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    Category: Employees

    Not Going To Option This Art

    | ON, Canada | Crazy Requests, Employees, Ignoring/Inattentive

    (I’m 25 and a summer student at an art gallery and for all intents and purposes, my 21-year-old coworker and I run it with little supervision. I’m helping set up an exhibit with a particularly difficult group of artists who have completely disregarded our authority under the assumption that we’re high school volunteers. In Ontario you need to complete 40 hours community service to graduate high school.)

    Artist #1: “What kind of art gallery doesn’t have a hammer and nails?”

    Me: “The kind of art gallery that doesn’t want holes in the walls. That’s why we have the professional hanging system.”

    (Artist #1 calls their husband to bring a hammer and nails and proceeds to put holes in the walls. A couple of days later…)

    Artist #2: “Can we use your cash box or should we use our own? I know it costs about $1.75 to write a cheque.”

    Me: “It’s your choice. You’re welcome to use ours, but if you use your own, you wouldn’t have to wait for the money to be deposited and then wait for a cheque; you’d only have to wait for the cheque for credit card payments.”

    Artist #2: *to the group while I’m in the office* “[My Name] says we have to use our own cash box.”

    (Cue complaints. Just before the weekend, we’re chatting pleasantly with a couple of the artists who have started treating us a little better.)

    Artist #2: “So are you here every day?”

    Coworker: “Yep, open to close every day we’re open.”

    Artist #2: “[My Name] said she needed the hours. Are you doing this for community service hours for high school?”

    Me: “Um, no, we’re actually paid. The [Gallery] gets a government grant and we have to work 33 hours for six week contracts.”

    (A couple of days later, another member of the group, the most problematic who still isn’t aware we’re in charge, is asking me about moving their displays during a special event.)

    Artist #1: “Do you think if we just move the centre display and the chairs, that will be enough space?”

    Me: “Probably, but if the hosts of the event think any pieces are at risk they might move them back here just to be safe. They’ll be responsible for putting anything they move back in its original place. It’s you’re choice.”

    Artist #1: *to the group in the main gallery* “[My Name] says we have to move the centre display and the chairs and that someone else will be moving our stuff.”

    Me: *in the office to my coworker, sort of singing under my breath* “That’s not what I said; I said you had the option just like I said you had the option of using our cash box.”

    (I’m not sure what happened to make me go from lowly high school student to dictator but at least I’m done working with this group now.)

    Best To Wash Your Hands Of It And Walk Away

    | Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Employees, Health & Body

    (I am in a local grocery store that isn’t very nice, but the prices are low. I need to use the washroom. While in there, an employee comes in, does her business, and leaves without washing her hands. Totally grossed out, I leave without buying anything and send a letter to the corporate office. A couple of weeks later, I receive this reply:)

    Letter: “Please accept our apologies for the incident that occurred at [Store]. Enclosed is a gift card for $10.”

    (That was fine and all, but I wasn’t looking for a freebie – I was hoping they’d say that they’d have a talk with their staff about the importance of good hygiene, especially if you’re going to be working with food. The kicker was that the ‘$10 gift card’ was actually for $5!)

    Don’t Make Her Dairy, You Won’t Like Her When She’s Dairy

    | USA | Bad Behavior, Employees, Food & Drink

    (At the cafe where I work we make burgers and garden burgers. A customer comes in and asks us many questions about the garden burger, even going so far as to ask for the box so she can check the ingredients and stating multiple times that she is vegan and gluten free. Our cook makes a big show of using clean new utensils and a pan instead of the grill we cook meat on to make her order.)

    Me: “Dude… you put butter in the pan with her garden burger.”

    Cook: “So? I always put butter in! It helps keep it from sticking and tastes nice!”

    Me: “She just spent ten minutes making sure that the patty was vegan.”

    Cook: “..So?”

    Me: “Butter isn’t vegan! It’s a dairy product, made from milk! She won’t want it!”

    Cook: “…”

    (After a moment of silence he shrugs, flips the patty and nonchalantly replies.)

    Cook: “F*** it. She won’t notice.”

    (Five minutes later she got her garden burger, took a bite and threw a fit, throwing the burger back at our cook before storming off. Guess she could taste it, and he had to wear the greasy stain on his shirt from that burger all night long.)

    Ignoring The Baby Steps

    | Nottingham, England, UK | Employees, Health & Body, Ignoring/Inattentive

    (I’m 27 and just had my first child. I’ve never really been around babies before and as I gave birth nearly four weeks early, I have missed all the antenatal classes I had booked. This is the first morning I have been well enough to get out of bed after surgery and my first time alone with the baby and I’m understandably nervous.  My baby starts crying and I check her nappy and see that I’ll have to change her, so I pick up the nappies and start examining the packet when a midwife walks in.)

    Midwife: “I see you’re finally out of bed. Your baby is crying and you need to sort it.”

    Me: “Oh I know. I was just looking at the packet but there don’t seem to be any instructions.”

    Midwife: *condescending* “Of course there isn’t ,you silly girl! Everyone knows how to put on a nappy.”

    Me: “I really don’t. I’ve never done it before and missed all my antenatal classes as I had [Daughter] so early. I was hoping there would be some kind of instructions. Would you be able to give me a start?”

    Midwife: “No! I’m far too busy!” *storms out the room*

    (I’m now panicking but decide to drive in and give it a go. I take off the dirty one, give baby a wipe to clean her up and start to put it on just as the midwife walks in for my records.)

    Midwife: *shouting* “YOU’VE GOT IT BACKWARDS!” *mutters something about me being stupid as she walks out again*

    (At this point I’m quite upset and feeling a bit of a failure and generally wondering if I’m cut out for motherhood. I carry on and manage to figure it out and feel a bit better once I can see it’s on and secure. The midwife walks in.)

    Midwife: “What are you doing?! You’ve got it all wrong!”

    (She snatches the baby and starts to adjust the nappy where I can’t see what she is doing and complaining about stupid girls getting themselves knocked up. When she is finished, she puts baby back in the crib and stalks off.  I promptly burst into tears, which is when my husband arrives. He manages to get out of me what happens and marches up to the desk where the head midwife sits.)

    Husband: “One of your midwives has just upset my wife, who is still poorly from surgery, because she didn’t know how to change a nappy.”

    (He goes on to tell her what happened.)

    Head Midwife: “I had it noted on her file it was her first baby and she had missed her antenatal classes. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it.”

    (I later found out the midwife was moved wards so she was away from me for the rest of my stay and I was introduced to a wonderful care assistant who helped me with everything from nappies and how to bathe the baby to feeding and dressing her. I sent a tin of chocolates to thank everyone on the ward once I left.)

    Can’t Mail Past The Generation Gap

    | MD, USA | Employees, Extra Stupid, Technology

    (I have called to make an appointment to begin physical therapy.)

    Clerk: “What is your email address, so I can email you the forms to fill out for your first visit.”

    Me: “It’s [email], but my printer is just about out of ink. How many forms are there?”

    Clerk: “Um… about six?”

    Me: “I don’t know if I can print that many before it runs out. Can you snail mail them to me?”

    Clerk: “I don’t know how to do that.”

    (There is a brief silence while I gape in astonishment.)

    Me: “Uh… you don’t know how to fold up papers and put them in an envelope?”

    Clerk: “No, I don’t know what the forms are.”

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