People Tell Stories About Their "Kind Of Nutty" Revenge
11. Can't Follow Company Rules? I'll Report You And Have You Fired
All over a freaking knife.
“This story comes from one of my previous jobs when I was a dishwasher at a local convention center. Because it was a convention center, many different events were held on weekend nights. The events always involved 300+ people, and that meant the server team had to wait until they all clear out to start cleaning up everything and the dishwashing team had to wait for them which meant our jobs went until 2-3 am when our shifts were supposed to end around 12-1 am.
Most servers understood what we were going through, and were nice enough to clean up huge food scraps off the plates and trays so all we had to do was run it through the dishwashing machine once.
Now as dishwashers, we were supposed to wash down pretty much everything EXCEPT for kitchen knives. Servers used kitchen knives to cut cakes or cooked meat, and it was their job to clean them down.
The water that we used to soak kitchenwares got murky really quick, and you can guess how dangerous it was for someone to try to grab sharp knives. I even heard one of the ex-dishwashers SLICED his wrist open almost to the tendon.
Plus, the water was really dirty, so any cuts you made on your hands had a high risk of infection. As such, dirty kitchen knives weren’t allowed AT ALL in the dishwashing area.
It was clearly stated in the company policy book. Almost every server didn’t mind washing down the knives, as they were simple tasks as opposed to the number of stuff dishwashers wash down.
Enter JCM, the Jerk Catering Manager. He joined our convention center about 2 months after I started to work there, and he immediately made clear he wasn’t there to make connections.
He was so business-oriented and profit-focused, making the server team do all the heavy lifting while he casually talked with the event planners. He was one of those people who smiled and laughed with the guests while going all gung-ho to the servers and even the dishwashers. We were part of the kitchen staff which was a separate department from the catering group, meaning JCM had no jurisdiction over us.
Many complaints were made from both the servers and dishwashers, to which JCM completely denied and said ‘They are just being lazy and don’t want to do their job. I have the hardest job of managing both the guests and the staff.’
One night, it was particularly busy and both the servers and dishwashers were busting their butts. It was so busy, to the point where we had to wash down the dirty plates twice so they can be used again.
I was pretty much the dishwasher team lead and was running back and forth between the dishwashing area and behind-the-curtain area collecting dishes AND managing temporary staffs. I am really not the type to multi-task, so I was flustered. JCM comes into the dishwashing area while holding a dirty kitchen knife.
JCM: ‘Hey I am going to need you guys to wash this down…’
Me: ‘But I thought that was the servers’ job?’
JCM: ‘Well we are a little too busy. I am going to need this washed down.’
Me: ‘Do you need it immediately?’
JCM: ‘No.’
Me: ‘Then why don’t you guys wash it down when everything is settling down?’
JCM: ‘I am the catering manager here. If I say this needs to get washed down, THIS GETS WASHED DOWN.’
Me: ‘And why exactly should we listen to you?’
JCM: ‘Because I am your boss?’
Me: ‘No, you’re not. (Exec. Chef’s name) is.’
JCM: ‘Just leave it soaking in the dishwater then!’
Me: ‘If you are the manager, then you should be following the company rules!’
Did I mention he was swinging the knife around while talking? As in, while pointing at me while standing really close? JCM did not like my response and slammed the knife into one of the waters.
JCM: ‘I do not want to see that knife brought back. Do it or all of you are fired!’
And he stomped his way out of the kitchen.
All of the dishwashers were stunned by what they had just witnessed. I calmly told everyone to wash everything that we’re supposed to wash down, except for the knife. In the end, as we were cleaning down everything, I decided to leave the unwashed knife in the pit, as I was told.
I told the rest of the dishwashers and servers to do the same.
The next day I wrote a profound e-mail to my boss, other leadership figures, servers, and the parental company of the convention center. I told them about all the stuff that went down, how I decided to comply with JCM’s violation of company policy, and if he tried to deny everything, I told them to check CCTV.
It may not have recorded sounds, but it certainly should’ve caught him in the act.
On my next shift, there was an envelope in my cubby. The envelope contained a letter and a $50 Amazon gift card. The letter stated how grateful the company was to be for standing up to JCM. JCM was given a choice of voluntary leave or face disciplinary actions w/ termination, and he chose the former.
They asked me to accept the gift card as a sign of appreciation, which I did.”
10. I'm Too Annoying For You? Guess You Don't Need My Help With Passing The Class
“So, the middle school I went to was a bit… non-traditional. It was a private school, meaning it wasn’t exactly constrained by the same rules as a public one, and so it got away with doing things quite a bit different than what most schools (at least to my knowledge) did at that time.
