My Coworker Called Me Lazy for Not Having Kids and Demanded I Cover Her Shifts – She Learned Her Lesson Soon

What would you do if a coworker called you “lazy” for not having kids and demanded you cover their shifts? That’s the situation I found myself in. I’m Suzanne and I’m 35 years old. And when my entitled coworker Amy dropped that bomb on me, I was stunned into silence. But sometimes, life has a way of evening the score.

So, here’s what happened last week. The retail store where I worked hummed with activity as I straightened a rack of blouses, my feet already aching in my shoes. I glanced at my watch and realized I had two more hours till closing.

“Suzanne!” Amy’s voice cut through the store’s ambient noise. I turned to see her hurrying towards me, her purse already slung over her shoulder. “I need a huge favor.”

I plastered on a smile. I knew what was coming next. “What’s up, Amy?”

“Can you close for me tonight? Ethan’s got a fever, and the sitter’s freaking out.”

“Tonight? I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans. My sister is visiting from Australia, and we’ve arranged to—”

“Plans?” Amy’s eyebrows shot up. “Come on, you lazy woman. It’s not like you have kids waiting at home! And you can always spend time with your sister on the weekend. I’m in a real bind here, and I need your help.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Amy, I’ve covered for you three times this month already. I can’t always do it.”

“Forget it,” she snapped, already turning away. “I’ll figure it out myself. Some of us don’t have the luxury of having ‘plans’ when we’ve got actual responsibilities.”

A cold dread settled in my stomach as I watched her storm off. This wasn’t the first time Amy had made me feel small for not having children. And I had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

Later that night, I recounted the interaction to my husband, Ryan, as we sat on our patio. The string lights overhead cast a warm glow, but I couldn’t shake the chill from earlier.

Ryan’s brow furrowed as he listened. “That’s completely out of line, Suze. You can’t let her keep treating you like this.”

I sighed, swirling the wine in my glass. “What am I supposed to do? Go crying to management because my coworker hurt my feelings?”

“It’s not about hurting feelings. It’s about respect in the workplace. You work just as hard as anyone else there. Having kids doesn’t give her the right to dump her shifts on you all the time.”

“I know. It’s just… sometimes I feel like maybe she’s right. Maybe I am being selfish. If I had kids, I’d understand.”

“Hey.” Ryan’s hand covered mine. “Don’t do that to yourself. We’ve been through enough without taking on guilt for something that’s not our fault.”

I squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of our struggle to conceive hanging between us.

The next day, I was in the stockroom when I overheard Amy talking to our coworker, Lisa.

“I swear, Suzanne acts like she’s too important to help out. Must be nice to clock out and have zero responsibilities. What a lazy witch!”

I froze, a box of accessories still in my hands.

Then Lisa added hesitantly. “I don’t know, Amy. Suzanne’s pretty reliable. She’s covered for me before when my kid was sick.”

“Yeah, well, she could do a lot more. It’s not like she has anything better to do. No kids, no real commitments. Must be nice to be so carefree.”

The box slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor. Amy and Lisa whirled around, their eyes wide.

“Suzanne, I—” Amy started, but I cut her off.

“You’re right, Amy. My life is just one big party. Thanks for the reminder.”

I stormed out, leaving them to deal with the scattered merchandise.

That afternoon, I found myself outside our manager Mark’s office. Before I could lose my nerve, I knocked.

“Come in,” Mark called.

I stepped inside, willing my hands not to shake. “Do you have a minute?”

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “What’s on your mind, Suzanne?”

I took a deep breath and explained the situation with Amy, about the constant requests to cover shifts, the snide comments, and the assumptions about my personal life.

When I finished, Mark leaned back in his chair. “I see. Well, this sounds like a personal issue between you and Amy. Have you tried talking to her directly?”

My heart sank. “I was hoping you could help mediate or maybe implement a fairer system for shift coverage.”

