People Give Us Their Barbaric Revenge Stories
16. If It's Your Party, Then You're Paying The Check
“I used to wait tables at an upscale restaurant that was known to be the place to have your holiday or office parties. Great salary if you got the right group. The menus were pre-set, the grapes and spirits were pre-set, and it was all auto-grated at 18%.
All of it was in the contract the host signed pre-event.
Usually, the host would make themselves known fairly early on so you would know who to talk to if there was an issue and who to give the check to at the end of the night.
One night, I am splitting a party of 30-40 with another server. This event had top-tier food and mid-level grapes and spirits. Very nice. A small group of 5-6 people arrives a bit ahead of schedule.
2 guys and 3-4 women. Not a problem, it’s actually nicer if they slowly roll in so we can get drinks started. I walk over, introduce myself and the other waiter, and ask for drinks. Now this was back in the early 2000s and chads weren’t a thing yet, but the 2 guys were the Chaddiest Chads. If they could have popped their collars in their suits, I’m sure these guys would have found a way.
Superchad1 – “Me and my bro are going to start with a round of Johnny Walker blue, and these ladies are going to have (expensive red grapes)”
Superchad2- (turning to the girls) “Once you have Johnny Blue, you just can’t drink anything else. It changes you, bro.”
Me- “If you like, I can put those on a separate tab, the event contract has Johnny Walker Black, but not blue, and the selection of the red grapes for tonight is (less expensive grapes)”
Superchad1 – “This is our party, just get me what I ordered and don’t question me again!”
Superchad2- “Who do you think you are? You’re just some waiter, we have MBAs. Just get us our drinks!”
I walk over to the other waiter and tell him we are in for a heck of a night, but the check should be nice.
For those that don’t know, Johnny Walker blue is 3-4x the cost of Johnny Black.
So one round of drinks for these people is over $100. The whole night goes exactly as we thought. Nothing was good enough, the appetizers were crap, the food was horrible, not enough bread, too many bread plates, drinks were taking too long, why do some people have food and others don’t (it’s 40 people man, it takes a minute to get that much food out).
To make it worse, chads and co are all over the place, moving seats and making others move so they can talk to who they want.
This makes serving heck because we did everything by seat number.
Surprisingly, most of the table was normal, not entitled people and who knew that waiters are people too. They were impressed by the food, and graciously ordered the drinks that were in the contract.
One older gentleman at the other end of the table from the chads apologized for their behavior, saying “they might have fancy degrees and good jobs, but you can’t teach class.” Love that guy.
Finally, they are winding down and after drinking almost a full bottle of Johnny Blue along with all the other food and drinks they have a VERY hefty check, and the other waiter and I are excited to get paid.
We start picking up the dessert plates and asking for last drink requests.
The nice older guy at the end of the table says to bring him the check. Not wanting any more interaction with the chads than necessary, I bring it to him.
I tell him I can take care of it whenever and go about clearing the table. A few minutes later he calls me over
Nice guy – “Maybe there was a mistake in ringing up the drinks? There is almost $600 for Johnny blue when the contract I signed only included Johnny Black. And there are some single glasses of wine that are different from what we agreed upon.”
Me – “No mistake sir, that is what was ordered and drank.” (He is being awesome, and I feel bad)
Nice guy – “Why did you give the drinks to them when we clearly had a contract?”
Me – “I apologize, sir, they told me that this was their party and since I was just a waiter, I was to shut up and do as I was told. So I did. I’m sorry, I took them at their word.”
I point them out and he calls them over. What follows was the singularly greatest butt-chewing I have ever been witness to. He goes on about how he was doing something nice but apparently that wasn’t enough.
About how horrible their behavior was that night and how he is ashamed for them. But my favorite line was how you see a person’s true colors in how they treat people that work for them and they had shown theirs.
Then he calls me back over.
Nice guy – “Apparently I thought this was my party. I guess I was wrong. This is their party and they will be taking care of the check.
Oh, and up the gratuity to 25%. You earned it.”
He turns around and walks off, leaving the chads with the check. All in all, it was about $3K. I have never seen 2 grown men look so defeated.”
15. Make Me Do All The Work For The Women? Just Wait Until I'm Gone
“Years ago, I got my first full-time job working as a bank teller. It was a job that, for the most part, I enjoyed, especially since it was in a low-income area with a lot of immigrants, which meant I got to meet lots of really kind and interesting people. I wanted to spend more time working here, but the management was… just not great.
Both our manager and assistant manager were females. That in itself is not a bad thing at all. I’ve since then had multiple female managers that I consider to be some of the greatest leaders I’ve worked with. What was an issue, however, was the massive stick up their butts. There were 3 tellers working there, myself, and two other women.
I’m the only male.
Months into working here, I started to realize that there was a serious case of favoritism towards my female coworkers. They would get extra days off (paid, mind you), longer breaks, they got away with mistakes that would get most tellers fired (losing coin, misplacing deposits in another person’s accounts, etc.), and in general just stuff that I couldn’t ever get away with.
When it came to me, I was the packhorse. I was not given any slack when it came to making mistakes, and I was always expected to pick up tasks that the other tellers weren’t willing to do (emptying the coin machine, reordering supplies, opening and closing the branch, processing international currency exchanges, dealing with the “tough clients,” you get the picture).
I brought this up to my management, and they simply told me, “They’re doing their part.
Why are you complaining about doing your own? Can’t a man handle this?”
Cue the malicious compliance. In response to this blatant battle of genders, I decided to do what they least expected: become the best darn teller they’d ever had! I started to maintain all of the branches’ marketing materials, so it looked much more professional. I developed our own means of promoting our lending products and became the highest producing loan officer in the company for 3 months in a row.
I picked up other tasks that were being neglected in the branch and that nobody else knew how to process. I even took multiple trainings offered by the company to be able to process more complex products, such that account holders from other branches started to come to me at my branch to do business.
It was an exciting time, but heckishly busy.
My management, on the other hand, was super happy to take credit for all of my labor, communicating to upper management that they had pushed our branch to reach their own lofty goals and had trained us for such.
That was the straw that broke this camel’s back. I shopped around and found a part-time position at a marketing firm across town. It was intriguing to me, and despite being part-time, they would pay better than what I was currently being paid (I forgot to mention, I was paid MUCH less than the other two tellers, who only started working a couple of months before me).
I interviewed and got the job!
I went to my manager and told her that I was quitting, that I’d had enough of them taking credit for my work, and that it was belittling and was hurting the entire team.
She couldn’t believe what I was saying but dismissed it and simply said, “Well, fine then. We’re done here. Leave your keys with my assistant.” Before dropping off my keys, I dropped an email to our area VP, cluing her in on the dishonest practices in the branch.
Two weeks later, I receive a call from this very manager, begging me to come back to train the team on the many different tasks they’d left me to learn and take care of. I told her sweetly, “I’m sorry, I’m terribly busy with my new job. I’m sure Teller X and Z can take care of it all for you.
You’ve never doubted them before.” And hung up.
I heard another week later from a teller I’d worked with at another branch that the area VP had run an investigation into this branch.
Their numbers had plummeted after I left, and it was discovered that the manager was not meeting her own lending quotas, and the assistant manager had been removing all fees from all the customers’ accounts and transactions in order to attract them to her to get more business.
They were both fired, and I was free.”
14. Don't Come Back? Okay, Bye Mom
Be careful what you wish for.
“This happened when I was 15.
My mom was (let’s be real, she probably still is) a narcissist.
When I was 13, I told her to wanted to live with my dad (they were divorced), and she told me she didn’t care what I did after I turned 18.
I later figured out that this was because the child support stopped at age 18.
Fast forward to age 15. Our relationship was understandably strained. We had had guests, and she liked to use guests as a way of controlling our behavior through shame. It’s easier to be an angsty teenager when your grown-up friends from church aren’t watching and judging everything you do.
This makes it easier for her to pretend to be a firm but loving mother all while slipping in sideways comments like velvet daggers.
Well, I decided I wasn’t going to subject myself to the whole thing and spent the day outside in the woods nearby (we lived in the mountains at the time, so it was less than 100 feet from the house). When I saw our guests had left, I went to go back inside. My mother, perhaps unhappy at being denied a day-long emotional abuse routine, told me I wasn’t welcome and that I should leave.
My 15-year-old brain heard her words and knew that she only meant for a little while, but it also recognized that she failed to specify any timeframe at all.
So, I hiked a couple of miles to a friend’s house and asked if I could spend a couple of days there. When my friend’s dad found out why I was there, he was livid and said I could stay as long as I needed.
I didn’t go home that evening or the next. My mom became concerned and contacted law enforcement (LE) to report me missing. This is a big deal for several reasons. We lived in the mountains on a national park, so it was a very real possibility that I had been attacked by a wild animal, become injured while hiking, drowned, or been kidnapped. Nobody knew of my mother’s abusive tendencies or the squalor and neglect my sister and I lived in.
