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    Totally Over The Leftovers

    | FL, USA | Bosses & Owners, Food & Drink, Rude & Risque

    (I work in the deli section of my store. At 8 pm, we remove all the unsold food from our hot case and wing bar to throw it out. We have dumped all that food into a cardboard box which is sitting on a cart behind the counter but haven’t thrown it out yet. Ten minutes later, I see two cashiers from the front end picking through the old wings at the top of the pile of old food and putting them in to-go boxes.)

    Me: “You don’t want those.”

    Cashier #1: “Yeah, we do.”

    Cashier #2: “They look like they’re still good to me.”

    Me: “That’s gross. They’re all hard and crusty and old.”

    Cashier #1: “That’s what she said!”

    Me: *shuddering* “God, I hope she didn’t say that!”

    Under New But Same Management

    | UK | Bosses & Owners, Coworkers, Ignoring/Inattentive

    (In the supermarket in which I work each department has it’s own office. I am only 19 but have recently been promoted to become the manager of my department, and I am also today’s duty manager. About half an hour before we open in the morning I have already completed my departments opening tasks and I am sat with the checkout supervisor at her desk with my feet up. Each department wears different colour name badges.)

    Checkout Supervisor: “Hey, [Home and Leisure supervisor] looks angry.”

    (She storms over to us.)

    H&L Supervisor: “You guys are so f****** lazy. You never do any work and take all the credit for everything.”

    Me: “Excuse me, but I’ve already–”

    H&L Supervisor: *interrupts* “No. Don’t give me your stupid f***ing excuses. Go and do your godd*** job. I’ll be talking to your manager when she’s in.” *storms off again*

    (A few hours later, the store is open and I am catching up on some paperwork in my office while the supervisor under me keeps an eye on things. The H&L Supervisor from earlier bursts in unannounced.)

    Me: “Hello, you’ve come to complain about one of my employees, I presume?”

    H&L Supervisor: *you can see her face fall* “Umm…” *walks out*

    Swinging Through Repeated History

    | Prestonpans, Scotland, UK | Family & Kids

    (I notice a little girl, about four to five years old swinging on a trolley.)

    Me: *to her mother* “You should be careful. We’ve got CCTV footage from a few months ago of a girl pulling a trolley over on herself doing that.”

    Mother: “Was that in the biscuit aisle?”

    Me: “Yes.”

    Mother: “Yeah, that was her.”

    Spinning Out Of Control

    , | Edmonton, AB, Canada | Coworkers, Extra Stupid, Health & Body

    (It’s only a recently-promoted courtesy clerk and myself closing the deli. He’s doing most of the counter work while I do the dishes and clean the ovens. I come out of the back to find all the guards off of one of the meat slicers and him holding a cloth to it while it spins. Any time the guards are off the machine is supposed to be unplugged.)

    Me: *without thinking* “[Coworker]! What do you think you’re doing?”

    Coworker: *luckily jumping back* “Oh, hi, [My Name]! Check this out! You don’t have to scrub at it if you do this!”

    Me: “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?! Turn that off right now!” *he does* “That thing could take half your hand off before you’d even feel the first cut! The guards are there for a reason! Now, go find your mesh glove and clean it properly!”

    (Looking chastised, he goes looking for the glove he’s supposed to be wearing anytime he’s working around knives. Figuring he’s seen sense, I go back to my dishes. Five minutes later I come out and find him doing the exact same thing, this time wearing his mesh glove.)

    Trash-Talking Ponies

    , | FL, USA | Bosses & Owners, Coworkers, Movies & TV

    Manager: “[My Name], can you help that customer?”

    Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you get those wings? Remember, make three kinds from two bags.”

    Me: “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

    (The oven begins to buzz.)

    Assistant Manager: “[My Name], can you put price tags on these cups of chicken

    salad?”

    Me: “Hang on; I’m trying to do four things at once here.”

    Manager: “[My Name], can you take out the trash?”

    Me: “Make that five things.”

    Assistant Manager: “Heh heh.”

    Me: “Anything else?”

    Assistant Manager: “Yeah, I want a pony. No, wait, make that a unicorn!”

    Me: “Well, [Local University]’s mascot is the Pegasus. I don’t know about unicorns, but maybe they have one of those there.”

    Assistant Manager: “I don’t want a Pegasus; I want a unicorn! No, wait. I want Rainbow Brite’s horse! Ugh… that was one of my favorite cartoons and now I can’t remember its name!”

    Me: “Well, s***, don’t ask me what it is.”

    Manager: “…Starlite?”

    (Our manager is a 39-year-old man.)

    Me: “Ooookay, that’s it. I’m outta here. I’m outta here before I inhale some pixie dust or something.”

    (I grabbed the trash cart and headed out of the department as both managers began cracking up.)


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