On grave shift at one site I was at, we had the world's smallest bully, Lil' Dude. He was in his 80s, about 5 foot nothing, and about as thin as Pabst beer. He also hated doing his damn job.
Somebody making a ruckus? Send the other guy, even if he was right there. File a report? Not him. He would get into screaming matches to convince the other guard on shift with him to do all the work.
One time, another guard, I'll call Night Scholar, told him he was tired of responding to more ruckuses, had done the last three ones, including one yesterday.
What did Lil' Dude do? He physically shoved the other guard him and told him to move it. Job doesn't get done by arguing, so Scholar went and did it. He didn't want to get Lil' Dude fired, so never reported it.
Keep safe, and may you never have a Lil' Dude in your life.
I am the only man working at a women's clothing store. My manager at the time smelled whiskey on the woman's breath and directed her to me to help her. And she just stood there and enjoyed the show.
Now this woman was clearly intoxicated: slurred speech, loss of volume control, lack of attention, and wobbly. She had like $7 and some odd change left on an old gift card from 2 years ago Christmas, and wanted to get something.
So I showed her the less priced items: socks, hair access, jewelry, key chains.
The woman books it to the panty tables, and screams, "Where are the thongs?! I love wearing thongs!"
Cut to me bright red, my manager trying to hold in her laughter, and 1/2 and 1/2 custys thinking its funny or embarrassing.
So I had to help her pick a thong out, that not only would fit her, but in a color she loved. Took about 20 minutes to buy 1 pair of thong underwear.