(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’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.”

(I work with a pair of identical twins for the overstock night shift. They know I’m atheist, so they’ve made it their business to preach their religion at me non-stop.)

Twin #1: “So, [my name], you think about what we said on Tuesday?”

Me: “Not really.”

Twin #1: “Come on, man. This is important stuff.”

Twin #2: “Yeah. You wanna go to h***?”

Me: “Nope.”

Twin #1: “I mean, I just don’t get you.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Twin #1: “If you don’t believe in God, where do you get your morals from?”

Me: “Uh…”

Twin #2: “Yeah. The only way to know right from wrong is with God.”

Me: “I don’t think so.”

Twin #1: “Well, it’s still true, dude. It doesn’t matter what you think.”

Twin #2: “Right. You should… hang on.”

(Twin #2 gets a call on his cell phone and answers it. He turns away from his brother and me but keeps standing there.)

Twin #1: “[My name], dude, do you think murder and rape are okay?”

Me: “No.”

Twin #1: “Well, that’s God, man. The only way you know that stuff is not okay is God.”

Twin #2: *on the phone* “…You picked up my bike okay? No problems getting it? Cool…”

Twin #1: “How about lying? Or stealing? You think it’s okay to do that?”

Me: “No.”

Twin #2: *on the phone* “..You think you could roll back the odometer about 5,000 miles…”

Twin #1: “Well, it was God who said lying and stealing are wrong, man. It’s right there in the Bible.”

Twin #2: *on the phone* “…Yeah, I know. But I’ve got somebody coming out to look at it and he said he didn’t want it if it was too used…”

Twin #1: “So you KNOW that stuff like killing and raping and lying and stealing and being a racist and all that stuff is wrong. How do you explain how that’s wrong without God?”

Twin #2: *on the phone* “…Oh yeah, you think you could paint over the rust on the brakes and the engine block, too? I’m pretty sure I could get at least two grand more out of this guy…”

Twin #1: “God is righteous, [my name]. He’s going to punish people for doing all that stuff. You don’t want to go to Hell, do you?”

Twin #2: *on the phone* “…Also, I think the front tire has a hole in it. No, no, don’t patch it. Just put more air in it. It only has to look full until the guy buys it…”

Me: “Wait, wait, wait. Are you guys listening to each other here?”

Both Twins: “What do you mean?”

(It’s Easter and about 20 minutes until the store closes. I am behind a customer who has about five or six bags worth of groceries).

Customer: “Oh, shoot! I forgot my credit card at home. I know my credit card number though. Can I just give it to you?”

Cashier: “Unfortunately, I can’t do that, but let me get the manager.”

Customer: “I feel so stupid! I changed purses and forgot to switch my wallet over.”

(A manager comes over and explains the situation.)

Manager: “Do you live nearby? We close in 20 minutes, but if you live close, we can just hang onto your stuff until you get back.”

Customer: “I live 45 minutes away. I come to this branch because you guys have such a better selection. I know my credit card number. Can I just do that?”

Manager: “Unfortunately, we can’t because of security issues, but let’s just do this…”

(The manager does some sort of override and hands the customer her receipt.)

Manager: “Happy Easter!”

Customer: “Seriously? Thank you so much! Like I said, I come here all the time. I’ll pay for it next time I come in!”

(I later found out that not only did she come back to pay, she also got gift cards for the manager and cashier as a thank you!)

(School is about to begin, so I’ve already given my notice for a summer job. I only have about a week left of working there.)

Boss: “Hey, I’ve been going over your paperwork here, and you have to actually do it right. You can’t just scribble something down with made-up words.”

Me: “What are you talking about? I’m doing my best here.”

Boss: “You’re making up words! What the F*** is ‘tet-ra-chee’ supposed to mean?”

(I take the paperwork and see where he’s pointing.)

Me: “That’s ‘tertiary’. It means third, as in ‘Build a tertiary display’.”

Boss: “You just made that up. You have to do this all over again.”

(He then tears up my paperwork and throws it away. I fill it out again, making sure to use simple words. Later on, he calls me into his office.)

Boss: “I’m sorry. I looked it up, and tertiary is a real word. But you still have to use words that I can understand when you fill those things out.”

Me: “So, what grade level should I aim for… third or fourth?”

(I hand him the paperwork that I filled out again, but this time with my apron and my name badge and left the job for good.)