Most importantly the law enforcement was the local park rangers with which she worked daily.
LE immediately contacted my dad’s side of the family to see if I had turned up there or contacted them. They promptly freaked the heck out and came to my house with lawyers on standby. LE then hired dogs to track my scent and then everyone freaked out because the dogs tracked me to a nearby river where my trail died because the dogs couldn’t pick up any more scent.
Over the next couple of days, there were people going in and out of my house: Rangers, lawyers my family, etc. And several noticed the overpowering scent of cleaning chemicals, but only the lawyer considered why a ‘clean’ house would reek of chemicals.
LE started to canvas the nearby woods and ‘neighborhood.’ My friend’s dad came to me and asked if there was somewhere else I could stay.
He told me that he wouldn’t kick me out and didn’t want to have to lie to the police or let the dogs on his property. My friend and I figured we’d just go camping for a week or so, but instead, I looked up my dad’s side of the family and called, and they picked me up right away.
Understandably, everyone had questions.
When I told them what was happening the lawyers, horrified, pounced. A judge issued an emergency change of custody and prevented her from gaining custody until she underwent a psych eval and therapy (which my mother would never allow).
The rangers, equally horrified, completely shunned my mother, and she eventually lost her job. Since, she was only allowed to live on the park because she worked there, so she was kicked out of her house.
My friend’s father and the trackers were members of the local community and churches, and they, too, shunned my mother.
She lost her job, her house, her church, and her friends all because she told me to leave and I did.”
13. Be Unfaithful And Try To Get $20,000 Out Of Me? Not Happening
“Over 10 years ago I started seeing my ex, I didn’t know this then but she is an entitled Karen. They say hindsight is 20/20
We met when I was 20 through my brother’s friend. We are both the same age, both from dysfunctional families.
I was a seasonal worker (working a variety of seasonal jobs like picking fruit and packing sheds, hard work but good pay, work available 45 weeks of the year) she was “between jobs.”
We met, started seeing each other and things were going well, after a year we got a flat together, 6months later she begrudgingly landed a job but quit one month in when we found out she was 2 weeks pregnant.
At this point, we got a mortgage and I was working as an apprentice chef, working shifts on apprenticeship wages, 6 days a week, leaving for work between 7-9 am, getting home between 9-11 pm depending on how busy we were.
I won’t lie, it was tough. Our daughter was born. I was told she became pregnant to trap me but I dismissed it.
This is where things changed.
I was working 40-60hrs a week, coming home to an angry girl and a trashed house. (Just to clarify, I don’t believe in traditional gender roles. It’s not a man’s place to work or a woman’s place to clean, I believe in a partnership where both parties pull their weight.)
A typical week for me was working Tuesday to Sunday then spend Monday cleaning every dirty plate, cup, and pan in the sink (which was every dish I owned) Her week was watching tv and shopping on social media Tuesday to Thursday, take away Friday (because we are out of clean dishes) then spend Saturday and Sunday at her sisters.
She developed this “the world owes me” complex.
Took control of the finances, I wasn’t allowed to spend any coin, to the point that she would yell at me if I purchased fuel (gas) to get to work. The amount of dollars she wasted on useless crap still makes my b***d boil. Fast forward 5 years. Things have not changed. I work, clean on my day off and I’m still explaining why I need to spend ca-ching on work-related expenses and fuel.
One day, while working I got a text from her sister “Emergency, please call me ASAP.” I tell the head chef I got to make a call and head into the storeroom.
It was the call I will never forget. “Hi, it’s me (Karen’s sister), I’m not sure if I should tell you this, Karen’s been unfaithful to you” to summarise, 7 different men over 3 years.
To make it worse, she was buying them crap with the hard-earned coin I made, redrawing on our mortgage.
She even spent $800 on fixing one of their cars. I was livid.
I confronted her, most of which she eventually admitted to once finding out her family told me. I said I wanted to break up. I changed my banking password, offered her the house to which she declined stating she doesn’t want the worthless dump.
We agreed to 50/50 custody.
I spent the next 6 months working, decluttering from years of Karen’s impulse spending, and staying strong for my now 5-year-old daughter. My work was understanding and agreed to reduce my hours and gave me a pay rise to make sure I’m not too much out of pocket.
Karen went on to date and got engaged to one of the guys she was seeing behind my back (er, number 3 I think).
Introducing Bob. Bob was twice her age, working 8 hours a week trying to find ways to work less.
She was still “in-between job.s”
Needing coin, Karen calls me stating she wants her half of the house. (My country allows 2 years for assets to be divided before they become the sole possession of either party so she is well within her rights to ask).
The conversation went like this Karen:” So I decided I want my half of the house” Me: “Um, ok.
I thought you said you wanted none of it.”
Karen: “Well I changed my mind. Now, the house is worth $120,000, by law I’m entitled to half which is $60,000 but I’ll do you a favor and settle for $20,000.”
I explained that she is indeed entitled to half the property, she needs to look at the capital (amount owed vs value of the property) since the house had an estimated value of $120,000 (local government evaluation), we still owed $115,000 (should be less but she kept withdrawing from the mortgage and property values dropped that year).
I said that by this maths, she is entitled to half of $5000, but I’m willing to give you $5000, remove your name from the mortgage and pay for a conveyancer to remove your name from the deed. This would cost me $10,000 in total, she would walk away with $5000, more than she would get if we sell right now.
She said: “I’M WORTH MORE THAN $5,000, MY OFFER IS NOW $30,000.
BY NEXT WEEK OR WE SELL!”
Cue the malicious compliance.
I calmly said ok. And hung up letting her think she had won. (She also texted me with the same demand.) I booked in to see a lawyer and had a letter drafted. I also met with two real estate agents.
One week later Karen came around, let her self in. I gave her an envelope, assuming it was a check, she snatches from my hands tore it open to find a letter from my lawyer to the effect of (summarized):
Karen as directed by yourself on (date, text screenshot enclosed).
My client (my name) will vacate the property on (date) mortgage payment made up to this point has been made by my client, as you had no use of the property, we will not seek compensation for payment made.
My client spent $7000 on repairs (receipts included), as co-owner, we are seeking compensation of $3500 from you.
My client has paid $1500 in rates & utilities. (Receipts included) we are seeking compensation of $750. Additionally, between (date of moving out) and date of sale, you are responsible for half of the mortgage payments, rates, utilities, and repairs required for sale.
She realized the predicament she was in. “Oh, I’ll just take the $5,000.”
Me: “Hmmmm, Nah. You told me if I don’t give you $30,000 by today we sell.”
Karen: “Oh, I was just kidding.”
Me: “No, you weren’t”
Karen: “$4,000”
Me: “No”
Karen: “$3,000 and I give you something on the side” wink wink.
Me, backing away: “No, we’re selling”
Her yelling again “I can’t afford this, you know I’m between jobs and Bob isn’t working much. We need this coin for our wedding.”
Me: “Not my problem.”
I also suggested she speaks to real-estate agents.
I was told to sell for a profit, we need to spend $2000 or chances we are selling for a loss. Both estimated house would sell for $110000.
With her written promise to pay me back, I did the work. I spent the $2000, got the house re-evaluated, and was told we should make a profit. At her request, we used her lawyer to handle the sale. House took 9 weeks to sell, 15 weeks including settlement.
She owed me $8000. After-sales cost, fees paying back there was a $19,000 profit. In typical Karen fashion, she assumed her lawyer would give her the whole lot as it’s her lawyer. I told the lawyer that she owes me $8000, the coin can remain in trust until she agrees to pay me back. (As per settlement laws, both parties must agree on how the funds are going to be divided before the lawyer can divide it.
She wasn’t happy with this and threatened to sue her lawyer.)
3 months go by.
The coin is still with her lawyer. I get a call from Karen.
Karen: “Hay listen, I know things have been awkward. I really need my half of the moola. Can we please split it and il pay you back $20 a week.”
Me “No, you get paid after you pay me back, you could pay me out of your settlement” Long pause, whispers between Karen and presumably Bob.
“If we agree to $7,000 out of our settlement, would you consider the debt paid?”
Me: “That means you get $2,500.”
Karen: “I know but I’m in real need of this right now.”
Me: “Put it in writing and you got a deal.”
12. Take My Sweet Time Helping Every Single Patient? Let's See How This Goes!
“Backstory: I got hired for an IV pharmacy tech position back in January of last year.
It started off pretty nice; well-rounded team to help get me up to speed, pharmacists were lovely, and the General Manager (GM=my boss) was nothing but good to me at the time. My basic job description was to fill IV’s for patients to leave on delivery runs, clean IV pumps, compound medications, check out of dates, and clean the IV room.
Our team had to make sure the IV medications were leaving on time for deliveries (which were 2 at the time — one for the afternoon, and one for late-night). My GM’s motto was to “Always put the patient 1st, no matter the circumstances.” (This comes into play later-on.)
