I work in a small takeout place. A customer has just informed me that they know the owner, and are looking at me expectantly, like there’s a magic discount button.

Me: “Oh, you know Steve.”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “The owner’s name is John.”

Customer: “Uh, I mean, Steve is his middle name. That’s what his friends call him.”

Me: “The owner’s name actually isn’t John. I don’t actually tell customers the owner’s name, but if you could tell me, I can call him.”

The customer blinks once, then looks around the place in an overly exaggerated fashion.

Customer: “Oh, silly me, I think this might be the wrong store.” *Practically runs out.*

I was working at a pet shop waaaay back in the nineties. Some older lady came in asking about small animals. She describes the personality she’s looking for in an animal, so I bring out a male rat.

She interrupts my spiel to ask in a hushed, concerned voice:

Customer: “Are.. Are those his testicles…?!”

I laugh and explain:

Me: “Yes, male rats are surprisingly well endowed.”

She grows mildly shocked and offended and says:

Customer: “Oh no! I couldn’t have that. I’m not about to have some little beastie walking around and ejaculating everywhere!”

I found myself in a situation where both my boss and my boss’s boss were out of the office, and I had a project due that was ultimately going to the (very terrifying) COO. I was new in my role and hadn’t interacted with him much, but I needed help, and there was no one else I could ask. 

I approached him, apologizing for my questions, and he dropped everything immediately to help me.

COO: “Do not apologise for asking for help. You’re doing the right thing so that you can present work that is worthy of you. And I welcome the opportunity to explain.”

I will never forget what he said, because it made me feel so immediately comfortable and supported, and I try to emulate this reaction when people ask me for help today.

The counter at my store has a sign stating to ring the bell once for assistance. A customer walks around the counter and starts yelling to the universe:

Customer: “Anyone work here?!”

I started walking up as he said:

Customer: “I guess not!”

I got to him within ten seconds.

Me: “I work here. What do you need?”

Customer: “Someone who works here.”

I’m standing there in uniform and motion towards my name tag.

Customer: “You should’ve been here sooner!”

I drop the nice act and just say:

Me: “And you should’ve read the sign instead of screaming and interrupting other people’s work. One ring, as opposed to you rudely yelling, is better.”

Customer: “…whatever.”

He asked the price of an item, I showed him where the price was, and said:

Me: “Reading wins again, look at that!”

He bought the item but told me to eff off after, for good measure.

The following is a recollection from a long time ago, so I am stringing together a few events to keep this from becoming an overlong saga. So, I come back into the office after a week’s vacation:

Manager: “You’re fired.”

Me: “Huh?”

Manager: “Don’t act surprised. Like you expect zero repercussions from being a no-show for a full week.”

Me: “I was on my approved vacation!”

Manager: “I didn’t approve it. Get out. You’re fired.”

Me: “Then you need to give me my final paycheck.”

Manager: “You got some nerve making demands after the way you’ve behaved—”

Just then, I see the store manager walking past. I shout over to him (clearly heard by everyone else nearby):

Me: “Excuse me, [Store Manager]! Can you please tell [Manager] that I was off all of last week on an approved vacation, and if she wants to fire me for taking that, then fine, but it’s illegal to withhold my final paycheck, which she wants to do?”

The store manager deescalated the situation, and in private confirmed my approved vacation, and told me I wasn’t fired.

Me: “I think I might want to leave anyway. I can’t trust [Manager] to remain professional. She’s always had it out for me. I know her, and she’s going to be livid that she’s been proven wrong, that I’m not fired, and that I made her look bad.”

Store Manager: “Please don’t do anything rash. We really need you here.”

So, against my better judgment, I choose to stay. Sadly, I was right; she couldn’t be professional. She tried to bump me down to part-time, suddenly started following me around just to tell me I wasn’t doing my job correctly (spoiler alert: I actually was), and then cut my pay.

The day I picked up my much smaller check, I told [Store Manager]:

Me: “It was a mistake to come back. I’m leaving. I apologize for not giving a two-week notice, but I’m not going to work two more weeks for less than agreed upon, or be followed around while being harassed. She has created a hostile work environment to punish me for her mistakes. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me, but I refuse to let her make me hate coming to work.”

He called me later that night and told me he had let her go, and that she would not be an issue for me or anyone else anymore (turns out she was doing horrible things to other staff, too, and ran a few off). I stayed there for a few more years and worked my way up to the store manager position when [Store Manager] retired.

Related:
They Totally Mismanaged That, Part 2
They Totally Mismanaged That