One of the biggest things in this area was our Science Fair Project.
This project wasn’t just the classic baking soda volcano stuff, oh no, this was more equivalent to a freaking capstone project. Think I’m kidding? We were given the whole year to work on it, (some kids had known about it beforehand and been working for longer), and it was worth, I kid you not, a good 85% of our Science grade for the entire year.
There were kids who legit didn’t do anything in science class because they knew that it was the project, not the class, that mattered. And it was competitive, too. Every project would be judged, and if you did well at the school fair, you’d get sent to a regional fair, and if you did well there, you’d get sent to the statewide fair, which was a big deal.
Now, given how gigantically huge this project was, we were supposed to do it in partners at the very least, though the teacher actually recommended working in large groups of up to 5 people, just because of how much work this project entailed.
You probably already know where this is going, but before I get to the action of it there are a few things you need to understand, because I want you all to know that what I did wasn’t just out of nowhere, it was the result of a cumulation of nonsense.
So, ever since I was old enough to actually display a personality beyond screaming flesh gremlin, I’ve been noticeably, to use a term I kind of hate, “quirky.” There were things that were just a bit out of place when I was a toddler, things like seemingly inexplicable tantrums and overly aggressive behavior at times, but nothing that couldn’t be chalked up to just “kids being kids”, with the assumption that I’d grow out of it.
Well, I didn’t. While I had indeed grown out of the actual tantrum part, the underlying problem was still there, only becoming more and more obvious as I got older. I got upset over things that seemed pointless to other people. I didn’t understand jokes or sarcasm very well. Other kids said I was “creepy” because I wouldn’t look them in the eyes and was generally pretty quiet and robotic for an 8-year-old, and I often blurted out some pretty weird and upsetting stuff with no real warning, unable to “read the mood” and know that it was inappropriate.
We found out later that, much to the surprise of absolutely no one who actually knew me, I am autistic. However, this wasn’t officially diagnosed until I was in my sophomore year of high school, likely due to the fact that I am both high-functioning and a girl (for some reason this stuff doesn’t get noticed as often in girls?), so up until then I was just that weird, hyper-dense kid that nobody really knew what to make of.
At best, I was entertaining. There were often other kids who seemed to find my social disconnect to be ‘cute’, much in the way that a duckling with a limp is ‘cute’, and kept me around as a sort of mascot, a funny little oddity for them to enjoy.
At worst… well, you know how it goes. Nothing ever got physical or anything like that, quite possibly because I hit puberty at a pretty young age and was, therefore, a fair bit bigger than most of my peers, and had a known record for getting violent when pushed (a story for a different day), but they were terrible all the same.
As I mentioned before, a lot of things that seem inconsequential to other people really, really bother me, and that’s what these kids tended to capitalize on. They’d stand uncomfortably close to me and/or bump into me constantly, knowing full well that I hated being touched. They’d move my stuff and sit in my area knowing how territorial I was. They’d purposefully chew extra loudly and smack their lips knowing I hate the sound.
You get the idea. All really petty stuff that they couldn’t really get in trouble for, and that I would get mocked for complaining about because it was ‘your own fault for being so sensitive!’
Well, fast forward back to the early fall of 7th grade, and my science teacher says we should partner up for our projects. I was doing my thing of sitting there in stone-cold silence because no way in heck am I actually going to ask someone (way too awkward), when this girl, who I’ll call Katie walks up to me and basically announces that we’re going to be partners.
Doesn’t ask, mind you, just sort of declares it.
Now, Katie was one of the people who took the most pleasure in messing with me. She went the extra g****m mile to get up in my personal space, blow down the back of my neck, touch my stuff, etc., and then laugh when I got upset. So you may be wondering, why would she want to partner up with someone she so clearly disliked?
Exploitation, of course. On top of being a general freakazoid, I was also pretty d**n book smart, making me the perfect person to use for this type of project. Deep down, I knew that’s what she was doing, but I wanted so desperately to be liked that I went along with it and didn’t protest the partnership at all.
I emailed her that night asking politely about some pretty basic questions.
What was our subject gonna be, how were we gonna divide up the work, etc., and I get no response. She ignores me in class, and I’m too shy to push it in person, so I keep emailing her until finally, after about 4 days, I get a response.
It was a short reply, something to the effect of ‘Oh my god, you’re being so annoying!
Would you just shut up and leave me alone already?? Jeez!’