During the months I was working there, the IV lead tech (let’s call her Emily) had fully trained me and placed me on EARLY morning shifts (Mon-Fri at 3:30a), which turned out to be one of the most relaxed shifts I’ve ever worked in my life.
Basically, I would fill a few IV medications for patients during the time frame before Emily would come in at 8 am, and I’d leave at 12 pm, therefore having the rest of the day to myself. Emily and I started to click very well and had a great workflow in place for the other members to come in for the evenings.
May comes along, and our IV team (which was 4 people including myself) started to disband one by one within a 2-week spread.
Emily informed me that she was also putting in her notice shortly after the first member did (within 2 days of one another), so it got pretty scary at first. Our GM called me personally into his office and offered me the Lead IV tech role.
What went off in my head at that time was, “Really? Me? 3 months in, and being offered a lead spot?” I was overwhelmed with joy and got a significant raise to go along with it once I accepted the offer.
During Emily’s 2 weeks’ notice, she showed and taught me everything she knew about her role and the major keys/points on what the bosses are looking for, etc.
The day after Emily left, I was in charge. However, the minor setback, it was only a team of 2 people now. Knowing that my cushy 4 am shift was eliminated, the remaining team member (let’s call her Diane) and I talked about a schedule and worked it out perfectly!
Diane volunteered to work Sat-Wed (all 8-hour shifts), and I would work Mon-Fri.
The major difference was, that Thurs-Fri was 9 am-8 pm shifts, with nobody to cover for the entire day. The GM and I had a discussion about this and said he would personally find 2 more people to replace the ones who left and get things back to normal.
May to July was one of the WORST times I’ve ever worked in my life.
Instead of working 9-8 on Thursday/Friday, I was working 9 am-11 pm, so about 12-13 hour shifts on both of those days. Surprisingly, during this entire ordeal, Diane and I worked very well together and were able to send out all of the IV’s that were ordered on time without missing any. Keep in mind, since day 1 of working here, we NEVER had an IV that went out late for deliveries nor missed any patients.
Around mid-July, I got fed up with waiting for my GM to hire 2 new people for my team. I finally went into his office, explained the situation, and my reasoning of frustration, only to be told that it was “MY responsibility to look for new team members” when he said that he’d personally look for me. I was completely dumbfounded by this, and it finally set into me that this place wasn’t the place I expected it to be.
You know, like one of those…very nice and reasonable at first, then turns into straight heck after a few months? Yeah, it keeps getting worse from here. I talked to Diane about it, and she explained to me that this was the reason why Emily left the company.
(Uh-oh.)
The middle of August comes around, and we finally hired 2 more people to my team, and they were amazing!
Once all trained, come September, and things were starting to get back to normal. I was back to 40 hour weeks, Diane and I finally got some quality of life again. Win-win right? NOPE. Early September, GM called me back into his office and did not like the fact I was working 48 hour weeks before our staff went back to normal. The GM said, “Kofaze, my payroll was almost in the negative during those months thanks to you.
We can’t have you working overtime like that anymore.”
I explained that it was only 2 of us working, 2 people down, the IV’s were still getting out on time, we put the “Patient 1st” just like you said.
I also asked why he didn’t tell me this while we were short-staffed at the time, that this could have been easily avoided and would have completely understood the situation.
GM scoffed and made a snarky remark, “Well you’re a leader, so I shouldn’t have to tell you to not work overtime. How about you use your time more wisely?”
What the heck? I was just making sure every patient was taken care of, no matter the circumstances, and following his command. This is also the first time he has ever mentioned payroll and overtime to me, so I was generally upset about all of it.
After this, I did not work any more OT.
November came around, and oh boy it couldn’t have been any worse.
I had to let go of one of my members due to excessive no show/no call, and Diane was finally putting in her notice because she was getting her dream job across the country. Note that this AGAIN happened within a 2-week span.
I was a little sad on the inside, but also couldn’t have been happier that Diane was following her dream. Back to a 2 person crew again, uh-oh. During this period, I was very lucky that the newest IV tech (let’s call her Jasmine) agreed to the working the same shift as Diane’s for the time being and told her that things would go back to normal soon.
It was sneaking up on flu and the cold season, and it gets much busier in the healthcare world around that time.
I was still working 40 hours a week, yet I am still by myself on Thu-Fri, just like a few months ago when I worked 11-hour shifts. One day, GM randomly called me into his office and snarled, “Kofaze, IV medications weren’t made for a run.
Please explain why.” I told him that he specifically told me to not work any overtime like back in the day because it hurts payroll, so I was just following his orders and trying to use my time wisely.
I could tell he was extremely furious and just told me to go back to work. He sent me an e-mail specifically stating the following: “Kofaze, the patients ALWAYS comes 1st. I do not care how long it takes you, but I want every single IV patient taken care of before you leave work.
This is where you need to STEP UP and be a LEADER.” I showed this to Jasmine, and her jaw dropped so far that you could walk over it and couldn’t believe that he would say that to me via e-mail.
Malicious compliance time!!!
Every day after he sent me the e-mail, I made sure that EVERY single IV patient was taken care of, therefore working about 12-14 hours shifts 5 days a week.
During this madness, many of the pharmacists and other staff were concerned about my health, but I specifically told them the same words the GM spewed out at me. The better part about it all, it was the start of a new pay period, which lasts two weeks long.
(I think you know where I’m headed with this.) While all of that was going on, I have already applied to another job and was waiting on the thumbs up when to start.
About 3 weeks go by, and guess who calls me? The GM asked to see me in his office IMMEDIATELY. I could tell by the look on his face of what he was going to tell me. He was holding my pay-stub, saying that his payroll was completely shot, that he now has to cut hours of other workers to meet it for the monthly quota, and why I would work 132 hours in a 2-week span, knowing it would hurt his payroll?
I had the biggest grin on my face when I showed him the e-mail and used his own words against him, “Sir, you told me to make sure every single patient was taken care of before I left work, so I specifically followed your orders.” The GM’s face turned beet red with anger, knowing that there was nothing he could do about this because it would come back on him due to a paper trail with specifics.
After this conversation, to put a cherry on a cake, I also put in my two-week notice and told him that I have taken an offer with another company. The next day, Jasmine also put in her notice because she was completely unhappy with this entire situation, therefore having zero people left in the department.
Months have gone by, and I love it here at my new line of work.
I spoke with an ex-co-worker a couple of weeks ago and told me that the IV department has still not recovered since my departure. They have consistent trouble keeping more than two people and have had to utilize other locations to help with deliveries due to severe understaffing, costing them THOUSANDS of dollars in the process.”
11. Say If I Quit, Don't Come Back? Then Don't Expect Me To Help Over The Holidays
Got what you originally wanted.
“I got my first job on September 21, 1993, when I was 17 and in 12th grade. I had to get a job for a career class I was taking and worked there for a grade.
I worked in a grocery store deli and GAWD, did I hate that job. I hated the original GM, and the deli had rotating managers for a few years. The first deli manager was a workaholic and over-stressed, so she took sick leave. We got another manager, and she was a sweetheart, and not as uptight as the last was. She just complained a lot and wasn’t as organized as she should have been.
Eventually, she quit too.
We got another new manager who wanted to be known as a “ball-buster.” She was a major witch and we ALL hated her. Her name was “Carrie.” She was a brown noser from the fiery hot basement and changed the way things were done. She wanted the deli to be pressure washed weekly, and a few other ridiculous rules. We started calling the woman Crazy Carrie.
MAN, we hated her! And I don’t like “hating” people because it’s a wasted emotion and uncomfortable. So, her stupid rules.
Here are some of the highlights and the problems with some of those highlights:
– “Don’t put condiment packets in with the fresh sandwiches! The customers have to come up and ask for the condiments!” I would get yelled at for not following that rule sometimes.
Okay, cool, Carrie! Except, this was an inconvenience to customers who only wanted to run in, grab something quickly, pay for it, and run back out on a 30-minute break! When I had to explain to irate customers why their usual mayonnaise and mustard packets weren’t in the container with the cold cut sandwich, they were annoyed. “You’re usually very good about including those, Roz!
What happened, you have a bad day?” ‘No, sir/ma’am. Our new manager (pointing to where she was at the end of the counter, listening) says I can’t include those anymore. She wants y’all to walk up here to ask for the condiments now. (looks over) RIGHT, CARRIE?’ She would look up and glare at me, to which I would laugh because I knew I was being vindictive and obnoxious.
The customers walked away glaring at Carrie for the inconvenience.
– “Don’t fill the ice machines to the top! Ice machines should be filled every couple of hours!”
Okay, Carrie, fine. Except doing that will delay all the other duties we have (you know, taking care of customers by slicing meat and cheeses, making sure food on the steam table was fresh, etc.). Also, customers rather enjoy just placing their cups to the nozzle and ice comes out.
They don’t like to stand there having to wait on us to stop taking care of other customers to fill the ice machine that should already be filled!
