Category: Bad Behavior


That Did A Fat Lot Of Good

| VIC, Australia | Bad Behavior, Bosses & Owners, Health & Body

(I am currently looking for work during the story and I’m handing out a resume; I’ve also been on hormone therapy due a deficiency so I’ve gained weight because of it.)

Me: *enters the store and goes up to one of the workers* “Hi, I was wondering if I could see your manager? I want to hand in my resume.”

Worker: “Don’t even bother. You’re too fat to work in this store.”

Me: *shocked* “Excuse me, how has my weight got anything to do with getting a job?!”

Worker: “It might send the wrong message.”

Me: “About what?”

Worker: “That it’s okay to fat.”

Me: “Can I still speak to the manager?”

Worker: “Why?”

Me: *sarcastic* “I don’t know, because you’re being rude?”

Worker: *sigh* “Fine.” *calls Manager over*

Manager: “Hello, what seems to be the problem?”

Me: “Your worker here was extremely rude and prejudiced.”

Manager: “About what?”

Me: “My weight! I was just going to hand in my resume when she stopped me.”

Manager: “Well, you are a little porky and we don’t want to send the wrong message.”

(I stormed out and handed my resume at other places. I ended up getting a job somewhere else and paid better.)


Security Breach (Of Conduct)

| FL, USA | Bad Behavior

(My husband and I are going through security at a local theme park we have passes to. We’re used to all the restrictions and rules, and know what we can and can’t bring. Normally the security staff are very friendly and take a quick look through my purse before handing it back, but I don’t begrudge those who want to be more thorough… usually.)

Older Male Security Guard: “I’m going to need to search that.” *snatches my purse as I’m passing it to him*

Me: “Of course.”

(He starts going through, pulling everything out and turning it upside down. He even feels the lining, making hard eye contact with me the whole time. I’m a bit baffled because I’ve been nothing but friendly and polite, and literally all he’s found are my wallet, three pens, antacids, and my keys, since I travel light for the park.)

Older Male Security Guard: “You’ve got an awful lot of keys.” *he makes an exaggerated “hmm” sound, still staring me down, unsmiling, like he’s waiting for me to confess to something* “Pens, too.”

Me: “Uh, I guess?”

(By now, my husband is starting to look a bit irritated at the guard’s attitude, and his younger male partner also looks impatient and annoyed. The guard breaks eye contact briefly to open the first of three small zippered pouch inside my purse… but as soon as he glances inside, he turns beet red and shoves the bag at me, glaring, without going through it or the other closed pouches.)

Older Male Security Guard: “Stay out of trouble!”

(As I’m putting my things back in my purse, I realize what was in that pouch that so flustered him he didn’t finish his check… my spare emergency tampons. Good to know the park is safe from ne’er-do-wells like myself… unless they happen to be wielding deadly feminine hygiene products to keep him at bay.)


Supervision Derision

| TX, USA | Bad Behavior, Bosses & Owners, Wild & Unruly

(After having only one hour of training from the regular cook, I am told to open the next day so the cook could go on vacation. Deep frying chicken isn’t rocket science, so I come in, but I inform the restaurant owner and the supervisor I will be working with that I will be a little slow so that I can make sure everything is right. They both say that is acceptable. The next morning I get everything running and am waiting for our first customers. We’ve never had over three customers in the morning. Most of our business is lunch and dinner.)

Supervisor: *sees me waiting at the fryer* “Start cooking sandwiches!”

Me: “[Owner] says we should wait for the first order to cook anything, so that people get fresh food.”

(This is one of the first things I was taught by the regular cook and common sense customer service.)

Supervisor: “Are you dumb or something? I said make the sandwiches!” *she physically pushes me aside and drops five chicken breasts into the fryer*

Me: *after standing there with my mouth open for a minute* “If we cook that many now, we’ll be wasting food. The sandwiches will probably be old by the time we get an order.”

Supervisor: “That’s not your problem! You do what I say and stop mouthing off!”

Me: “Okay.”

(We only sold one sandwich. Two hours later:)

Supervisor: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “Throwing away the ones we didn’t sell.”

(She runs over to the trash can and jerks my hand away, saving the last sandwich and putting it back in the warmer.)

Supervisor: “You don’t do that unless I say so! We still could have sold those!”

Me: “[Owner]’s policy is to throw them out after 30 minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s a health code issue, too.”

Supervisor: “Shut up and do your job!”

(I manage to make it through to lunch service without crying, quitting, or murdering anyone. I have help in the kitchen by now and am assigned to the nugget fryer for lunch. Our nuggets are whole chicken breast chunks cooked from raw. About an hour into service, I realize that the cook on duty when I went on break didn’t clean the fryer oil (which is his job). Without fresh fryer oil, the system is clogged and the nuggets take longer to cook.)

Supervisor: *when she sees an order taking longer to go out* “What’s the hold up?”

Coworker: “We’re waiting on nuggets.”

Supervisor: *sees that I’m on nugget station* “What the h*** is wrong with you? Are you just messing around now?”

Me: *explains the fryer issue*

Supervisor: “No! They’ve cooked for the time it says on the recipe. Get them out. Now!”

Me: “I can’t do that. I just checked one and it was raw in the middle.”


Coworkers: *just staring*

(I stand my ground even though she tries to physically push me again. Pulling one nugget up, I cut it in half showing the still pink, gelatinous center.)

Supervisor: *grabs the nugget, throws it violently in the corner, and stomps off*

(After my shift, I get called into the owner’s office. Apparently some coworkers had complained about the tension in the kitchen.)

