A supervisor has been trying to get his daughter some work experience in our office, as she has just finished school. He has been boasting about her so much we are actually quite excited to meet her. During her interview she’s quite eager to please and we are impressed with her qualifications. She is accepted for a probationary period of 13 weeks.

In her first week she is absolutely fantastic, but after that she refuses to do anything, seeing it as beneath her education or skill level. She is working mostly clerical at the moment and is told that if she can’t do the work or agree to focus on something, we will have to let her go. She tells her father and he comes to the office in a rage, demanding that we give her something more engaging. When asked, he brags that she would be able to replace me, a health and safety advisor with over 15 years experience and holder of a NEBOSH national diploma. I humour him and offer to put her through our IOSH Managing Safely course, and take her on a few walkabouts. He agrees.

To put it mildly, she is completely disinterested and refuses to go on any walkabouts with me, instead choosing to lounge about in my office, with the door locked on the inside, while I am out. We receive her IOSH results as a failure for not even turning up once. This incurs a cost against us which, despite it being internal and not as steep as it would have been if outsourced, doesn’t put her in good graces with many of us.

At her 13-week review, it is decided we won’t take her on, and she practically runs screaming and crying from the office. Her father comes in and demands we take her on or he walks. We can’t bring ourselves to do it, so we part ways.

The most shocking thing about the entire experience was after the supervisor left, our Key Performance Indicators nearly doubled!

(I am working the registers when the entire checkout is halted by two women screaming at each other.)

Coworker: “I can’t believe anyone would want to f*** you. You’re a whale. A fat f****** cow!”

Customer: “I’m pregnant! How could you be so mean?! I never did anything to you. I was your friend!”

Coworker: “Friend?! Ha! And honey, if you’re pregnant, then I’m the Queen of England. Now, f*** off!”

(My coworker then pushed the customer. She was actually heavily pregnant and lost her balance, tumbling hard onto the floor. My coworker then tried to walk around the counter towards the customer, but was quickly grabbed by the manager and one of the stockroom staff, who then threw her out of the shop. An ambulance was called and they took the customer away. We later learned after my coworker’s dismissal that she and the customer were friends in school, but instead of going into acting, my coworker ended up in retail, while her friend — the less popular of the two in school — went on to become a doctor. I guess one got jealous of the other’s success.)

(A coworker has finished an informal lunch-time “brown bag” talk on a technology he wants us to adopt. He’s a lively, somewhat loud speaker with a strong Middle Eastern accent. He’s also very friendly with a good sense of humor.)

Speaker: “Ask me anything you want! Anything at all!”

Me: *in a innocent, almost childlike voice* “Where do babies come from?”

(The rest of the room cracks up.)

Speaker: “What?! What?!”

Me: “Well, you said we could ask you anything; so, where do babies come from?”

(It’s 1997. I work with a 19-year-old who thinks she knows everything about music. Puff Daddy’s “I’ll Be Missing You” is playing on the office radio. As the song ends:)

Coworker: “I love that song.”

Me: “Really? Come here for a second.”

(I play “Every Breath You Take” by the music group The Police.)

Coworker: *listening* “Ugh! I can’t believe someone is already sampling Puff Daddy’s work! That’s so lame! Why can’t they come up with their own music?!”

Me: “Uh, The Police wrote that song… in 1983. I’ll let you borrow my album if you have a record player.”

(She refused to believe that Puff Daddy sampled anything and wouldn’t look at any proof shown to her.)

(During a supply order, my manager comes over to ask if we need anything.)

Me: “Oh! I’m glad you reminded me. We need… uh… the… the…”

Manager: “Piping bags?”

Me: “No! It’s the… Um… Crap!”

Manager: “Refills for the airbrush? You were using that a lot today.”

Me: “No! I… It’s a food thing!”

Manager: *laughing now* “Well, I should hope so; we work in a bakery! I’m glad I didn’t hire you for your memory.”

Me: “I can’t believe this!”

Manager: “Well, don’t stress it. If you can’t remember it today, we’ll order it next week.”

(I sulk for a while, frustrated at my brain freeze. It’s like a complete and total blank. Then, five days later, while my manager and I are doing the dishes together and talking about something completely unrelated to work…)

Me: *wide-eyed, shouting and interrupting her* “BAVARIAN CREAM!”

Manager: *looking startled and afraid* “What?”

Me: “That’s what I wanted to say we needed last week! I just remembered!”

Manager: “Oh. Well… Good! I think that might actually be discontinued right now, though. We’re probably going to use something else.”

Me: “But… I remembered!”

Manager: *affectionately and only a LITTLE patronizing* “You sure did, honey.”

(Sigh.)