– “Bag up the fresh, hot bread from now on. Don’t wait for it to cool off. I think customers would like the bread to be fresh and hot from now on.”
Uhh, yeah, Carrie. Except the bread is bagged in plastic and fresh, hot bread in the bags would cause condensation.
Condensation means the bread is now wet. Wet bread, in my humble opinion, isn’t very appetizing. Wet bread also means it would go bad quicker. You know … mold! PLUS, hot bread is almost impossible to slice on the bread slicer when customers requested it.
– “Don’t wash the tea machines, coffee pot, juice machines, and soda nozzles so often!”
Oh… sure, Carrie. Except, I am a card-carrying, 100% certified by the Department of Health food worker.
That means I have certain standards I feel obliged to abide by. Including providing food and drinks prepared under sanitary conditions. NOT washing those things resulted in bacteria. Bacteria could result in customers getting sick. Also, the tea machines form a residue when not fresh. The residue that you can smell AND taste. The tea tastes sour and NOT fresh.
But hey! Who was I, as a Certified food worker under the Department of Health, to tell her how to do her job?
She didn’t know what the heck she was doing and just wanted to exert dominance over others. I threatened to put in my two-week notice but didn’t have a job lined up yet. I was told by my best friend/co-worker at the time, “Carrie told me to tell you if you leave, you can’t ever come back for your job!” Fine! I’m not even supposed to be in the deli anyway!
I just laughed and said, “Tell that witch I said thank you!”
She used to yell at us for stupid crap. Basically, not complying with her ridiculous rules. She also tried to get us (read: ME) in trouble with the GM (until I told him what REALLY happened. I would usually end it with, “I hate that witch!”). He would usually nod and leave because he knew me more than he did her, so he could trust me.
Whenever she went to him with anything, he would always come back to me to tell him the real story. Shortly after was when I finally put in my two-week notice. He didn’t put me back at the registers as I wanted, I was tired of the deli, and I was REALLY tired of that freakin’ CRAZY CARRIE!
When a person from the arts & crafts store in the same strip mall a few doors down came in, I asked if they were hiring.
She said, “Yeah! Just come in tomorrow when the manager’s there. You’ll probably be hired on the spot!” I filled out the application, got an interview in a very short time, and I was, indeed, hired on the spot. I was paid $1.25 more than what I was getting at the store and hired full-time. I went to the store after being hired (I was due to start my new job the next day) and I turned in my smock and let them know I was quitting because I had a better job.
I didn’t care that they were mad. I left there on September 22, 1997, four years and one day after I started.
Here’s the sweet payback. Fast forward to October. I had my first apartment with my partner at the time (now ex-husband) and we went to the store for some food. When we walked past the deli, I saw what had to be 200 or more containers of sage cornbread dressing stacked from floor to ceiling.
The deli took orders for turkey dinners during the holidays with a hot turkey, sage dressing, potato salad, and dinner rolls. Or, just the fresh hot turkey. The sage dressing was not good! I just shook my head and went, “Wow! That’s a lot of dressing! Glad I won’t be here!” Just as I said that my now former best friend/co-worker ran out of the deli to catch me.
“Roz! Did you see all that dressing back there?”
“Yeah, I did. What the heck? Why so much? And why this early? That usually doesn’t come in until around a week or two before Thanksgiving! It’s just October!”
She laughed, “That darn crazy Carrie! She over-ordered too early and now, we don’t have room for it all! We never get that many orders!”
I just shook my head.
“Most of that crap’s gonna go bad.”
“I know it! Look, Carrie wanted me to ask you if you would come back, just for the holidays.”
My partner snickered. He knew how much I hated Carrie and just walked a few steps away.
I lifted my eyebrow and shifted my weight to my right leg, “You mean the same Carrie that always tried to get me in trouble, even though it didn’t work?
Brown-noser, extraordinaire, mega-witch Carrie wants ME to come back?”
“Yeah, just for the holidays.”
“Didn’t she tell you to tell me that once I left, I couldn’t have my job back?”
She nodded, “Yep, she sure did!”
“Well, I want you to remind her of that for me. And then, you can tell her I said to kiss my butt!” And I grinned sweetly. “See you later!”
We eventually found out most of the sage dressing did go bad, they were SLAMMED during the holidays, and “Crazy Carrie” was over-stressed. She had to work on Thanksgiving when she planned not to, and the Thanksgiving sale was bad. Nobody liked the dinners. I found out she asked for a transfer to another store, “Send me somewhere else, or I freakin’ quit!” When I went in for visits after that, my former co-workers were happier because she wasn’t there.”
10. Don't Leave The Room Under Any Circumstance? Fine, I'll Stay During A Fire
“So, this happened when I was in fourth grade.
I tell this story often when asked about messed up stories, and my mom still tells it as well.
I was a bit of a class clown.
Let’s call the teacher Miss Meanie. She was mean to me because I was a handful, and she apparently didn’t know how to handle hyper children. This was in the 90s, and one of my previous teachers told my mother I should be on Ritalin to give you an idea of me as a kid.
Anyway, I was always joking in class and distracting others.
I was able to do my work, but I admit I know looking back that I was a handful.
So, the discipline at my school was to put the kids outside the classroom.
It was a private school from K-12, so you could attend from kindergarten to 12th grade.
When we were in trouble and were sent out of class, we’d share the hall with 4th-8th graders, and the adjacent hall, joined by a hallway with a dark storage room, was 9-12th.
So, I saw kids of all ages. Me being the sociable little monster I was, I would make conversation with them, being friendly.
They would always talk, especially the older kids. Older guys thought it was funny I was in trouble, and I guess older girls thought it was endearing or funny; I don’t know, but people always talked and even stood around to talk longer rather than passing by awkwardly.
The teacher heard me and scolded me many times.
She eventually moved me to that joined hallway with the storage room in it. It was ceiling to walls with boxes, but she moved some out and put a desk in there.
It didn’t have but one functioning light as I was blocked slightly by the boxes, so it was dark, barely visible to write on my desk with.
Once again, being sociable, I just stood in the hall and talked to passerby kids and older kids. Who was going to see me? It’s at the end of the hall, and no teachers came. Well, Mrs. Meanie caught wind and came back there to scold me. She gripped my arm, hard, hard enough to leave a red handprint, and pulled me into the back room with gritted teeth.
She leaned in an inch from my face and said with the very same gritted teeth, half yelling, “You are not to leave this chair” after pushing me down into it. “No matter what. No matter who you see. You are not to leave this chair again until I come and get you. You are to remain here and do your work, or we will be taking this to the principal and calling your parents.”
Me, scared at that thought, could not help it since my brain is slower moving than my mouth.
“What if there’s a fire?” joking of course. Through the same greeted teeth “Even if there is a fire. You stay in this seat until I say so.”
So, I did.
Hours passed, and it’s nearly lunchtime, I’m starving. I never ate breakfast as a kid, so I’m staring down the dimly lit clock time like it might suddenly start doing backflips.
I hear the fire alarm go off. We have a drill twice a month, so I wasn’t shocked. I started to get up, as I know I was supposed to no matter what, but then remembered Mrs. Meanie gritting her teeth at me. “Better do what she says,” I thought, smiling, thinking it will be funny to see her reaction, knowing it was only a drill.
I saw the kids and teens all filing out. Remember how I said it was literally 8 grades worth of students? Picture 12 or so classrooms each with up to 30 or 40 students in them walking down two narrow hallways.
Like a heard of chihuahuas through a coffee straw. So, orderly, even in a straight line, is not happening.
I see them all taper out and wonder where she is.
I see them all gone, and now it’s empty, only the flashing light from the hallway alarm and the ringing siren. I sit there thinking, “Oh man, when I see her face, this is going to be amazing.” Giddy with excitement at the thought of it.
Then I smelled smoke. 2 fire drills a month for 9 months a year for my entire life it felt like, and this time I smell smoke.
Then I see smoke. I’m upstairs, at the back of a dark hallway, in an empty two-story, large school building.
We had no windows in my school for some reason. Looking back, I’m sure this breaks some sort of fire code now.
Ah okay, I might have messed up. I’m going to go to the front. I started tearing up and getting watery-eyed. I was just thinking, “I may have just committed s*****e out of pettiness.”
When I hear stomping, loud and clear. She runs down the hallway, red-faced, teary-eyed, and out of breath and grabs me, and for the first time, Mrs. Meanie is nice to me, and she’s hugging me and crying rambling faster than I can keep up with, “Thank God, thank God, thank God…headcount…can’t see you..panicked…messed up so bad…so sorry…please forgive me..” as she’s carrying me down the hall.
I come out. All the kids are in the parking lot along with the fire trucks. I never saw those in action – neat. They come out with several extinguishers, there was a small fire in the kitchen when making lunch. Thankfully, it was contained to a small area, did no real damage, only made a TON of smoke, and was put out quickly by the firefighters.
