November Themed Story Giveaway: You’re Fired!

Not Always Working | Working | November 8, 2012
Want to win A Not Always Working t-shirt?
Enter November’s Themed Story Giveaway: You’re Fired!

Entering is as easy as 1-2-3:

  1. Submit a funny or interesting story about anyone getting fired (employees, coworkers, bosses, even you!).
  2. Enter your email address in the form to qualify.
  3. All posted stories will be entered in a drawing to win a free t-shirt gift certificate, to use in the official Not Always Working shop!

PS: Congratulations to a lucky reader for winning October’s Themed Story Giveaway, which featured stories about Geeks At Work. The winning submission: When The Chic Seek The Geek (282 thumbs up).

PS #2: winners will be announced the first Wednesday of every month. Next free t-shirt gift certificate: Wednesday, December 5!

Their Queue To Shut Up

| Columbus, OH, USA | Working | November 8, 2012

(Note: I am a student turning in a permissions form to withdraw from a course just before the deadline. It’s pouring, windy and freezing cold out, and I’ve jogged eight blocks to get there on time. All I have to do is hand the paper to someone behind the desk. When I enter the building, there are two long lines at the desk. I enter the first, behind four others. The following exchange occurs after fifteen minutes in line, while the person immediately ahead of me is being helped.)

Advisor: “Excuse me, but this isn’t a line.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Advisor: “The line is over there.”

(The advisor gestures to the line on the other side of the room. I look around, and she’s right. There’s no one behind me and there’s a sign that states that I’m to wait in the other line until called.)

Me: “I see that now, but I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes while the people ahead of me were helped. They were in the wrong line too, unless this is a line for a special purpose?”

Advisor: “No, it isn’t. The line starts there.” *points behind me* “You need to get in line.”

Me: “Why didn’t you say something earlier? You’ve been standing next to this line the entire time I’ve been in it. The four people in front of me stood in this line as well, and you didn’t ask them to go to the back of the other line. You’re really going to single me out? Of course you are. Fine…”

(I walk to the back of the line, but evidently I was louder than I intended to be. Almost every student in line stepped out, pretending to have forgotten some thing or another, letting me pass to the front. I was helped before the person originally in front of me was finished!)

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Something Obviously Isn’t Clicking

| Bellevue, WA, USA | Working | November 8, 2012

(Note: I am going out on maternity leave and am training my temp replacement on my job, which will involve light office admin work. The temp in question claims she has a lot of internet experience.)

Me: “Okay, they just sent us a link to this equipment and the boss approved it, so we need to buy it.”

Temp: “Okay, so what do I do?”

Me: “Um, you just click on the link in the email. That will take you directly to the exact item they want.”

Temp: “So, do I have to google it?”

Me: “Uh, no. Just click here.”

Temp: *clicks it* “Now what?”

Me: “Okay, he says they need four of these.”

Temp: “Okay, so what do I do?”

Me: *getting worried* “You enter ‘4’ in the quantity then click ‘Purchase’.”

Temp: “Where is ‘Purchase’?”

Me: “…It’s that big button that says ‘Purchase’.”

(The temp looks over the entire screen, completely missing the giant Purchase button. Instead, she clicks on a tiny little link at the bottom of the page that leads to the service agreement. The service agreement notification window opens. She stares at it for a minute and I assume she’s just being extra cautious or something and reading it over first.)

Temp: “Okay, so now what?”

Me: “What do you mean, now what? Close the box and click ‘Purchase’.”

Temp: “But it didn’t work.”

Me: “You didn’t click ‘Purchase’. You clicked on the service terms, so now you need to close that window and click ‘Purchase’.”

(She closes both the service window AND the website window, leaving just the email with the link up. I assumed it was a mis-click, but then…)

Temp: “So, now what do I do?”

Me: “What? Seriously? You shut down the page, so you have to open it again. Click on the link.”


Me: “Look, just trust me.” *I begin pointing* “Click here. Enter ‘4’ here. Click ‘Purchase’ here. Okay, now enter the credit card number. Okay, now click ‘Buy Now’.”

Temp: “You just click it like that?”

Me: “Yes. And see? There’s your receipt.”

Temp: “Oh, wow, that is scary!”

(If I wasn’t going to pop out a kid any second, I would have told her to leave, but we were out of time. Thankfully it was only for 8 weeks, and my coworkers were never happier to see me when I came back!)

Of Earshot And Shot Glasses

| Washington, DC, USA | Working | November 8, 2012

Coworker: “Oh my God, the nerve of this one table! They order Happy Hour like FIVE MINUTES before the special ends, and then they call me back to the table because they change their mind AFTER I order their drink!”

Me: “Oh, that’s not too bad. At least it was still Happy Hour.”

Coworker: “Oh, and [bartender] was no help. He made the f***ing wrong drink and I had to wait to get it remade! Like I have time for that. He’s so f***ing dumb and lazy. He just sits around talking about other people!”

(While I figure out how to respond to that, the customer at the nearby table leans over.)

Customer: “Ma’am, I’m sorry that my drink order gave you trouble, but it seems like you yourself have plenty of time to sit around talking about other people!”

Coworker: *turns red*

It’s Always Surrey In Philadelphia

| Minnesota, USA | Working | November 8, 2012

(I’m an obviously Caucasian woman whose Irish and Scots ancestors came to the US in the mid-1700s. I moved to Minnesota after spending most of my life in Pennsylvania. I am a customer buying a a new suitcase and travel-size toiletries.)

Cashier: “Going camping?”

Me: “No, I’m going home to visit my family in Pennsylvania.”

Cashier: *smiles brightly* “Oh, I’ve heard of that! It’s in Europe, right?”

(I laugh before I realize she isn’t joking.)

Me: “Um, no. PENN-sylvania. You know, below New York, above Maryland.”

Cashier: *looks baffled*

Me: “Where the Declaration of Independence was written?”

Cashier: *confused look* “Well, I think you’ll do really good here. You don’t even look foreign and you speak English really well! Enjoy your trip!”

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