(I go out with my fiancé and two of our close friends to a nice Thai food place in a shopping center. There’s an outdoor sitting area overlooking the parking lot and a pair of standalone fast food places nearby. A coffee shop is directly across the way from us, and we are able to hear the workers on the drive-thru speaker very clearly. All is going normally, the four of us chatting while we wait for our food, when we hear something odd.)

Drive-Thru Worker: “I swear to God, [Coworker]! If you get sick tomorrow, I’m punching you in the f****** throat!”

(We immediately burst out laughing once the shock wears off. Apparently, the coffee shop worker has forgotten to turn off her headset after the previous customer, and now we can clearly hear her joking and cursing out one of her coworkers over the possibility of her being sick. This continues for quite a bit, the four of us dying of laughter the entire time. Eventually my fiancé gets up, crossing the lot to the speaker.)

Fiancé: “You know that we can hear you, right?”

(There’s a few moments of silence.)

Drive-Thru Worker: “Oh, my God!”

(The headset was turned off, sending us all into another fit of laughter. There was nothing else during the rest of our meal, but we couldn’t stop giggling about it for the rest of the night. It was a really good thing no one drove up!)

(We have a new intern working with us. He has been fine for the past week and has been set up with a computer login to get some involvement with actual estimating. After a couple of hours, he pops this question.)

Intern: “How do you guys work without the Internet?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Intern: “You said I need to use the Internet, but I can’t get on it.”

Me: “You’ve been emailing me, though.”

Intern: “I know, but the Internet won’t work.”

(I go over to his computer and see that he is trying to access Facebook.)

Me: “I see. Facebook is blocked on our network.”

Intern: “You blocked the Internet? How do you get any work done?”

Me: “No, we haven’t blocked the entire Internet. Just Facebook.”

(This confused him so much that he had to lie down. After a week of similar questions, our manager agreed mutually with him that perhaps this office wasn’t the best place for him. He now works on the tools, and seems much happier for it.)

(The sandwich shop I work at allows phone-in orders for pickup, which people usually order under just their first name. Occasionally, that causes some confusion, because when you got multiple orders under the same first name, you have orders under Michael, Michael 2, Michael P., Michael Smith, Mike from (Employment), etc. It isn’t uncommon to accidentally hand the wrong “Michael” bag to the wrong Michael, especially if they have similar orders. I start getting creative when I take phone orders.)

Customer: “…and my name is Michael. When will that be ready?”

Me: “Ooh, sorry, dude. I already have an order for a Michael, and I want to make sure your order doesn’t get confused. Do you like The Lion King?”

Customer: “Haha, yeah?”

Me: “Okay, cool! You want to be Simba? I’ll put you down as Simba. Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes, Simba!”

(Later, my boss walks by my queued-up orders and sees all of the names on the bags.)

Boss: “What is this?“

Me: “What?”

Boss: “Lindsay… Tinkerbell… Michael… Frankenstein… Judy… Spartacus…”

Me: “I didn’t want multiples of the same name in my queue; that way we don’t make mistakes on the order.”

Boss: “Well, how is anyone supposed to know which order is whose?!”

(A customer approaches the counter:)

Customer: “Hakuna Matata! My name is Simba and I ordered a meatball sub for pick-up!”

Me: “’Sup, dude. You getting a drink and chips with that?”

Boss: “AND STOP CALLING THE CUSTOMERS ‘DUDE’!” *stomps off*

(I’ve been working at a grocery store for a few months with a manager who is, frankly, a miserable human being. He’s aggressively rude, blunt in all the wrong ways, and quick to lambaste you for minor mistakes and ride you on them for weeks. And, unfortunately, upper management is terrified of doing anything to him because he’s openly, flamboyantly gay and cries discrimination and homophobia the second someone so much as criticizes him. After finally having enough, I’ve decided to quit and decide to let him — the main reason for it — know exactly what I think about him.)

Manager: “Hey, [My Name], I heard you’re ending your employment with us. That’s a shame. Is there any reason in particular?”

Me: “Well… It’s a coworker issue, mostly.”

(He shoots me this toothy smile like he knows I’m about to say something he can twist. Not wanting to give him even a shadow of a chance of playing this game with me, I cut in.)

Me: “Let me tell you something about myself. I’m in a romantic situation that would make churches in this area try to exorcise us: I’m in a polyamorous relationship with three other people, including a trans-woman and another man. I’m so comfortable in my pansexuality I make you look straight; I’ve just never dared use it as an excuse for abusing people and getting away with it. I’m quitting because you’re an abusive creep of a manager and absolute scum of humanity; it has nothing to do with you being gay, or camp, or whatever. You’re just an a**hole.”

(At that, I flick my name-tag onto the table and toss my company vest off, while he and the rest of the office stand there, too stunned to respond.)

Me: “By the way, last night when he came in, I told your husband I saw you kissing [Coworker] a week ago. I heard you say you wondered why he went to his parents’ and didn’t call you last night; there you go.”

(I left just in time to hear him process what just happened and start freaking out. To his credit, though, a coworker I kept in touch with told me I humbled him pretty badly — even if I ruined his marriage — and he has started taking criticism on how to be a better person.)

(I am waiting for something to be printed off. There are two women talking in front of the printer, so I assume they’re waiting, like me. After a few seconds, though, I realise they’re just gossiping. My report hasn’t printed yet, so I continue to wait.)

Coworker #1: “Excuse me. Do you mind not being so nosey?!”

Me: “I’m not even paying attention.”

Coworker #1: “Yeah, right. Why don’t you go bother someone who’s actually interested?”

Me: “This is the closest printer.”

(They both look at each other, confused, completely oblivious to the printer behind them.)

Coworker #2: “Whatever chat-up line that was meant to be, it didn’t work. Also, I’m married.” *shows ring*

Me: “So am I. I’m waiting for the printer.”

Coworker #2: *shouts* “Oh, so we have an adulterer in the office!”

(This gets the attention of everyone around us, and both women start ranting at me for being a misogynist. My report finally finishes printing.)

Me: *interrupting* “Sorry, but I’m already late for a meeting.”

(I reach my arm forward and both women lean away from me in disgust. I grab my report and turn.)

Coworker #1: “HOW DARE YOU TRY—”

Coworker #2: “Oh, [Coworker #1], we’re in front of the printer!”

(I heard a lot of laughter as I left for the lift. No one tends to hang around the printer anymore, thankfully.)