(It’s the end of my shift and my co-worker, Co-worker #1, is going to be by herself for the next two hours. This co-worker is a day shift worker, and is infamous for leaving the store in a terrible state for the night staff.)

Co-worker #1: “Oh man, it’s going to get so lonely now and boring. What am I going to do for two hours?”

Me: “You can do plenty of things. Clean and fill the drink fridge, clean the oven and proofer, wash the dishes, do some prep, fill the sauce bottles and sweep the floor.”

Co-worker #1: “Yeah, but I hate doing that.”

Me: “Well, I guess, but it is your job, so you should probably do it. Anyway, I’m off. Catch ya’ later.”

(Two hours later, I get a text message from my other co-worker, Co-worker #2, who has just come in to work the shift after Co-worker #1.)

Co-worker #2:” Dude! [Co-worker #1] left the store in a s*** state. There were heaps of dishes, nothing was filled up, the floor was dirty and there’s no prep done at all.”

Me: “Seriously? How many customers did she serve?”

Co-worker #2: “Between 2pm – 3pm, five customers, and between 3pm – 4pm, three customers.”

(That’s an extremely quiet day for us. I decide to text Co-worker #1.)

Me: “Hey, [Co-worker #1], [Co-worker 2] has just told me you left the store a pig sty for her. Is this true?”

Co-worker #1: “Oh, yeah, so sorry. I was by myself, but it got really busy and I just didn’t know what to do.”

Me: “You served eight customers in two hours. Wow, you really got hammered. And you clearly had no idea what to do after I just told you as I was leaving. And even if you didn’t remember, you didn’t even bother to ask me or anyone else. You probably should know anyway, considering you’ve already been working here for two years.  At least if you’re going to make up an excuse, make it believable and original.”

(I received no reply from her, and the following Tuesday, she quit.)

Related:
It’s Hard Work When You’re Hardly Working

(I’m working at the grocery store. One day, a crate full of Italian products, including glass bottles containing sauce, falls off the truck.)

Assistant Manager: “[My name], could you clean up the mess downstairs for a second?”

Me: “Sure, should I get somebody else to finish what I was doing [putting perishables in the fridge] or do you want me to do it after cleaning?”

Assistant Manager: “I’ll find somebody. Now, go!”

(I go downstairs and try my best at cleaning the red mess filled with glass shards with nothing more than paper towels, a brush and a dustpan. After about half an hour, I’m done cleaning the floor and putting any still intact items back on the pallet. My left arm is completely red. I go back upstairs and request a replacement shirt so I can look decent.)

Assistant Manager: “We don’t have any available and you took too long, so we almost had to throw away the products you were dealing with before you went to the loading area.”

Me: “But I thought you were going to get somebody else to do that while I cleaned.”

Assistant Manager: “You should have taken initiative and arranged that yourself.”

(By now a customer who’s wanted to ask something for a while speaks up.)

Customer: “I think you should at least get this boy a new shirt, if not a doctor. He’s bleeding.”

Assistant Manager: “No he’s not. That’s tomato sauce which he cleaned up and got all over himself.”

Me: “It’s alright sir. I’ll be fine.”

Assistant Manager: “Now get back to work. I’ll deal with the customer…”

(I go back to the items I was dealing with and try and get them in as fast as possible. However, about five minutes later, the customer shows up with not only the assistant manager but also the store manager.)

Customer: “See, his left arm is covered in blood from the cuts in his hand and tomato sauce, not just the latter.”

(I look at my hand and see the customer is right. I hadn’t noticed the glass had actually pierced my skin when I was cleaning.)

Store Manager: “[My name], please come with me. I’ll get you some bandaids and you can go home. [Assistant manager], you can take over his work for the rest of his shift.”

Assistant Manager: “But that isn’t my job, and he is perfectly capable of doing it.”

Store Manager: “You’re right, but cleaning the mess you made earlier wasn’t his job. He’s now got these cuts because you didn’t give him proper equipment because you were too busy smoking!”

(I’ve just ordered a small salad and some fries. I get the salad almost immediately, but the fries take longer. It’s been nearly a half hour when I finally ask about my fries.)

Me: “Excuse me, I ordered a side of fries about thirty minutes ago. Is it going to take much longer?”

Cashier: “It might. I don’t know. I don’t do fries. I’ll ask my coworker.”

(They go over to talk to their coworker at the fryer.)

Cashier: “Alright, he said it should only take a few more minutes. Probably got lost in the system because of your salad, haha.”

Me: “Thanks so much!”

(Another ten minutes pass. Several orders are put out, most of them with fries on the side. I start to get annoyed, and the cashier sees this.)

Cashier: “Hold on, I’ll take care of it…”

(She goes over to her co-worker and asks where my fries are, again.)

Fry Guy: “Stop f*****g asking me! I’ll get them when I f*****g get them!”

Cashier: “If you don’t stop speaking like that I will have [boss] have a stern talk with you.”

Fry Guy: “Yeah, right, I’ve been here way longer than you. Plus that fat-a** b***h doesn’t need more fat and grease.”

