(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.)

(My office has known for a while that any of us could be losing our job at any time. My manager calls me into his office.)

Manager: “Okay, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Me: “I’m the first? I guess that was to be expected.”

Manager: “The first?”

Me: “To lose my job. It’s all right; I’m already looking for somewhere else. I won’t be out of work for long.”

Manager: “How did you know you were losing your job?”

Me: “Well, you sent out HR1 letters three weeks ago.”

Manager: *going pale* “Oh, no. They weren’t meant to be sent out!”

Me: “Wait, so, what did you think when the office got spectacularly clean the other week?”

Manager: “I just thought [Colleague with OCD] had had enough.”

Me: “So, do I finish this Friday?”

Manager: “What? H*** no! I need you here for the next month.”

Me: “But the letter said I would be paid up to the week I’m dismissed.”

Manager: “Look, just forget about the letter… Hold on.”

(He sprints out of the room and returns a few minutes later, flushed.)

Manager: “Okay, [HR Manager] and I want to reconsider the necessity of your position, so for the time being, just forget this meeting ever happened.”

(The next week, several of the HR Manager’s duties were delegated to some of us in the office, and we haven’t seen the HR Manager since. The letters, and the office’s cleanliness, are long forgotten.)

(I work at an extremely popular chain bakery and cafe. We have recently gotten a new manager: a woman who has been bounced from cafe to cafe because of all the complaints that have been filed against her by employees and other managers. The company refuses to fire her because she is very good with customers and receives glowing reviews from them. A customer comes up to me in the middle of lunch rush.)

Customer: “Excuse me? All of the paper towels are out in the women’s bathroom.”

(I run off to get the paper towel dispenser key, which is kept in the office. I try to get in, but find the door locked. I go up to the new manager, who is swamped with sandwich orders.)

Me: “[Manager]? I need the bathroom keys, but they’re locked in the office. Can I borrow your keys to go get them?”

Manager: “No.”

Me: “I… What?”

Manager: “No, you cannot. There’s money in the office, and nobody is allowed in there when there is money in there.”

(This is correct, but only in stores that do not have cameras installed in the office. Ours, however, does have a camera installed.)

Me: “[Manager], we don’t have to follow that rule here. Please? I only need the keys for a second, and I can see through the office door that the only money that isn’t locked in the safe is change. It probably totals about $10 at the most.”

Manager: “No. I don’t trust you. Wait here while I finish what I’m doing, and then we will get them together.”

(I am taken aback. Not only have I not given this manager any reason not to trust me, but I also know that the general manager holds me in high regard, and that I have a reputation for being an extremely trustworthy person. Nonetheless, I stand and wait for her to finish the five or so sandwiches on her board. While standing there, I am approached by no less than five more customers, all telling me that the paper towels are out. Finally, the manager finishes.)

Manager: *unlocking the door* “All right, tell me where the keys are.”

(I move towards the doorway, fully intending to grab the keys myself. She SLAMS the door in my face, and yells through the door.)

Manager: “Tell me where they are!”

Me: “Do you see the tan box on the wall?”

Manager: “No.”

Me: “It’s a tan metal box with a lock on it. There’s a keychain hanging off of the knob with three skulls on it. It’s right next to the door. Do you see it?”

Manager: “No.”

(I try and fail to direct her towards the keys several times before she gets flustered and opens the door. I reach around the door, open the box, pull out the keys, and close the door behind me. The only part of me that enters the office is my arm up to my shoulder, and I don’t even need to look. I also don’t come within five feet of the money the entire time. On the way back out, the manager drops this gem.)

Manager: “It’s just, I really don’t trust you around money.”

Me: *muttering under my breath* “Well, that’s going to cause an issue, because I’m a cashier.”

I attended a dance camp; there were bunkhouses, separate shower buildings, a cafeteria, etc. When I got there, folks directed us to drive “round Robin’s barn” from the entrance to the parking area. I didn’t understand why at the time, but later noticed that the shorter driveway traversed some 4″ PVC pipe; rainwater drain pipes, I assumed.

A couple of days into the camp, I was in the cafeteria getting some salad, when a particular leaf of “lettuce” struck me as odd. It wasn’t lettuce at all, but a paper towel thoroughly saturated in some greenish fluid.

I reported this to an uninterested employee, and thereafter ate only thoroughly cooked food.

To cut to the chase, about a third of the attendees came down with some sort of dysentery. The situation was bad enough that the state health department got called in. I managed to escape with no significant ailment, but vowed never to return to that camp.

I heard later that the camp was on shaky financial footing and had hired locals with no professional food prep experience. In addition, those 4″ PVC pipes were apparently sewer lines, and at least one had broken.

(My coworker does very good impressions and while he normally sticks to celebrities, he can do a few accents, too.)

Coworker: *to boss in a southern accent* “Get ya hands off my gun and go to church or I’m gonna tan your hide.”

Boss: “Mhmm.”

Coworker: *still doing a southern drawl* “Naw, listen here, Jimmy. The most important lessons in life is how to shoot a gun and how to get ’em girls pregnant, y’hear?”

(The phone rings and my boss goes into his office to answer it.)

Me: “[Coworker], you know [Boss] is from Georgia, right?”

Coworker: “Georgia… wait, like…?”

Me: “Like the south of the south! You’re basically doing a bad impression of people from his home state.” *sarcastically* “Way to go, buddy.”

Coworker: “No… No! He doesn’t have an accent! How the hell was I supposed to know? Are you sure he’s from Georgia? He has like no accent. He speaks like us!”

Me: “Like us? You mean he speaks English? You need to stop talking. You’re digging yourself into a deeper hole.”

Coworker: “OH, S***! OH, S***!”

(He didn’t get into trouble, since our boss has a very good sense of humour, but [Coworker] sticks to celebrities now.)