People Share Their Stories Of “Malicious Compliance” Revenge

There are just some people who can’t see the forest for the trees. The kinds of people who are stubborn, hard-headed and unable to see the bigger picture let alone clue into the fact that there are other people in the universe who might have an idea as good as theirs or *gasp!* better. It’s hard to work around these kinds of folks, but in dire circumstances, you are left with no other choice. When the situation calls for it, we just gotta roll up our sleeves, and not necessarily sink down to their level, but rather, outwit, outsmart and outplay them in a game that’s far more clever, far more cunning and far more rewarding.

What is this tactic you ask? Simply doing as you’re told, and then some, to the degree that it becomes ridiculous or outrageous, but proves a point. It’s not so much “revenge” as it is, “I told you so and you wouldn’t listen so you get your just desserts. HA!” That’s really what this is all about after all. Some people gotta be taught a lesson, like the neighbors suing over 6 inches of land or the boss who was being a jerk to his apprentice (it’s ok, the apprentice got him right where it hurts – his wallet…). Read on for some tasty malicious compliance, sure to wet your whistle and make you giggle.

16. Deny Me Coffee? I’ll Have A Super Extra Bagel, Thanks

“The company I work for is going on a bit of a hiring spree, and that means lots of interviews. Because many of those applying still have jobs, we sometimes do interviews very early or very late in the day.

This was one of these days.

When this happens, the company provides breakfast from the local coffee shop for those coming in early to interview. This is a nice little perk, and today is the first opportunity I’ve had to take advantage of it. Being the sort of person I am, I made a fairly minimal order of a cheese pastry and a latte. I wasn’t particularly interested in wasting the company’s money on a nice breakfast.
Shortly after I emailed my order, I was returned an email that said they were only providing food, not drinks, for breakfast, citing price savings and the fact that the office has a coffee machine.

This was a bit irritating as I had made an order that was below the average cost of a breakfast item at the shop.

So I replied, asking, in that case, to change my order.

I found, by far, the most expensive item on their breakfast menu, but I did absolutely make sure there was no doubt this item was in the breakfast section. It is, after all, a bagel. With cream cheese. And a scrambled egg. And a fried egg. And four different types of cheese. And ham, sausage, steak, and bacon. And avocado, spinach, and tomato – but a bagel nonetheless.

My order was accepted.

It was inedible. Well, inedible as a bagel. I poured it all out onto a plate and ate it with a knife and fork. Half for breakfast and half for lunch.

Oh, and it cost 4 times what my original order cost, which was rejected because I wanted a **** cup of coffee.” lengau

15. Tell Me How To Live My Life On My Property? No Thanks.

My mom has always been incredibly hardheaded. When I was a teen, once a year she always had us pull everything out of the garage (she had lots of boxes and a concerning amount of possession), so we could go through it, clean and reorganize.

This particular year, the couple who owned the house across from us (flippers) where in the process of selling their house. Unhappy with my mother’s “unsightly” driveway covered in boxes soiling their good image, they made a call to the Home Owners Association.
By the time my mother received the letter, the mess had been put away, but they decided to get her on a few other complaints such as the bikes against the side of the house and the ‘patchy’ gravel. She had two weeks to have everything up to standards.

Petty and easily frustrated, my mother knew immediately who called since the couple had come over and told her flat out with their renovations, they were selling that house for ‘way more any other house and this neighborhood’ and would appreciate it if she respected that by keeping her property on par.

For the next two weeks, every box from that garage was in our driveway. The couch and the living room TV came next. This was early summer, so it was perfect weather to sit in your yard in your short shorts and a sports bra. My mom made sure to wave and smile every time they brought someone over for a showing.
The final step came at the end of that two weeks though. After the yard had been cleaned up and cleared by the Home Owners Association, my mom went to the local Walmart and bought a for sale sign. She wrote about 1/4 of their ridiculous asking price on it and finished off with a big SOLD written across the front and stuck it out in our yard.

No clue what they ended up selling their house for, but it sat empty for a while so I’d assume it was below offer.” jumboface

14. Won’t Help Me Get To Work? K, I’ll Find My Own Way

“My friend is educated as a carpenter, and this is a story from the time he was an apprentice. As it is with apprenticeships, being the apprentice means a lot of hazing from the more senior members of a company. This also happened to my friend. He had a 35-40km drive from his home to his workplace, and as he wasn’t 18 yet, he had to drive on a moped.

Doing his apprenticeship, the company got an order for some work to do in a bigger city, a 2-hour drive away. He asked his boss whether he should show up at the company earlier, to catch a ride with the other carpenters. However, the boss deciding to be a  jerk and join in on the hazing said no, he would have to travel there by himself. He would, however, be compensated for travel expenses, regardless of how he managed to get there. Ok then.
So he devised a plan. For the entire week, he showed up at work on location at the bigger city always well-rested and suspiciously not seeming like he just had a 100km drive on a moped.

The week after,  when the job was done and everything returned back to normal in their home city, my friend came to his boss with the receipts and nearly gave the boss a heart attack. The boss figured traveling expenses meant paying for gasoline, which was his mistake. To the boss’ surprise,  my friend took a flight from his town with an airport to the small airport in the city they were working in. For the entire week, he had taken a flight to and from work, saving a lot of travel time using the most expensive travel option possible.
How had he been able to afford this? My friend’s father was pissed off about the hazing, and when they wouldn’t give my friend a ride, his father had had enough.

He would pay for the travel expenses for going by plane, teaching the boss a lesson. When everyone had figured what had happened, and in the following days picked up their jaws from the floor, everyday life resumed. Even the boss, bitter about the bill, could see the funny side of things, and my friend stayed with the company until he got his degree.” jacobhamslev

13. You Want Thick Cheese? You Got It, Lady

“I work in a grocery store deli. Normally it isn’t busy and most of the customers are friendly but there’s always that one old lady who has a vendetta with anyone behind the counter.

