Last week's response was impressive.
This week, let's venture into the workplace. Supermarket cashier or stock market analyst, marketing executive or Minority Whip, no profession is immune from the inappropriate employee. So let's talk about the worst people you've ever worked with, and why they deserve that title.
One summer in college, for $7 an hour, I worked as an assistant shipping and receiving clerk at my old high school. I had three responsibilities:
1) Show up at 7am.
2) Man the warehouse when my boss went to lunch.
3) Close up at 3:30.
I could do that. And I did. After a few days, I was bringing a pillow and sleeping until 10. Face down, at my desk. I found other nap rooms throughout the school and used them frequently and no one cared. But a few weeks in, I had a problem. This problem was verbalized by a frequent warehouse visitor – a custodian named Gus.
"We have a little tradition around here, Junior. At the end of the summer, I wrestle the summer help."
And with that, the mindless summer warehouse job lost its cachet.
Let there be no suspense. I knew this match would never happen. While the looming clash of the titans did not keep me up at night, it sure did end my nap routine. The awkwardness was frequent. One day Gus asked if I wanted to know his hobby. "You're going to make fun of me," he warned. "It's not something many grown men do."
I could imagine.
His hobby, he claimed, was playing with model trains, and taking pictures of real ones. He invited me to come with him to our local train station and "take a few shots." Whether he meant photos or liquor or first-degree murder, I'll never be sure. Lucky for me, I'd seen the (very special) episode of Diff'rent Strokes where Arnold and Dudley were lured into dangerous territory by Horton, the creepy bike shop owner played brilliantly by Gordon Jump. It was with him – the custodian, not Gordon Jump – that I perfected my non-verbal, non-committal fake laugh/head bob. The most effective gesture in my arsenal.
Another time, Gus walked into my office area with his pants unzipped. He laughed and zipped up. He was not coming from the bathroom.
"This will all be worthwhile when I tell this story nine years from now," I told myself.
"Let me go get the mats," he said on my last day. I was impressed that mats would be involved. But not impressed enough to see this through. Gus left to get the mats and I went home. We never saw each other again. One day, I fully expect to be on the business end of a double-leg takedown. He's lurking, I'm sure.
After all, it's tradition.
Now it's your job to top Gus. Leave your story in the comments.
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My first “real” job was at a fast food joint in Oregon.
Basically, it was the definition of entering into the working world: low wages, shitty hours, crazy people left and right, ambiguous genders etc.
On one late night shift, while unloading the stock truck- Jason, my supervisor starts talking to me about his 7 illegitimate children, the warrants out for his arrest (all assault related), and his state law required psych evaluation.
“I didn’t want to go to see this psychiatrist. So after the first session, I start telling him about how I’m attracted to animals.” Jason says passively.
This caught my ear…
"Yeah, I just kept telling him about how every night when I get home- all the things I want to do to my dog, you know, sexually. You know?"
I don’t know. I don’t want to know.
Meanwhile, my fellow cook Chris is shouting “Wham Bam Thank You Maam!” every time he finishes preparing a burger. Later that evening I discover that Chris used to spend his evenings stealing car stereos from lots around town. The only reason he gave it up, as he put it, was “because I spent three hours hiding in someone else’s car after a copper pulled up beside and started eating dinner. I don’t want to go to prison.”
Chris later told me he was raised on the street (a la Pursuit of Happyness), only without the happy ending. He described in detail sleeping in dumpsters with his father and using public lavatories as bathtubs – all the while staring me down as if I was the cause of his issues.
My other bosses included the DM who would occasionally pop his head in and literally corner the shift on duty, stick his reddened face into their’s, and scream at them until they were in tears, Billy- the obligatory Texan, and Kris, who’s gender I am still uncertain about.
I was not impressed. I quit a few shifts later.
My first job was at construction company. A drywall company more specifically. I was a youngster so I didn't really do any "constructing". I was on the clean-up detail, which consisted of driving an old wheat truck with a hydraulic bed to all the job sites to clean up all the crap the real construction workers made. My tools consisted of a large steal coal shovel, a ragged push-broom and the aforementioned wheat truck.
On my first day, I met my partner. He was considerably older than I was at the time (I was 15). I immediately noticed that he had lost an index finger. And he looked at me like I was going to be his comic relief once we left civilization, which is what I called the office. You know, where all the ten-fingered people worked. We jumped in the wheat truck and started bouncing to our first job site. We hadn't even driven two blocks when Billy Nines starts rummaging through his lunch sack. Figured he had a danish or bagel or something he wanted to gnaw on during our short ride. But instead, he pulled out his mood stabilizer which was a loosely-wrapped baggy of herb. He already had a jay good to go so he pulled it out, and surprisingly, was OK with sharing. It was my first day, so I respectfully declined. But, of course, I acted like I was a burner like him, even though I hadn't been that close to a bag in my life. I told him, "Nah, I just had breakfast." He laughed at me and fired it up.
