I got a call from a young bloke on our team.

Young Bloke: “I’m going to be in late today. My wife is conceiving a baby!”

Me: “Yes, I really think that you should be there for that.”

We went to a chain restaurant once after church — just my husband and me. Another group of five came in behind us. We knew them, and I can’t remember if they or we requested that we sit near each other because we knew them, but we weren’t with them. My husband and I were at a table by ourselves, and the other five were at their own table.

The food was cold, and our silverware and cups were dirty (lipstick and dried food). I had to ask for clean cups and utensils. We had to get our food remade or heated. The waitress had an attitude throughout.

At the end of our meal, this rude waitress dropped off our check with a 25% tip added. I went up to the register to pay and asked the manager who was cashing me out:

Me: “Why is there a 25% tip added to our check?”

The rude waitress spoke up.

Waitress: “Because you’re with them.”

She waved in the general direction of the other group.

Me: “No, we’re not. We just know them from church.” *To the manager* “I want the tip removed. I’m not paying that. The food was cold, the utensils and cups were dirty, and her—” *pointing to the waitress* “—attitude was horrible. I’m not tipping — and that much — for bad service.”

The manager took off the tip, and we paid the rest of the bill. He didn’t even take off anything for the bad service. We never went back.

My dad likes to tell me this story of how he took part in Swedish history. Before 1979, Sweden considered homosexuality as a mental disorder. My dad was aware of this but didn’t think too much about it until his boss came into the office angry one day and started shouting at all of them.

Boss: “All of you! If any of you are f****** [gay slurs] or friends with [gay slurs], you’re f****** fired!”

Office Worker: “Are you okay, [Boss]? Where is all this coming from?”

After some cajoling, it was discovered that the boss had just caught his son kissing his boyfriend, and he’d then kicked him out.

Dad: “So… wait, where is he now?”

Boss: “F****** on the streets for all I care! No [gay slur] is a son of mine!”

My dad was very disheartened to see this, and for the first time, he realised what homophobia was and how ugly it could be. My dad is also quite petty and inventive, and he inadvertently got involved with a movement he didn’t realise until later that other Swedes were doing at the time.

In protest to the boss’s behaviour, (he was taking his anger out abusively on all the staff) my dad decided he’d had enough and called in sick, but what he said was:

Dad: “I’m calling in gay.”

Boss: “You’re what?!”

Dad: “I’m calling in gay. You said if anyone was gay, they’re fired.”

Boss: “That’s not funny, [Dad]. I know you just got married.”

Dad: “Yes, but I’m feeling a little gay today. I might be coming down with something.”

The boss played it off as a prank and thought my dad was just hungover and gave him the day off. When my dad didn’t go in the next day:

Boss: “Where are you?”

Dad: “Oh, I’m even gayer than I was yesterday. I don’t think it’s going away any time soon.”

Boss: “Are you trying to get fired?”

Dad: “Of course not, but since you said—”

Boss: “I know what I said, but you’re obviously just trying to make a point, and I don’t appreciate you doing it at my expense! Come in today or you’re fired!”

Dad: “So, just to be clear, you’re firing me because I have what the law calls a mental disorder?”

His boss tried to backpedal but it was laid out clearly that my dad was effectively calling in sick, and the boss was firing him for it, which was illegal. The boss actually tried to apologise, but my dad said it was his son he needed to apologise to.

My dad eventually found a new job after claiming a few months of benefits from social services who had to fork out money because, under their laws, he had a “mental disorder”. Sweden saw the light in 1979 and changed the law so that no one had to “call in gay” anymore.

It wasn’t until decades later that my dad realised he was doing the same thing the Swedish gay movement was doing at the time. He was just trying to prove that his boss was an a**hole and get paid while he looked for another job!

My mother passed away after a half-year-long battle with lung cancer. The memorial was being held on Easter weekend, and my aunt offered to pay to get my hair done since family was coming in and we wanted to look nice. I should note that I’d recently gotten my hair cut to shoulder length, so it was rather short.

The stylist was nice, and we talked a bit while she did my hair. I mentioned why I was getting my hair done and that I was grateful something was open at the last minute.

But my opinion of the stylist drastically changed when I got my receipt and saw that I was being charged for a conditioner I hadn’t asked for and was charged separately from the hair coloring. I mentioned this, and the cashier said it was optional, but she did it without asking since it would “hold my color longer”. I made her remove it and went home…

Only to notice that I hadn’t seen her charging me for having long hair! Sadly, I couldn’t go back and demand the money from her as it was closed, and the following day was the memorial service for my mother.

Not only did she charge me for having long hair (even though my hair was only shoulder-length) and tried to charge me for some conditioning thing that she’d never asked me about, but my hair dye bled out and stained my pillowcases and several towels as the dye ran out every time I showered for several weeks!

I would’ve reported her to her manager, but I couldn’t remember her name and was far too busy in the following weeks dealing with my mother’s death and helping my family. But still, I will never go back to that salon after that!

I was working at a big department store in the deli section. Specifically, I did most of the cooking for our hot cases. In this story, I was making the packs of fried chicken and handling the rotisserie chickens. I had my routine down pat: start with half batches so any of the three people who wanted that in the morning could get it, and for easy cooling to save it.

One day, multiple bigwigs from corporate were stopping by for a visit and noticed that the hot cases weren’t full to the brim at 8:30 am, despite multiples of every option being available, which indeed had to be taken out later to be cooled and saved. They told the store manager, who told the co-manager to tell the deli to make more — which is what he did.

Co-Manager: “Hey, these hot cases aren’t full.”

Me: “Because we won’t sell that much.”

Co-Manager: “They need to be full.”

Me: “I’m not going to waste that much time and food.”

Co-Manager: “Listen here. I want you to start cooking chickens, and I don’t want you to stop.”

Oh, no. Did he really say that?

Me: “Are you sure?”

Co-Manager: “Yes. I. Am.”

Me: “Gotcha.”

And so, I got to work. I was pissed about this brown-nosing POS not realizing that I was the one who increased sales and reduced waste to the point where it was seeing the best numbers in years, but I did exactly what he said. I did not stop cooking chickens. The ovens were both turned on and were stuffed as full as they could go. I was using both frying vats to cook the fried chicken, which pretty much required a filter clean after each batch.

I was only forty-five minutes into my shift when I was told what to do. I did not stop cooking chicken for the entire day. All of my coworkers asked what I was doing. and I responded that I was only doing what I was told.

As the bigwigs were winding their visit down, they saw the now full-to-the-brim hot cases and told the co-manager to relay that it looked great.

Co-Manager: “Hey, the hot cases look great!”

Me: “Thanks! I did what you told me to do. I didn’t stop cooking chickens all day. By the way, we are out of chicken.”

The co-manager got wide-eyed and quickly left. A short while later, he returned looking like he’d gotten a talking-to, and I’m guessing he’d actually looked at the numbers to see how well the deli had been doing.

Co-Manager: “You can go back to the way you were doing it.”

Me: “Thank you.”

And this is the cherry on top: we had just gotten a truck that day, which meant that for the next three days, we had no chicken to cook at all. The best part is that all of that chicken was properly cooled, stored, and donated. The driver was VERY happy to be getting a literal pallet of fried and rotisserie chickens. I’m sure it helped feed a lot of people.

Strangely, that co-manager was transferred shortly afterward, and I can’t imagine why. I left shortly after to a place much closer to me.