Unfortunately, I just so happened to be the only person behind the counter.  ‘Good evening ma’m. Is there anything I can help you find tod -‘ before I can even finish, she, the customer, cuts me off (A personal pet peeve and immediate red flag). ‘Give me a half-pound of yellow American cheese!’ she demanded. ‘And cut it as thick as you can get it (‘give me’ is red flag #2)!’
That’s when the gears in my head start turning. As thick as I can? Okay! We have a dedicated cheese slicer and it can cut chunks up to an inch and a half thick! So without even speaking I retrieve the cheese, turn the dial to as high as it’ll go (and then back some cause the slicer turns itself off from the strain if you cut it too thick) and slice off that gold brick before placing it on the scale.

By this point, the brick weighs about 4/5 of a pound and K is absolutely flabbergasted.

With that all too familiar customer service smile, I print the label, place it in the bag and say, ‘Is there anything else I can get for you today?’ She responds, ‘No,’ and takes the bag and leaves in a huff.
About 10 minutes later, after I assumed she went to harass the meat department and whoever else before going to the customer service center, the store manager head honcho and total bro, came back to the deli and asked what happened. Apparently she complained about me! He says, ‘Hey Jhondafish, a woman just came upfront and complained about some cheese you cut for her?’ To which I reply,  ‘She said she wanted it cut as thick as I could get it.’ We shared a laugh for a few seconds and just told me not to do it again.

Jhondafish

12. Write Me Up For Not Guarding The Spill? I’ll Never Leave A Spill Unattended AGAIN

“I used to work at Walmart and the store I worked in had a rule that if you see a spill, you are to guard the area to keep customers from slipping and falling. You were not to leave the spill for any reason while you flagged down another employee so that they could fetch cleaning supplies (only managers and the cleaning crew had radios). I understand the logic here as a lawsuit would certainly cost much more than an hourly employee’s time standing next to a spill until it was cleaned up.

However, there are a few issues with this in practice.
I worked the evening shift in the Meat Department and most days I was the only person in my department. I was situated between Frozen Foods and Produce, which more often than not only had 1 person shifts as well but they also closed much earlier than my department. This meant that I was the only person in my corner of the store for about half of my shift. If I came across a spill there was no telling how long I would have to wait around for another employee to come by because there was literally nobody else working in or around my area.

Also, being in the Meat Department, we had multiple cleaning stations all around. One was always a few steps away.
One day, while working alone I noticed a small spill. So I stood next to it per procedure for about 10 minutes. In this time nobody, customer nor coworker, had even entered my view. I couldn’t help but think how dumb this was as I could see a cleaning station just on the other side of a bunker. I decided to throw in the flag and just go get the cleaning supplies and take care of it myself because even if a customer did come around I could still see the spill and easily call out to them to watch their step.

Unsurprisingly, I was able to make the round trip without any incidents. As I was cleaning it a manager came walking up and took notice of me.
Manager, ‘What happened here?’

Me, ‘Just a spill. I’ve got it all sorted.’

Manager, ‘Did you just happen to have cleaning supplies on you?’

Me, ‘No, but they were just right there. I was able to fetch them without losing sight of the spill.’

Manager, ‘That’s not how we do things! Someone could have gotten hurt!’

Me, ‘No, as I could have called to anyone that came near it. I was never more than a few steps away.’

Manager, ‘Doesn’t matter.

You should have stood next to the spill and waited for someone else to come by.’

This when on for a few minutes but the manager was not budging so I conceded. That was not good enough for him as he then proceeded to write me up for ‘Negligence and unsafe work practices.’ I was livid, but I was also a college student and needed the job so I just kept quiet and returned to my shift.
A week or two later as I was once again the only person working in my corner of the store, I happened upon another spill. This time I shrugged and decided to guard it as if my job depended on it.

I checked my watch and noticed that I had about 3 hours left on my shift and had a small laugh at the thought that I might be standing in that spot guarding a puddle instead of closing my department. 10 minutes passed. 30 minutes passed. 1 hour passed.

Around this time I was bored out of my mind, but then I heard a call over the intercom system that made it so much more worth it. ‘We need an associate from the Meat Department to the back for a truck.’ This was followed by a few other calls for other departments for their trucks arriving as well.

I started laughing out loud at this because I knew that this meant that the very few people that were likely to come by my department were now at the loading dock unloading trucks while I stood guard over my puddle.
A few minutes passed before I heard the second call, ‘We need an associate from the Meat Department to the back for a truck.’ I just stood there counting the lights on the ceiling.

1 hour left of my shift and there still had not been a single fellow employee walk by. I assumed everyone was starting to finish up their own trucks by this point and would likely soon have to start unloading my truck as well.

I was watching the minutes go by in anticipation trying to decide if someone would come find me before my shift ended or not.
I got my answer 15 minutes before the end of my shift as the very same manager from before came storming through the Meat Department furious. We made eye contact and he stormed over to me and started yelling about how they have been calling for me to unload the truck and how they are now behind schedule and so on. Once he took a breath long enough for me to speak I asked simply, ‘Can you go to a spill station and grab something to clean this up? I’ve been here a while now.’ He glanced down at the puddle next to me and I thought he was going to explode.

Manager, ‘You mean to tell me that you didn’t unload the truck because you were watching a spill?’

Me, ‘Yes.’

Manager, ‘Why didn’t you just clean it up?’

Me, ‘But leaving the spill would be unsafe for any customers. Besides, you wrote me up for doing that very thing recently, right?’

The manager tossed his hands up in defeat and walked the 15 steps away to the nearest spill station and returned with supplies, that he promptly gave me to clean the spill myself.

Manager, ‘Once you are done go back to the loading dock and start on your truck.’

Me, ‘Sorry, I have only about 10 minutes left on my shift and as I’ve been standing here guarding the spill I never got my second break.

So I’m going to the break room for a bit before clocking out. You’ll need to find someone to close down my department as well.’
The manager just stomped off in a rage. I cleaned up the spill, played on my phone in the breakroom for a bit, and clocked out with a smile on my face. I know that the manager just made someone else do all the work and wasn’t personally affected by this, but knowing that I could be a thorn in his side was enough for me. Necrobiohazard

11. No Extension? No Backing Down

“A few years ago, I was in the process of getting my Master’s degree.