We hauled a bunch of crap before lunch. It was hot. I mean, hot. We jumped into the truck and started off for some place for me to eat my lunch and Billy Nines to finish his bag. We ended up in the parking lot of a neighborhood liquor store. Billy Nines got himself a 40. And in keeping fashion with his generosity, asked me if I wanted anything while he was in there. Geez! I'm already like Brian Johnson when Bender stuffed his wad down his pants in the hallway. Straight-laced, man. So, I ate my "PB&J with the crust cut off" and watched him guzzle 120 oz. of Budweiser and burn the rest of his bud left in his bag.
At the end of the day, we weaved and bounced our way back to civilization. Billy Nines didn't spend much time in the yard. He fell out of the truck and stumbled into his 1974 Monte. Day one—down.
This was my first office job when I was 18 years old. I had called, what I thought was a temp service, when I got this man on the phone who said he was also hiring for his office. So I needed a job, and decided to interview. The business was in his house. But he had 2 kids and a wife, so I didn't think anything of it. I started work and everything was fine. Pay was good, and not too far from my house. He was a very Christian man. And so was his family. They prayed before every meal and sometimes I would eat lunch with them and have to pray too. But One day he got really mad at his business partner and completely flipped out. So bad that he threw his chair and broke the wheels. So this freaked me out a bit. Then we were going downtown to a building to see the owner, (this was a real estate business) and on the way there, he explained to me that this man might think we are sleeping together but don't mind him. Okay....
The kicker was, one day he was in a very good mood because he had just closed a deal and flat out told me he wanted to sleep with me. I told him I was not interested. The next day I came in late because I had to run an errand and he fired me. Claiming I was late. If I'd known then what I know now......
One summer I scored what I thought was a great job. My father’s cousin put in a good word for me with a friend of his at a Sports Marketing firm. Here I thought, hey I'm a sports fan. I like touchdowns and how do you say it, homeruns.
So dressed in a new blazer and khakis, I went in for my first day. After being buzzed in, I took the elevator up to 5th floor, anxious to begin. A dude greeted me at the elevator with construction boots, black denim jean shorts, and no shirt. Clearly I was on the wrong floor. He, his name was Barry, assured me I wasn’t. After he showed me all of his tattoos and only after he showed me all of his tattoos, I was allowed to meet my boss. He however quickly stormed out apparently sour on a deal gone bad. So I was left with no assignment but to make small talk with Barry.
Minutes into talking, Barry invited me to a party he was having that coming Friday. Seeing as I didn’t know him well, I politely said, “sure, I’ll stop by.” He quickly shoved a flyer in my face with several scantily clad women on it in compromising positions with a headline reading “Ooochy Bang Bang.” Again attempting to be polite I said, “oh so where is this taking place?” Barry’s response, “Here.” Shocked, I looked closer at the invitation/street flyer and saw it did in fact have the correct address, as well as a note to all pimps instructing them to stay outside.
I then sat and watched as Barry sectioned off all the cubicles with packing paper preparing for the “VIP rooms.” By the time Friday rolled around, all of the light bulbs in the bathroom were replaced with red lights and black lights donned every cube. I was told that this was to set the mood. I never returned back to that office, although I was curious to see if the place still stunk of sex come Monday.
When I was very young and naive (wow, heard to remember that, now being old and jaded) I was offered a job as a potters assistant. The only thing is after just a few times helping out in his greenhouse in exchange for pottery lessons I soon learned that a green thumb was not what he was looking for.
I scored a job at a manufacturing company that involved lots of travel around the country (Australia)when I was 19. Great I thought. Little did I know that I had been hired by the 2nd in Charge while the Big Boss was overseas as part of her plan to stage a coup when he returned.
It backfired, and she was fired, which wouldn't have been a big deal except the Big Boss resented me for it. He would scream at me to 'Shut Up' whenever I talked, which was a problem considering I was the receptionist.
Apparently he hated the sound of my voice, which is ironic because I now work in radio. Eventually he 'accepted my resignation' which I had never tendered, effectively firing me without nasty unfair dismissal laws kicking in.
They gave me six weeks notice and a list of jobs I had to complete during my time. I didn't do it. About 1 week to go and they asked me what I had done. I said nothing. They seemed a bit angry, but hey, what could they do? Fire me?