The principal wanted to know why I was there, and I told him truthfully, “I was told not to come out, even if there was a fire.” This wasn’t a jab at Mrs. Meanie, but our principal was cold as ice and made you tell the truth. At my school, they actually paddled you with a wooden paddle with holes in it, a very old school type of punishment, even for the 90s.
(Irrelevant, but these horrors run deep, that thing whistled when swung and hurt.)
The principal had someone watch our class, and I’m assuming gave her an earful in her office for the nearly rest of the day.
My mother was called, they all convened in the office, and once again, I’m assuming words were said. My mother was livid and said she paid too much salary per month to have me locked in a closet, and even I was being a little crap, there are better ways to punish me, like, say, calling her first thing and letting her put the fear in me, which she did after this; I did not get off scot-free from her.
As relieved as she was that I wasn’t dead, she knows all of this crap was my fault in the end, and my stupidity could have gotten me killed.
Mrs. Meanie was a lot nicer to me then, a lot more patient, and I was less of a little crap. I still was a class clown, but within reason, and never tried to distract kids again.
She was a lot nicer, and more understanding, and tried to reach kids rather than scream and scold at first glance. I had a lot of bad times at that school and left only a year later due to a particularly bad incident in which, once again, my mother was present.
But this time, the teacher was fired for gross negligence that nearly hospitalized me.
(This time, I was not being a crap.) Another story for another time, though, and not malicious compliance on my part in that one.”
9. Need Constant Updates? Expect Dozens Of Phone Calls A Day
“When I was an intern doing my general surgery rotation, I started having problems with a man I will call Dr. Dino, an anesthesiologist that had been around in our hospital since the Jurassic period and refused to retire for some unknown reason.
For context, I did my practices in a small-town hospital that didn’t do a lot of surgical procedures, and about 80% of those were low-level urgencies (appendicitis and cholecystitis), thus the surgeons and anesthesiologists did 24-hour shifts in 2-3 day intervals.
What was the problem then? Dr. Dino hated doing his work. The only way he would not complain about surgeries is if they were done before 10 am and if he received a 1-hour notice. In any other scenario, he would start complaining that us, the interns (basically the main “administrative” workforce in that place), were too lazy, too slow, and spent our time doing nothing.
The one thing he hated the most was waking up at night as he had this crazy theory that every night procedure was done late only because an intern had screwed up during the day. He called us the worst group he ever had (I later found out he said the same of every new group of interns) and sent dozens of complaints to our general coordinator who, in turn, would reprimand us constantly.
One day, he reached our dean’s office because, according to him, I have delayed a patient’s procedure for 10 hours because I was not paying attention to the ER referrals. While it was true that the patient had arrived in the early morning, he had been left in observation by the ER unit doctors. They were only able to reevaluate him in the afternoon (7 pm) because they were full of work that day, and that was the moment I got their referral. Taking into account the time it took me to check his medical record, present it to the surgeon, and do the paperwork, and for the nurses to take him to the OR, the guy was starting his surgery at 9 pm.
The only thing that saved me from being expelled was the timestamps on the medical record that proved I was right. When Dr. Dino saw he didn’t win the round by getting me in trouble, he forced our coordinator to implement a rule that stated we had to report to Dr. Dino every possible surgical patient’s process so that he could check if we were doing our job right.
We were all so tired of this grandpa’s bullcrap that we decided that the best way to get back at him was obeying him to the inch. After that day, we would take any stomachache with a pain scale > 7 and a mild abdominal defense as a possible case and did an hourly update until the patient was intervened or was given a different diagnosis by one of the doctors.
We also stopped waiting for referrals and actively searched for the cases in the ER at any free time we had. Another detail was that we were only allowed to use the “official” unit’s cellphones (Nokia 2000 types that could barely make calls), meaning no text messages and no silencing, because any of our reports could be a real emergency.
The result of our system?
He was receiving an average of 30-50 calls day and night with our updates, meaning he got interrupted more and slept less than before. After 4-5 shifts like this, he lifted his stupid rule, and we never heard another one of his complaints.”
8. Get In The Way Of Launching Our Project? Not If Big Boss Has Anything To Say About It
“It all started when I made the decision to work independently after school. My still best friend and I came up with a project idea, unfortunately, I can’t tell too much about as it’s still ongoing but not yet finished.
Anyway, it is a project with the potential to throw off a lot of profit and became somehow known in our local investor scene, that’s why we had serious offers very quick and were both happy to sign a contract with a fairly big company securing us 250k to work with. (I know it sounds like a lot but it was barely enough to cover our costs the first 6 months)
After the 6 months, we had to present our progress in front of the committee of said company, we all knew them except one guy. He was a management consultant and constantly interrupted us with bullcrap. Ok. some of his questions were “good”, but it was mostly just bad-mouthing us. Because this presentation played a huge part in keeping this project alive and financed for another 6 months, we got more and more insecure up to the point where we both thought it was over.
We took a short break and argued about whether or not we should even continue this presentation. We came to the point that we should continue but our hopes were crushed. (Pls keep in mind we are both young and never dealt with people that demanding, the business world is rough).
Right at the moment, we wanted to go back into the room, but the branch manager came to us and told us how we shouldn’t mind said consultant too much as he is the son of Big Boss’ sister and is just here cause Big Boss decided that he needed to be checked through.
This gave us a little of our lost hope back, and we went through the second part more confidently kinda ignoring C (C is a consultant now I should’ve given him a nickname earlier).
3 Days went by fast and we got told that they won’t finance the project again and that our contract was expired. FRIG! After the whole event was over, we had to wait 3 days until we knew if we could continue working or had to search for a new sponsor AND pay a fine for not delivering what we promised.
Well, fast-forward a lot of begging other sponsors going on events, and trying to get someone to support us again. We found an even bigger company who was more than happy to help us out, they immediately paid the fine (gladly our old donor didn’t take us to court cause we were within the time frame) and almost doubled our old budget (I can’t talk in numbers its part of the contract).
Fast-forward another 2 months.
We were on an expo, where people with ongoing projects in a specific field are able to present their stuff to investors behind closed doors. It was at this event we met the CEOs of the company we worked with at first and they were interested, to say the least. You might guess that C was there as well, being dragged from table to table like a little kid always nodding to everything Big Boss said but never getting any approval from his side.
As they approached our table and we started explaining their eyes lit up. Big Boss offered us 300k for a 30% share, it was at this moment Mark (a consultant from our current donor) stepped in and talked with Big Boss for almost an hour just far enough away so we couldn’t hear it. This left us alone with C and 3 other dudes. C went on about how we’re just talking big but won’t be able to deliver and how he already analyzed us blah blah blah, always making sure Big Boss won’t hear him.
After Big Boss and Mark came back, they presented us with a payment plan, but we declined before they finished. Mark didn’t understand but he was about to. We told Big Boss how we think that they aren’t the right donor as we already worked with them (He didn’t know anything about it as the branch managers of each individual office are responsible for handling the financing of projects independently).
We explained how C already analyzed us and that we think we don’t fit into their business model. Big Boss looked angrier and angrier with every second, eventually interrupting us by asking C if we told the truth. He tried to deny some allegations, but we kept on going, talking about how he disrespected our ideas and us as persons. This left Big Boss raging, basically screaming….
Big Boss: WHAT POSITION DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE TO MAKE SUCH IMPORTANT DECISIONS?
C: I….. ehm…… ugh…. but they didn’t even have a diploma and this guy (pointing at me) didn’t even go to university.
Big Boss: WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? THEIR PROJECT COULD’VE BEEN OUR FLAGSHIP, WE NEED THEM ON BOARD.
C: I thought you wanted me to……
Big Boss: I WANTED MY SISTER TO STOP WHINING IN MY EARS ABOUT HOW YOU COULDNT FIND A JOB
C: But I…..
Big Boss: NO I AM TALKING NOW YOU JUST SHUT UP, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS AND YOU CAN BE DARN SURE THAT YOU DONT HAVE A JOB TOMORROW. YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT (insert location of the office) FINANCING A DEAD END PROJECT. YOU TOLD ME THAT THEY WILL GO BANKRUPT IF I DON’T STEP IN.
C: I thought……
Big Boss: NO NOT AT ALL, NOT EVEN A SECOND, THAT’S THE PROBLEM.
NOW GET OUTTA HERE BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND.
After that 2 minutes of complete outrage, he took a deep breath facing us and said double the first 2 months and 5% less share. We just looked at Mark who laughed and said deal. We all shook each other’s hands with C awkwardly standing a few meters away from us. Big Boss faced him the last time telling him to finally get lost. C responded with how they carpooled which Big Boss ignored as he rang his mum and told her how she should pick up her idiot son.
There he was a man in his late twenties getting picked up by his mum. We laughed at this incident as they walked away from Big Boss still talking with her mum on the phone explaining what her son did while completely ignoring C’s begging. We felt GREAT. We knew that we didn’t need to get another donor on board so we just packed and went out for a great dinner.”
