Bad boss and coworker stories

Feeling Spicy About Dressing

, , , , , | Working | February 25, 2021

There’s a popular burger chain near my house. They make a salad I like with chicken, guacamole, and bacon. However, I hate the spicy ranch dressing it comes with, so I ask for plain, instead. Seems simple, right?

Ha, no.

I’ve been getting this salad once or twice a month for half a year. I order the same thing every time, and never, not once, have I gotten just plain ranch. Sometimes I get both plain and spicy, sometimes neither. Sometimes I get something completely out of left field, like the day I got raspberry vinaigrette and Parmesan crisps. (How?)

I carry on because the chicken is always delicious. It was annoying at first, but now it’s just funny. It’s become such a running joke in my family that the last time we ordered there, my mom leaned over to peek in my bag and said, “Which one did you get this time?”

It was Caesar.

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Get This Guy A Map

, , , , | Working | February 25, 2021

In my company, there’s very little overlap between what the different departments can do. Order Admin can’t process anything for Accounting, Accounting can’t run RMAs, the Returns department can’t work on customer account info, etc. For the most part, this isn’t an issue, as we’re a fairly small company for the amount of business we do and communication is wide open.

Except for [Sales Guy].

[Sales Guy] seems to think that the Order Admin team does… everything. We get notice of customers sending payments, he forwards it to OA. Customer says a product is dead and needs to be replaced, OA. Vendor sends an email saying there’s a factory delay and we won’t get product until next week, OA. No number of reply emails about who to actually send these notices and requests to seems to permeate his skull, nor do statements that HE is the contact with his clients, so if something needs to be said to them then HE needs to tell the customer, not us.

The final straw comes this morning when he comes storming over to us in his usual “bull in a China shop” mode, letting out an exaggerated sigh while waving a piece of paper in the air.

Sales Guy: “Who’s doing this one?”

Me: “I don’t know which one ‘this one’ is. Let me actually see the paper?”

Sales Guy: *Hands me the printout* “They already said they want this on their account, not on their credit card.”

Me: *Already doing searches* “I don’t see anything in the order or any emails to us saying that.”

Sales Guy: “I already forwarded it over to Accounting!”

Me: *Pauses* “Wait a minute, you’ve spent the last two months sending us everything but requests to change something in an order, and then the one time you have an actual order change, you send it to someone else?!”

[Sales Guy], of course, got instantly indignant and started a big argument in the middle of the office, and both our manager and his had to get involved. The line “Do you really want to end up having me check every email before you send it?” may have been said by his manager.

In the end, peace was restored, and he hasn’t again started sending emails to all the wrong departments.

Yet.

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Needs A Clean Break From That Day

, , , , , | Working | February 25, 2021

I’m for hire via a temp agency for day jobs which are mostly cleaning jobs. I’m sent to a holiday park one town over for the day, along with several others, and I am told I will be given a ride by someone from the temp agency, since it’s a bit too long of a road for me to bike there.

The workers gather at the agency office to be picked up and my ride turns out to be one of the workers. The woman herself is… a character, to say the least. The few teeth she still has in her mouth are disgustingly yellow, her hair is a mess, and the thick and greasy layers of makeup that she smeared on her face still can’t conceal all the bruises she has underneath. She leads me to her tiny old car, which is so filled with trash that I literally have no place to sit. She shoves some off the passenger seat, leaving my feet in a pool of plastic bottles, used tissues, cigarette butts, and I don’t wanna know what else. 

We get on the road. It’s scorching hot outside, about thirty degrees Celsius, and she leaves all the windows closed while she’s smoking cigarettes behind the wheel and swaying like a drunk.

She manages to drive right past the holiday park that is situated on the outskirts and drives all the way into town about fifteen minutes away.

Her reasoning? “They said it was at [Town] so that’s where I’m going!”

We pass a local theme park that has advertisements up for a Halloween event and she happily states that she should apply as a scare actor. “I look a fright anyway by myself!” No s***!