It wasn’t as though I’d been expecting otherwise, but still, it hurt. Except for this time, I’d finally had enough. This jerk wanted me to leave her alone? My pleasure.
I tell my science teacher, Mrs. G, the next day that Katie and I were no longer partners, and that I’d be doing the project on my own.
She tried to talk me out of it, saying that this was a ridiculous amount of work for one person to do all by themselves, but I told her I wanted to work alone, so she let me. I told Katie about none of this.
Over the next several months, I went hard on this project. I ended up choosing to study behavioral science, specifically choosing to experiment on learning effectiveness in various environments.
I went out and got rats to use in my experiment (don’t worry, I loved those little suckers and they were not at all harmed), I researched daily, I taught myself standard deviation and basic statistics, the works. I ended up writing a 32 page paper on the topic, along with creating a big old three-sided presentation board with my graphs from each individual experiment displayed proudly on the surface.
This whole time, I didn’t say a single word to Katie.
Well, the day before the science fair, and Katie walks up to me, super casual, and asks, ‘Hey so how’s our project coming along?’
I pretend to look surprised. ‘Our project? What do you mean?’
She looks at me like I’m stupid. ‘Uh, our science fair project? You know, the one due tomorrow that’s worth, like, our entire grade in the class?’
‘No, I know about the project,’ I said, blandly. ‘I was just wondering what you meant by ‘our’ project. We aren’t working together.’
Getting angry, she replied: ‘Uh, yes we are! I told you on the first day, remember? We’re partners!’
‘Yeah, and then you told me to leave you alone, and never said anything about the project, so I assumed you didn’t want to work together anymore.
I told Mrs. G and she said it was okay for me to work by myself, so I did.’ I replied. Her face goes white, then red.
‘What?!’ She barks. ‘You mean you bailed on me??? How could you?!?’
‘You said you didn’t want to be partners.’
‘I NEVER SAID THAT YOU IDIOT!!’
‘Katie!!’ Mrs. G snapped. ‘We don’t use that kind of language in here, especially not directed at our fellow students!’
Katie was about to keep talking when the bell rang, and I dashed out. She would’ve followed me, had Mrs. G not pull her aside, presumably to discipline her.
The Science Fair comes around the next day and I pull up proudly with my stuff, ready to roll. I slap my monster of a paper down on a very proud-looking Mrs. G’s desk, and set up my table in the cafeteria, getting ready for the judges to start making their rounds.
I’m in the middle of trying to get my stupid posterboard to stop falling over when Katie storms up to me. I don’t remember what exactly she said, as I was full-on ignoring her, but it was a lot of insults and threats and the like, as well as multiple demands that she be allowed to take credit for the project as well because she “never actually ended the partnership”.
I basically just laughed in her face.
She goes away when the judges come through, probably because she knew how suspicious it’d look if she actually got caught arguing with me like this, and I’m given gold by the judges, who seem very impressed by my project. A gold means I get to move on to regionals.
Naturally, Katie tries to circumvent me and take credit for it anyway by just going to Mrs. G, claiming that, ‘Oh haha OP just forgot to put my name on it too while she was editing’ but Mrs. G was having none of it.
She very clearly told Katie that I had approached her months ago asking to work solo, to which Katie argued that I hadn’t told her I’d be doing that (she dropped that first lie so quickly lol) so it ‘wasn’t fair!’ Again, Mrs. G just coldly replied that essentially, it was Katie’s own fault for not bothering to check-in, as well as adding that if she seriously hadn’t known, that indicated she’d been planning on just making me do it all and claiming credit anyway, which obviously wasn’t allowed.
Temporarily defeated, Katie slunk away. She made sure to amp up the making my life a nightmare thing, but I found I didn’t care as much because she was just being petty and desperate, and it was actually kinda fun to watch her be so upset.
I won gold at regionals, then went on to state where I won gold again. I tell you this not to flex (okay maybe a little bit to flex) but to highlight just how much work I put into this, as well as just how infuriated Katie must’ve been with all this.
When our project grades come out is when everything really hits the fan. I got like, 99.8% with that 0.2% taken off for a stupid error on the axis labels of one of my graphs or something similar.
Katie got a big fat 0.
Pretty much the day after these grades came out, I get called to the office. There, waiting for me alongside the principal, are Katie, her furious-looking mother, and an exasperated Mrs. G.
From the moment I walk in, both Katie and her mom glare at me as if I’ve just murdered their first born and they were intending to return the favor.
