Dear FPH, A Story I made this account with the sole purpose of browsing Voat on my phone while at work, and I have literally just trolled through the front page, contributing very little to anything. It's a semi-permanent throwaway account. However, I think it's time I put it to good use, and tell you all the story of Fat Katy.  Fat Katy is a creature I've never had the misfortune of personally meeting, but my roommate has to, for several years, was her supervisor. He works at an office building cafeteria, and she was his cashier. I've seen a picture, and I'm not sure exactly, but I think it would be safe to say she will probably be a good candidate for My 600 Pound Life in a year or two. As I'm sure you've already assumed, Fat Katy is a piece of shit.  The story I will tell you this time is the time Fat Katy shit her back out. Now remember, this is a second hand story, but in our house, it is a favorite, because each of us have slowly turned to, as seems to be the word for it here, "shitlord." That's many stories for another time if you want them, but this is by far the best. (Or worst, I suppose.)  Fat Katy one day, as the story goes, dragged her grotesque haunches into the bathroom on one of her many 15 minute breaks she doesn't need. Fat Katy feels entitled to 15 minute breaks, as far as can be told, every 15 minutes. I don't know how anyone buys lunch there, but I guess sometimes people manage to hand over their money sometimes, because the cafeteria is still there, and my roommate still has a job. She had spent her entire break in there, and more, when a tremendous howl was heard emanating from her shit den.  "Katy, are you ok?" My roommate called.  Another howl was the only response. "Katy, I'm coming in," my roommate called in, worried she had somehow caused head trauma or something life threatening. That did the trick. She came lumbering out of the bathroom, huffing and puffing, dramatically throwing her weight on the unfortunate walls and furniture stubs her.  "Katy, are you ok?" My roommate was obligated to ask. "I was having some bathroom issues, and I hurt my back," she wheezed out.  "You hurt your back?"  "It hurts so much!" She complained, loudly, and that was one of the only things she said for the rest of the day. She said it to my roommate, she said it to the customers, she said it to her coworkers, anyone who had the misfortune of coming into contact with her. When complaining didn't work, she began crying. Again, the crying was directed at everyone and anyone. My roommate told her if she had a medical problem, she was free to go, but that wasn't good enough. She was angling for the company policy that states if an employee is dismissed for medical reasons, their shift is finished out. If they leave themselves, they aren't punished if they come back with a doctor's note, but they don't get pay for their entire shift. My roommate never told her to go, and so she stayed until the end of her shift, weeping and telling customers here boss wouldn't let her go home. She came back the next day with a doctor's note explaining she had indeed thrown her back out.