(We’ve been given warning that corporate are planning an inspection in an effort to get the store in shape. I’ve been staying back up to four hours unpaid for most of my shifts. This is a Sunday shift.)

Manager: “Corporate will be here on Wednesday, I don’t know how we are going to get everything done. I stayed back an hour and a half yesterday so I’m leaving early today. You have to cover me.”

(I leave three-and-a-half hours late trying to get everything done. But that night sleep doesn’t come and I sit up until three am writing up needed signage and emailing them in. I ring the next morning to see if the signs were okay, as I have two days off.)

Manager: “Oh, yes, I got your email. The signs look great.”

(On Wednesday I get back to work, and get given work that should have been done by the manager over several weeks, and were due to have been completed before the visit. When corporate arrives they head straight into the area that I made the signs for.)

Manager: *after they leave* “Where did corporate go when they got here?”

Me: “To [Area]; lucky I did the signs for there.”

Manager: “But I didn’t have time to do them; I only got the email Monday morning.”

Me: “When I rang to tell you they were ready to be printed I thought you had done them.”

Manager: “I just looked at them; I just didn’t have time to print them”.

(All that work and he didn’t have time to press the print button when he opened the file to look at it. It took me five minutes to have them all printed up and in place. Later…)

Manager: “I got into trouble for not having those signs up. You know we all have to pull together and get the work done properly. I am fed up with all the double handling that goes on around here. I’m going home. You have to cover for me.”

(My boss is known for being extremely difficult. This particular morning she is explaining how the breakfast buffet works even though I have been in catering for ten years and worked at this venue for three months.)

Boss: “The scrambled eggs need to be replaced every 45 minutes or they will dry out.”

Me: “Okay, I can handle that. I have made my fair share of scrambled eggs.”

Boss: “No, you can’t touch them; there is a certain technique. You get one of the chefs or wait until one is available.”

(As she walks away one of my coworkers bursts out laughing.)

Coworker: “Yeah, the technique is don’t let them burn. That’s it.”

(Now every time I do anything extremely simple my coworker yells at me about my technique which has gotten us some very strange looks as we collapse into giggles.)

(I go to see a doctor about a number of things, including anxiety, which is typically about getting pregnant as I don’t want children. I also need some swabs taken. This conversation is with the nurse who rang to give me my results.)

Nurse: “Hi, just ringing to tell you your results are all clear, but, erm… you’re on the pill, right?”

Me: “Yes…”

Nurse: “Right. Well did the doctor do a urine test on you at all?”

Me: “What?! No, why would he?”

Nurse: “He’s put on your records that you’re pregnant and that he did a positive test on you.”

Me: “…All I did was say I had anxiety about being pregnant! There wasn’t even mention of him doing a test!”

Nurse: “Ah… well, I’ll get that changed for you. Sorry about the mix-up.”

(How the doctor got everything so mixed up I don’t know, but he certainly didn’t make me feel any better!)

Me: “May I please have your employee ID?”

Caller: *sounding really confused* “Uh, um, wait, you need my employee ID?”

Me: “Yes, I need your employee ID in order to pull up your file.”

Caller: *pause* “I’m not understanding what you’re asking for here.”

Me: *pausing, trying to think of a clearer way of wording it and failing* “Can I get your employee ID?”

Caller: “Uh, um, I have my employee ID badge here, but how would I be able to show you that over the phone?”

Me: *literally smacking my forehead* “You can tell me what the actual numbers are for your employee ID?”

Caller: “OH! You need my employee ID number!”

(I’m only a witness to this encounter. While checking out at a self check out, another pair of customers is using the one to the side of me. They are obviously father and daughter, she looks very young. The father is buying a six pack of beer.)

Employee: “Sir, I don’t need to see your ID but I do need to see hers.”

Customer: “She’s my 10 year old daughter!”

Employee: “You can’t buy alcohol for a minor!”

Customer: “I’m not buying it for a minor; I’m buying it for myself. She’s 10 years old and my kid. Are you serious right now?”

Employee: “Sir, I cannot let you buy this alcohol for your daughter. She’s under-age.”

Customer: “Are you even listening? I am buying it for ME, not my 10-year-old daughter. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Employee: “I need to call my manager to figure out what to do here.”

(Several minutes later, the customer is fuming, and the manager turns up. At this point, I am just watching curiously.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your employee here refused to sell me alcohol and accused me of trying to buy it for my daughter!”

Employee: “No, he said it was for her!”

Me: “What? No, you said that you didn’t need to see his ID but that you did need to see hers. When he responded that she was his 10-year-old daughter, you said you couldn’t sell it to him. He has repeatedly told you that the alcohol was for himself, not her.”

Manager: “Really, [Employee], this is the third time we have gotten similar complaints. People are more than allowed to buy alcohol in the presence of their kids.”

(The employee and manager then argued for several minutes about what was and wasn’t allowed. I haven’t seen the employee in there since.)