The summer after my freshman year of college I got a job doing QA in a printer factory. The fellow I was working with waws named Jim. A few highlights.
He washed his hands before going to the bathroom, but never after.
Every five minutes, he would say "Rock and Roll". No reason for it, you're just sitting around and you hear him say "Rock and Roll".
He would tell the most interesting stories. I think my favorite was when he said "You know, it's not a real good idea to punch a cop. But he deserved it." From what I can gather, he was drunk, a cop went to arrest him, Jim punched said cop, cop beat the hell out of Jim. The judge felt pity on the bruised and battered Jim, so he didn't go to jail. I think.
This is a story about a close friend of mine. He works for a delivery service. A very popular delivery service. Anyways...he was working in the warehouse with this very strange guy. One day they were having lunch and the guy mentioned that he was having sex with an underage girl. And how underage girls are so "hot". This man also mentioned that he had some kind of website, or myspace or something and would look for underage girls. Well, being the moral person my friend is, and feeling like what I'm sure the rest of us do...sickened at this man, he decided to pose himself as an underage girl on the internet and get him. He was pulling a "Chris Hansen" if you will. But my friend also got the police involved. Well, needless to say, the man went to meet the "girl" and wound up getting busted. I was so proud of my friend.
I was so young and so dumb. I was living on my own in the Bay Area when I was 17 years old. I barely got by.. eating things like tomato paste soup and mustard sandwiches.
I answered an ad for a Personal Assistant which would have been perfect for me. The guy is fine on the phone but when I get to his house (yes, I already said I was dumb..) it was another story.
He started off with the usual questions about where I'd worked previously, education, qualifications, etc etc.. and slowly the questions turned more and more personal, more and more SEXUAL, until I was feeling very uncomfortable and almost crying. I had a very bad feeling like I was going to end up on the back of a milk carton - that'd I was about to become a statistic. If that'd happened to me NOW, I would have hauled off and smacked him before leaving, but at 17 I was just too scared and insecure.
In then end he said I wasn't qualified for the job but to make up for me having to come all the way out to his house, he generously offered me $50 to watch me masturbate. (Wow! So thoughtful) I declined and got the hell out of there very quickly - glad to be alive.
I bet it was a scam he pulled all the time and should have called the police but see that young and dumb part above. What a wake up call that was. I've never done anything nearly as stupid again.
Funny thing is, all these years later, I could probably find the house again, even though it's 3 cities away.
My first day at work was exciting. A mad guy with a rifle was shooting people up and down the busy street where I was supposed to start my first day of work. Radio reports that morning didn't help and rumours started flying. Next thing you know it was a race riot. Race A was killing Race B in the streets with guns, machetes and bare hands.
People panicked. I went to the convenient store. All foods were sold out. People were grabbing everything off the shelves. And they had this weird look in their eyes that said "Every man for himself, mate...".
I made it to the office at half past ten. The boss summoned me and asked why I was late. He probably didn't hear the news yet. He was a foreigner, by the way, so he couldn't understand why all the race riot rumours were all about.
When things finally cleared, it was found out that there was no race riots. The mad guy with rifle was actually a soldier who went amok due to stress. Some people said he went berserk because his brother died at the hands of a high ranking person or something.
Well, that first boss of mine was later convicted of criminal breach of trust and sent to prison. I never saw him again.
I used to work at a movie theater, and I had stayed there for nearly four years. So I have my fair share of stories.
The worst though, has to be this pair of brothers... where do i even begin with these guys? Leo was the first one I met. He reeked of B.O., cologne and cigarettes. Turned out he was allergic to deodorant. He liked to talk until the point of nausea about anime and nazis. Quite a combination, right? He seemed to think he was the baddest of all bad asses because he listened to obscure punk bands and saw all of Kevin Smith's movies before he was popular. He smoked 3 packs a day and would leave whatever he was doing to go smoke. He also liked to brag about how he was so absurdly popular with the women and quite a magnificent lover despite being prematurely bald at 23, living with his parents and smelling like a port-o-potty. He was very vain, and very odd. But his brother was the worst!
Scott was older than Leo by about 15 years or something. He was also balding, a chain smoker, had an unnatural obsession with anime and nazis and was rediculously vain. He had been divorced, but his wife filed for divorce after he shot an killed some man, with a shotgun, who was trying to rob them. He had teeth as yellow as butter, and gums as black as oil. He also smelled like a ass and old spice, but he CHOSE to smell like that. Something about boycotting corporate deodorant or some batshit excuse.