Our group for that particular degree was fairly small. There wasa dozen of us when we started, and a few dropped out along the way, so the lectures and seminars were tiny and we all got to know each other well. It wasn’t uncommon for classes to continue for several hours over beers down the pub. All in all, a pretty great way to learn.
The leader of the program, who also taught one of the units, was awesome. Very anti-establishment punk who just wanted to get on with teaching his subject his way. The higher-ups were in the process of trying to change how everything worked, basically making it much tougher on the students and a lot more bureaucratic.

One thing they changed was how extensions were determined for assignments. The way it used to work was you’d have a deadline, but if you needed an extension, the lecturer for that unit could grant one at their discretion. The new process meant that if you needed an extension you’d have to apply to the extensions board, and you wouldn’t know if you’d had it approved or not until well past the deadline. You basically had to gamble. If you applied for the extension and handed in your project past the deadline, and your extension wasn’t granted at all or wasn’t granted for enough time, you’d get a failing mark for being late.

It was super stressful, especially for those of us with ongoing reasons for needing them (e.g. me with my health issues).
This angered the program leader a lot. As far as he was concerned, it’s his course, he knows us all well enough to smell ******** excuses, his say should be good enough to grant an extension. He carried on handing them out anyway while they were in the process of changing the system, getting into a lot of trouble in the process, but once it was fully changed over, his power to grant them was gone. There was only one major assignment left at this point – the thesis.

Most of our class ended up needing extensions for it due to sick children, bereavement, illnesses, other life stuff that meant you couldn’t spend 50-60 hours every week on it to meet the deadline. We were all preparing to take the gamble, collect as much evidence as possible, and submit all the ridiculous paperwork with the hope that our entire degree wouldn’t be taken away from us thanks to a board of pencil pushers who didn’t even know us.
A couple of days before the deadline, the course leader gets in touch to gleefully inform us that the morons in charge took away his extension powers, but not his powers to change the actual deadline dates.

He figured the best thing to do was to move the deadline six months into the future, giving us all more than enough time to not only finish our work but keep improving on it, as an extra ****specia*l ‘*** you’ to the people stressing out his students and messing with his course.

We all graduated, and they couldn’t do much about it because he was working perfectly within the rules.” Dinoscores
10. Don’t Stand Next To You On A Crowded Train? This Is What You Get Instead

“I live in London where the underground is pretty busy during rush hour. The train that was due had been held at the previous station, so by the time it reached the station I was in, it was sardines in every carriage.

I stepped into a carriage near the door and stood next to a guy who was standing by the door. At least two layers of people pushed in past me in such a way that I didn’t even need to hold on to anything, apart from my backpack which I removed and held in front of me by its straps (because people who don’t remove their backpacks on a crowded train are the absolute worst!).
However, due to being squeezed so tightly, my elbow kept being pushed lightly into this guy’s side every time the train braked, and I had nowhere to move because we were all crammed so tightly.

Before I could look at him and apologize, he rudely shoved his arm really hard, away from him. The train braked again and he repeated his shoving, so the conversation went like this:

Me: ‘Can you please not do that?’

Him: (with barely suppressed rage) ‘Well you keep elbowing me on the side!!’

Me: ‘I don’t intend to, but I am holding my bag and I am being pushed, where do you expect me to move to?’
Him: ‘Well every time you elbow me I’m going to shove you away. Don’t stand next to me if you don’t want that to happen!!’

Me: ‘Do you honestly think I want to stand next to you? We are all trying to take this train somewhere, it’s not just you, we are all being squeezed and crushed here.’

Him: *Rolls his eyes*

So I decided to comply with his request to not stand next to him.

At the next stop, I shifted and made space to allow any new incoming passengers to stand next to him. A big guy with a duffel bag took my place and stood next to him, and I could see the guy being bumped and elbowed, again. I caught his eye as he glared at me and I smiled back sweetly at him. The next stop was a woman with a boxy handbag with sharp corners, even better. For the next 7 stops, I made sure to subtly move in such a way that any newcomer would stand next to him and he never got a moment without being shoved by more and more passengers and their luggage and limbs.

And I kept smiling at him every time he looked at me, and he kept glaring at me for complying with his request.” Buddhini
9. One More Minute? Ok, You Get Exactly 60 Seconds

“So I supervised a mom and pop restaurant for several years that dealt specifically with shrimp and fish. Outside of cleaning and prepping the stuff, the main deal was cooking it in several big ol’ fryers. It’s involved work, but it’s not hard work. Just stick the basket of food in the fryer and set a timer for 3 minutes, and when it comes out just bag it up and give it to the customer.

Easy work, though it gets a bit complicated on let’s say a busy day like a Friday evening.
And when it’s Lent season? The busyness quadruples. So yeah, BUSY. When it’s that busy, you can’t exactly rely on timers as much, because there’s so much food going in and out of the fryers, the temperature fluctuates. You have to eyeball it. I’ll have food burning at 2.5 minutes, or some food taking up to 4 minutes to ‘look right.’

During a Lent Friday night dinner rush, we’ll get hundreds of people coming into a shop that’s probably smaller than a middle-class living room.

The waiting area on the other side of the counter was probably 20ft by 7ft, so it can get pretty cramped. I have my register person taking orders and making bags, and pushing them along the line while my weigh table people can weigh out the food so I can start cooking them. When the order is done, I’d shove it in a bag and yell either the name or the order and someone in the crowd would come grab it and be on their way. It’s a very intimate setup.
So I got a counter full of about 20+ bags, each bag with a different order, and this one bag gets to me and it said, ‘Cook shrimp an extra minute.’ Now like I said, the fryers cook funny when there’s that much food going in and out, so using my ‘years of shrimp frying experience,’ I extrapolate in my head what the food should look like if cooked for that long under normal conditions, and cook it until it looks like that.