(At this moment, I turn and see a large man with “Manager” written on his name tag. He’s been listening and finally speaks up.)

Manager: *to the fry guy* “No, you have not been here that long, and this young lady is not fat. You’re fired.”

Fry Guy: “Aw come on, I’ve been here longer than [cashier] has been! Gimmie another chance!”

Manager: “No, you’ve done this five times in the last week already! I want your whites on my desk by two o’ clock, no later.”

Fry Guy: *mutters curses and stomps to the back*

Cashier: “Here, I’ll take your entire order off. It’s on us.”

(All that trouble over two handfuls of fries!)

(Though I am not due for another three weeks, I start getting very intense contractions. Since it is very late, I call the hospital to let them know I’m coming in so they can have a doctor waiting.)

Me: “I’m just calling to let you know I’m coming in. I think I’m going into labor!”

Nurse #1: “Oh… well, has your water broken yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m having very intense contractions every two minutes.”

Nurse #1: “You don’t need to come in until your water breaks.”

(The nurse then hangs up on me but I head over to the hospital anyway. An hour later, I have given birth to my daughter and am recovering when another nurse pokes her head into my room. Unbeknownst to me at the moment, it’s the same nurse that hung up on me.)

Nurse #1: “Hey, I’m back from dinner! I forgot to tell you before I left, some lady called claiming she was going into labor but her water hadn’t even broke yet. Has she called back?”

Nurse #2: “I haven’t heard anything, but we haven’t been at the desk since we had to help this young lady delivery her baby.”

Nurse #1: “Well, you should have called us, Missy! Then we would have had a doctor down here instead of leaving us to do it by ourselves.”

Me: “I did call. You hung up on me.”

(I’m the author of this story. My department goes through new hires all the time, as most of them quit within three months due to the physical demands. The crew chief and I are the only original ones left. We’ve just hired a new employee.)

New Hire: “What aisle you want me to start on?”

Crew Chief: “I want you to do aisle nine, which is the cereal aisle. It’s pretty easy; there’s no glass or anything and no tiny little boxes.”

Me: “I’ll start on the far end over by the baking aisle.”

Crew Chief: “Sounds cool. I’ll be on the other end by the paper products and we’ll just kind of work our way toward the middle of the store.”

(We each grab a cart full of products to stock and head for our respective aisles. About two hours later, I’ve finished two complete aisles when the crew chief walks up to me.)

Me: “Where you at right now?”

Crew Chief: “I’m on [three aisles down from where he started].”

Me: “Right on. What about [new hire]? Is he working his way towards my end or your end?”

Crew Chief: “…He’s still on the d*** cereal aisle.”

Me: “What?”

Crew Chief: “I saw that motherf***er just sitting on the ground talking on his phone, with only like four or five empty boxes. He’s still got his whole cart to do.”

Me: “Are you serious?!”

Crew Chief: “Go see for yourself!”

(We walk towards the cereal aisle in the center of the store. The new hire is indeed talking on his phone instead of working and has barely touched his load of boxes.)

Me: “Dude!”

(He looks up at the two of us and goes back to his conversation.)

Crew Chief: “Yo! [New Hire]!”

New Hire: “I’m on the f****** phone!”

Crew Chief: “You ain’t supposed to be on the f****** phone! You’re supposed to be stocking the d*** cereal!”

New Hire: “I’ll do it in a minute! JESUS!”

(The chief and I look resignedly at each other. All we can do is head back to our own aisles. At the end of our shift, six hours later, the chief has finished seven aisles, I’ve finished six, and the new hire is nowhere to be found. It appears as though he’s only about 3/4 of the way through the cereal aisle.)

Me: “Where did that punk go?”

Crew Chief: “I don’t know, but I’m about to whoop his sorry a**.”

Me: “You think he’s in the break room?”

Crew Chief: “Motherf***er shouldn’t need a break. He took a break through the whole shift.”

(We go upstairs to check the break room and find him there, asleep and lying on the lunch table. We decide to wait for the manager to arrive for the morning shift.)

Manager: “How was it last night? Did you get everything stocked?”

Crew Chief: “Yeah, we got everything. But we’re not done straightening the aisles yet.”

Manager: “Why not?”

Me: “We could tell you… but it would be easier just to show you.”

Manager: “Show me what?”

Crew Chief: “We, uh, left you a little present in the break room.”

(The manager eyes us suspiciously but heads back to the break room, as the two of us stand there snickering. Moments later…)

Manager: “YOU’RE FIRED! GET OUT! OUT! GET THE F*** OUT OF MY STORE!”

(The new hire half-runs, half-staggers out of the break room, trips, tries to push himself up while leaping forward, smashes head-first into a cardboard candy bar display, gets covered in candy bars and pulls himself up again, only to fall again when the manager throws his phone at him and nails him right between the eyes.)

Me: “How long was that? Two days?”

Crew Chief: “Two days.”

Me: “New record?”

Crew Chief: “New record.”