7. I Have To Get My Next Assignment Directly From Her Every Single Time? Game On
You won’t be happy with the results, but here you go.
“I work at the orange fabric hardware store, located mainly on N/A continent.
I was putting myself through college on the overnight team. Working 9 pm – 4/5 am and then having class at 7 am and labs until 5 pm most evenings meant my allowance for BS was low (I’m a science degree. I always had labs). I was supposed to clock off at 1 each night since I was only part-time. I was only taking 15 credits. So sometimes there would be an hour or two between classes or a class would get canceled. So I’d nap in my 2001 Ford Expedition from my last class and lab if I didn’t have any work to do.
And weekends are great for catching up on sleep.)
At the orange fabric store, they consider it a working warehouse so they have all the powered lift equipment and I was pretty good at it, so good that after 4 years there I was the only person trained on one of the machines for my singular team stocking freight.
The OP (think a cherry picker with a 4-foot metal platform attached for the uninformed).
The Problem:
Because I was in school I refused to work late evenings before tests and I would sometimes call out entirely for big exams. It was the primary use of my sick/vacation time.
My supervisor and the operations manager above me loved me so it was no problem. Until cool bosses left. Enter Jerk Manager and Ditsy Supervisor.
Jerk manager wanted to clean house of anyone who could think for themselves.
Meaning someone like me. The ditsy supervisor wanted to be promoted quickly so she did whatever DM wanted.
The prelude and the act:
DM and DS were being ridiculous one night and I had an exam the next morning. So I started getting things ready for me to do OP work. I planned on leaving at one, I talked with DS about it two weeks prior and had gotten it in writing from the store manager.
DM and DS stop me asking what I was doing, no one was leaving until everyone was done (we had 5 people, and got from 3 to 4 trucks a week. To say we were behind was an understatement. ).
Me: I have an exam in the morning, I’m the only one who can do these tasks. I’m getting them done before I have to leave (it’s around 11:00)
DM: looks at me, says “Okay go about your business.”
Freddydroid1I should have seen the stupidity coming. The next day I come in and get called into the office. DM and DS are there.
DM: Last night we noticed that you were doing tasks that weren’t functioning with the group, and while we didn’t explicitly say not to do them, you were asked to work freight, not the OP work.
Me: “Isn’t the OP just another part of the freight? And I had an exam” looks at DS.
“You were aware, it’s on the note here and in the system.”
DS: “While that’s true since you’re a veteran member of the team we need you to be more proactive and show the new guys what to do/who in charge.”
DM: “So from now on, every task must be given to you explicitly by DS.
If you’re seen doing something that isn’t from her direct orders than you’re not to do it. When you finish your tasks you’re to go to her and get your next one.”
Me; Stares.
(my father was in the military, and my grandfather was a DI. I’m told I’m quite stoneface).
DM: “We need you to sign this stating that you understand.”
It was one of the sheets they use when doing non- firable punishments.
Basically, “you’ve been told you’re screwing up. If you keep it up we’ll use this against you later if we decide we want to be rid of you.” And they stay in the computer system for 6 months. So, for example, you can only be late 4 times in a 6 month period.
So say you’re late three times in January if you’re late before a certain date in June they’ll put you on a final warning.
Enter the malicious compliance:
It didn’t matter what I did, I was under DS’s heels waiting for my next task the moment I was done. If she was in a meeting with another associate I waited outside the door.
If she was on lunch I waited for her to decide to take notice of me. If she was in the bathroom, guess who was right outside the door.
To top it off I made some charts and spreadsheets of my grades from when I had the good bosses and then the new situation. After reviewing them with my store manager I convinced her that under no exception am I to be kept late.
So for the next 5 months, I left exactly at 1:01. If they tried to keep me later, the manager called DS and DM in for a tongue lashing.
Last October I switched from this job to the loading one.
Much better job with only 1/4 the stress. Load carts and load people’s purchases. I’m in the process to enlist. After a bit, we collected enough evidence on DM that when we sent the pictures and such to corporate, they moved him to a lower-performing store.”
6. Sure, I Can Ignore The Customers!
“After graduating college, I worked for about 6 months as a cashier at a local branch of a chain sandwich shop.
Mostly, it was a great job. Customers were mostly polite, my coworkers were friendly and helpful, and I genuinely believed in the company’s products.
Even my bosses were pretty great, except for one. We’ll call him The Jerk.
The jerk was belligerent, vindictive, nitpicky, and pretty much an awful boss in every way a boss can be awful. He had the type of crappy ‘no excuses’ policy that defined ‘excuse’ as literally anything besides, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” I could go on and on about all the different ways he was terrible, but this story is about one specific flavor of his awfulness.
During our shifts, each employee had a certain section of the store they were assigned to keep clean in addition to their duties. My section was the front counters, displays, and coffee kiosks. I don’t know if it was officially the manager’s job, but as long as I worked there, whoever was the shift manager always took care of the outside patio area.
Except for the jerk.
At first, he would just say things to me like, “I’m really busy right now, could you clean the patio?” which was fine.
Part of the job description stated that if you had free time and the manager asked you to do something extra, you did it. He was well within his rights. But one day, he suddenly started asking me why I was shirking my duties by not keeping the patio clean.
After all, the patio was part of my section.
It wasn’t and never had been. I asked the other cashiers, and they all agreed they’d never been told anything about the patio being part of our section.
I didn’t mind helping out with the patio if my other duties were done, but it irked me that he had taken something extra I was doing to be helpful and turned it into something that I was neglecting my duties if I didn’t do.
It felt like a bait and switch, and I felt deceived.
The bigger problem, though, was that keeping the patio clean through my entire shift was a huge pain for me in my role. In the afternoons, I was often the only one at the counter, and customers would trickle in with a few minutes between each group.
This meant that I was constantly having to run back and forth between the patio and the register, which confused customers and made it hard to get any actual work done on the patio.
One day when this was particularly bad, the jerk came upfront and started asking me why I hadn’t cleaned the patio. I started to explain that I kept having to come back inside to serve customers, but he cut me off.
I don’t remember his exact words, but it was something along the lines of, “That’s no excuse. Cleaning the patio is your job.
Now go outside and do your job. Don’t come back inside until the patio is clean.”
That last sentence was music to my ears. I assured him that of course I would do exactly as he said, went outside, and started cleaning. A few minutes later, a family walked past me through the front doors into the store. Through the large front window, I watched them stand, confused, in front of the register.
There was no one at it to serve them (the jerk had gone back into his office to attend to his oh-so-important manager duties).
I continued to clean the patio.
A few minutes later, another family came in and joined the first, standing confused, and now annoyed, in front of the counter. At this point, the jerk must have noticed them on the security camera because he came out of his office and started ringing them up.
Then came another set of customers and another. The jerk was at the register, so he had to serve them. He was now being forced to cover my job because I was too busy doing his.
I finished cleaning the patio and came inside, and The Jerk immediately tore into me, asking where I had been, why wasn’t I at the counter, couldn’t I see there were customers?
I put on my most innocent smile.
“But you told me not to come back inside until I’d finished cleaning the patio. I assumed that meant you would take care of serving customers since I couldn’t possibly be two places at the same time.”
He just glared at me for the longest moment, then mumbled something about how I should have known what he meant, and I was never to pull a stunt like that again and shuffled back to his office.
Not much of a victory in the grand scheme of things, but seeing the momentary flash of panic in his eyes as he realized his “do as I say no excuses” policy had backfired had me giddy for the rest of the day.”
Another User Comments:
“You know he has a boss too. Unless such treatment is acceptable in the culture of your workplace, which I doubt, his behavior is not ok to his bosses and you’re not a rat for protecting yourself by telling them.
They don’t want to hear that he’s being unpleasant to you any more than they want to hear you’re being unpleasant to a customer.” Reddit user
5. Try To Get Me In Trouble For Minding My Own Business? Not On My Time
“I’m disabled and diagnosed with nerve damage, so I’m in pain all the time. Because of my young age of 22 my doctors didn’t like me taking pain killer (I agreed) so I opted for a medical card.
I need to wake and bake every morning because of how much pain I’m in all the time at any time of day. You can catch me in my backyard smoking stuff. have my designated area that’s shaded under our giant mesquite tree.
I’ve lived in my house for 5 years and my neighbors and I don’t talk. The most I’ve ever had a conversation with them is when the older man to our right asked me if I was okay after a hard day. The house on the left was empty for a few months at a time.
People came and went, this was normal. Last month workers came by did heavy remodeling to the house; after the last guy who busted out three windows.
After another week the new neighbors moved in.
As per usual I never saw them, never spoke to them, or even knew what they looked like. I knew they worked nights because cars were gone and lights would stay on most of the night when they came home around like 3-4 am.
Because of my disability, I also learned the skill insomnia; so I was up when they were up.
