(I am on an online support chat with my service provider, and this little exchange happens around the end of it.)

Customer Service: “In the meantime, one quick question: how has your overall experience been with [Service Provider] so far?”

Me: “Not too bad, I suppose. The bill seems to be rising steadily with every moment, which has me a bit worried.”

Customer Service: “[Service Provider] always strives to provide the best service experience to our beloved customers.”

Me: “…Uh.”

(Today, I’m working two shifts: one as cashier and one as hostess, for a total of ten hours that day. Typically, we don’t get breaks, because it is not in our state law or company policy. Today, though, my two shifts are scheduled with a half hour free between them so I can have a break. It’s about fifteen minutes until my first shift is up, when my coworker approaches me. She has a five-hour shift that day and has been there for two hours.)

Coworker: “Hey, I talked to [Manager], and she says you need to stay a little after 11:30 so I can eat.”

Me: “Okay, but I have to move over to hosting at 12:00.”

Coworker: “Okay, I’ll be done by noon.”

(I can go 10 hours without eating, but not without drinking anything. We are not allowed to have water with us while we work.)

Me: “But I was planning on taking a break then. From 11:30 to 12:00, I’m not scheduled to work.”

Coworker: “Well, I’m here five hours today and I need to eat.”

(My coworker walks away and then comes back with our manager. I tell her the issue, and ask if it would be possible to have my coworker go on break when the other cashier gets here next hour.)

Manager: “No, she wants to eat now. She’ll be fast!”

(So, my coworker goes on break at 11:20 and then comes back at 11:45.)

Coworker: *annoyed* “Okay, you can go do whatever is so important that you need to do now.”

Me: “Thanks. I’m working ten hours today, and would prefer to be able to seat guests without being dehydrated. It generally makes my work day easier.”

(I didn’t get my 30-minute break, but I guess 15 was better than nothing.)

(Every few days, a printing press needs to be shut down and cleaned because the ink spatters all over where it isn’t meant to be. The workers climb inside and wipe everything with solvent-soaked rags. Since it is a messy task, we put on disposable impermeable hooded jumpsuits [Tyveks AKA whitesuits], and since these factories are very hot, it’s common to take off your uniform to keep it free of sweat and solvent, and just go into the whitesuit in your underwear. The change rooms are a pain to get to; you have to cross the entire huge building, go upstairs, and come halfway back. Since it is 99% men working there, sometimes the guys just quickly go down to their boxers in some quiet corner and hope no woman walks by. As one of the rare women, I have to be a bit more private. I slip into this tiny closet that has a urinal in it; no running water, no sink. It is just a urinal that someone has connected to a drain [the bathrooms are too far away, too, so I guess people got desperate]. I have to move very carefully so I don’t get my clothes dirty, but I do it and swiftly get at my cleaning task. Later that day my supervisor calls me into the office and, WITHOUT EVEN CLARIFYING THAT THE GOSSIP HE’s HEARD IS TRUE, starts in on me about my inappropriate behavior.)

Supervisor: “Maybe you like the attention, but it’s not professional to give the guys a ‘show!’”

Me: “Huh?”

Supervisor: “[Guy I thought was my friend] told me! You changed clothes right in the middle of the factory floor instead of in the bathroom or change-room!”

Me: “Yes, I suppose technically I did… INSIDE the urinal closet. Why would I want pervs staring at me?!”

(I never even got an apology from either my boss for assuming the worst about me, or my “friend” for spreading rumors that made me seem indecent. That’s the reward I get for enduring the stench in that little closet, to save the company the ten minutes’ wasted time for me to walk to the proper change-room.)

(It’s a sad fact that libraries often have to remove and delete old books from the shelves to make way for new ones, as we don’t have the space to keep all our books. We tend to call this process “weeding.” I’m on pretty friendly terms with my supervisor, and we occasionally talk about gardening and other things. Since I’ve been assigned a large weeding project just at the beginning of gardening season, I suppose it was inevitable that the following would happen:)

Supervisor: “How’s the weeding going?”

Me: “Oh, we haven’t started yet.”

Supervisor: “…”

Me: “Oh, you meant weeding the shelves! That’s going pretty well. I’m sorry; I thought you meant our garden.”

(We had a good laugh, at least.)

(I’m the dumb employee in this story. I work at a craft supply store, but I used to work at a home improvement store. It was only a matter of time until something like this happened.)

Me: *answering the phone* “Thank you for calling [Home Improvement Store]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Wait, this is [Home Improvement Store]? I thought I was calling [Craft Store]!”

Me: “Oh, God. Yes. It is. You are. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “You used to work at [Home Improvement Store], didn’t you?”

Me: “What told you?”

(The customer asks whether we carry a specific item. I tell him we do, and that is that… until about half an hour later, when a man walks in with a big grin on his face and spots me at the front end.)

Customer: “IS THIS [HOME IMPROVEMENT STORE]?”

(It was the same guy! I’m pretty sure I turned bright red, but I also laughed.)