You’ve got a coworker who’s basically the human embodiment of a broken vending machine: you never know what’s going to spit out, and it’s always something that makes you question your life choices. He’s the guy who’s visibly hated you, turned every day at the office into a minefield, and yet occasionally showed you the ropes—if the ropes were a handful of outdated procedures and a half‑hearted apology. Now he’s leaving, and you’re wondering whether to throw a “good‑luck” pot‑luck or just stay home and eat your own tears.

Below is the original post, but with a little extra seasoning to make it more cheezburger-style fun.

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Original Post

Hi, I had one coworker which visibly hated me and made My Life miserable in start but he have sever mental health issues.
I have written this Reddit post few Days ago.
https://www.reddit.com/r/coworkerstories/s/7GPl6Tu8DW

Question ❓ shall I participate in his farewell and gift Contribution? I am confused and double minded at this point. he is very old and mistreated me several Times, he was sole reason not to let me Learn few important tasks which is impacting my career in bad way. but on other hand he helped me sometimes. we used to sit Long hour together, laugh and discusses Things while seated... he has sever Mental health issues and I witnessed how much he struggle with it. Any suggestions?

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TL;DR​

If you’re unsure, bring a bag of chips, a rubber chicken, and an exit plan. The real question: will you get a souvenir or a souvenir of your sanity?

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The Reddit Crowd Reacts​

I would not participate and be glad he is gone. Unless your relationship has changed so much that you are friendly with this person now, if the only thing that keeps you is resentment - maybe it's a good time to forget it?

Lol, man just go for it! Might sound cliche but u'll probz regret what u didn't do more than what u did.

😎👍 this....

Forgiving is the best medicine, you don't need to forget, rather than Forgiving. Participate, and be who you are. We all struggle in life, each in our own way.

whatever you’ll be able to forget easier tbh. if you’ll be hung up on participating, don’t. if you’ll feel guilty for not doing it, then do it. only person you owe anything to is you really

(Comments have been lightly polished for readability and a splash of meme‑ish charm. No usernames attached, just the pure, unfiltered wisdom of the internet.)

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When a plumber, electrician, or cleaner steps across a threshold, they’re not just looking for leaky pipes or broken outlets—they’re also on a secret treasure hunt for clues about the homeowner’s hidden personality. The condition of a house is like an open diary; the homeowner often doesn’t realize how much they’re revealing. Below are some of the most unforgettable “house revelations” that professionals have encountered, plus a chorus of hilarious reactions from the internet.

Storytime:
A handy helper walks into a seemingly pristine home, only to find the living room in a state of organized chaos—boxes stacked like a tower defense game, a pantry that could double as a storage museum, and a couch that looks like it’s been through a hurricane.
“Are you guys just moving in?” the helper asks, expecting a “yes, we’re moving!” reply.
After a moment of silence that feels like a 10‑year‑old’s guilty confession, the homeowner says, “Oh, we’ve actually been here for 10 years.”
Moral of the story: If a house looks like a moving truck, the homeowner might just be a long‑time resident who forgot to schedule a cleaning.

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The Pink House That Was Almost Everything​

Picture a house so pink it could double as a bubble wrap factory. The floor, walls, ceiling, furniture, and even the homeowner’s clothing are all shades of rosy‑tastic. The only thing that doesn’t match is the bedroom, which is a bright lime‑green that screams “I’m a secret rebel.”
The punchline? Even the homeowner might not realize they’ve turned their living room into a floral theme park while keeping the bedroom as their “hidden zone” for when the neighbors stop by.

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Clock‑Obsession Central​

One day, a visiting nurse found herself in a home that was a living, breathing clock museum. Walls lined with ticking timepieces—grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, nautical clocks, desktop clocks, pocket watches on the side table—you name it, there’s a clock for it. The 80‑year‑old homeowner spends his days winding and tinkering, turning each tick into a symphony.
“Clocks! I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen a lot,” the nurse confided later, laughing at the sheer dedication to timekeeping.

Side note:
Daylight Saving Time is apparently a hollywood premiere for this guy. He gets to tinker with all his clocks all at once—just in case the time changes.

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A Light‑Hearted Take on “In My Day”​

A comment from the internet humorously riffs on the phrase “In my day, autism didn’t exist.” While the commenter’s tone is playful, it’s a reminder that humor can sometimes walk a fine line. In response, the person says, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to wind my 967 clocks.”
The point? Even the most earnest house quirks can become a running joke in online forums.

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TL;DR​

• Box‑towers: 10‑year‑old homes can still look like a moving truck.
• Pink‑everything: One homeowner turned the entire house pink; the bedroom remains lime‑green.
• Clock‑central: A living room full of clocks can turn a nurse’s visit into a time‑travel adventure.
• Daylight Savings is holy: The homeowner’s favorite holiday is when he gets to tinker with all his timepieces.
• Humor matters: Even internet jokes about past decades can spin into a “I need to wind 967 clocks” saga.