I sit and am told a remarkable tale. Apparently, Katie had switched tactics from her earlier ‘forgot to include my name’ lie, and was now trying to claim that she’d done all of the work, only to have me swoop in and put my name on it, then cut her out completely.
She had crocodile tears running down her face and everything. Her mother rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to burn holes in my skull with her eyes, and Mrs. G looked ready to slap her.
Naturally, I explained my side of the story, with Mrs. G backing me up and vouching for the fact that I’d said I was working alone months ago. Of course, this wasn’t enough.
Katie’s mom then tried to argue that I had unfairly kicked Katie from the partnership and that I should be punished for it, even going so far as to suggest that I should be, I kid you not, expelled for ‘sabotaging’ Katie by refusing to work with her.
I calmly replied that actually, Katie had been the one to cut ties with me, and I had just been doing what I thought she wanted. She called me a liar, of course, so I pulled out my school laptop and showed her the multiple emails I’d sent asking Katie about the project, as well as the email Katie sent back telling me to ‘shut up and leave her alone already.’
Silence.
After a moment, Katie tries to recover, claiming that she’d just been mad I was ’emailing her constantly!!!’ and that she hadn’t actually said she wanted to stop being partners, but she didn’t really have a leg to stand on here.
She failed the class, and I take no shame in admitting that watching her cry her eyes out at the end of the year over it gave me a truly euphoric sense of happiness.”
9. Putting My First Job Out Of Business
“Okay, so I live in a relatively small city in North Carolina and started working at the young age of 14 as a dishwasher, soon working my way up through the restaurant over 2 years.
The original owner of the restaurant/bar, a 50+-year-old woman, had grown interested in selling the restaurant, after 10 years of great reviews, and honestly, it became the best place in town to go to.
A younger male walked in one day through the kitchen door. At the start, I thought he was a new employee. Finding out later that night he was the one interested in buying the restaurant, and the sale went smoothly.
Fast forward a year, and the new owner, let’s call him Herb, denied the only time I had ever asked for a raise; the $7.50 an hour I started on was not a living wage.
He told me I didn’t work hard enough, when I had gone as far as to wait on tables, and cook, as well as do much of the cleanup, maintenance, on top of MY job of being their dishwasher. Thankfully for me, my manager at the time, who had listened through the office door, called him out on the nonsense. She GOT me my raise.
Nonetheless a few months into it, Herb let several coolers which held meat break down and refused to fix them or get a new one. My nice manager couldn’t take getting the backlash of always being blamed for things breaking down. Herb’s the owner, it was his money, he HAD to approve anything we did. So on the night we celebrated her 10 year anniversary of working there, she ate the cake my sister and I made her.
Then also proceeded to quit on the spot right after. The responsibility of management fell onto my sister, and she was forced to take the promotion with no raise or anything.
She managed for 9 months, only to feel unheard for any issue she brought up with equipment or workers. She would always be told, “No we cannot do that.” After she had had enough trying to convince him on repairs, we were left without a manager for a period of time and he was forced to drive the 3 hours to come and manage the restaurant himself.
A few weeks after a new manager was hired, and another man was hired to be my help in the kitchen, and me being the head cook at this point in time, I taught him the ups and downs of the kitchen, and this man, he was kind and caring at FIRST. But he kissed butt so much that I WAS overlooked for the kitchen manager position.
The guy that I loved to watch football with in the kitchen on my phone, using my speaker on slow Sundays, changed into a brutal jerk. He would cuss at the waitresses and try to physically fight me on the daily. He and I were there to open the kitchen alone and would be joined by wait staff an hour later.
He went as far as to buck up to try to fight one of the waitresses one day.
When she mentioned she had heard everything he said to me, before she walked in she said, “I am done with your nonsense, you can either apologize or you can get the HECK out, OP has been here A LOT LONGER THAN YOU, and YOU were trained by him, and yet you think you can disrespect him, HECKKK NOOO.” As the man raised his hand to try to smack her, I punched him in his face and, in return got slammed into the already broken coolers.
You do not hit a woman, EVER.
Fast forward a few months later and after EVERYONE sees this side of him they realize I wasn’t playing about him being a grade-A jerk. Many of us had tried to tell Herb about his actions, but were met with “It can’t be that bad, he’s so nice.” Finally, after not being heard or listened to for so long, I began planning how to quit.
I had it all planned out and when we had the meeting, I walked in wearing a suit, already having found a place with at that time my fiancee, and a new job far from home. Everyone knew I was overdressed and had questions, and I filled them in on the walkout plan, yet the mean manager was nowhere in sight.
