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.

This story is from twenty years ago, at a time when mobile phones could be used only for telephone, texting, and playing “Snake” — no Internet, GPS, or other fancy things.

I had this friend who lived on “Pablo Neruda Street” — in a city that also had a “Pablo Picasso Street”. Every single time he tried to order food for delivery, he explicitly had to say: 

Friend: “Deliver to Pablo Neruda Street — Neruda, not Pablo Picasso.”

And despite this, the delivery guy would always call him back, saying: 

Delivery Guy: “I’m on Picasso Street…”

Well, except once. The one time the delivery guy got the correct street name… he got the city wrong.

Twenty-plus years ago, I worked in IT. [Guy #1] out in the shipping area was a great dude but not great with computers, so he’d always call and be like, “Hey, man, my computer is on fire. I need help,” as a joke. I’d go down, and he would have some issue with email or whatever. This went on for quite a while, and it was a running joke.

One of the guys on the other side of the wall from [Guy #1] called one day.

Guy #2: “Hey, my computer is on fire and smoking! You need to come down!”

Me: “Yeah, okay. I’ll be down in a few. Just let it burn.”

A few minutes went by, and he called back.

Guy #2: “Hey, man, this thing is smoking and shooting sparks.”

Me: “Yeah sure. I’ll be right there.”

Well, I walked down, and when I was almost there, I was like, “Oh, s***, I smell smoke!”

When I arrived, [Guy #2]’s CRT monitor was shooting sparks and smoke out the back. I immediately yanked the cord out.

Me: “What the f***, dude?!”

Guy #2: “Well, you said to let it burn!”