That’s The Way We All Became The Nuhsolicitores Bunch

, , , , , | Working | December 1, 2018

(We have a “No Solicitors” sign above our doorbell; it’s pretty hard to miss, and my dad has little patience for people who ignore it. One day, someone rings the bell and my dad answers the door. They immediately start a sales pitch.)

Dad: “Wait, wait. Hold on. Did you see this sign?” *points to sign over doorbell*

Salesperson: “Uh… Yes?”

Dad: “Then do you not understand what ‘No Solicitors’ means?”

Salesperson: *pauses* “Isn’t it your name?”

Dad: “What?”

Salesperson: “Yeah, I thought it was your name. Like, it was Italian? ‘Nuh Solicitores,’ right?”

Dad: *stares at him for a minute and then just shuts the door*

Urine A (ClO)t Of Trouble

, , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2018

As a young assistant, I had many jobs within a recording studio. One was cleaning the bathroom. Our bathroom was in the back of the studio, down the stairs in the dingy basement.

One morning I arrived to the screaming of the mixer, demanding I go downstairs and scrub the bathroom. Good assistant that I am, I ran to the store and bought every cleaning supply that I could carry, and proceeded to clean the bathroom: Comet in the sinks, Pine Sol on the floors, bleach in the toilet.

I was scrubbing and rinsing and mopping, and I heard through the studio speakers that I was needed in the control room. I left the half-finished job to align a tape machine, and then I was requested to do a messenger run.  

It was about midday by then and I returned to the office. Everyone was looking at me like I was a dead man walking. Finally, someone got enough nerve to tell me that the mixer was looking for me and that they’d never heard him this angry. I ran to the studio, and as I walked in, he was standing in front of the console crying, and screamed, “IF I COULD RUN, I WOULD KILL YOU WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS!”

Well, I had never finished cleaning the bathroom. This engineer decided to take a toilet break, sat on the toilet, and opened his newspaper. As he urinated, smoke started rising from inside the toilet and through his legs. I never flushed the bleach in the toilet; ammonia and bleach create chlorine gas, which burned his skin from the top of his bum to just above the back of his knees. He couldn’t sit for two weeks, which is tough for a recording engineer.

I somehow held onto my job. I guess the chief engineer thought it was funny.

Hampered By Work Culture

, , , , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2018

Back in the 80s, I was new to my career, and one November I started work in the workshop of a fly-by-night company that provided basic computer equipment to the financial sector — little more than glorified monitors, badly designed and cheaply made. The management were as cheap as their product, and were ungenerous and demanding of their staff. However, this was made up for somewhat by the fact that they provided free lunch — toasted sandwiches, etc. — and by the legendary Christmas office party, at which all employees were to receive a lavish hamper, filled with sumptuous seasonal goodies and expensive delicacies such as champagne, caviar, VSOP brandy, cheeses, and the like. I was not getting on too well with my colleagues, some of whom — particularly one supervisor — were a brash and insulting bunch of bullies. No big deal, just a pain to work with.

Come the week of the party, I was taken aside by one of the team seniors and informed that as I had not been at the company long enough — just over a month — I was not entitled to take part in the Christmas party, and I would not be getting a hamper. A little disappointing, I thought, but not far off what I had come to expect from the management there. I shrugged it off, while working on preparing an exit strategy.

Come the week after Christmas, when we were all back at work, the supervisor in question came into the workshop and crowed, “You fell for it, then!” One of the other guys in the office said, “Yeah, we split the contents of the hamper between us. We weren’t wasting it; since you obviously didn’t want it, we all had it.”

Apparently my non-attendance was taken by the higher management as a bit of a slap in the face, and I was not looked upon with favour by the company director — not that I would have had the chance of speaking to him face to face, as one was not encouraged to communicate directly with anyone higher than one’s own direct line manager.

Within a month I had found a new place to work.

Divorced From Reality, Part 3

, , , , , | Working | November 30, 2018

(I have just been hired on at a large medical office where my husband works as the IT manager. A few of the coworkers know me already, but none in the new area I will be working at. I have come in to sign paperwork and am being introduced to the coworkers in my area when my husband comes in to check on a computer.)

Me: “Hey, sexy man.”

(I go back to talking to my new manager, who knows we are married. One of my new coworkers suddenly becomes unfriendly after he leaves. She makes a point to tell me:)

Coworker: “You should know, he and I are dating. I don’t appreciate you flirting with him.”

(I don’t mean to, but I start laughing hard, and my manager joins in. She and I explain to her that he’s my husband, and has been for over ten years. She gets red in the face and hurriedly goes back to work. When I tell my husband about what she said that evening, he replies:)

Husband: “I don’t know what she was thinking; she’s seen your pictures on my desk. But don’t worry, babe; I would never cheat on you with someone that stupid.”

A Porsche Choice Of Words

, , , , , | Working | November 29, 2018

(I work for a very small, family-run business. The bosses are amazing, but since they come from money, have money, and do things like go out to ski over a long weekend, they tend to forget how to relate to people who don’t have money.)

Warehouse Guy: “Hey. Can someone give me a jump? My truck died, again.”

Me: *laughing* “Dude, you need to get a new car.”

Warehouse Guy: “Yeah, I have a friend who’s selling a car that I’m buying this month, so it might be sooner.”

(Next day:)

Warehouse Guy: *comes in with a very beat-up, old, four-door car* “Hey, look at my car!”

Me: “Is it going to run?”

Warehouse Guy: “Yeah, they basically replaced just about everything with it, except for the outside, but it was about 150 cheaper than I thought, so I’m good. Plus, it has air!”

Boss: “Huh… You know what is a great car? The Porsche! You should have gotten one of those; they look so sleek.”

([Warehouse Guy] and I exchange looks, because between the both of us, neither one of us would be able to buy one of those outright on either of our salaries.)

Warehouse Guy: “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

(The boss walks off, humming.)

Page 7/1,960First...56789...Last