the wine back on the shelf?”

Cashier: “I’m afraid you look under 21 and without your I.D., I can’t sell you any alcohol.”

Me: “Oh, I know; that’s okay. Just the pasta and sauce, then.”

Cashier: “I’m afraid I am going to have to refuse to sell you the alcohol. It would be a felony and I would be fired or worse.”

Me: “I understand that completely; of course I don’t want you to get in trouble. Honestly, it’s fine. I don’t need to buy the wine now, so I’ll just pay for the pasta and sauce.”

Cashier: “How old are you?”

Me: “I’m 26, but I have nothing on me that proves it and as I said, I’m not trying to get you in trouble.”

Cashier: *rolls her eyes* “If you wish, I can call my manager.”

Me: “Well, if you think it’s best, but it’s really not a big deal. I don’t need to buy the wine.”

Cashier: *calls a manager*

Manager: “What seems to be the situation?”

Cashier: “This lady is trying to buy alcohol but has no ID. She insisted on speaking to you.”

Me: “Hang on—”

Manager: “Miss, I’m afraid it’s store policy to refuse sale of alcohol to anyone who looks under 21 and has no I.D.”

Me: “I understand that completely! It’s no problem; I’ll just leave the wine and pay for the pasta and sauce!”

Manager: “I’m going to have to ask you to not get belligerent. You have no I.D. and you appear under 21 and to sell you alcohol would be a felony.”

(As he says this, I can see him catch the eye of a security guard.)

Me: “Oh, for God’s sake! Just listen: I am putting the wine aside; all I want to do is buy the ravioli and the sauce! Can I please just pay for them and be on my way? And never come back, might I add!”

Manager: “I apologise for the inconvenience but, as I have stated, it is a felony.”

Me: “Forget it. I’ll get a take-away!”

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