It was late like 2:30 kind of late and I’m smoking and playing games on my phone when I hear someone calling out to me. I look up at the fence and see my neighbor (who I still don’t have a name for) who begins ranting about how I’m a delinquent and she had already called the cops to have them arrest me.
I try to explain I’m legally allowed to use this stuff in my own yard but she is not having it.
She yells and makes a ruckus, saying how nobody would give a teenager a card and that I was everything wrong with the world.
I flip her off and lean back in my chair getting stoned waiting for the inevitable red and blue lights to silently pull up into my neighbor’s house.
I can hear them talking but I can’t make out the words, so I dust myself off and wait in the kitchen for the knock on my door.
It comes as I knew it would; I grab my wallet and start pulling out my card.
I open the door nervously (because cops still scare me) and ask them what’s the 411. They say that someone had made a complaint about me smoking stuff. I say yeah and hand them my card they thank me and leave me to my lifestyle.
I think it’s done because they end up explaining to her that I’m licensed. I was wrong.
Every day she starts calling me every horrible thing her rotten egg could conjure. It didn’t bother me until she crossed the line.
She called the cops again but told them I had given her some of my stash! They come down again and start asking me questions.
I had literally just bought a bunch earlier that morning because I had run dry. I’m young but I’m not an idiot.
I ask very calmly if they knew the specific type she had. They did not, so I went inside, grabbed my labeled bottle, and give it to them as well as the receipt for the purchase. The bottle has the type name, how much is in the bottle, and when it was bought. I hadn’t smoked any yet and the bottle was still full.
I told them that they can weigh it and find it was still an ounce.
The one officer leaves next door to get the stuff she had. If you don’t know much about they have distinct scents and colors for every strain, mine was a deep brown color with purple overtone and a very strong scent, like you can smell it through the bottle. They came back with hers which was green and very light scented. They legally couldn’t do anything since all of my legal documentation was there in their hands, and all my stuff was there for the weighing.
She on the other hand was arrested for possession. Since I don’t care enough about my neighbors I never did find out what happened to her but the man still lives in the house and is very nice to me when he sees me.”
4. Can't Wear Jackets With Our Uniforms? How About If We Wear Them Underneath?
“The high school I went to was academically successful but also a very strict school. It was so strict that we weren’t even allowed to wear socks other than white plain ones.
Considering that it was a private school and everybody was there by their own choice, nobody really had a problem with that.
One of the rules was, the school uniform we are wearing had to be visible. Now, this rule normally doesn’t stand out compared to some of the other insane rules, but one winter season, our school decided to save some coin by decreasing the heating; they started to barely heat the buildings.
As students, we were freezing, but when we took this up with the principal, she said there was nothing she could do about it. I would like to add that she has an air conditioner in her room, and she heats the room to a degree high enough that students started to hang out near her room.
So, understandably, we started to wear our jackets during lessons.
Our teachers were okay with this since they were also wearing really thick clothing themselves. But when the principal saw so many of us breaking the “rules,” she went berserk on us and made it very clear that our school uniforms have to be visible.
After freezing the whole day, I came up with my malicious idea.
Yes, indeed, there was a rule that stated that uniforms have to visible, but there is actually no rule saying that we can’t wear jackets or anything of that kind.
So, wearing the school uniform on top of a jacket was technically okay, and I decided to do exactly that. I was successfully able to convince some of my friends to do the same as well.
We were looking ridiculous, and we were aware of that, but we were warm, and we thought it was a cool thing that we were having a stance. When the teacher entered our classroom, he wanted us to stop joking around and wear our uniforms normally.
But we defended ourselves by trying to explain, “We are actually following the rules,” and “We have no other way to keep us warm, and we won’t stop until there is an alternative solution.”
The teacher decided to go with it, and when our classmates saw that we weren’t forced to take the jackets off, they decided to join us.
Next lesson, we were with the same teacher, and I guess during break time, the principal heard some people were wearing jackets, so she decided to make a surprise visit to our class.
When she entered our class, she was so shocked that she couldn’t say anything for at least 10 seconds. What she saw were 30+ puffy students wearing their school uniforms on top of their jackets.
When she came to her senses, she turned to our teacher and asked why we were like this and why he didn’t do anything about it. Our teacher explained the situation and told her that we are not really breaking any rules, so he didn’t see a reason to stop us, and he thought it was actually nice that students were having a peaceful protest.
The principal said that this would be discussed later and left the room.
We continued to wear our clothes like this until the end of the day, and by the time we were in the last lesson, the principal announced that until further notice, we were allowed the wear a jacket on top of our uniform.
After about two months later, they announced their own “uniform jacket,” and we were forced to buy and wear that, but at least we didn’t freeze those two months.”
Another User Comments:
“I’m from the UK; pretty much all schools have uniforms.
I used to get dressed in my own clothes then put my school blouse and trousers over the top because I was too cold and wasn’t allowed to keep my coat on indoors.
They got so ridiculous with ‘no coats indoors’ that we had to take them off outside before we came in, even if it was raining.
I just completely ignored it, and I’m now at sixth form with just a dress code.” EmbroideredBumblebee
3. Won't Let Me Charge My Phone In Class Despite Me Needing It To Take Notes? I Have A Plan
“In college, I needed to be able to charge my phone in order to take pictures of the board. I had a Razr V3 at the time. Cameras on phones were still quite new, but it was better than trying to copy the contents of the board to paper at the rate the teacher liked to go.
Though this course was held in a computer lab, we weren’t allowed to use the PCs at that point as they were still being configured, though their USB ports worked fine.
That said, we weren’t allowed to use the outlets, computers (even for charging), or anything else. It was policy to allow cell phones to be used for note-taking via cameras, but my ancient little Razr only lasted an hour or so before the battery died when in camera mode.
This particular instructor was sour and generally annoyed about the existence of tools that let his students take notes effectively as he took apparent pleasure in watching students panic and trying to take down notes as fast as he could copy his own to the board. I outright refused to play that game, and my phone was the only option left to me.
The “professor” was the one denying the use of USB ports/wall outlets, and while I would have loved a USB power bank, they didn’t exist yet – at least not that I was aware of.
What I did have, however, was a hand-crank USB charger that I had borrowed from my dad. He had bought a few of them for an emergency kit and had given me one to use in the dorm should an emergency occur that involved extended power loss.
Now, while the rest of the class wasn’t in on what I planned to do, I freely distributed notes in the form of pictures I had taken.
Note-taking in that teacher’s class was infamously terrible, so I was generally popular for sharing so openly.
In the next class period, I sat right up front, so the early-digital-camera could actually capture images well enough to read.
I had been told that while the phone was permitted, any form of charging that used the classroom’s resources was not, so I brought my own.
Halfway through the class period, in the middle of a lecture, I pulled out the crank, set it up on my desk, and halfway through a sentence…
“…eeeEEEeeEEEeeEEEeeeEEEeeeEEEEEEEEE”
The professor winced and turned around. I was just sitting there, cranking away. My phone was pinned between two enormous textbooks to keep it in place and aimed at the board. My desk was a mess of cables and plug adapters that were needed to convert hand-crank to USB power.
After a few moments of just staring at me, he asked, “Can… I help you with something?” I just shook my head and informed him that I was good and that I just needed to try to keep my phone charged, so I could keep taking notes.
Most of the other students just giggled.
The teacher looked around, but no one objected. Most of us just smiled up at him.
Magically, the power outlets and USB ports alike suddenly became available.”
2. I Made My Neighbor And Landlord Pay Me $14,000+ For Harassing Me
“First of all, before I start, I’m about 80% these two (my neighbor and management) are involved with each other in a romantic way. But I can’t confirm.
So I travel a lot, and I live in an RV mostly full-time, I’ve stayed at the same park, however, for the last 9 months, I’ve had issues here, they have called the police on me for arguing (not joking).
They will ignore me in the office. All because there was a small mistake on the paperwork when I stayed here overnight 9 months ago, something happened and they tried to use that to kick me out however the owner said it didn’t matter and all info is pulled from the registration so blaming the paperwork for being off by one year on the RV as a cause for eviction was far fetched. There were a few other incidents but I just figured it’s cheap here and I can pay my rent over the phone, who cares… and don’t really plan on going anywhere.
All the parks are full for snowbird season plus I got a new job here.
Anyways we had a neighbor who was miserable. We could tell from day 1. We also have 2 cats. They hang out on our porch mostly all the time. Occasionally, they stray but they’re older and don’t go far.
So around 6 weeks ago (after 9 months of being my neighbor and never saying a word) he started acting very erratic.
Randomly approached my wife as she was washing the car outside and got in her face and started screaming saying that he dug cat poop out of the dirt behind his 1979 bus on bricks, and now he was going to put out traps and poison.
Somehow management had heard the commotion or he had told them to come but they pulled up and quickly pulled him to the side to talk to him privately.
