The Horrors of the "Professional" World - Stories that will make you wonder how we exist.

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My co worker is driving me bananas with all his autistic shit. He tries to leave early every single day and gets mad when he can't (my new supervisor is really good about keeping him busy). He also works in a dark room all the time which is just creepy.

The other day, he had a minor meltdown when HIS cart was being used by a staff member in another room (it had documents on it for something) during one of the thousands of times he left early. The girl who was using the cart went to the meeting room, took all the papers off the cart, just so he could have his cart again. You know the cart he needs because he can't carry a ten pound box to the admin office.

I'm always afraid he's gonna shoot up the place too.
 
Oh dear, that's quite a lot of worms to unleash but if you insist! I tried to be a little vauge for the sake of not :powerlevel:ing (there's still some worms in that can!) but this is still kind of long, sorry about that.
I'm sure I've mentioned this guy in a few places here because he just provided so many weird stories. Basically I used to be friends with a guy who I met back in middle school due to us both being socially incompetant weeaboos. He was actually pretty funny back then though he could be a lot to manage at times. There was the whole thing with him claiming George W. Bush was the Antichrist. He would just scream this in the quad during lunch. In a computer apps class we had to turn in a paper about what we would do with x amount of dollars and his paper was an elaborate plan to assasinate Bush by drowning him in a kiddie pool full of fermenting pickle juice. Also there was the whole thing about him loving Dean Koontz so much he claimed he would take a bullet for him, that was a little weird. The guy really had no filter and had the tendancy to creep out everyone who didn't know him very well. And good lord did he say some stupid shit. He thought that "bartering" was when the Taliban kills people and steals their land, he once claimed that the comic Maus was racist because the Jews were mice and the Nazis were cats, he said not liking Ellen DeGeneres was an insult to lesbians, he said that my grandmother would go to hell because we cremated her and kept her ashes instead of burying her according to some Jewish tradition. Neither of us were Jewish.
In fact, early in high school he was a devoted Pastafarian. He had a FSM shirt that he wore all the time, owned the Flying Spaghettti Monster bible or something, would pass out printed flyers to people about Pastaferianism. It did cause contention with his religious family (who were apparently all either preachy born-again types or in really weird Christian cults) particularly his dad. He hated how religious his dad was and would mock him for being Christian all the time. I bring up religion since it has a big role in why we aren't friends and how he's a total nutbar.

Now later in high school, this guy started to have some issues with emotional stability. He got really angry at the slightest povocation, way more angry than a rational person should get. It wasn't directed towards us, but towards people he arbitrarily decided were bullies. Basically anyone who ever told him to calm down, no matter now nicely, would be labeled a bully. If we tried to tell him to calm down, it was like talking to a brick wall. Like I said above you could tell him something a million times and he just wouldn't get it.
It got to the point that he was screaming incoherent nonsence at people in the middle of P.E for asking him to pass a ball. It sounds like it would be funny, but Jesus it was scary at the time. Not because he was screaming at the biggest, scariest, Mexican kid in the class and was in danger of needing to be peeled off the pavement, but becasue I thought he was gonna start directing his rage at me.
About this time, he had a complete 180 on his religious views. He was now a devout Christian becasue when he started to hear evil voices in his house one night, he prayed and they went away! This was kind of a problem becasue I was getting into being an occultist edgelord. Where before he mocked his dad for being Christian, he demanded I turn to Jesus. This is the point where I decided this guy was too much damn work and I didn't need to be friends with the guy. Well motherfucker went full-on beucoup dinky-dau at this point. He decided to go through a full year of my social media posts to find this time I advertised a club fundraiser going on at a pizza place. I don't speak schizophrenia but apparently "hey eat shitty pizza here" translates to "please kill my friend in his sleep also Satan is my infernal lord".
Next day at lunch he angrily confronted me as to the fact that I posted his home address online (it was the pizza place address) and that he would be calling the police on me becasue I was threatenting to kill him. There were allegations of witchcraft in there somewhere. Fuck, he just looked insane the whole time he was yelling. I eventually tried to get a counsellor involved cause I thought the dude was gonna kill me, unfortunatly my counsellor was exceptional so decided that as long as crazy guy said "no hard feelings, it was fine."
Rest of the year was awkward, He never caused screaming mayhem in college as far as I know but he always looked one bad day away from Elliot Rodger-ing the place. Last I heard he was institutionalized for some period of time.