I pull the food up, and I hear an ‘ahem’ from behind me, and I look, and this lady apparently followed her bag down the line, waited for me to drop the food, and set her own timer. She said with a sh*tty ‘gotcha!’ attitude while looking at her own timer, ‘Yeah, you need to cook that for an extra 45 seconds.’ At this point, her food was already looking too done, but she interrupted my flow and gave me an attitude, so I blurted out, ‘OH, OK,’ and set a timer for 45 seconds and put it on the counter.

I bagged some other people’s food, and I hear the lady behind me again, apparently with a little less condescension to her words this time, ‘Oh, I think it’s done now…’ and I grab the timer that had I set right in front of her, looked at it, and yelled, with an equally condescending sh*tty ‘gotcha!’ attitude, ‘Oh, but you still have 17 seconds left!’ and smacked it down and waited until the timer went off – 17 seconds can feel like a long time in those kinds of situations.

Finally, the timer went off, I grabbed her food, it looked burnt; I bagged it up and gave it to her and said, ‘Here you go, miss! Enjoy the rest of your day!’ She muttered a thank you and walked off, and my coworkers and customers had a little laugh about it.

Never got a complaint.” ChicagoPaul2010
8. Your Whole Family Likes My Humor Except You? Ok, No More Ms. Fun Server

“When I first started serving, I figured that the best way for me to approach it was with humor. The way I saw it, most people were out there to have a decent meal and enjoy it. And because I have an odd sense of humor, this meant I came up with some pretty weird, but ultimately harmless jokes. For example, if anyone ordered coffee, I’d bring them their ‘scalded bean juice and bovine drippings.’ When they paid, I’d tell them we accepted ‘cash, card, or your immortal soul,’ or some other lines.

Because I’ve been doing it for a while, I kept the delivery easy, so people knew I was joking and I had a BUNCH of material. Some didn’t really pay attention (especially when paying,) so it went over their heads. Few didn’t really care one way or another, but most times, I’d get a laugh.
Because of this, I rarely got complaints. Some people didn’t like my sense of humor, and I understood that, but at best, they just wouldn’t tip. No biggie. Except for this one customer, Entitled Dad.

Entitled Dad was seated at my table with his wife and two kids.

One kid looked a little sad when I first approached their table, so I thought that it’d be a perfect opportunity. When I brought them their drinks, I made sure to be as humourous as I could.

Me: ‘Here’s the cow juice, both from a white cow and brown one. Sorry for the delay, we had an udder disaster milking them!’
K1 and K2 giggle.

Me: ‘And then the caustic aqua to burn your dried leaves. As well as some dismembered citrus.’

Wife looks confused for a moment, but then I see the ‘oh!’ moment and a smile.

Me: ‘Lastly, your dihydrogen monoxide, in its solid and liquid forms.’

Entitled Dad, however, looks a sour as the lemon slices.

Entitled Dad: ‘Excuse me, what did you say this was?’

Wife: ‘Really?’

Me: ‘Why it’s the essence of life itself. And something that came out of the dinosaurs years ago. Just filtered super well.’

Cue more giggles from the kids, but Entitled Dad looked really annoyed. Thankfully, Wife stopped him from doing anything by saying, ‘Honey, it’s water. You know, H2O?’ After that, the meal went relatively quietly. I got their food orders, brought them it when it came out hot and fresh (no clever lines there; the menu was too big to come up with something for everything, though I did try for the kids.) I checked on them twice to make sure the food was good, even got to chatting with the wife and kids for a bit.

Entitled Dad was silent the whole time, only really nodding when I asked if his food was good or holding out his glass for more water. I didn’t mind him too much, though, because I thought that it was the end of it. I brought them the bill, with the usual joke of ‘Cash, card, and firstborn children up at the front whenever you’re ready.’And even Wife joked back,’Guess Kid One is doing the dishes!’
Next time I had stopped by the table, Entitled Dad was up at the front paying, while the kids drew on the kid’s menus and Wife watched them.

Wife thanked me for my great attitude, handing me a seven-dollar tip for cheering up her kids. Turns out the family dog had a vet visit and the kids were worried. I just told her that I was more than happy to help take their mind off it, and I hoped they came back soon.

That should’ve been the end of it. Except that it wasn’t.

Because while Wife was thanking me, it turns out Entitled Dad was complaining to the shift manager. Saying stuff like (and I’m paraphrasing because I heard this after from my manager.) ‘OP is obnoxious, makes stuff up (important for later), and won’t stop talking.

I just want to get my meal, not have to deal with a brat annoying my family. She even suggested I pay with my kids!’ The general gist of his complaint was that he just wanted a server who was bland, made no jokes, handed them their food, and walked away. What made him a real Entitled Dad was that he demanded a discount AND free dessert for his kids for his trouble. This being the Food Service industry, where Customer is King, my manager caved like wet tissue paper and personally brought the dessert. This being a place I’ve worked for years and I had a good relationship with my manager, we both just chatted about how much of a *** this guy was after he was gone.

Fast forward to about a month later. I’m working the afternoon shift on a Wednesday. It’s in the dead period, and there are a couple of hours at the start of my shift where I’m the only one in the front of the house, and my manager is in the back counting last shift’s cash. I’m basically alone, save for the cook, who isn’t allowed up at the front, so when Entitled Dad and his family come in, I can’t immediately seat them because I’m taking food out. Still, Wife and kids were excited to see me, while behind them, Entitled Dad stares at me like I’m a ********* on a napkin.

I can tell he remembers me, and more importantly, I remember him and his complaint.
His mistake is going to the washroom while I sat his family. It was the start of my shift, so I was still in a really good mood. I asked how they were, Kid One said that the dog was doing much better, and Kid Two asked if he could have some brown udder juice. Wife ordered herself a peppermint tea and a coffee for Entitled Dad. As I sat them, I told them that I was going to do something different today. I told the kids I wasn’t mad at them, I promise.