Refusing to even listen to us. We were very weirded out. Calling him baby, sweetheart, etc.
So they said, “It’s his space he can trap all he wants if your animals are going onto his property then that’s your fault.”
Now, this park is known to have SO many cats they keep feeders by the front office. I warned them what they were doing was illegal but they said: we’ve been doing this a long time we know exactly what we’re doing.
Call animal control if you don’t believe me. I said okay but he threatened to poison them, so I’m making a police report in case anything happens I want him to be on record as having threatened them. They came, took the report and Oh man did that make him mad.
Still, at this point, I hadn’t figured out how to get my revenge….animal control said it was legal and didn’t do anything.
We Immediately got the cats microchipped and went to Lowes to buy cat traps to teach our cats what a trap is and how to NOT go into one (the easiest trick I’ve ever taught an animal took one, try now they’re terrified of anything resembling a trap). We were stumped. The cats were going stir crazy.
Then 5 days later, she leaves a letter on my door, a self-help eviction saying I have no choice but to leave immediately and she was turning off the power on X day.
I told her if she did I would call the local police as that’s a self-help eviction and you’ve already demonstrated malice by calling the police on me for asking you a question you don’t like. Assisting in the trapping of my cats while encouraging other cats to stay. Self Help Evicting, and at one point she refused my CDC declaration letter and I have all these things recorded on video.
On top of all this, she says he needs to start his Harley and let it run for 45 minutes to “warm-up” even if he’s not riding. “That’s what Harleys need” 2 ft from my bedroom window when he knows I work nights and I’m asleep. Essentially trying to force me out. Saying my dummy camera isn’t allowed however his real camera pointed at my space is…..
I was VERY prepared for an eviction threat as these guys get away with so much being that they can threaten eviction and people will just roll out in their RVs. not me…no no…not me.
After the manager finally spoke to the owner she realized she had dug herself into a hole and now couldn’t evict me unless I had not paid rent as they had refused to show me a contract or any rules the entire time I had been here (they don’t like to have written rules so they can change them as they need).
The manager told me I was never allowed into the office unless to get mail and I must pay rent over the phone with a card. ) Still, though I wasn’t comfortable because my neighbor had now put out around 4 different traps. Some as close as 1 ft from my property line. He still hadn’t caught anything. So by chance, I ran into a property manager while out shopping for my own trap and he told me some interesting things.
I did a little research and found out that trapping in Nevada is illegal without a permit. Too many protected species.
So I knew the cats would never go into a trap, we did about 5 sessions with them and they got to the point when they even saw the trap they’d just hide. So I told the landlord,”It’s fine he can keep the traps!” I had heard from a neighbor that he saw the manager opening up the storage room and loading his truck with animal traps, but he didn’t know about our situation so he was confused.
This is when I put my plan together. I knew the longer he saw he wasn’t getting his way, the more traps he would put out, and the more erratic he would become. He started revving his Harley for 45 minutes about 3 times a day while sitting inside with the radio on blasting, then he get a chop saw and cut lumber into as small of pieces as he could and then stand 10feet back and launch them into a steel trailer.
I had around 2 GB of video from my cell phone, so I only actually caught about half of it. I knew he was losing it. I put a dummy camera facing his front door and that’s what did it. He got too close and pushed my wife on camera. I had successfully driven him nuts, and had what I needed for a civil harassment suit. I just let him stew, every few days I’d notice a new trap.
Finally, when he got up to 14 traps (his tiny RV space looked like a landmine of cat traps), my cats were and probably are still traumatized from the site. My next move was to call the Nevada Fish and Wildlife. I emailed the picture of the traps. They finally showed up today and found his 14 traps….the fine is $1000 per trap. These people also are cops that don’t get to EVER bust anyone so they took it very seriously.
They confiscated his traps and hit the park with 14k in fines.
Afterward, she called me asking me why would I do that, I informed her I’m not done and that I’m building a case on her and her little friend for harassment.
I’ve since been moved to one of the best spots on the property near the million-dollar RVs next to the pool and hot tub with a bar and pizza about a 200ft walk and yes.
I BEGGED for a new spot to end this from day 1 but she said “were booked up full all winter we won’t have even one spot until after Christmas.””
1. Enjoy Paying My Overtime!
“This was over 12 years ago.
The workers in these industries have always been heroes in my book.
About 2 years into my previous career, I had gotten tired of working customer service (cashiering), partly because you’re constantly being watched, and other departments hate on you because “you don’t know how tough my department is.
You have it so easy up here.” (Physically, yes, mentally/emotionally/working all random shifts/dealing with Karens/knowing item codes/knowing & enforcing company policy, etc… big no.)
So, there’s an opening in the produce department, and I jump on it. Being based on seniority, I easily get the job.
At first, things are pretty straight forward. I get trained to be the opener of the department.
Other than having to be to work at 4 AM, stack bins of watermelons outside in 100+ (F) degree heat, and constantly having to lift 50-pound boxes of various, awkwardly shaped vegetable boxes, the concepts aren’t difficult.
Keep the product full and appealing, and don’t forget to rotate!
Then things begin to change. Corporate is tightening the labor budget because sales aren’t where they want them.
Labor is getting tighter and tighter each week. Naturally, as labor declines, we can’t get stock out fast enough, or we run out of time to order sufficiently, and sales dip. Round and round it goes.
After a while, we go from having a manager, full opener, a mid-shift (between 4-8 hours depending on the time of the month), sometimes a second half-shift (usually a rookie or someone from a different dept to help out), and a full closer (28-36 labor hours per day)… to having a manager and two full closers (24 labor hours per day) every day, no matter how busy or slow.
On top of that, the manager doesn’t touch much of the product because they come in early in the morning, and when we leave for the night, everything has to be full. Now, this makes very little sense to me because that means all the fresh product sits out all night (some is refrigerated/watered). So, we have to pull things like strawberries that are extremely perishable just for her (the manager) to put them back out in the morning.
This is a big warehouse-type store that’s infamous for its great product quality, not Costco or Sam’s Club big but same idea. As time goes on, we fall more and more behind. We are struggling to keep up. Now she is irate because things are not as full as they used to be.
“You can’t leave until everything is finished,” she told us.
Every night, all the displays must be full, the load has to be broken down (we get 6-12 pallets of fresh product daily), the backroom has to be swept, all the product in the backroom condensed, and any extra cleaning or other duties she’s assigned that day. Oh, and she loads up all the 6-wheelers we use to bring out product with stuff we don’t need because she never leaves the backroom before we get there, so we start out behind.
Months of this, I’m racking up so much overtime, it’s not funny. I’m talking an average of 1-2 hours of overtime per day, 5 days a week. Same for my partner. We almost always work side-by-side (shift-wise, not literally), but he makes more, and they don’t like how expensive he is.
The only bright side for me is my partner has seniority by about 15 years, so she blames him for everything.
However, she won’t tell me directly if I’m doing anything wrong. She’ll leave a nasty note for me to find later before she leaves for the day, but that’s it.
Any sane person would realize this is not possible to do by ourselves. It doesn’t matter! The day after we both put in 11-hour shifts, she scolds us on how could the two of us put in 22 hours combined and still not get everything done.
We explain everything we had to do, but it falls on deaf ears, and I’m starting to become checked out mentally. So, she tells us, “You have to leave on time!”
So, every night, we’re faced with a choice: do we stay and actually finish, or do we leave on time? Doesn’t matter.
We can’t win. If we leave on time, we didn’t get everything done.
A couple of times, a supervisor (her boss) came in and saw things not full, and she got in trouble. But if we stay, that’s overtime, and we all know how triggering that is to management.
Eventually, I’m expecting my first kid, so I get a second job that complements this one in industry and allows me to service 24-hour locations, meaning I can do it immediately after my shift ends (or after a power nap in the car).
I’m pretty exhausted and losing patience after a few more months of this (backroom produce coolers are awesome places to vent/cool off, by the way!), but as I said in my last post, I love a challenge.
Careful what you wish for!
The results: eventually, we get a new store manager. While this didn’t improve corporate policy, this guy turns out to be the best manager the company had ever seen (literally won Manager of the Year and got promoted to District Supervisor).
He fights corporate on their labor policy and proves that the store is more profitable when he spends more labor to make it more appealing and offer superior customer service.
The produce manager got forced to transfer stores because my partner had complained to the union about her unreasonable demands and targeting him with harassment since she always blamed him. He was also Mexican (legal, in case you were wondering) and over 40, so two legally protected classes.
Years later, I was visiting her new store on a training assignment, and she had also been demoted to customer service (oh, the irony!) where I believe she still is today.
Once my kid is born, the new store manager let me take all my paid time off. And we all lived happily ever after… almost. I did get promoted in the customer service department a few months later, but that only led to more stories for another day.
I think this may be something of a double malicious compliance, but it’s a no-win because you can’t comply with both. This is probably the most satisfying ending to all my stories, in my opinion.”
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