(I have been chatting with my supervisor regarding some concerning behaviour that I and many other coworkers – including this supervisor – have noticed surrounding one of my employees.)

Me: “I’m just not sure what is going on. I keep catching things that don’t make sense, like chairs set up when there’s no reason to be sitting in those work areas. I’m just starting to feel like they are using all their time alone to just sit around and do nothing.”

Supervisor: “Yes, I’ve been noticing that too. They really seem to be un-invested in the work and aren’t applying themselves.”

Me: “I can’t tell if they are doing it now because things have slowed down a bit, or if they have been doing it from day one. I’m concerned they have been doing it all along and we are just catching them now, which is a big problem for me. I really need my team to stay focused and motivated when I’m not around to supervise.”

Supervisor: “I understand where you’re coming from. It can be really difficult. But at the end of the day, if the quality of the work is fine, can we really say anything about the quantity? There doesn’t seem to be anything we can do.”

Me: *dumbfounded at the passivity*

(I’m working in a supermarket bakery that’s attached to a deli. Even though we’re considered separate departments, the bakery often helps the deli with simple counter customer service like slicing meats and cheeses, or making sandwiches when needed. I’m currently serving one of my favourite regular customers, an older guy who’s a police officer and always comes by at the end of his shift for sandwiches to take home for himself and his wife to have for lunch. I’m mildly complaining about our monthly department inventory while I make his sandwiches.)

Me: “It wouldn’t be so bad if the equipment was more reliable. [Manager] has been here since four am and she’s going to be late getting out because the tag scanner they gave her malfunctioned, so she has to start all over.”

Officer: “Oh, I would hate that. You think that’s bad, try inventorying a police department. Every. Single. Bullet. It’s not so bad because with everyone doing it, it gets done quicker, but it’s very tedious.”

Me: “Ugh, that’s awful. Do you have to inventory evidence, too?”

Officer: “Well, not me, but yeah, that needs to be closely inventoried regularly.”

Me: *obviously joking* “Hmm, well, if anything really cool comes in, like a spare head or crowbar, can you hook me up?”

Officer: *nodding and grinning* “Obviously!”

(At this point, I notice one of our younger employees looking at me in shock, clearly not realizing we’re just joking around.)

Me: “What?! [Officer] and I have an understanding. I give him extra peppers on his sandwiches, he hooks me up with cool crime swag and doesn’t ask too many questions about why my back yard is so bumpy and my GPS shows me on so many long, deserted roads in the middle of the night.”

Officer: *nods, acting serious, and taps the side of his nose conspiratorially with a wink*

(I’m renewing my passport at the passport office. I have a bit of an unusual middle name that is more like a last name.)

Worker: “Okay, I just need your old passport and three pieces of photo ID.”

Me: *hands her the documents*

Worker: “Oh, honey, you’re going to have to re-order all of your IDs! They’ve spelled your name wrong on everything! How have you even been able to use this old passport?!”

Me: “Excuse me? I’m pretty sure that they’re all correct.”

Worker: “No, they’re all wrong! Look!” *points out my middle name* “See? They didn’t hyphenate your two last names!”

Me: “No, those are correct. That’s my middle name.”

Worker: “No, it’s not! No one has that for a middle name! You obviously don’t have a middle name and they’ve messed up all your documents!”

(By this point she has raised her voice significantly and is drawing the attention of almost everyone in the office.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m serious. That is my middle name and there is nothing wrong with any of my IDs!”

Worker: “NO, NO, NO! I need to fix all of this right now!”

Me: “Please do not enter any different information than what’s already there! That IS my middle name and I need my passport to show that!”

Worker: “NO! You’re wrong! No one has a middle name like that! You’ve been lied to!”

Me: “Okay, this is getting crazy! Can I please talk to your supervisor about this?”

Worker: “No, you can’t! You don’t need to! You just need to let me fix this!”

(Luckily another worker has gone to get the supervisor while this is happening.)

Supervisor: “[Worker], what are you doing?!”

Worker: “They’ve messed up all of this poor girls IDs!! Her name isn’t correct on any of them and I need to FIX THIS!”

(She is basically screaming by this point and everyone has stopped what they’re doing and started to stare.)

