That’s A Lot Of Yoghurt

, , , , | Working | April 19, 2018

(I am on break and enjoying a yoghurt in the break room. A colleague walks in.)

Colleague: “Ooh, that looks nice.”

Me: “It’s my favourite.”

Colleague: “Did you get any for me?”

Me: “No. It’s bring-your-own. If you wanted some, you should have asked before I got it.”

Colleague: “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to get something only for yourself, and not for others?”

Me: “Um, it’s bring-your-own, and [Colleague], 300 people come in and out of this room each day. If I had to get them yoghurt everyday, I’d go bankrupt. Besides, I’ve never seen you bring anything in for anyone else.”

(She didn’t say anything else and left. I finished up and went back to my desk. An hour later, my floor manager came over and asked why [Colleague] came to her asking, in seriousness, that I get a raise of £29,000 a week. Now, she can barely keep a straight face whenever [Colleague] is talking to her.)

Turkish (De)Lights

, , , , | Working | April 19, 2018

(I don’t smoke, but I’m heading over to the home of an adult friend who does. They ask me to pick up a couple packs of cigarettes on the way. They tell me exactly what type they want, but I unfortunately forget almost as soon as I hang up the phone. No matter; I know what the cigarettes LOOK like, and the brand, so I figure I won’t have any issues getting them.)

Me: “I’d like two packs of [Brand] 100s, long.”

Cashier: *picks up two packs of cigarettes in a red package*

Me: “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I meant the ones in the gold package.”

Cashier: “Lights?”

Me: “Uh… Sure?”

(The cashier picks up two packs that are blue instead of red.)

Me: “No, I’m sorry, the gold ones.”

(I point at the clearly visible gold ones, just under the red and blue. The cashier puts back the blue ones, and picks up the red ones again; he seems to be laughing at me not knowing what to call them.)

Me: “No, no, the gold ones, there.” *points again*

Cashier: “Oh, you mean the Turkish ones.” *finally picks up gold pack*

Doesn’t Even Sound Good On Paper

, , , , , , , | Working | April 18, 2018

I work in a small, open-plan office in a fairly small company. The husband-and-wife owners of the company don’t seem to want to update anything or invest any money in the company; the windows don’t fully close unless someone pushes on them from the outside, the blinds are damaged so you can always see in, and the computer system is over some early version of Windows with limited processing speed, which crashes on a weekly basis.

One day my boss gets an email — they can’t work out group emails — to say the wife has decided we are using too much stationary, she refuses to buy any more, and she wants us to be a paperless office. This is all despite us lacking the resources to be paperless, and the husband’s insistence that we keep a physical paper trail of every order, invoice, or query the customers have.

We make do as best we can, but eventually I bite the bullet and buy a pack of paper, pens, and a few nice post-its, etc. It’s not much, but when you are earning minimum wage and buying resources which work should be providing, it’s more than I want to spend.

I put all my stationary in my desk the next morning. I come back from lunch to find all of it gone, including a monogrammed pen my mum bought for my birthday. I eventually track it down to the female owner’s office, where she is happily using them. When I confront her about it, she repeats, “Paperless office,” like she is a parrot who has learnt a new phrase. I bite my lip and ask how we are meant to be paperless when we are also expected to keep written notes and print records of all our work. She eventually relents that she might, maybe look at a stationary order, “if it’s such a big deal.” I thank her, take my monogrammed pen from her hand, and walk out her office.

The next day, I replace the stationary and replace the lock on the desk, secure it before I go for lunch, and come back to find my coworkers giggling. Apparently, the female owner had heard I had more stationary and spent five minutes trying to pry open my desk before snatching the post-its from my desktop, screaming, “PAPERLESS OFFICE!”, and storming out.

Paying Bills Is A Resident Evil

, , , , , | Working | April 18, 2018

(I apply to rent an apartment, only to realize a few hours later that I foolishly based my ability to pay rent on my total income rather than how much I have left after paying my bills, meaning the apartments are actually around two hundred dollars out of my price range. The complex’s website lacks any contact information aside from the application, and I have no intention of making a half-hour drive just to say “my bad,” but it’s such a minor issue that I figure I can just tell them what happened when they call, if they call me back at all. They do, and the following conversation takes place.)

Employee: “Hi, we’re calling to let you know that you’ve been approved as a potential resident. Can you come in for an interview on this date?”

Me: “Actually, I calculated my funds wrong, so I can’t afford your apartments after all. Sorry.”

Employee: “Okay. Are you still interested?”

Me: “No, I can’t afford it.”

Employee: “And why do you say that?”

Me: “Because I have other bills to pay.”

Employee: “I see. Would you care to come in for an interview, anyway?”

Me: *pause* “I would not. Thanks for calling.”

(I have to say I admired her persistence. Her performance, not so much.)

Cramp Your Style

, , , | Working | April 18, 2018

Me: *to boss and another coworker, both with a combined 30 years at our company let alone our industry* “I drafted an FAQ for our clients in reference to this annual document. I think it will save us time in regards to requests for edits and explanations of content. It still needs some revisions, and maybe more content, but I wanted your opinions.”

Boss: “This is great. Add [additional information] and clean up a few of the more awkward wordings here and there. Also, make sure [Experienced Coworker] is able to chime in.”

Experienced Coworker: “I also agree it’s really good, but it needs some formatting and grammatical edits. Let me see it when you have all the content ready to go so I can get it corrected.”

(That request made me cautious, because I’ve seen her drafts and templates, but I complied. I got the revised document back and it was full of comma splices, uneven and unnecessary capitalization, inconsistent spacing between paragraphs and sections, and some layout changes that directly conflict with our style guide. I knew she’d never look at it again, honestly, so I just changed it all back and sent it off to our account representatives.)

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