(I work part time in a grocery store deli. It’s around Christmas time when one of my coworkers brings in gifts she made for everyone in the form of some homemade sweets, like caramels and hot cocoa mix, all together in a plastic jar. She gives me mine.)

Coworker: “Here you go. I remember you’re allergic to nuts so I just gave you extra caramels instead of the nut clusters.”

Me: “Awesome. Thank you so much!”

(I put the jar away in the sandwich station fridge and go back to work. However, something is bothering me about the gift: I can’t quite place where I’ve seen those slender jars before. After a little while, I ask her.)

Me: “Hey [Coworker].”

Coworker: “Yeah?”

Me: “Where’d you get those jars you used?”

Coworker: “Oh, it’s just a peanut jar.”

(I pause, and stare at her silently.)

Coworker: “…oh. S***.”

(In her defence, she says she washed it out, but I still ended up just giving it to my roommate rather than risk it.)

(We have new seasonal workers in over the Christmas period.)

Worker: “Hi, I’m here for my first shift and… oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

Me: “Hmm? Oh I got a paper cut. It isn’t even bleeding. Stings though.”

Worker: “No, I can’t. I just can’t.”

(She turned and walked away. I saw her leave the store on the cameras. She was literally in the building five minutes, and we never saw her again.)

(I am assisting a line of parents when a woman storms up to the counter. She seems rather upset. This happens close to Christmas.)

Mother: “Sorry, but could you tell me where [Coworker] is, please?”

(I shout for her.)

Coworker: “Hi! Can I help?”

Mother: “Did you tell my daughter that Santa doesn’t exist?”

(Silence falls on the room.)

Coworker: “How old is she?”

Mother: “Five.”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Mother: “Why?”

Coworker: “Because Christmas is nothing more than a commercial holiday nowadays, and your daughter doesn’t need to be told a MAN is going to be getting her everything she wanted for Christmas.”

Mother: *with a rigid smile* “It was also the only reason what was looking forward to Christmas this year, after seeing her father die right before her eyes last Christmas Day.”

Coworker: *going pale* “Oh, umm—”

Mother: “So, thank you. Thank you for ruining Christmas. The first two Christmases my daughter is going to remember: seeing her father collapse on a dollhouse they were building together, and learning that Santa doesn’t exist from a virtual stranger. Thank you, you self-righteous b****!”

(The woman ran out of the daycare in hysterics. Everyone else then turned towards [Coworker], and she barely had time to escape before utter chaos ensued. We lost a lot of business that day (to which we have yet to recover), and [Coworker] was let go for her conduct. I got in touch with the woman with condolences and apologies. She accepted, but said she wouldn’t be coming back. I don’t blame her.)

Coworker: “Hey, you have to pick a name. We’re doing secret Santa.”

Me: “Sorry, but I’m visiting family over December, so I won’t be here.”

Coworker: “DUH! That’s why you pick a name now, and then we can all open them at the Christmas party.”

Me: “When is the party?”

Coworker: “18th December.”

Me: “To which I won’t be here…”

Coworker: “…do you maybe want to pick a d*** name and stop being an a**hole?!”

(I pick a name and buy something before I leave the week later. When I get back in January:)

Coworker: “WHERE WERE YOU?!”

Me: “I told you. I was visiting family over December.”

Coworker: “You should have said. [Coworker] got you a box of sweets, but I decided to take them home. Otherwise, they would have been eaten just being left here.”

Me: “So, where are they?”

Coworker: “I ate them.”

Me: “…”

I’m at my store’s Christmas party, where we have a gift exchange with the rule being no items over $20. Note that the store manager’s wife, while very nice, is also self-centered and selfish at times.

I end up with a large, hard-cover Oprah book that is easily well over the dollar limit. I’m not thrilled with it as I am not an Oprah fan.

Near the end of the party, the manager’s wife offers to trade gifts with me. I gladly trade the book for a gift certificate at a restaurant.

Later I found out that she had bought the book for the exchange and traded with me because she wanted her own gift. Had I known that at the time, I probably would have declined her offer and donated it somewhere!