Supervisor: “Lower your voice right now! You never talk to a customer this way. What honestly makes you think that a 24 year old woman doesn’t know her own name?”

Worker: “Because no one has that for a middle name!”

Me: “I do! It was my grandmother’s maiden name. It may be an unconventional middle name but it is still my middle name nonetheless.”

Supervisor: “[Worker], go take your break now. I’ll handle this and we can have a chat about this later.”

Worker: *starts yelling as she is walking away* “You’re wrong! You’ve been lied to! No one has that for a middle name! It’s a last name!”

Supervisor: “I am so sorry about this! I can honestly say I don’t think that she will be working here after today. She always has something to say if someone has even the slightest different spelling or an unconventional name.”

Me: “Thanks for intervening. I didn’t know how else to explain it!”

Supervisor: “No need. Now let’s get you a new, CORRECT passport.”

(I’m about ten years old. My two friends and I want to go swimming. It’s early spring, and though the outside pool is open, there is no one using it since it’s too cold. We buy our tickets without a problem, change into our bathing suits, and head for the pool, when we are stopped by a pool boy.)

Pool Boy: “I’m sorry, you girls aren’t allowed in here.”

Friend #1: “Why not?”

Pool Boy: “Only people over the age of 15 can come in today!”

(We see a tanned girl our age running past us at the very same second.)

Friend #2: “But she can come in!” *pointing at the girl*

Pool Boy: “Yes. She’s Islamic. Only people over 15 and Islamic people may use the pool today.”

(At that moment I spot a mother with two toddlers.)

Me: “And what about them? Those are two little girls!”

Pool Boy: “Only people above 15, Islamic, or under four years old may use the pool today! You can use the outdoor pool though.”

All Of Us: “But it’s freezing out there!”

Pool Boy: “None of my business. You’re not coming in.”

(We decide this has no use. Not knowing what to do, two of us stay at the shower area, where we are allowed apparently, while my friend goes outside to find someone who can help us. We get loads of questions from other pool guests why were are just standing there. When we explain we’re not allowed in, everyone thinks it is an outrage. Eventually my friend comes back, crying and with a bleeding foot. She tripped over a loose tile. Pool boy comes back.)

Pool Boy: “And now you are soiling the shower area with your blood? Get out! You are not allowed in here!”

(We had enough, get dressed again, and go home. Our moms called the pool and no one was aware of any rule that excluded anyone who wasn’t Islamic, over 15, or under 4.)

(I work two jobs, and one of them is a 45 minute drive from home. My current car needs yet another costly repair, and we have not yet finished paying off the last repair. We all agree it is time to buy a new car, and my dad goes with me for some test drives. The first test goes off without a hitch; we are given the keys and we like the handle of the car. We then go across the street to a different dealership to test drive one of theirs.)

Sales Representative: “All right, let me get your information, and we’ll set you up. Do you have a particular color [Model] in mind?”

Me: “Nope! We just want to get a feel for the car today.”

Sales Representative: “No problem; let me go get one off the lot.”

(We wait, and she comes back a few minutes later with the car. She gets in the back seat, which threw us both off a little, but we didn’t think much of it. I go to start the car and inch it along, a little nervous with it being unfamiliar and having someone else in the car.)

Me: *turning onto busy street, trying to get it up to speed* “Wow… this car really has no pickup.”

(My dad and the rep chat while I drive. We find out she’s been on the sales floor for about three months. Everything’s pleasant enough until I realize no matter how hard I push on the gas, the car is slowing down.)

Me: “Why is it slowing down? What did I do?!”

(Both the rep and my dad are alarmed as we slow down to about 15 mph in a 35 mph zone with a very confused car behind us.)

Dad: “You’re out of gas, that’s why!”

(He quickly directs us safely into a long driveway while the sales rep goes pale.)

Sales Representative: “Oh, my god, I didn’t even look at the gas meter…”

Me: “Neither did I. I should have looked at it too before we got going.”

(We spent about twenty minutes waiting for another sales rep to bring us a gas can. We eventually got underway, and were able to test it fully. We kinda had to laugh at the whole situation; it was just a rookie mistake, and I doubt she’ll make it again! We hope her coworkers didn’t give her too hard a time about it.)