I was working at a big department store in the deli section. Specifically, I did most of the cooking for our hot cases. In this story, I was making the packs of fried chicken and handling the rotisserie chickens. I had my routine down pat: start with half batches so any of the three people who wanted that in the morning could get it, and for easy cooling to save it.

One day, multiple bigwigs from corporate were stopping by for a visit and noticed that the hot cases weren’t full to the brim at 8:30 am, despite multiples of every option being available, which indeed had to be taken out later to be cooled and saved. They told the store manager, who told the co-manager to tell the deli to make more — which is what he did.

Co-Manager: “Hey, these hot cases aren’t full.”

Me: “Because we won’t sell that much.”

Co-Manager: “They need to be full.”

Me: “I’m not going to waste that much time and food.”

Co-Manager: “Listen here. I want you to start cooking chickens, and I don’t want you to stop.”

Oh, no. Did he really say that?

Me: “Are you sure?”

Co-Manager: “Yes. I. Am.”

Me: “Gotcha.”

And so, I got to work. I was pissed about this brown-nosing POS not realizing that I was the one who increased sales and reduced waste to the point where it was seeing the best numbers in years, but I did exactly what he said. I did not stop cooking chickens. The ovens were both turned on and were stuffed as full as they could go. I was using both frying vats to cook the fried chicken, which pretty much required a filter clean after each batch.

I was only forty-five minutes into my shift when I was told what to do. I did not stop cooking chicken for the entire day. All of my coworkers asked what I was doing. and I responded that I was only doing what I was told.

As the bigwigs were winding their visit down, they saw the now full-to-the-brim hot cases and told the co-manager to relay that it looked great.

Co-Manager: “Hey, the hot cases look great!”

Me: “Thanks! I did what you told me to do. I didn’t stop cooking chickens all day. By the way, we are out of chicken.”

The co-manager got wide-eyed and quickly left. A short while later, he returned looking like he’d gotten a talking-to, and I’m guessing he’d actually looked at the numbers to see how well the deli had been doing.

Co-Manager: “You can go back to the way you were doing it.”

Me: “Thank you.”

And this is the cherry on top: we had just gotten a truck that day, which meant that for the next three days, we had no chicken to cook at all. The best part is that all of that chicken was properly cooled, stored, and donated. The driver was VERY happy to be getting a literal pallet of fried and rotisserie chickens. I’m sure it helped feed a lot of people.

Strangely, that co-manager was transferred shortly afterward, and I can’t imagine why. I left shortly after to a place much closer to me.

My store is close to a halfway house, and some people come through looking to get new phones activated and other necessities when they get to the house. There was one really nice guy who had been locked up for about twenty years and was trying to make his way back into society and figure out all the technology that he had missed.

He was a really chill and nice guy, so after I sold and activated the phone for him, I showed him how to use it fully — how to turn it on and off, call, text, etc.. He would come back specifically for me and ask a number of very basic questions about his phone (and his eventual smartphone), smart TVs, and anything else he’d buy as he got used to life on the outside.

One day, he came in to buy a laptop and a headset. When I asked what it was for, he told me he was moving in with his sister and her kid down in LA. They were teaching him how to play World Of Warcraft, and he wanted to have his own computer and join them on Discord to play. He had come to me for help with it.

I made sure he had it set up, the game installed, and Discord joined. I even gave him advice about character creation and helped him through the introductory parts of the game during my lunch break. Every piece of advice came with a “Wow, that’s amazing!” or “I wish I’d had this when I was a kid; things might have been different!” 

That was the last time I saw him, and I think back occasionally, hoping he is living his best life out there.

Our fast food place is open twenty-four-seven, but only the drive-thru is open at night due to some logistical complications with our location. A man walks up to the drive-thru with no car in sight. He shouldn’t have even been able to get to the window without a car, but I don’t have time to wonder about that as he’s already ordering.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you order at the drive-thru unless you’re in a car.”

Customer: *Starts making engine revving noises* “There, I identify as a car. This is what you woke hippies like, right? I identify as a car, and if you don’t serve me, you’re oppressing me.”

Me: “Moo. I identify as a cow. Therefore, I can’t serve you. Moo.”

Customer: “But I just—” 

Me: *Deadpan* “Moo.” 

Customer: “You total—”

Me: *Deadpan* “Moo.” 

Customer: “Get your manager!” 

My manager walks over.

Customer: “You worker here is being difficult when I just want a quick burger!” 

Manager: “Quack.” 

Customer: “F*** all y’all!” *Storms off*

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A young-looking customer comes up to my manager’s counter with some beer.

Manager: “Can I see some ID?”

Customer: “Sure!”

My manager looks at the ID and then looks at it closer.

Manager: “I’m sorry, I can’t sell this to you.”

Customer: “I turn twenty-one in like, a few hours. What difference will it make?”

Manager: “A store I used to work at closed at ten at night. A young lady like you came in to buy a bottle of wine, just before closing. According to her ID, she turned twenty-one at midnight. That coworker talked to a manager, and they agreed to sell it to her since we wouldn’t be open at midnight. She walked out, and then cops walked back in with the wine and the receipt. They got fined and fired because the store got fined, too.”

Customer: “…oh.”

Manager: “So, yeah, that’s the difference it can make. Come back tomorrow.”

A customer comes up to the customer service desk where I process refunds.

Customer: *Angrily* “I bought this box of kid’s cough syrup, and it didn’t have a plastic seal on the bottle! Are you trying to murder my child?!”

Me: “That brand has stopped using plastic seals for environmental reasons. If you’re looking to return it for a refund, I will need the receipt.”

Customer: “I don’t have that!”

Me: “It’s store policy that all non-receipt returns are made out to a gift card.”

Customer: “Override it!”

Me: “It’s system-enforced; I don’t have a choice.”

Customer: “You’re murdering my child!”

Me: “Me specifically, or the company? Or that brand?”

Customer: “You! You are murdering my child by poisoning his medicine!”

Eventually, his wife stepped in to stop his screaming and asked for the refund on a gift card, which I happily gave. He then attempted to throw the receipt at me in anger. He didn’t even crumple it. He just threw a piece of flat paper at me at full force, which fluttered onto the desk between us.