So in conclusion crazy people are hard to tutor in math.
Sounds like schizophrenia. Late high school/early college is when it usually crops up. Poor dude. Schizophrenia is a nasty one. I hope someone he trusted was able to get him to accept help.

I worked at a place where the general manager was convinced Clinton was going to use Y2K as an excuse to stay in office and round up all the Christians and put them in camps. He didn't show up for three days after the new year. He was hiding in his bunker. Yeah, he had an acutal bunker.
 
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I worked as a manager for a BoJangles franchise. The (((Regional Manager))) fired me today over some bullshit reason. He said I wasn't allowed to hang up anymore Trump pictures in the restaurant, that it was "violating franchise standards" or some shit. I told the fucking Democrat shill to fuck off back to Soros and clocked the guy when he began ripping the posters down. He said he's gonna sue for assault, when the last fucking thing I need is a felony charge with my other vandalism and drug charges. I'm countersuing with a wrongful dismissal suit. I had every right to attack the ShareBlue shill for vandalizing me restaurant, and he's lucky I didn't end up killing him on the spot.
 
I worked as a manager for a BoJangles franchise. The (((Regional Manager))) fired me today over some bullshit reason. He said I wasn't allowed to hang up anymore Trump pictures in the restaurant, that it was "violating franchise standards" or some shit. I told the fucking Democrat shill to fuck off back to Soros and clocked the guy when he began ripping the posters down. He said he's gonna sue for assault, when the last fucking thing I need is a felony charge with my other vandalism and drug charges. I'm countersuing with a wrongful dismissal suit. I had every right to attack the ShareBlue shill for vandalizing me restaurant, and he's lucky I didn't end up killing him on the spot.
Did everyone in the restaurant applaud and give you money?
 
I worked as a manager for a BoJangles franchise. The (((Regional Manager))) fired me today over some bullshit reason. He said I wasn't allowed to hang up anymore Trump pictures in the restaurant, that it was "violating franchise standards" or some shit. I told the fucking Democrat shill to fuck off back to Soros and clocked the guy when he began ripping the posters down. He said he's gonna sue for assault, when the last fucking thing I need is a felony charge with my other vandalism and drug charges. I'm countersuing with a wrongful dismissal suit. I had every right to attack the ShareBlue shill for vandalizing me restaurant, and he's lucky I didn't end up killing him on the spot.
Nice trollshield
 
I'm in the process of selling one of my businesses to the local city government. It's a service the municipality really needs to do some shit it wants and I am done running the place since the profit margin they want for the contract is lower than I like, so I told them I'd just sell it outright and make sure the 7 guys there keep their jobs and pay, saves the city money in the long run, gives me an easy out. Problem is they've had so many rinky dink non-licensed inspectors come check on it even after I have had a federal and 2 state inspectors come through and do the same checks. Every time they try to bring up a complaint to drive the price down, I reply by having a fed or state guy call the head of the business commission to explain a very basic rule that isn't their job to enforce. One of the inspectors the city sent to look at it was actually a guy I fired a few years back for drinking on the job.

Next guy the send is coming back to them with a note letting them know the price went up 30% and I'm closing it down in 48 hours and auctioning off assets in Vegas
 
So I used to be a river rat at a well-established rafting company (cut my losses and GTFO once the place started turning into a corporate hellhole: I got the message when they demanded I not work any side jobs, then only scheduled me one day a MONTH during our busy season), and let me tell you: people are at their fucking WORST when they're on vacation. Here are a couple of my stories:
So it's the middle of June and I'm doing gear prep for a group that includes your standard kind of whitebread family: mom, dad, two kids (one teenage girl, one brat-aged boy). These people turn up for the pre-trip briefing (wherein we tell people why trying to stand up in the middle of a rocky riverbed is a stupid idea, that they shouldn't stroke out if they get stuck on a rock, how they should listen to their raft guide when he says "Get down in the bottom of the raft NOW or we'll flip", etc.) dressed like they're about to go to church. Dad's in a nice shirt and khaki pants with a belt, and mom's in, I kid you all not, a DESIGNER DRESS. I'm by the gates, outside the gear room, when they turn up, and have a terminal case of niceness. So I take them aside and let them know that they should change into something, ANYTHING, that they can get wet. The mother gives me a look like I just pulled a cat out of my ass.
Her: "We won't be getting splashed or anything, right?"
Me: "Uh... It's a rafting trip, ma'am, getting splashed is pretty much inevitable. If you want to keep it low-key, you can ask your guide to take it slow, take the really calm routes in the river..."
Her: "That's good, but... can't you turn the water down or something?"
Me: "Pardon, Ma'am?"
Her: "The river's controlled by a dam or something, right? Why don't you just call up there and tell them to turn it down for a couple hours, just until we're done. I get motion sickness."
I have no idea how to respond to this, so I just said something about how the dam's not owned by our company and scuttle into the gear room before she can respond. It constantly amazes me how this woman seemed to confuse the wilderness of the Southeast with fucking Disney World.