Owner: “So what’s your problem with [Supervisor]?”

(Explains everything that had happened, including the health code violations by my supervisor.)

Owner: “Well, I’m not sure what happened here, but I’m sure if you give her a chance you’ll see that [Supervisor] has a heart of gold.”

Me: *shocked*

Owner: “Well, see you tomorrow!”

(I get sent home confused, but since I’m young and I need the job, I don’t quit. A few months later, I am working a morning shift again with the same supervisor. Once again, I have waited until a customer orders before I start cooking food. I am about to pull the chicken out of the fryer.)

Supervisor: *when she realizes that the order is (obviously) taking a little longer because it’s first cook, she storms up to my station* “You are the dumbest person in the world! Get away! I’ll do this myself!”

(At this point, she has physically pushed me again and I have had enough.)

Me: “No, I am doing this correctly. I can handle it. Just let me do it right. The customer is happy to be getting a fresh sandwich.”

(I point to the customer who seems be perfectly happy chatting with the cashier.)

Supervisor: “GET OUT OF THE–!”

(She stops because she has just raised her hand to back-hand me, and seen me step into her personal space and raise my chin, daring her to try it.)

Me: “If you want to do it so badly, do it yourself.”

(I take off my apron and walk out the back door. On my way out I am crying and wondering if I have made a huge mistake, when the junior supervisor sees me in the parking lot. I tell her what just happened. She reaches out to shake my hand.)

Junior Supervisor: “You handled that well. I’m sorry it has to be this way. You put up with a lot more from her than most people. You were a good worker. Keep your chin up!”

(I never saw either supervisor again, but I will never forget what I learned from both of them!)


Muffin Flop

| PA, USA | Bad Behavior, Bosses & Owners, Food & Drink

(We head into a little cafe for breakfast. In the bakery display case next to the cash register is a basket full of muffins.)

Me: “I’ll take a coffee, and a blueberry muffin.”

Waiter: “We don’t have blueberry muffins.”

Me: “Oh, well, chocolate chip, or whatever those muffins are.”

Waiter: “What muffins?”

Me: “The ones in the case here.”

Waiter: “Those are just display.”

Me: “Oh. Wow! They look real!”

Waiter: “Well, they are. We got them in this morning from the bakery.”

Me: “Wait, you got fresh muffins on display but not for sale.”

Waiter: “Yeah, we take them home at the end of the day.”

(At this point, I think I’m being trolled, so when I see a supervisor come in, I pull her aside.)

Me: “Excuse me; I tried to buy a muffin earlier…”

Supervisor: “We don’t sell muffins.”

Me: “That’s what the employee said, but I was confused because your bakery case has muffins in it.”

Supervisor: “Those are display muffins. We get them in every day.”

Me: “But you don’t sell them?”

Supervisor: “No. Don’t go leaving another Yelp review complaining. I’m sick of everyone angry about us not having muffins.”

Me: “Maybe don’t display them, then?”


Plasma Charged

| UT, USA | Bad Behavior, Bigotry, Bosses & Owners

(A few days prior to this, I had donated plasma. It’s similar to donating blood, but sometimes things go wrong when they return your cells to you, causing bruises. In my case, I have a hematoma that is close to three inches across due to a problem with the machine. Heading into the grocery store, in short sleeves due to the warm weather, I tromp around just picking up a few things I needed. As I’m doing this, I notice that a particular employee in a shirt and tie is following me around. Turning to look at him, I smile and greet him before heading off. I’ve picked up a couple sodas, some snacks, and noodles, when I turn to head up front. Picking a cashier, I start to check out, but notice that the girl’s taking a good bit longer than usual, trying to figure out prices and what not. It dawns on me then, based on my own prior experience in retail, that she’s stalling me. A few moments later, a pair of police officers enter the store, and talk to the man I saw earlier before turning and walking in my direction.)

Officer #1: “Sir, could we speak with you?”

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Officer #1: “We just need to speak with you, outside.”

Me: “Okay, let me pay for—“

Officer #1: “No, you need to come outside, sir.”

Me: “Going to explain to me why, or just be vague about it, Sergeant?”

Officer #1: “We don’t want to cause a scene here…”

Me: “No one is making a scene. I’m here shopping, about to pay, and wondering why the h*** you’ve been called.”

Manager: *the guy in the suit* “We don’t want your kind here! You need to leave.” *turning to the officers* “Make this leave!”

Me: “Woah, now, MY kind? What the h*** is that supposed to mean?”

Manager: *pointing at the bruise* “Addicts like you!”

(Looking to my arm, I chuckle and then hold up the card I was about to pay with. It’s a Visa card that the plasma places give you when you donate. They pay you for donations.)

Me: “Addict? Try plasma donor. However, if you don’t want me here, I’m certain that the officers will agree that if I pay, and then leave, that there’s no wrongdoing.”

(At this point the manager reaches out, grabbing my arm and pulling before giving me a hard shove, hard enough to knock over some displays as I stumble. Picking myself up, I look to the officers.)

Me: “You witnessed it. I was just assaulted. I wish to press charges.”

(The officers look to me, then back to the manager, reaching out to take him into custody. All the while he’s screaming about how they’re taking an addict’s side and not the right person. He was still yelling as I left, my bags in hand. Outside, the second officer noted that it probably would be a good idea if I avoided that store in future. Especially after plasma donations.)

Page 1/14012345...Last