Wife was confused, but I just smiled and winked before I left to get their drinks.
By the time that I had the drinks, Entitled Dad was there and waiting. Perfect. I slowed my pace from my usual speed into a slow march. The kids look up at me, clearly expecting.

Entitled Dad: ‘We’re not ready to order yet.’

Me: (completely emotionless) ‘Very well, sir. Here is your: coffee. Tea, Peppermint. Milk, chocolate. Juice, orange. Three waters. One water, no ice. Four Creamers. Sugar is in the caddy on your wife’s right. Is there anything else you require of me?’

Entitled Dad: ‘No.’

The kids and Wife were confused.

I had done a total 180 from peppy jokester to monotonous robot, and I was only gone for a couple of minutes. But I just turned 90 degrees to the right and went to another table, where I dropped the act and went back to being me. This went on for a little while, as Entitled Dad wasn’t ready to order the next two times I stopped, even though his kids already knew what they wanted. I was neutral every time I stopped by their table, then went right back to being fun around the other two. I chatted with one regular about some of the games he was playing, and an older couple about their kids.

But with Entitled Dad ‘s table? Nada. Wife asked me to put the order for appetizers and I complied. Funnily enough, it was the same appetizer the older couple had. So they could hear me say to them. ‘Six hush puppies to a good home in warm stomach acids!’ only to bring theirs and say, ‘Hush puppy. Six.’
Naturally, by the time I stopped at Entitled Dad ‘s table with the appetizer, no one was happy. The kids wanted to hear the jokes from me to them, not overheard. Even Entitled Dad was annoyed because I was way nicer and warmer to other tables.

But Wife asked the question I was waiting for.

Wife: ‘OP, how come you’re joking with everyone but us? Last time, we got the best service I’ve ever had in Chain Diner.’

Entitled Dad: ‘Get me your manager, now. I refuse to be ignored when I’m just here to eat with my family.’

I, in fact, made no move to get my manager, but carefully schooled my expression to something neutral and kept my tone as calm as can be. “But sir. Last time, you insisted to my manager while was paying that I am factual, concise, and as non-intrusive. As I recall, you found my behavior’ annoying to you and your family.’
Instantly, Wife and his kids looked right at him.

He immediately went red.

Entitled Dad: ‘That’s not what I said! I said that the service was great!’

Me: ‘Actually, sir, and allow me to remind you that you insisted I ‘not make stuff up,’ you complained that I wouldn’t stop talking, and found my humor offensive, particularly the part where you claimed I suggested you pay with your children. And my manager offered you 25% off as well as a free dessert as recompense.’

Wife: ‘What? Entitled Dad said that you offered it because you felt bad about our dog!’

Me: ‘While I would’ve liked to, I did not. So my behavior today is in alignment with his previous complaint.’
At this point, the kids were upset and Wife was furious.

She asked me to give them a couple of minutes with their order, and I just nodded and left. I did see Wife and Entitled Dad head out of the restaurant for a bit, and Wife returned after a bit alone. As it turns out, Entitled Dad is a serial complainer to try and get discounts and free food from restaurants, and Wife was very upset that not only he pulled it again, but on their new favorite server. So he was off to eat alone at the golden arches and I was back to joking and cheering the kids up.

I apologized for my behavior, and the meal went on like normal.
I got another complaint from this guy from our customer surveys, and this time the manager said that I was out of line, but I thought it was worth it. Besides, Wife and the kids came in every now and then after that, asking if I was serving.

Personally, I think the guy was just mad that he didn’t know that H2O is water.”JustServerisms

7. Wake Me Out Of My Slumber To Scam Me, Take This…

“This just happened about 20 or so minutes ago.

The phone rings waking me up from a sound sleep.

Me: ‘Hullo?’ (very groggy someone better be dead…)

Computer: ‘Your credit card was used on eBay…blah blah spiel…’ Oh heck no you wake me up with this crap and tell me to push 1?! It’s ON! I pushed 1.
Enter hopeful scammer from the dark bowels of a warehouse in a jungle.

Scammer: ‘Blah blah Visa credit card used for international purchases…’ (I don’t have a Visa)

Me: (yawning) ‘Oh dear what am I to do?’

Scammer: ‘Yes Mam! It is very sad! I will need to confirm your credit card information. Can you please tell me the name on the credit card?’

Me: (contemplating coffee) ‘Ronald McDonald.’

Scammer: ‘Ronald McDonald? Is that R-O-N-A-L-D?’ (getting excited)

Me: ‘Yup.

oh me oh my whatever shall I do?’

Scammer: ‘Yes Mam! Can you confirm is your credit card gone and where it is gone from?’

Me: (beginning to enjoy myself)’ Oh dear it is gone. Oh woe. is. me. I am dismayed. Oh me. Oh . My…’
Scammer: ‘Can you tell me where you lost your credit card?’ (I’m beginning to drool thinking of coffee)

Me: ‘It must have been at Whitehouse Burgers. Gosh. darn.’

Scammer: (practically bouncing off his chair) ‘Yes Mam! That is it exactly! Can you tell me any strange purchases made on your credit card?’

Me: ‘Well there was that call yesterday saying someone bought an AK-47.

I was wondering about that as I already have one…’

Scammer: (panting from excitement) ‘Yes Ma—– ‘(voice in the background filled with disgust speaking in their dialect something that must translate to YOU IDIOT! followed by a slapping sound)

….silence….dial tone

Sigh. Just when it was getting good too. Oh well, next time! I need coffee.” Waifer2016
6. Don’t Want To Play By The Rules? I Will

“This happened in 2016. I am a Chartered Accountant/CPA and got a breakthrough in one of the largest accountancy firms in the world.

I was hired as a manager in 2014 after working as a trainee student for 3.5 years in the same firm (I was required by law to complete the training to get my degree).

I was over the moon until I got face to face with Mr. Partner.

The 2 Senior Managers who hired me resigned from the firm abruptly leaving me second in charge to Mr. Partner. Being that this happened only 3 months after me becoming a manager, I had no idea how to cope with Mr. Partner and his work style.
The important thing to mention is that I was hired on probation of 6 months which is the norm. After 6 months, Mr. Partner had to sign a confirmation report because of which my post-employment benefits would start accumulating. This means Mr. Partner would have to contribute 10% of my pay towards my provident fund.