This happened at the height of tourist season, in mid-July. This day, I'm not the gear guy: I'm tourist wrangling. This is an annoying job, because it means you have to give the gear and safety talk and field the endless stupid questions from the guests, as well as try to deal with specific gear issues like "finding the 350-pound ogre that decided to go rafting today a life jacket that won't rip to shreds trying to contain his flab." I'm sitting on the podium from which I'll give the talk, and I see a WAVE of brown rolling through the entrance and start hearing angry staccato arguing in a foreign tongue. Lo and behold, without my supervisors telling me anything, an ENTIRE ARABIAN FAMILY HAS DECIDED TO GO RAFTING IN THE ASS END OF DIXIE. (An aside: normally, when the company got visitors from outside the US, someone ran word to the group so that we could be "culturally sensitive", which normally gave us enough time to prepare for any cross-cultural issues that might arise. Not so here.) Several problems emerge in quick succession:
-First, the family is like 15 people: a wizened patriarch barely hobbling with a cane, bushy-bearded sons, hijab-clad daughters, and a small contingent of various children. That's not enough to fit into one raft, and not enough to crew two rafts without throwing some other people into the second. But, before my talk, one of the group (Who I shall refer to as Furious Abul, because he spent almost my entire acquaintance with him yelling at me red-faced.) comes up to me and informs me that they "Do not want to ride with others. All one raft!" I had to start my talk like 8 minutes behind schedule because I was busy explaining to this guy, multiple times, that what he was asking would be in violation of US safety regulations. Eventually, I got him to compromise on two rafts, but with no one else besides them in the second: the thing would move like a drugged rhino, but at this point I didn't want the rest of the herd getting spooked.
-During this argument, the second problem emerged: only one member of the family apparently spoke English beyond the most broken form, and that was Furious Abdul. When I asked him to transmit the contents of my talk to his family in Arabic, he crossed his arms and said "That is your job." I explained to him that his family's life would be at risk if he didn't, he poked me in the chest and accused me of making a death threat against his family.
-The rest of the family talked during the entire presentation. Loudly. Especially grandpa, who decided to periodically interject with monosyllables and gestures that translate universally as "I can't hear what you're saying, but I want to contribute anyways because I'm an old bastard."
-The real problem, however, emerged when we went into the gear room to fit people. Now, in order to fit someone properly, us raft guides have to physically check the straps of the life jacket the guest is wearing to make sure all the straps are tight enough that the jacket won't float over their head (which would negate its purpose), but not so tight that they can't breathe. One of the male raft guides decides to do this on one of the female Arabs. My first warning of this is when one of Furious Abdul's brothers yells and takes a HARD swing at my guide: guy had to go to the first-aid room and take the day off for a broken tooth. Furious Abdul then starts getting in my face saying he'll sue the company into the ground for "violating" the girl. Since he'd dropped the magic word, I kicked this guy up the chain of command to someone capable of actually dealing with him. The trip ended up 20 minutes late, but Abdul's family wasn't on it, thank God. The bosses just gave them a refund and managed to get them out without one of them deciding to Truck of Peace the place.
 
So first thing in the morning yesterday someone orders these vintage Garfield bookmarks from my online store. Within 15 minutes I get 3 messages from him begging that they be sent out "NEXT WEEK, OKAY?!" . So I automatically had the feeling that this was someone with :autism: .
I get ready to send them out this morning and his address doesn't look right.


....it's to a nicktoons cafe in Massachusetts.

Canceling order.
 
tfw you get assigned to work on something you've never touched before. "Oh don't worry, so-and-so will be over at something else if you have questions."

Turn thing on, start doing your job, and hit a brick wall when it's not operating the way it should. Ask co worker, co worker is stumped. It should work.