Mark shook his head. “I’d rather not get involved in employee disputes. Just try to work it out between yourselves, okay? We’re all adults here. This is a retail establishment and not a kindergarten!”

I left his office, feeling deflated as Amy’s words rang in my ears. Perhaps I was being difficult. Maybe I should be doing more. Or perhaps I should simply remain quiet and allow others to crush my spirits, right?

A week later, I was arranging a display of handbags when Amy approached, a familiar look on her face.

“Suzanne, I know it’s last minute, but—”

I cut her off. “Let me guess. You need me to cover your shift?”

She nodded, looking relieved. “Just for a few hours, darling. My son Jake’s got a soccer game, and I promised I’d be there. You know how it is with kids. Every moment is precious!”

I set down the handbag I was holding, turning to face her fully. “No, Amy. I don’t know how it is with kids. And I’m not covering your shift today.”

Her face hardened. “Wow. Real team player, aren’t you? God, you’re so selfish. This is why you don’t have kids. You can barely think about anyone but yourself.”

Something inside me snapped. “You want to know why I don’t have kids, Amy? Because I can’t have them.”

Her mouth fell open, but I wasn’t done.

“Ryan and I have been trying for five years. We’ve been through four rounds of IVF. Do you have any idea what that’s like? The endless doctor’s appointments, the hormone injections, the hope and disappointment month after month?”

Tears were streaming down my face now, but I couldn’t stop.

“So yeah, I don’t have kids. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a life, or responsibilities, or things that matter to me. It doesn’t make me selfish, and it sure as hell doesn’t make me less deserving of respect or consideration.”

Amy stood there, shock written all over her face. “Suzanne, I… I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

I wiped my eyes, suddenly aware of the stunned silence around us. Our coworkers had stopped to listen, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “maybe next time don’t make assumptions about people’s lives.”

I brushed past her, heading for the break room. I needed a minute to pull myself together.

The next morning, I dragged myself to work, dreading the awkwardness that was sure to follow my outburst. To my surprise, Amy was waiting by my locker.

“Can we talk?” she asked softly.

I nodded, bracing myself.

“I owe you a massive apology,” Amy began. “What I said yesterday, what I’ve been saying for months… it was cruel and completely out of line. I had no right to make assumptions about your life or judge you for not having children.”

I was stunned. “Thank you, Amy. I appreciate that,” I whispered, teary-eyed.

She wasn’t finished. “I spoke to the others and set the record straight about how I’ve been treating you. They all feel terrible, especially Lisa. And I talked to Mark about reworking the shift coverage system so it’s more fair for everyone.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wow. That’s great. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. And Suzanne? If you ever want to talk about what you’re going through, I’m here.”

I nodded, not quite ready to open up but appreciating the gesture.

That evening, as Ryan and I walked hand in hand through the park near our house, I filled him in on the day’s events.

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself,” he said, squeezing my hand. “How are you feeling about it all?”

“Honestly? A little embarrassed that I lost it like that at work. But also relieved. Like maybe now people will understand that our life isn’t just some carefree joyride.”

Ryan nodded. “It’s about time. You know, maybe this is a good thing. Not just for us, but for everyone at the store. It might make people think twice before making assumptions.”

We stopped at a bench overlooking a small pond, the setting sun painting the water gold. As we sat, I leaned my head on Ryan’s shoulder.

“You know what? I think you’re right. Maybe some good can come from all this after all.”

Ryan kissed the top of my head. “One day at a time, babe. We’ve got this.”

As we sat there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, a gentle breeze of serenity caressed my spirit. Standing up for myself had been terrifying, but also empowering.

And by sharing my struggles, I’d reminded people that everyone has their battles, even if you can’t always see them.

The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. We still had our fertility journey to navigate, and rebuilding workplace relationships would take time. But for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful. Whatever came next, we’d face it together, and with a little more understanding from those around us.

Here’s another story: My husband gifted me a mop on our anniversary and his sister burst out laughing. Just moments later, karma gave them a befitting reply with an unexpected blow.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.