Being the money-grubber he is, he never signed that confirmation.

I went to him to question about this and he said the agreement says that the probation period can be extended if your performance is not satisfactory. He emphasized that I am not working up to mark and I need to do more in order to be ‘confirmed’ as per agreement.
According to him: Me working for more than 60 assignments in a single year (each assignment can run from 2 weeks to 4 months), without overtime, coming in on weekends and staying all together in the office for 2 to 3 days consecutively was not up to mark.

I lost my *** but I knew he could bend me over since it’s as per agreement. Oh, I also single-handedly managed to increase his revenue by 18% in that year alone from existing assignments by renegotiating contracts and identifying unbilled work.

1 year passed and he didn’t confirm me always citing the same reason. My life was a living ****. My hair went grey from the stress and I gained a lot of weight since all my time was spent working. Mr. Partner left no stone unturned to prove he is a typical greedy curt old and narcissistic ******* who only cares about profits.

At the same time, he was pressurized by senior partners to hire a senior manager despite my good performance (my annual increment finalized by HR based on performance was 35% after I helped the firm secure A+ rating in annual internal audit).

Enter Mr. K. He was a snobby little ******* who viewed me as his competitor and immediately started to down trode me in a very passive-aggressive manner. I won’t go into details as this is already getting long. After 3 or so months, I was asked to change cabins and I was cleaning out my drawer where I found my appointment letter.

I started to read it and lo and behold: I found gold!
There it was written that after confirmation (emphasis on after), the notice period to serve after handing in your resignation is to be not less than 6 months otherwise amount equal to short number of days of salary will be deducted.

Since I was never confirmed, this did not apply to me.

I go to 4 of my other colleagues who also worked for Mr. Partner and I discussed this with them. They were also never confirmed so technically we were never permanent employees of Mr. Partner. Keeping this in mind, we started searching for new jobs actively.

As fate would have it, it took us 1 year to find alternate jobs, and I was the first one to leave.
As soon as I got an appointment letter from the other company, I went to Mr. Partner and handed my resignation with 2 weeks of notice. I put in 2 weeks since I wanted to finish all my jobs in hand which was crucial for me, both ethically and ensuring I stay on good terms with these rich people.

Mr. Partner goes on a rant as I have to give at least 6 months’ notice. I calmly said sir, you never confirmed our appointment so the clause does not apply to me.

At first, he resisted, then called in HR partner and went on another rant. I sat there calmly and the HR partner listened to him, his face turning red. He knew Mr. Partner had f*cked up because if he says I am a permanent employee, he would have to pay all post-retirement benefits retrospectively which amounted to a hefty sum. If he says I am not a permanent employee then I am not bound to serve 3 months’ notice.
So I serve my 2 weeks, finish all my assignments and on the very last day, went to Mr. K, handed over my laptop, cabin keys, and employee card; and exited the building without saying a single word.

Within 2 months of my leaving, all 3 other colleagues got different jobs and all of them went out after serving a week’s notice and there was nothing Mr. Partner or Mr. K could do about it.

Since I was handling more than 50% of the workload, I start receiving calls from ex-clients about the deteriorating quality of work and lack of attention. 2 clients left immediately after they got to know about my departure.
The incremental benefit I received from switching immediately compensated for no post-employment benefits within 6 months so it was a win-win situation for me. Plus the mental peace… Those 2 years were **** for me but the satisfaction of this malicious compliance was only topped by the fact that I also met my now wife in that office and we are now as happy as a human could be…

My wife went on to work for another partner in the same firm (who is a very thorough gentleman) and just a week ago she told me that the firm has kicked out Mr.

Partner due to ethical issues and Mr. K has been denied promotion to Director level over non-performance which effectively means his career has ended in that firm.” mbilaalch
5. Get A Doc’s Note? Gotta Obey It Too, Then

“My job is hardcore about taking time off, basically, you can’t unless approved in major advanced. I felt sick on Wednesday, so needed to leave early. I had no intention of taking more time than that. The boss demanded I have a doctor’s note to leave early, so I went to the doctor and the doctor said I can’t return to work for two days.

Thanks boss, I wouldn’t have been able to take those days off otherwise.” AeviDaudi

Another User Comments:
“My old supervisor used to do this to me. I got viral pink eye (couldn’t take antibiotics for it) so I called in 2 days in a row telling him I couldn’t come in like this. He said, ‘Put some raw meat on your eye and come into work. If you don’t come in you better have a doctor’s note.’ So I went to the doctor and they said to stay out of the office for at least a week. The supervisor wasn’t happy but he asked for it.” eezrasharpe
4. You Want Change For Your Big Bills? Hope You Have Big Pockets

“Despite the big bold sign written in such a way that even the North Sentinelese could understand it, almost everyone with $50s and $100s thinks they don’t need no stinking bank and will just go to us to get that big bill broken down.

Well, it wipes out our tills when they raise a fuss and eventually customers called corporate. Their response was to have us rescind the policy and, carry more money in the tills. Obviously they have never worked a till in their lives otherwise they would know why we don’t carry disgusting amounts of money in the register.
But they didn’t tell us we needed $20s and $10s. So we decide to start some malicious compliance.

We go to the bank and their mouths twist into a grin when we tell them. We get dozens of $5s and $1s… and wait.

First jerk walks in and smugly places down a $100.

His change is $95. Here we go! I start singing the Schoolhouse Rock song. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five… he gets nineteen $5s. He asks where the $20s are and I tell him, “We are out. People keep paying with $50s and $100s and wipe out the $10s and $20s.”
Second twit comes in and pays for a $0.50 cookie with a $50. When he gets nine fives, he says he wanted twenties. I inform him that he could always go to a bank.

