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What is one of your weirdest, most unpleasant, or Jokerfying working class job experiences?

I thought of this question because someone joked about double-dipping their hands in the chocolate fountain at Golden Corral and boy did that invoke one of my least favorite paying-for-college memories.

Yes, someone did dip his hands into the chocolate fountain at the Golden Corral. Worse, he was a repeat offender, a man that was at least in his 30s if not older slurping it off of his fingers and all, sometimes while making eye contact with me or my coworkers. Worse, there was no enforced rule against doing so, at least at my location, so my manager just told me to let him do it, don't make a big deal out of it, and hope he doesn't bother anyone else.

That same manager once insisted on me making the place extra clean a little before Christmas, so they insisted that I use double the amount of cleaning bleach in the same bucket. I explained that's not how cleaning works or how OSHA compliance works. I got a write-up. I said that wasn't an offense that qualified for a write-up, and what they said was "thanks for the tip, I'll find something that is. Your word against mine." sus-torment

That same manager punched me out early without telling me, because the place wasn't perfect enough before I left over an hour late, missing my family waiting to pick me up outside by that long to go out to do holiday stuff. I did call that in on the supposedly anonymous tip line later, but you can guess what happens when an anonymous tip about wage theft is called in on a manager that already knows who would call in that tip in a "right to work" situation. joker-amerikkklap

That same manager was fired a week later for embezzlement, and not the cool kind. They were writing up and firing people for months for money missing from the register. I found out when collecting my last check and noticed someone new. ok

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  • CW: Death/suicide/violence against women

    When I was in my twenties I worked at a 7-11 for several years, now the experience of being promoted to assistant manager was its own radicalizing experience, watching all the corporate training videos full of casual racism. But that is not what this story is about, this story is about my friend [redacted]. We worked together for a few months and bonded over growing up poor as shit, hating cops etc. I even went to her boyfriend's house with her to help him harvest his weed plants. She didn't smoke herself, because she had recently graduated from a rehab program. One morning I get a phone call from a former coworker/friend who's aunt had come in to shop and found the store was empty, but the bathroom was locked. I lived across the street at the time so he asked me to go check on her, we both worried she had relapsed and maybe passed out in the bathroom.

    So I go over there and there is now a cop who asks me if I can open the door, saying since there is no sign of foul play he can't kick in the bathroom door without a warrant and asks me to open it. I check the handle and sure enough it is locked. I knock a few times and call her name, but don't get any answer. So I give the door a firm shove with my should, it's a shitty thin plyboard door with a latch that is fairly easy to force open. I immediately knew something was really wrong because I felt a weight on the other side of the door and it shut itself on me as I jerked back in surprise.

    At this point a thick pool of blood flowed out from under the door and I immediately lost my shit and retreated from the back room, figuring now officer fuck face can actually do something and my mind just collapsing on me.

    I would soon learn that an ex-boyfriend who she met in rehab and who didn't graduate the program had come in and forced her into the bathroom and shot her and himself in a murder/suicide. Now here comes the exact moment when I decided I would dedicate my life to destroying capitalism: This happened at about 11:30 AM. The crime scene cleaning company was in and out in a few hours after their bodies were taken away and the store was open again by 8PM that night. My boss told me "you don't have to come in tomorrow if you need some time away". No offer of any counseling, no empathy for the poor girl that had been murdered in his store just hours before. That guy died of heart failure a few years back and I hope it was the most painful possible way someone can die of that. I hope it was fucking slow.

    And on top of all that the cleanup crew didn't even do a very good job, months later I went to fix the soap dispenser on the wall and it still had dried blood behind it.

    Bathrooms, particularly public ones all smell like that place on that day to me now.

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