Turns out item is damaged in an un-viewable place in a way that shouldn't be possible. fml.

At least it wasn't my fault it was a brick, I had been adjusting settings and was afraid I had made it into a $10K paperweight.
 
i work behind the counter at a vape store. some people that come in are cool as fuck, but boy howdy do i have to deal with some weird motherfuckers. earlier today i had to tell some drunk bastard to not come behind the fucking counter to look at stuff. one guy that pretty clearly had aspergers stayed for about 4 or 5 hours chatting my ear off about stuff he had. it wouldn't have been awkward if it wasn't for the fact business is usually slow and i'm the only person working. he seemed like a good kid, i didn't have the heart to kick him out. it probably helped that he kept buying shit.
another time, about ten minutes before closing, a gaggle of what i could only assume were inbreds piled in. these people were like the mcpoyles in real life. after i complimented one of the guys' hunter s. thompson shirt, the group parted like the fucking red sea as a whole goblin sauntered up to the counter. she had the face of a shar pei, with glassy eyes bulging out of her head. one eye on me, one eye looking at the wall to my right. she waved her pen around and gargled out that she needed a tank to fit her battery. after showing about 3 or 4 tanks that were comprable they all left at once.
a dude that was as tall as he was round came in for a pack of coils. this guy looked like if dumbledore was raised in the appalachian mountains on a steady diet of butter. he gave me his pen, which was one of the most disgusting god damn things i have ever seen. there were clumps of hair in the mouthpiece, particles of something floating through his tank, and fucking mold in the air flow vent. it smelled like death incarnate.
bear in mind that you can't return your shit, like how you can't return a used bong. two older guys came in, one of them immediately screaming about how we sold him a piece of shit and all that happy horseshit because his tank was getting hot and leaking. for those who don't know, if the cartridge that vaporizes the juice is fucking up it's typically because it's just a dud, or it can get too hot causing it to leak. i tried to explain that several times but i'm not sure if he was exceptional or just wanted to start shit, shouting about how he was a vet and that i was trying to get him out of the store. i was telling him how to fix the fucking thing. his buddy who had not said a word the entire time eventually caught on and they left.
one day i saw this little ass kid, couldn't have been older than 7, walk past the shop. he had a fucking beretta in his hand. to this day i'm not sure if that actually happened.
oh, don't forget the crackheads, because there are a fucking ton of them in georgia. one came in asking if i knew anyone that likes to suck dick. for the record, i don't. i told him to check out the hot wing restaurant ran by koreans next door. he came back a week later, pacing back and forth mumbling "menthol..." to himself in a voice not unlike dr. rockzo. i had to kick him out, and he walked around the parking lot for like 20 minutes.
other than that, i'll deal with the occasional trigglypuff knockoff and exactly-eight-packets-of-ketchup motherfuckers that will inevitably have a thread here on the farms.

God, that reminds me of this one time I went to a local gaming store to look around with some friends. The first thing we noticed this autistic 40 something guy talking to the cashier. This dude was the spitting image of Chris. He had been there for so long I think the cashier started having a mental breakdown. This dude spent the longest time talking to her about his autism and how he was in the special olympics, and the cashier had the gall to mention she used to help set up events for the Olympics. He preceded to freak the fuck out because she interrupted him. We bailed, but I felt so genuinely sorry for that woman. I have so much fucking respect for people who work helping the special needs, because holy shit if I had to be around people like that for 8 hours a day I'd fucking shoot myself in the back of the head.
 
i forgot to mention that the shop i work at got bought out by some indians that have no fucking clue what they're doing. they wanted to add a cigar room in the back, which no one would ever buy shit from. they also wanted to make this a whole head shop, which would kill business because there are at least four smoke shops i can think of in a ten mile radius. for the first week or so they were in charge of ordering products, and we still haven't recovered from that. i've had people ask if the shop is going out of business; if it wasnt for the manager wrestling authority over shedules and restocking it probably would. at the time i posted this, i've been here for almost 4 hours and not a soul has come in.
Are there hilarious-looking bongs?
 
Had to explain to someone that it is highly unlikely the Pope has taken an interest in her goings-on and the reason her internet isn't working is that the modem died. Besides which, everyone knows that it's the Freemasons who take away people's internet access.
So what has she been looking at that the pope would disapprove of?
 
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