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.

One of my coworkers is not good at respecting boundaries — any kind of boundaries, with anyone. She’ll randomly hug my coworker who doesn’t like being touched. When dogs come into the store, she’s immediately at face level to greet them, regardless of whether she’s met them before — and before greeting the owner or checking if it’s okay. (I swear one of these days she’s going to get bitten.) If a regular customer comes in without their dog, she’ll demand to know where that dog is. I’m sure it’s meant jokingly, but it can come off quite aggressive, especially when I’ve also seen [Coworker] on multiple occasions go out into the parking lot to chase down a dog she saw pass by the store.

The incident that really blew my mind, though, was one evening when our boss was supposed to come in to cover a few breaks, but instead texted [Coworker] to say she was in the hospital for a serious arrhythmia. [Coworker] passed this information along to me. I felt a little weird about having that be shared, but to be fair, it did affect me and would likely have come up later regardless.

But what was much more surprising was when I overheard [Coworker] telling a customer about our boss’s situation. Not just, “Oh, she’s not feeling well,” but, “She’s in the hospital for cardiac issues.” This wasn’t someone that the boss knew well; they were a frequent customer whom [Coworker] is fond of, but just a normal customer.

And even if it was someone that the boss knew, that’s not an excuse — as proven by the fact that half an hour later, [Coworker] mentioned that our boss had texted to say her mother-in-law was swinging by the store and not to say anything about the health situation. I wish I had been smart enough or quick enough or bold enough to say, “Of course, I would never share someone’s personal medical information without their express consent.”

I told the boss when she returned, and she said she’d speak to [Coworker], but nothing else happened. Somehow, she’s still employed with us.

I work at a pet store that does boarding, too. My family is going on vacation and boarding the family dogs. I get a call from my mom saying they aren’t letting Riley stay. I’m very confused, because I double-checked that they had all their shots and paperwork in order. I go over and ask what the problem is.

Front Desk Agent: “That’s a pit bull mix! You know we don’t board pit bulls! [My Name], you know better, and I’ve already called a manager over because your mother is arguing with me.”

Me: “Okay.”

I wait for the manager.

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Front Desk Agent: “They’re trying to board a pit bull mix!”

Manager: “Are you talking about the lab?”

I pull out Riley’s six-generation AKC pedigree from his paperwork folder.

Me: “A pure-bred liver-nosed yellow English (show) Labrador retriever.”

Mom: “That’s what I kept telling her!”

[Front Desk Agent] had never seen an English (show) lab. They are tanks with bowling ball heads. She got taken off the desk for a while, my mom got a discounted stay, and apparently, Riley got to meet everyone so they could spot a pure-bred Labrador.

I work in an office, and I’m training a new guy in his first couple of weeks on his job. It’s gone well so far. He listens to instructions, asks questions when he doesn’t understand something or needs clarifications, and is slowly but surely working his way up to being a decent worker.

One day, I’m in the breakroom for lunch with some nachos and a separate little dish for the salsa. I am eating and looking at my phone when [New Guy] comes in and, apparently — I’m not aware of him looking at me at first — watches as I dip a chip, take a bite, and then dip the same chip again.

New Guy: “Ew, did you just double-dip?”

I look up and blink at him.

Me: “Uh, yes? I’m the only one eating these.”

He crosses his arms like a child.

New Guy: “Well, what if I wanted some?”

Me: *Staring at him* “…First of all, you ask. Like an adult would do.”

New Guy: *Puffing up* “Well, I’m not going to ask now. You double-dipped.”

Me: “The answer would have been no anyway; they’re my lunch, and I wasn’t planning on sharing. You’re not entitled to a chip.”

New Guy: *Suddenly shouting* “Well, why not?! Would it have killed you to be nice?! My mother always shared her lunch with me when I came to her office! Why can’t you?! I just want some stupid chips!”

I just keep staring at this point, confused and a bit insulted by this guy’s entitlement that, from my perspective, has come literally out of nowhere. My lack of response just seems to make him even angrier, as he storms out of the room, kicking the table on the way out and almost sending my nachos to the floor, but I catch them and the salsa before they make a mess. I turn to look at the door, hearing his stomping footsteps as they retreat down the hall, and I catch the eyes of another coworker who poked her head into the room after hearing the commotion.

I can only shrug when she asks what happened, explaining that I just said I wasn’t going to share my lunch with him.

Coworker: “I think he’s heading for [Boss]’s office.”

Me: “Okay, well, let’s see how that goes for him.”

I go back to my nachos.

About ten minutes after the end of my lunch break, I’m called into [Boss]’s office. [New Guy] is nowhere to be seen, and when I enter the room, [Boss] just looks tired. He motions for me to sit.

Boss: “Just so you know, you’re not in trouble. I sent [New Guy] home because he cursed at me, but please, give me your side of the story.”

Me: “Not much to tell. I basically told him I wasn’t going to share my nachos with him and… he freaked out.”

Boss: *Nods* “Yep, that’s what he told me, too. He used more… colorful language… including a slur I won’t be repeating.”

Me: *Blinks* “Like what? Something racist?”

Boss: “No, it was more that he insinuated that you were a trans person, and he used the… insulting term.”

Me: “Because I wouldn’t offer him some of my nachos?”

Boss: *Shrugs helplessly* “I’ve already started the paperwork to terminate his employment here. I don’t care how good a worker he’d have ended up being; that behavior was unacceptable. The fact that it was over some nachos is just the cherry on top.”

Me: “Is it bad that I’m kinda happy that he exposed that side of himself early before it was a future problem?”

Boss: “No, I was going to say the same thing; The termination paperwork is easier if it’s still the probationary period. You can head back to work now. Go ahead and take a bit of extra time for a break if you need it.”

Me: “Nah, he didn’t really upset me that much. I was just confused.”

[Boss] and I shared a chuckle before I headed back to work.

The next day, I heard from [Boss] that [New Guy] sent an email as soon as he got home saying, among other things, that he quit. [Boss] gave me the cliff notes that, basically, [New Guy] apparently didn’t think he’d done anything wrong and didn’t understand how I was so selfish when I had “so many” chips and “wouldn’t miss one”. The cherry on top of the letter, [Boss] said while laughing, was that he ended the whole rant with, “And I hope [My Name] never gets to share her lunch with anyone, because apparently she’s entitled to every bite.”

[Boss] offered to print it out and laminate it for me, but I declined; I’m content with having my own nachos and eating them, too.