Scott gave me a ride home once, and pulled over in the middle of nowhere and was suddenly compelled to tell me about his breast fetish that stemmed from him having a mom and two older sisters all with "large, ample breasts". He leaned in really close to me, like he was gonna touch me so i coughed in his face and lit up a cigarette. That was the last time I ever let that happened.
This one day,after the movie Monster's Ball had come out, I expressed to him how much I enjoyed the film. He then not so subtly told me that he was interested in having his own Monster's Ball experience with me (I'm black, btw).
He HAD asked me out litereally 15 times before I had to tell him that I liked someone else that we worked with. He ended up getting that guy fired. And I didn't eeven actually like that guy... so I was frightened. So, I complained to the management about what had happened prior to this, and he was let go, but not before causing a scene in the lobby, ripping off his shirt and screaming at the top of his lungs "THIS PLACE IS FULL OF SHIT!!!"
The last I heard about them, they were transfrerred to another theater where they were caught running a scam to get free tickets and they were both fired. They then threatend to sue the theater for wrongful termination, until documents surfaced that proved they were running the scam.
Oh, I hate those guys.
Another strong batch of contributions.
juls, where did you grow up? On the set of Grand Theft Auto?
Freshmen year of college I started to work at this little "Christian" coffee shop. I had a the manager of the afternoon shift tell me one day in a totally serious voice that she wanted to bare my children. Now I feak out. This woman who is in her upper 40's and who was devorcied hit on me. I have a look of horror on my face and after a bit of silence she she started laughing and saying how she got me. But this happened many more times. Luckily the shop was bought out by a used car store.
Why am I the only one not getting hit on at work? One summer when I was in high school, I cleaned up a small butcher shop at night. It was higher paying than my other two jobs and only took me 3 hours, and since it was unsupervised, I could mark down a couple extra hours.
All good on paper. Until the nights that I would show up, exhausted from the other jobs, to find several severed cow heads staring at me from the trash. I have a pretty strong stomach, but scooping intestines up while breathing the horrible odor that raw sausage creates after several hours on a warm floor!
It was worth it to be able to describe it to people after they have a mouthful of hamburger. The slow shifting of the color of there face is priceless!
My Summer job throughout high school and college was delivering mattresses. Essentially I would come in at ten in the morning and make deliveries in a panel truck until about six. The routine was broken by the sights and smells found in the homes of middle class mattress buyers. When I would remove the customers old mattress I would be greeted by one of three categories of debris.
Sex/masturbation related materials. Dildos, Kleenex origami, porn, auto-sucks, penis enlargement pumps, ropes, handcuffs, and an astounding number of kitchen appliances being used in a manner that would probably void their warranties.
Weapons. A variety of guns, knives, bats, whips, all sorts of martial arts stuff, and once a fully loaded M-16 with attached grenade launcher.
Filth. Dust bunnies, dirt, pet hair, dead insects, dead rodents, mushrooms, used tampons, used diapers, mold, mildew, piles of animal and human feces.
In the Summer of 1978 the store I worked for went into water beds in a big way and the time it took to set them up necessitated the hiring a helper for me. Into this void stepped Gary, a diminutive heavy metal freak with a deep and abiding hatred of just about everything, and no inner monologue. Each day we would ride about on our appointed rounds, I always drove, he had lost his license, while he would expound on a three basic subjects.
People he hated: Women(all whores), blacks(all lazy drug addicts), the clergy(all money grubbing whores and lazy drug addicts). President Carter(a stupid hick). His Mother(a drunken whore). His father(dead, but still an asshole).
Sex he was going to have.
Black Sabbath.
I had learned over the years that whenever I found a martial aid, gun, or garbage under some customers bed if I simply ignored it and made some excuse to go back to the truck, when I returned it would be gone. This practice may have even gotten me some tips, in gratitude for acting like it wasn't there. Not Gary. He would always react in some inappropriate way, commenting on how he would use the sex toy on some mythical bed mate. Firearms were picked up and brandished about(note: guns people keep under their beds are always loaded with the safety off.). Dead bugs would be loudly commented upon ”these people live like pigs” which was especially ironic since he lived in a filthy trailer with his mother, and always reeked of sweat and cigarettes.
In 2006 I was visiting my mother when a truck from my old employers pulled into her neighbors driveway, lo and behold the driver was the old nut job himself, Gary, barely changed in the intervening years. I walked over to him and although we worked together for three Summers I had to explain to him who I was. He had not changed a bit. He was still single, hated everyone, and was wearing a faded Molly Hatchet tee shirt that probably dated back to our days together. Our encounter actually made me grateful for my bitch wife, brat children, and shitty job.