This continues for four more ******. Take THAT.” CrazyCoKids

3. Drive a +30-ton Truck Full Of Lumber Over Quicksand? Sure, Sign This First

“This story is from a buddy of mine who works as a deliveryman for large loads of construction supplies.

He’s a Truck Driver (TD) and he works for Do What the Customer Says Inc. (DWtCS Inc.) which distributes contractor supplies. He drives the trucks that deliver different loads of materials.
About a month ago, he was on a job for Strict General Contractor to deliver lumber for a housing development being built on marshy land. At the point of his delivery, Strict General Contractor had not drained a lot of the area for some reason except for a few large, deep isolated puddles. This wood TD delivered was being used to frame up some sidewalks and foundations for some other things.

The access road was just packed soil with gravel on top of it. The previous day to TD’s delivery, it had rained a lot.

When TD pulled the eighteen-wheeler with a nearly full trailer of lumber (that’s about 30 tons just for the wood) to the entrance of the access road,  he noticed it had fallen into mud sludge with rocks in it. To test the sludge for driving, TD took a paint stick and stuck it into the mess that was the access road. The stick sank on its own. The housing development was a good 1/2 mile into the marsh, so he called up Strict General Contractor.

Strict General Contractor: ‘Hello?’

TD: ‘Yes, Strict General Contractor, this is TD from DWtCS Inc. and your access road is too wet and dilapidated for me to deliver the lumber in, your guys have to come out and get it in either separate trailers or by hand.’

Strict General Contractor:’ I can’t do that, we’re on a tight schedule. It’d take hours to unload it and take it to the site.’

TD: ‘I can’t do that, I’d get fired, wreck the truck and cargo and probably a ticket for reckless driving.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘I’m filing a complaint about this.’

Strict General Contractor hangs the phone up.

TD is left waiting there for a solid 1 and a half hours and other supply trucks and contractors back up on the road. He gets another call from Strict General Contractor
Strict General Contractor: (Screeching) ‘Where’s the lumber I expected over an hour ago!?!’

TD: ‘I told you, the road is too dangerous for me to drive over.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘JUST GET THE GOD **** LUMBER HERE!!!!’

Strict General Contractoronce again hangs up. TD calls his supervisor, Big H.

Big H: ‘Hello? TD?’

TD: ‘Yeah it’s me. The service road for project X is dilapidated and if I crossed it, it would bury me and the truck in.

Strict General Contractor insists I drive over it.’

Big H: ‘I’ll drive over there.’

Big H was the supervisor for the multiple drivers for the development, so he worked nearby. It took 30 mins for him to get there, with two more angry phone calls from Strict General Contractor and the line of contractors getting longer. Big H gets to the scene. Strict General Contractor is called out to meet with Big H.
Big H: ‘Big H, Supervisor of the drivers servicing this area for DWtCS Inc. I hear we have a problem with the service road?’

Strict General Contractor: ‘There is no problem with the god **** road.

Your driver just refuses to go across anything other than perfected asphalt.’

Be aware, the service road had dried a little, so it looked a bit better than in the morning, but still dangerous driving territory. The packed soil had fallen apart, so it was just semi-wet dirt piles and gravel drying in the 10:30 am sun.

Big H: ‘The road seems fine to me, let’s test it.’
Big H borrows concrete boots from another contractor waiting in line and walks onto the ground. Surely enough, he starts sinking.

Big H: ‘Yeah, we can’t drive over this. The truck would sink real bad in this stuff, it’s quicksand without the sand.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘ DON’T F**KING CARE I NEED THIS LUMBER NOW!!!’

Strict General Contractor storms off, leaving all the viewing contractors, including Big H and TD dumbfounded.

The trucks are DWtCS’s property, however, the trailers and their cargo are often rented or borrowed in the name of the contractor that subcontracts us. The trucks are owned by DWtCS and they can detach cargo from in the cab. Per company policy, in an emergency, discard cargo and prioritize the safety of yourself and the truck.
Strict General Contractor contacted Big H’s Supervisor. He was told to tell TD to just drive across it. Big H told his supervisor he’ll only accept if Strict General Contractor signs a liability contract. He handwrites a contract in his truck saying any and all damage will be the liability of Strict General Contractor and must be paid to DWtCS.

Strict General Contractor comes back and signs the contract with a smug grin on his face.

TD jumps in his truck and gathers everything important while Big H takes pictures near an oblivious Strict General Contractor. TD drives the truck into the road, makes it so that the trailer is 3 feet away from the edge of the road before the truck starts sinking past the point of no return. TD detaches the cargo, and tried to get the truck to escape, but is unable to. Remember, multiple ton truck, this *** is heavy. The truck is already about 1/5 the way submerged when TD releases the trailer.

As the mud surrounds to about 1/3 of the way up the trailer. The engine is sputtering as it overtakes the truck and gives up.
TD panics and abandons ship. He shoves the door. Nothing, the mud is too deep. The window makes it 2/3 the way before the battery gives way to a rising mud flood. TD has his GI Joe instincts kick in and smashes the rest of the window out and claws his way out of the truck. There, a mildly concerned Big H and livid Strict General Contractor stare at TD as he makes his way across the top of the sinking lumber, where it stops sinking about halfway into the quicksandy mud.

Big H turns to Strict General Contractor and says the most triumphant words ever.
Big H: ‘Lumber delivered. Since you signed the liability contract, I’ll send you the invoice for everything.’

80,000$ went to the company plus taxes and fees and the price of the actual lumber delivery. Strict General Contractor tried to argue against it in court but failed miserably. Don’t make holes in your sinking ship kids, jump out of it.” TheSoloGamer

2. Want To Bill Me For Chopping Down My Trees? I Have A Solution

“This is my absolute favorite story about my late grandfather, I was young at the time this happened but have talked to a few people in adulthood to get a few details I didn’t know before.

My grandfather lived on the main street in a small farming town of a few thousand. The town was laid out in the classic grid pattern off the main highway. On his property, he had 3 large pine trees 40-50 feet high in a line fairly close to the sidewalk and over the years the roots had started to lift up and crack some of the sidewalk.