If your house looks like a clock shop, a bubble wrap factory, or a secret rebel hideout, you might be revealing more about yourself than you think—and that’s a good thing for the neighborhood gossip column.

A story that could be a sitcom episode, a tragic comedy, or a very long‑running customer support nightmare.
It all started when a polite grandma named Gertrude walked into a big electronics retailer armed with an iPad and a stubborn belief that a 1960s inheritance document lives on Snapchat.
After two years of endless loops, a broken screen, and a dead Apple ID, the narrator (a tech‑savvy, coffee‑stained retail worker) decided that the only sensible career move was to leave the frontline and go straight into cybersecurity.

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The Great “Snapchat” Conspiracy​

Gertrude first came in for a simple print job.
The store was empty, so the employee (our hero) offered to help.
Gertrude’s iPad became a drumstick—she hammered the screen with the force of a woodpecker on speed.
She claimed that the real estate agent had posted her father’s settlement papers on Snapchat.

“It’s right here! Help me!” she shouted, swiping like a tornado on a tablet.

The employee tried to explain that real‑estate lawyers don’t use Snapchat to share 1960s legal documents.
Gertrude was unconvinced, accused the employee of terrible service, and stormed off to the bank.

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The Endless Loop of “I Need It, I Won’t Stop”​

For two years, Gertrude became the store’s most frequent visitor—an 80‑year‑old ping‑pong ball that refused to stay on the ground.
Each time she returned:

1. The store couldn’t find the nonexistent paper.
2. The bank told her the case was old and from a different bank, and that she should “go to the store to fix the tablet.”
3. Gertrude came back, mad, and the cycle repeated.

The employee eventually tried to involve Gertrude’s son, who was traveling and had no clue about his mother’s digital life.
Result: still no inheritance paper, still no tablet fix.

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iPad Apocalypse: The “Unavailable” Screen​

The final showdown happened when Gertrude’s iPad locked itself after she entered the wrong pass‑code too many times.
The dreaded message “iPad Unavailable” glowed ominously.
It required a factory reset, an Apple ID, and a password.
Gertrude’s Apple ID was tied to a landline that hadn’t existed for a decade and an email she never used.

Her reaction?
“This is your fault! You must have done something to the code. It should be covered by the warranty.”

At that moment, the employee’s patience snapped.
It wasn’t a tech support issue; it was a case of dementia‑driven frustration, a broken device, and a dead phone number.
The employee finally decided it was time to quit.

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The Great Escape​

After leaving the retail world, the employee landed a job in cybersecurity and B2B telecom.
No more old‑timer customers demanding Snapchat inheritance documents.
Just businesses, data, and a new level of responsibility.

To anyone still grinding in retail after five or more years: you’re made of steel.
And if you’re ever tempted to ask a grandma about 1960s legal documents on Snapchat, just say “Sorry, we don’t have that” and walk away.

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TL;DR​

A tech‑support employee quits after 2 years of dealing with an 80‑year‑old grandma who insists her 1960s inheritance papers are on Snapchat, repeatedly visits the store, the bank, and finally locks her iPad in a dead Apple ID. The employee moves to a B2B cybersecurity job because nobody wants to babysit a grandma’s digital life.

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Ever made a split-second choice that later turned into the plot twist of your entire story? This thread is a masterclass in “I just picked a puppy, but here’s how it rewrote my life.” It’s a reminder that the universe loves a good subplot.

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The Setup​

The original poster asks a simple question: “What decision did you think was small at the time but completely changed your life later?” The answers that follow are a treasure trove of heart‑warming, almost cinematic moments—think The Lion King meets The Office.

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In other news: There are 35‑year‑old adults that are younger than other adults. BE AMAZED!

Apparently the universe decided that age should be a fluid concept, so it threw in a little curveball: 18‑year‑olds are legally adults, yet they still think TikTok dances could replace a full‑time job. Meanwhile, 19‑year‑olds are also adults, but they’re also technically “younger” than some teens—because the legal definition of “teen” stretches all the way up to 19. It’s a wild, confusing, and slightly terrifying mix of math and social media.

And if you thought the confusion ends there, think again: 35‑year‑olds might actually be younger than some other adults—maybe the ones who still believe the term “adult” only applies to someone who can afford their own Netflix plan. Age, folks, is a slippery slope.

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Ever been forced to sit beside a person who’s convinced their own voice is a motivational speaker?
Meet the guy who thinks his “self‑talk” is a TED Talk and his phone is the secret sauce to productivity.
He’s a master of dramatic land‑falls, a pro at turning every meeting into a one‑man complaint‑fest, and somehow manages to do less work than a squirrel on espresso.