After enjoying the meeting and being called on for my opinions on how to boost sales, and better the restaurant, I looked at Herb and answered sarcastically “Oh me?
NOW you want to hear what I have to say?” Getting in a serious tone now, I stand up, and tell him, “Why would I help a business, much less the OWNER of this business better themselves when I have been blown off for months. ANYTHING I had to tell you, I was bullied for months and when I mentioned it, I was brushed off.
Have a GREAT freaking day Herb, because you quite literally don’t have a cook now, today is moving day, and I’m moving over 4 hours away, to a better job, one with an owner who WILL listen and respect their workers, and not force us to TRY AND COOK GREEN, SLIMY CHICKEN PAST ITS EXPIRATION DATE, I QUIT.”
He begged for me to stay because he had FINALLY fired the mean manager, he said “Is there ANY possible way I can get you to stay?” I looked at him and repeated the words he always told us when we mentioned equipment needed to be repaired or replaced, in his exact customer support accent “Noooo, we can’t do that.” As I walked out he followed begging me to stay, and said he finally did what was needed of him.
I simply told him, “Too little, WAYYYY too late,” and proceeded to walk out, and what followed was all the coworkers on my side stood up and left too.
This is not where it ends, he had purposefully not given me my w-2 forms for taxes, and after a few days of harassing him for my tax papers, I got them. Then, I received a letter from the IRS, saying there was a problem with my tax forms, therefore I couldn’t receive my tax refund.
Calling up the IRS I found he had not submitted any of the forms he was supposed to as our employer, and when contacting him to rectify the situation, he proceeded to say “Hmmm, I don’t recall employing ANY of you this year, after all, you ALL left with no reason or RIGHT.” Little did he know I record every conversation on my phone, and I reported him to the IRS.
Attached to the email, I sent in the voice recording in an mp3 format, and I also sent in photocopies of my check stubs, and copies of my w-2s, along with informing my coworkers having issues with their taxes to do the same. Herb has since lost his business, his business license, his wife left him and took their kids after finding out about his fraud.
Herb is now facing upwards to 60 years in prison now for multiple counts of tax fraud, it turns out we were not the only business he owned, and refused to pay taxes, or file the correct tax forms when needed. He had WITHHELD the safety precaution pay and used ALL of it to “fix” the restaurant. He screwed up and I get to sit back happily typing this with a smile knowing this jerk got what was coming to him.
For all of you wondering whether I ever got my taxes and my payment, YES, I finally did as of yesterday.”
8. Keep Blocking My Promotions? Kiss Your Job And Lady Bye-Bye
“This is a bit of a long story, but I really wanted to sketch an image of what kind of a person this boss really was, so you would understand why I sunk so low as to seek my revenge in such a brutal way.
I was desperate and he had it coming.
This happened a few years ago, and because I recently left the company, I feel it’s safe to share this story here. I (then 35M) was working in a major wholesale company in Belgium. I was second in command at a large branch of this company. The branch manager (then 40M) was a complete jerk; let’s call him STALIN from now on.
Other characters in this story are my PARTNER (then 27F), STALIN’s wife CINDERELLA (then 30+F), the big boss of the entire company BIGBOSS (then 60+M), and one of the heads of a department at our branch (then 28F). Let’s call her NAIVEGIRL.
I was working for this company for quite a while at this point in time. I always got along with my direct superiors and was now second in command, well on my way to becoming branch manager myself one day.
But then – out of the blue – my old manager got promoted to headquarters and was replaced by a new manager: introducing…STALIN. The guy was a few years older than me and introduced himself to the team as someone who gets things done and that we would grow into the most successful branch of the company under his wings. He also didn’t like the word “can’t,” claiming to be deaf to that word.
He was “a winner” and “only surrounds himself with other winners.” Roll eyes. Everyone immediately knew we had a character on our hands.
From week one, it was clear to everyone that STALIN didn’t know the first thing about the company and what we were selling, and he did not know anything about leading a team and working with people. He always knew everything better than others and had the annoying tendency to let other people do most of HIS work.
So yeah… as second in command, I suddenly had a lot on my plate. I’m not gonna bore you guys with the details but my full-time job just became two full-time jobs because I had to do most of STALIN’s work too. As in “here you go!” and never expect a “thank you” or “good job.”
So STALIN was a terrible boss. Surely things couldn’t get any worse than this?