We end up arriving at the holiday park half an hour late. We don’t know where we are supposed to report in, so she calls the agency to ask. Halfway through the phone call, she hands her phone over to me and lights another cigarette. I’m trying to keep the makeup-smeared phone as far away from my face as possible. The conversation I try to make with the temp agency is constantly interrupted by loud and gross coughs from the woman and her yanking her phone back to her so she can listen in, continuously coughing loudly near my face.

Finally, we get sent to our duties to clean the bungalows. I end up with another lady who explains what needs to be done with the greatest haste and impatience.

She leaves me alone to clean the bungalow. At this point, it should be noted I have slight autism and anxiety issues. I’m left behind with little to no instructions, and the hellish ride to get here has made my emotions pile up and the result is a giant panic attack.

I go back to the front office to call in sick and fetch a bus back home.

Just another day in the life of working temp jobs, leaving me to wonder how on earth people can be so gross.

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Even The Best Pizza Isn’t Worth Your Firstborn

, , , , | Working | February 25, 2021

I was visiting my brother for our weekly get-together, and I called a new restaurant to place a to-go order as I do every week so we have something to munch on as we visit. The message on the restaurant’s machine asked that calls only relate to existing orders and that they wanted orders to be made online.

I hung up, pulled the website up on my phone, and went through the order process, but when I got to the payment option, I stopped. I had the intention of paying with debit upon pickup and, even though it seemed as if that were an option, the information they demanded about me was far too much.

I tried to place the order without filling in all the boxes but couldn’t get to the next step without telling them everything about me.

Frustrated, I called the restaurant back and asked to place the order over the phone. The woman who picked up the phone was a bit miffed, but I was clear that I wasn’t about to give all my information for some pizza.

Looking back, I guess I could have lied on the form, but it was just such a ridiculous ask that I wasn’t going to play along.

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Might As Well Have Cooked Yourself

, , , , | Working | February 24, 2021

It’s my dad’s birthday. Every year, during normal circumstances, my mum will pay for dinner at a restaurant of my dad’s choice as a present. As the restaurants are currently closed because of the crisis, this is, of course, impossible. Instead, my dad searches for restaurants that deliver. After quite a bit of bad reading skills on my dad’s part, which is a whole different story, he decides on a restaurant.

Immediately when we get the box, we realize something is off. The restaurant did not deliver fully-finished hot dishes, but what I can only call a puzzle box. There are vacuum-sealed bags, plastic boxes in different shapes and sizes, and one set of plastic plates taped together. With this come instructions on how to piece everything together and how long to heat these things. My dad, disappointed by what he got, slinks off and leaves my mum and I to piece together what we have to do.

And that’s when the second problem comes to light. While the instructions are fairly easy, the ingredients are not clearly marked and the pictures are discoloured and a bit blurry. On top of that, one of the pieces does not match what’s shown on the picture at all, though the restaurant assures us it is the same.

And that’s not the worst of it. There are pieces missing. And not just small pieces. My mum’s entire appetizer is missing apart from one tube of goat cheese cream, and her main course is missing the thing which structures it all and a tube of its own flavoured creamy stuff.

My mum calls the restaurant and they send us more food, but they send two pieces of something we already had, another double, and also most of the abovementioned stuff, apart from the watercress for my mum’s appetizer. On top of that, while preparing, we realize there are more pieces missing — the apple slices for my crepes and the truffle sauce for my mum’s main dish — but by that point, we are done with the restaurant and just want to eat.

I do look on the website to see if they mention anything of the meal being pieced together like that and they do, all the way at the bottom, under the header “Allergies and food restrictions.”

I get that restaurants have to find a way to survive in this troublesome time, but this was very poorly executed. This was a fairly high-class restaurant, too, and the food wasn’t cheap. We ordered food for only three people and this much was messed up. Even though my dad enjoyed that restaurant before, I doubt he’ll ever want to do business with them again.

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