Our narrator’s been on a small team since just before the pandemic, and after months of working from home, the office has turned into a live‑action reality show called “Who Can Pretend to Work the Longest?” The new desk shuffle—yes, the office is a real office—put our hero right next to the narrator, and the chaos began.

The Sins of the Desk‑Side Drama​

• Self‑Talk Symposium: The guy talks to himself like he’s on a live broadcast. “Why do I even have to do this? Oh wait, I do.”
• Phone‑Tethered: He’s glued to his phone 90% of the time. The only thing he’s actually doing is scrolling through memes that probably should be in his inbox.
• Meeting Mogul: He attends every meeting, but his contributions are as meaningful as a screen door on a submarine.
• Work‑Less‑Than‑Average: He accomplishes the equivalent of a coffee break in an entire day, yet he still complains about the weather in every team chat.
• The Manager’s Dilemma: The manager knows, but “you can’t do anything about it” is the office mantra.

Despite all this, the narrator feels guilty. “He’s nice when we actually have a normal conversation.” Which is… a weird mix of empathy and a half‑hearted desire to see a different side of the guy.

The Commenter’s Survival Hack​

“I had a guy like this I would just ask 20‑30 times a day who he was talking to, who are you complaining to? Me? I don’t want to hear it, I’m not interested. Just keep asking over and over and they’ll eventually get embarrassed and stop”

TL;DR: 20 questions a day is the best anti‑complaint strategy.

What’s the Bottom Line?​

• If you’re the “self‑talk” type, maybe try talking to a plant instead.
• If you’re a manager, remember that HR is not your personal therapist.
• If you’re a coworker, consider the 20‑question strategy. Or, better yet, invest in noise‑cancelling headphones and a tiny desk cactus.

Moral of the story: Office dynamics can be a circus, but a little humor, a lot of headphones, and a relentless barrage of “who are you complaining to?” can keep the show running.

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Ever received a support ticket that felt like it was written by a confused sci‑fi novel?
A tech company got a request to enable a bunch of new features that, according to the docs, simply did not exist. After a frantic search through code, a call to the dev team, and a few coffee‑filled all‑night debugging sessions, the answer was clear: the customer was chasing a hallucination.

Turns out the client had asked ChatGPT for help with the service, and the AI responded with a dazzling, yet utterly fabricated, play‑by‑play on how to turn on those nonexistent features. The support crew eventually had to confront the user, ask “Where did you get these features?” and the answer was a tear‑jerker: “I asked an AI. It sounded brilliant, so I tried it.”
The moral? Don’t let a language model convince you that your product is a Swiss‑army knife with a feature you never thought of.

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Ever get a baby shower present from a coworker who’s totally sure you’re expecting? Picture this: you’re walking through the break room, clutching a box of baby socks, and your boss—who’s got five kids and a sixth‑sense for “pregnancy glow”—asks, “How far along are you?” You’re so flabbergasted you almost drop the gift, but before you can apologize, your brain starts doing a quick mental tally: “Is she judging my waistline? Am I secretly a secret super‑mom?”

I’m not even kidding. I was in the middle of a coffee break, eyes wide, when the “mom‑to‑be” vibe hit. I asked her why she thought I might be pregnant, and she explained, “I have five kids; I can read that glow.” She had literally assumed I was pregnant before I even asked. Spoiler: I’m not, and it’s practically impossible for me to be, at least not yet.

I’ve got a doctor who said I’m a healthy weight, I work out, and I’m not… any sort of “fat.” But the moment she handed me the adorable onesie, my brain started replaying the phrase “pregnancy glow” and wondering if she just thought I was “glowing” because of… I don’t know—maybe she’s a glutton for life’s little surprises.

The real kicker? She gave me a baby gift before asking if I was pregnant. That’s the kind of social faux pas that makes you wish you could hit pause and re‑watch the scene. It’s like showing up at a party in a tux and being handed a bouquet of roses. What?

I’m trying to brush it off, telling myself I’m not “fat” and that she probably just has the baby‑sensing super‑power of a seasoned mom. I’ll just play it cool, thank her for the gift, and maybe ask if she’s got any “glow‑detector” tips for the future.

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TL;DR: The '90s kids still have a secret handshake with dial-up, while the rest of us are just chasing notifications.

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The Great Internet Migration​

It’s 2025, and the world is a buzzing hive of apps, TikToks, and instant cat memes. Yet, in the corners of some quiet cafés and dusty attic rooms, there are still brave souls who remember a time when the internet was a distant dream accessed by a blinking light and a sweet, sweet dial-up sound. These are the folks who could say, “Hey, let’s go to the internet,” and then actually went.

If you were born in the '90s, you might be the last generation that still recalls the thrill of hitting Enter and waiting for the modem to connect. And if you’re from a younger cohort, you probably have no idea what it feels like to actually go to a website—because you’re always on one.