Now, can they? Spoiler alert, but yes, yes they can. One day I was working and I got a telephone call. The person on the other side of the line introduced himself as “an important manager of our biggest competitor.” For such an important manager, his French was really bad, so I already figured something was fishy. And why would a competitor call me and introduce himself as being “an important person.” Turns out, this “manager” was offering me a job at their company if I was willing to share any company secrets of my current employer and maybe try and steal some customers away to the competitor’s company.
I didn’t buy into this absurd conversation, but I remained friendly and respectfully declined his “offer.”
One hour later, I get called into STALIN’s office. He then confronted me with the phone call and told me he was “testing” me to see if I was loyal to the company and to him. He ended this baffling conversation with the words “and I will continue to test you from time to time in the future.” WTH???
The guy “prank called” me himself, to test my loyalty?? While I was drowning in work because I had to do most of his work as well. And idiot over here was spending his newly required free time by doing nonsense like this? Who does this? This is the stuff you see in bad comedies, not in real life.
Things got even worse in the weeks to come.
STALIN began to do less and less of his work. There were times when I came into his office to ask for some help, only to find him reading the newspaper or even playing online poker. He didn’t even try to hide it. After all, why should he? He was so superior, remember? When we didn’t hit our mark and the results were not as good as anticipated, he would round everybody up and yell at us.
He was “expecting results from now on” and he wouldn’t hesitate to “fire people if they didn’t have what it took,” all the while without doing anything himself. To make things worse, he fired some people who were easily fired (new workers without a long-term contract) to “set an example” and he didn’t replace them to lower the costs. So, now everybody was working 40+ hours on a 35-hour contract, just to keep the branch up and running.
Well, almost everybody… NAIVEGIRL, the head of a small, yet important department, stopped working at noon every single Friday. And STALIN himself sure didn’t do 40+ hours. Nah-ah. Every Tuesday, he was gone by 2 pm (his weekly Thai massage and relaxing spa), every Thursday he’d come in later and later. Turns out, Wednesday evening was soccer training (he was the coach of a team in the lowest amateur division), so after training, he was busy drinking like there was no tomorrow!
On top of this: every Friday afternoon, he was gone as well. He told us that he always went to headquarters in Brussels then. Meetings with the board and the BIGBOSS. I recognize nonsense when I see it. My former managers never had to do this. Also very mysterious, but he’s gone every Friday, just like NAIVEGIRL. You already know where I’m heading with this, but that’s for later.
Some juicy stuff coming up.
STALIN also got a lot of pleasure from calling certain people into his office and yelling at them in person, threatening them with their job if they didn’t start working harder and more. He especially seemed to target the youngest and newest employees and if possible the females. I don’t recall him ever treating more mature male coworkers like this.
But we – as a team – made things work and we hit our target a few months in a row. It helped that a local competitor went out of business of course, but still: we did very well compared to the other branches in Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg.
So at the new year’s reception (a company tradition, all the major branch managers and second managers are there), STALIN got called on stage, where the BIGBOSS, the head of the entire company handed him over an award: manager of the year.
Instead of thanking his employees, this sack of turds started thanking the BIGBOSS for the faith he had given him, thanked his pregnant wife, and then he started complimenting himself. He was a good manager, with a nose for good business and he knows how to get the best out of people, blah blah blah. I nearly vomited. It was disgusting to watch. And then the applause he received…
this was his moment and he wanted everybody to know. The next day, the trophy he received (a cheap piece of metal) was on an especially designed piece of furniture in the middle of his office. Honestly, STALIN reminded me a bit of Steve Carell of The Office at this point. But the evil version with an even bigger ego.
A few weeks later, I was working late (again) and by sheer luck, I glanced over at the security camera and I was in shock!
I witnessed STALIN kissing one of our heads of a department (more or less a third person in command) on the parking lot. NAIVEGIRL and STALIN?? She was a bit of an odd girl. A pretty girl, but I always had the feeling she didn’t really have all of her marbles in place. She actually went to the same high school and university as my PARTNER, so the two know each other without being friends.
Small world (this will be important later). So NAIVEGIRL was romantic with STALIN? I thought she was smarter than this. And wait a minute? Didn’t STALIN thank his wife during that terrible speech on New Years? His pregnant wife?! Oh, what a jerk! He’s being unfaithful to his pregnant wife. Just when I thought this guy couldn’t get any worse.
Because I knew he was the worst of the worst. To show off his power to anyone (and especially me who he couldn’t control or threaten in a face-to-face conversation) he had this annoying habit of controlling everyone’s vacation days like a Roman emperor who’s controlling the faith of the fallen gladiators.
