Long story short, we had a totally corrupt and universally hated Human Resources manager. It was unanimously agreed that if we found ways to make his life a little less happy, we’d do so, but trust me, he deserved so much more. He was a racist, homophobic misogynist who purposefully ruined a marriage because he could and took pleasure in ensuring anyone non-white would never get a promotion.

Every time I flew for work, I got one of those in-flight magazine ad postcards, checked every box, and added [HR Manager]’s name and the company address.

He got literature for wigs, incontinence products, erectile dysfunction problems, hair restorers, Hair Club for Men, penis enlargement, sex toys, women’s sexy underwear — you name it, he got it.

One coworker who visited other establishments would sign him up for magazines about gay bondage gear.

These companies also sell their data to similar organizations, so this stuff just kept multiplying, and the mail room people kept happily sharing [HR Manager]’s perceived “interests” with the rest of the company.

The mail room staffer delivering mail came to my office and showed me a flyer.

Mail Room Staffer: “He’s looking at wigs now.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I signed him up for all that.”

She lost it, but she swore herself to secrecy.

[HR Manager] got a reputation for losing his hair, being both incontinent and impotent, losing his memory, ordering cheap mail-order brides, being a massive pervert, and a whole lot more.

I also taped an Acme plastic duck call to his precious, trashy Cadillac and watched him drive out of the lot sounding like Donald Duck with a massive hernia.

[HR Manager] blasted a message out to the entire office saying he’d taken it in to be fixed and was the laughing stock of the dealership, and he wanted whoever was responsible to own up now or there would be repercussions. It took the CEO to remind him that was an abuse of power and maybe he shouldn’t be doing that.

[HR Manager] was finally fired after being accused of making a new young woman worker uncomfortable to the point where it was an HR offense — which is awkward when you’re accusing the HR manager!

Many moons ago, as a manager, I was looking for new people and calling potential candidates to set up interviews. It took me three tries to call one gentleman. He later told me:

Candidate: “I don’t pick up calls from numbers I don’t recognize.”

How that fit into his strategy of looking for a job and having his cell phone number listed on his CV, I will never understand.

I’m chatting with a few friends about employment, and I decide to bring up my first “real job”.

Me: “It sounds so much more impressive than it actually was. My title was ‘USARC 94th CIV MDE’, and I was processing classified information in a security-restricted building.”

Friend: “Yeah, that does sound pretty impressive. What was the actual job, then?”

Me: “United States Army Reserve Corps, 94th Division, Civilian Manual Data Entry. I was just copying soldiers’ names and contact information from a stack of papers into a new database. The only reason I worked in a secure building is that was where most of the computers were for any job.”

It was, all in all, such a simple job that I almost always hit my quota before lunch and spent a good chunk of my post-quota time on Gaia Online and Neopets. But it’s still fun to “brag” about it since it sounds so serious.

A coworker of mine was miserable at work one day.

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Coworker: “It’s my anniversary, and I know my husband has forgotten.”

She had pre-teen girls who were at home during summer vacation, and I knew her home phone number (pre-cell phone era). I called her home phone, and one kid picked up.

Me: “Hi, [Kid]. I’m [My Name], and I work with your mom. You need to call your dad at work and remind him that it’s your mom and dad’s anniversary. And don’t tell Mom or Dad I called.”

The next day, [Coworker] was all smiles.

Coworker: “Gosh, he did remember! He brought home flowers and took me to dinner!”

Mission accomplished.

Not a word was ever said about this…

Until six years later, when [Coworker] left the company. At her farewell luncheon, she gave me a hug and whispered:

Coworker: “My kids ratted you out. Thank you.”

I’ve been a server going on seventeen years. It’s the middle of a rush, and I have to pee — bad. I tell the server with me on the patio, and she says it’s cool. I run to the bathroom, pee, and wash my hands.

I go to leave, and the door won’t open. (It’s an employee bathroom, not a stall.) I wiggle the handle. It won’t move. I’m standing there thinking, “Am I stupid?!” I try again. The door won’t budge.

I get out my phone — no service. I reset my phone as I’m knocking on the door saying, “Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? I’m locked in the bathroom!” Of course, no one can. The employee bathroom is way away from anything. The only reason you’d be right there is to use the restroom.

I look at my phone — still no service.

At this point, a solid ten minutes have gone by. So, I’m in this tiny-a** bathroom with my phone in the air hoping to get one bar, all while shouting:

Me: “[MY NAME] IS STUCK IN THE BATHROOM!”

I finally get one bar, and I send a mass text to every manager and server at work:

Me: “I’M STUCK IN THE BATHOOM! SEND HELP!”

My text keeps showing the loading symbol.

Now it’s been fifteen or so minutes, and I cannot get the door to budge. I’m wondering why my fellow server hasn’t come to my rescue!

Another two or three minutes go by, and someone tries to open the door.

Me: “I’M LOCKED IN HERE!”

Voice On The Other Side: “[My Name]…?”

She can’t get the door open. She goes and gets a manager. The two of them start pushing on the door while I pull it. It WILL NOT BUDGE!

Me: “Go check my tables! Close my section! Help!”

Then, another manager came with a busser, and they all tried to push while I tried to pull, and…

FINALLY! The door opened!

I was gone for almost thirty minutes. The server on the patio with me said she thought I was taking a long s*** and never thought to check on me. She watched my tables, and my manager cashed some people out who’d been waiting a while, etc.

A couple around my age asked where I’d been (I had dropped off their drinks, they’d said they needed a few minutes, and that’s when I’d gone to pee), so I had to tell them the story. They thought it was hilarious.

Related:
For Every Weird Thing At Your Workplace, There’s A Story Like This, Part 2
For Every Weird Thing At Your Workplace, There’s A Story Like This