Understandably, the town wasn’t pleased and wanted the trees removed so further damage wasn’t incurred. Instead of coming to my grandfather to find a solution, they sent over an invoice for ‘tree removal from property’ that amounted to more than his yearly property tax.

Instead of paying, he chose malicious compliance. He took out his chainsaw and felled all 3 trees right across the main street. Without warning. On a Friday long weekend. When the town responded with a few workers, my grandfather bluntly argued the trees weren’t on his property, therefore, couldn’t be charged for their removal. They looked at the invoice the town sent and rather than argue with the most stubborn man in town, they decided to just cut up and haul off the trees themselves. It took all afternoon and traffic was detoured around the block. They patched the sidewalk and the stumps are still there to this day.

The town got the trees removed and my grandfather didn’t pay a cent, win-win.” Aspyr99
1. Be The Worst Neighbours Ever? Ok, We Will Too

“I grew up on a horse ranch in Colorado. We had a long piece of property, about 80 acres, and we raised Missouri fox trotters. We had lived there for almost 20 years when some folks bought a strip of property way at the back of our land. It was a strange plot of land as it was very narrow, and was sandwiched between our back fence, and a busy county road. We were surprised anyone would buy it actually, as it forced the house to be pretty close to said road.

Well, we never meet these new neighbors until one day, my dad gets a notice from a lawyer telling us that after having surveyed the property lines, our back fence encroaches on their property between 3 and 6 inches depending on the spot along the fence line. These folks had never met us, never introduced themselves. Our first introduction was this legal demand.

My father was a salt of the earth kind of man, very kind, but also very strong-willed. He called these folks, arranged a meetup, and tried to talk some sense into them. First, did 3 to 6 inches really matter that much, and why had they not come to us to talk it through? He even offered a number of different compromises.

These folks were hostile from the get-go. They demanded he move the fence immediately, or they would sue. Apparently, the law stated they had to put their house so far away from our fence line, and they wanted to push it as far back from the road as they could when they built it, so they wanted that 6 inches very badly.
I still remember when my dad got home from the meeting. He hung his hat up and shook his head when he told my mom in his slow way.

‘Well looks like we got the kinda folks for neighbors you don’t ever want to have for neighbors.’

They sued and won, and we were forced to move the fence in 2 weeks.

I say we because I was the free slave labor as all farm kids are for this kind of thing. All that fencing material, and the time were a big cost for my family. But we got the work done that late fall.
Here is where the fun comes in. So the new neighbors broke ground and built all through the end of winter and into spring. The very next weekend after they had moved into their house, Dad rousted me out of bed and we took the big truck into town to the lumber yard. I was extremely puzzled as we loaded up a bunch of fencing material, and building supplies.

We didn’t have any big projects going that I knew about, and I kept asking him what it was for, but he just told me to wait and see with a devilish smile on his face.
We built a pen and a small enclosure very near our back property line, directly behind the neighbor’s new shiny house. The next day one of our farm friends delivered a half dozen pigs to their new home.

Dad insisted on feeding those hogs table scraps and all the things that would go in the composter, as well as some well-balanced hog feed to keep them healthy.

Now you may not know this, but the smell of pig excrement is directly related to what they eat, and their pen conditions. Table scraps make them smell BAD. I mean BAAAAAAD. I had to drive the four-wheeler back there every day to take care of them, and within a month halfway to the pen and my eyes would start watering it smelled so bad. When we mucked out the pen with the bobcat we also made the pile right next to the pen. I can’t even imagine how bad the smell was living in that house.
The neighbors, of course, freaked out and again without ever even trying to talk to us, went the legal route.

They lost the case asking to have the pen removed as the area was zoned agricultural, and my dad had done his homework to make sure he was NOT breaking any laws or regulations. The pigs were far enough from us, and our other neighbors that it didn’t bother anyone but the people he wanted it too bother.

Come fall when winter moved in we sold the pigs to slaughter, and dad stacked up a bunch of building supplies next to the pen and let the neighbors know we would be expanding the profitable operation in the spring. He smiled the whole time, speaking in his slow steady way as they screamed at him.

The new neighbors sold their new house in January when the ground was frozen and the new owners would not smell the pen. Though as soon as the old neighbors were gone we tore down the enclosure, spread the nasty stuff on the hayfield, and the new neighbors never had any bad smell come spring. They also were great neighbors and are still life long friends.

Never mess with a rancher…

(Here’s a little more context: My dad really, really did want to try to cultivate a good relationship with a new neighbor, even though they started on such a lousy foot.

He offered to sell them 5 acres of land at the back of the property at a super affordable price so they could have a better plot, and get well back from the road.

Our back fence line was almost 5 acres long, so it would have shaved an acre long line off is all, and that was wooded land that was not good pasture land anyway. They were not interested. (The had plenty of funds too btw, as they were sitting on a million-dollar payout from selling their home in CA which we knew as they brought it up multiple times in the discussion. Statements that ‘They had all the money they needed to take us to court if we didn’t comply immediately!’)
My dad asked if he could move the fence over time them, rather than being hit for the cost all at once.

Ranchers are not made of money. We could move the section right behind the proposed building site immediately to help with planning etc first. They were not willing to do that. It all had to be moved immediately.

Lastly, my dad was friends with the two guys that did the inspections for the county for this kind of stuff. We had built many additions and changed on the ranch over time as well. They were all in the volunteer fire department together as well. He offered to get all of them together and see what options they had for dealing with the offset issue.

The neighbor refused, again demanding the fence be moved immediately.
If you see a theme here, so did my dad. There is no pleasing some people, so my dad let him take us to court. I later found out dad was using the time to save up some money since he figured he would have to move the fence and that was expensive, and he hoped maybe the neighbor would not push it that far and come to work with him rather than go to all that cost. I know my dad reached out a couple more times to the neighbor before things went to court too.)”  drumbubba

When the going gets tough, the tough get maliciously complied.

You get what you ask for sometimes in this life. You also have to be careful what you ask for! Have any fun stories to share? Tell us everything!