In his first year as a manager, I requested a vacation in October (somewhere in April) and he denied me that week, only to grant me the leave of absence two weeks before I was supposed to go on holiday. I was planning on going to Greece with my lady and her family, but because I didn’t get my holiday approved in time my PARTNER’s family decided to postpone and go another time.
My PARTNER and her father didn’t apply for a vacation because of this. STALIN didn’t just screw me over, he screwed my in-laws and PARTNER over as well. He refused to give me that holiday, only to grant it to me afterward to show me he’s the boss. And it costs me my trip to Athens. He truly was a major jerk. The guy’s ego had gotten so large, it deserved its own national flag by this point!
It was so big astronauts could spot it from space, just like the Chinese Wall. I… hated… that… jerk!
The next year came and because I witnessed him doing this to other employees (and myself), I figured I needed a plan. I proceeded in requesting to have my holiday approved and surprise surprise… STALIN denied me my vacation again. He claimed he needed me at work that month because of an inventory (which is done by other people, not myself).
But this time I had a plan. He needed me because I did my job and on top of that, I did most of HIS job as well. Everything he didn’t like about his job (basically everything with numbers, accountancy, paperwork, etc): I had to do it. He couldn’t afford to lose me. So I decided to try one of his own tricks on him.
I called in and pretended I was the manager of another company, I told STALIN that I had received the resume of OP and was informed to know what kind of employee he is. I can do different accents and voices, so this was a piece of cake for me. The plan was for STALIN to know that I was looking for another job and that he could lose me, forcing him to do HIS job HIMSELF.
Scary stuff, so the plan was for him to give me my days off, just to please me.
STALIN believed I was another manager because he put on his “important person” voice and started to trash talk me as an employee. I was unreliable, always late for work, sloppy, forgot things that were important, etc. You get the picture. It wasn’t pretty. In order to prevent me from getting another job, he decided to talk bad about me to potential new employers.
What a jerk! What a horrible waste of oxygen this guy was!
But at least it gave him a scare because the next day my request for a holiday got magically approved. He never confronted me with me applying for jobs elsewhere though. Mission accomplished: I got to plan that trip to Greece with my partner and her family (they are Greek Belgians). I was finally going!
Fun fact, but no, I wasn’t going. After I booked and paid for everything, he came back on his word. One month before I was supposed to go on a holiday, he called me into his office and told me he had to go on an important business meeting in Prague (Czech Republic) and because one of us two had to be at work, he had no choice but to cancel my holiday.
I was speechless for a moment but started thinking really quickly, so I demanded that he put this on paper because “my partner would not be amused.” He laughed, agreed, and sent me an email confirming my holiday got canceled because he had to go to Prague. Little did he know I was building a case against him and I needed this on paper. The moron actually believed it was just to show my partner I had no choice but to cancel our plans.
Now, if this were true, then yeah, I would understand. But I knew he was lying. I just knew it, but I couldn’t prove a thing. I had enough though. I really had enough. Working for this man was impossible and he was standing in my way. I had heard through the g*******e that he had blocked my internal promotions. See, I know a lot of people at headquarters and someone had told me how he branded me as “incompetent” for seeking a better paid, higher-up job within the company.
He wanted me where I was at that moment: as a second in command who would do all of his work. This meant he was blocking my promotions AND was preventing me from getting a nice job elsewhere. I heard firsthand how he down-talked my abilities. Sure, I have flaws like everybody else, but I’m not the s******p he painted me to be to potential employers.
I wanted, no, I NEEDED to find a new job, but mister STALIN over here was blocking every good opportunity. As long as he was in charge of the branch I was basically his serf. Bound to the company and bound to him as my lord. I needed a way out but didn’t know how to do it.
But then Lady Luck walked into the room…
The week I was supposed to go to Greece, STALIN went on his business trip. Or so he told me. My PARTNER went to Athens with her family and saw something on social media. She called me and told me to open my messages. My partner had sent me some screenshots from her social media. Turns out NAIVEGIRL was posting pictures of her with STALIN… in Switzerland.
He went skiing with her! There was no business trip! That absolute disgrace of a human being had canceled my holiday for the second year in a row, so he could be unfaithful to his wife with a younger woman. Oh, how I hated this dude. He did not expect my girl and me to see these pictures though. Little did he know that PARTNER and NAIVEGIRL knew each other and were “social media friends.” No contact in real life whatsoever, so STALIN really had no idea.