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Comment Highlights​

1. The Dawn of the New Millennium​

Why is everyone acting like the death of dial‑up was the death of that? I was born at the dawn of the new millennium, and I very much remember going on the internet, world wide web instead of being always on it.

That didn’t really become a thing until smartphones and social media took over everything, and the forum sites, personal websites, flash games, and all of the things that defined the old internet died, giving rise to the modern web of social media, apps, and constant online access in our pockets.

Takeaway: In the '90s, you had to go to the internet. Today, the internet goes to you—just like a needy cat demanding your attention.

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2. Apps and Push Notifications​

Apps. Always online became a thing when we could click on or tap an app, even more so when push notifications became a thing. Before that you had to manually open a web browser and it would take a minute to connect on late 00's flip phones.

Takeaway: Back then, a flip phone was the ultimate wait device. Now, a flip phone is a relic, and a notification is a polite, digital knock on your shoulder.

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3. The Art of Unplugging​

It’s becoming more rare but there are still lots of people who fully unplug from time to time. Turn off the phone and go outside.

Takeaway: The ancient ritual of unplugging is still alive for some. It’s like a digital detox, but with actual trees.

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4. The Tech Legacy​

Absolutely. Being intentional about screen time makes a big difference.
'83, started on 56.6 and later 128 ISDN. That was the shizzle.

Takeaway: In '83, the speed of life was measured in 56.6 kbit/s—which, when compared to a 128 kbit/s ISDN line, feels like the difference between a snail and a sports car. And yes, that was the shizzle.

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Bottom Line​

If you’re a '90s native, you’re a living relic of an era when the internet was a destination, not a destination destination. And if you’re not, you’re a digital pilgrim who has to go to the world wide web by clicking a link—a small but mighty sacrifice.

Remember: the next time your phone buzzes, you can either go to the internet or stay in the real world. Your call.

In a corporate world where the IT department is the unseen hero behind every printer jam and Wi‑Fi outage, a small but mighty problem surfaced: staff were literally barging into IT’s personal space. Picture this: an employee, mid‑report, decides your IT team is the best friend you’ll ever have and walks up to them in the break room, shouting, “Help! My computer’s acting up!” Meanwhile, the IT squad is knee‑deep in a critical update. Classic “human‑in‑the‑loop” chaos.

The Problem (aka “Why IT feels like a hostage situation”)​

• Direct contact: Staff used Teams, email, or just plain “hand‑to‑hand” conversations to flag incidents.
• Ticket‑training gap: When asked to log a ticket, the response was usually “How do I do that?” followed by a 10‑minute tutorial on what a ticket even is.
• Skill mismatch: Half the time it was a classic “I’m not good with computers” case; the other half was a “I’ve never used this software” case, where IT had to improvise and occasionally just do the work for them.

In short, the IT desk was turning into a “human‑resources” service center.

The Solution (HR to the rescue!)​

Enter the HR department, the unsung saviors of workplace compliance. They partnered with IT to create a mandatory online course titled “Contacting IT”—think of it as the corporate version of a safety drill, only the safety equipment is a help desk ticket.

Key features:

• All new hires must finish it before they can even touch a keyboard.
• Existing employees get a six‑week grace period.
• A test at the end ensures no one can claim ignorance of ticket‑logging.

Result? When an employee says, “I don’t know how to log a ticket,” the IT rep can politely reply, “You probably missed the training module—ask your manager to schedule a refresher.” HR’s compliance training becomes the ultimate IT support tool.

User Comments (because we love the chaos)​

“I hate those users. All day long they use some very specific software and then they create a ticket saying they can't print, and when you call them back for more information and ask them to show you exactly what they did, they suddenly don't know how their software works anymore. It's as if the telephone sucks their brains out and they suddenly become super stupid.”

“The number of times I've had someone ask me to troubleshoot software I don't even use that they're personally trained on but have forgotten their training for only to have them look at me like I have two heads when I have to experiment to figure out the solution.”

“Hi! The server is down. Can you fix it?
Me: the server, the server? Which server? File server? AD server? Mail server? VoIP server? Web server? Is it even our server, or is it something out of our control and on the Internet?!”

“Nah you know when they say server they mean the grey box (computer tower) attached to their computer (monitor)”

“90% of the time it means the internet is down…
5% of the time it means their email isn't working
The rest of the time who knows”

These snippets illustrate the human side of IT: the confusion, the miscommunication, and the occasional “Did you really just walk into my desk?” moment. Even with HR’s training, the chaos never entirely disappears—just becomes a bit more predictable.

TL;DR​

Corporate IT had staff barging into their personal space. HR stepped in with a mandatory “Contacting IT” course, making ticket‑logging a training requirement. The result? Fewer random “Hey, IT!” interruptions and more structured support, though the occasional server‑or‑internet confusion still persists.