It gave me the fuel I needed. I had proof he was being unfaithful to his wife. Not just that… you see. Now here’s where things got REALLY INTERESTING. Only two weeks before this I was networking at a company and I started talking to the manager of another branch (a direct equal to STALIN). I already had a few drinks, so I was a bit loose and therefore did little to hide the fact that I disliked STALIN and what do you know..
that other manager didn’t like STALIN either. Turned out STALIN only got his job because his wife is the daughter of the owner (BIGBOSS). This explained everything! The guy was so unqualified for the job. He only got the job because daddy-in-law threw him a bone. So not only was he being unfaithful to his wife. He… was… being… unfaithful… to the big boss’s pregnant daughter!
Oh snap! Can I get a hallelujah? The universe was smiling upon me at last!
And now I had proof! Pictures of him kissing another woman. Time to set things in motion..
So my girl was in Athens without me and STALIN was in Switzerland. I was stuck at work and things were difficult because we were understaffed. I decided to send an email to all branch managers (plus the big boss who never responds) asking for extra help and that I couldn’t ask my manager because he is on a business trip and asked not to be disturbed.
I knew he told the big boss he was on a holiday because he had to hand in a request to get that holiday. So him being on a business trip made no sense and I knew that. I wanted BIGBOSS to know that STALIN told us a lie. I didn’t have a direct line to the BIGBOSS. Heck, I only talked to the guy 2-3 times during my time at the company.
So I needed to draw his attention in a sneaky way. This email caught his attention all right.
The big boss immediately replied to me, telling me STALIN is on a holiday and that he will inform him that the request for backup was granted. I made subtle contact with BIGBOSS. Now I had an email conversation going.
me: no he told us he’s on a business trip, that’s why he canceled my holiday.
BIGBOSS: he’s visiting an old school friend in Switzerland. I will get you some extra workforce myself.
me: Here’s the email in which he canceled my holiday (I forward BIGBOSS the e-mail STALIN sent me at my request). He clearly wrote he had to go on a business trip.
BIGBOSS: I will talk to him about this. That’s odd. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention. I will call him this afternoon and sort this out.
Thank you and keep up the good work.
The day after STALIN calls me from Switzerland. BIGBOSS did call him and this took STALIN by surprise. And STALIN doesn’t like surprises. Little did he know this was just the beginning… I was prepared and decided to record the phone call.
He went berserk on the phone, a little paraphrasing: “You are nothing. I can squash you like a fly.
If I decide to take your holiday, there’s nothing you can do about it. You gonna sit there like a little girl and take it all like the jerk that you are. The BIGBOSS doesn’t need to know I told you I was on a business trip. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. You leave that senile old fart out of this, you hear me?
At that moment a light shined down on me from the heavens. I got him! It was just one sentence but it was pure gold. Senile old fart.. I bet rich daddy-in-law will have a field day with this one.
I wanted more proof. I was like frickin’ Sherlock or Colombo at this point. If he was having an affair, maybe those pictures wouldn’t do.
He could claim those were old pictures or something. I dunno. Didn’t wanna take the chance he’d talk his way out of it. So I needed more proof. Where was he going every Friday afternoon? Surely he was meeting NAIVEGIRL somewhere. I needed to know where. Then a lightbulb started glowing above my head. His emails! He once gave me his password to the company email address, so I could access his work emails.
Because this way I could do more of his work, you know? His password was the name of his favorite Belgian soccer team (Anderlecht). It’s actually the biggest rival of my team! You can’t make this stuff up. The guy was my antagonist in everything he touched. Would this password work on his personal email address as well? Surely he can’t be that big of an idiot?
But he was of course. Mister idiot had the exact same password for everything. I found out he was on a website to find women! I found out he was emailing with a chick from the Philippines (he must have met her there) and I found ALL the emails he sent with NAIVEGIRL. Apparently, it started way in the beginning, so they’d been seeing each other even before he got his CINDERELLA pregnant.
Gotcha, idiot!
As the Mission Impossible tune started playing I began to unfold my plan.
STALIN was now back from his little trip and acted like nothing happened. I could still access his email, so I checked every few days or so. On Wednesday I struck gold again. He received an email confirmation of a visit to the spa wellness for two people at 3 pm and a confirmation of a visit to a certain restaurant at 6 pm, also for two people.
Both were for Friday. Hm. I wonder who he was going with? Checkmate, jerk! Gotcha again. The timing was right for the next and final phase of my execution plan.
I had printed out the pictures from NAIVEGIRL’s social media. STALIN kissing with NAIVEGIRL, them skiing, them having drinks together, and STALIN in front of the Swiss flag in front of a cabin. Classic stuff.
He was such a grateful model! I had put these pictures in an envelope and put a little note in it. It said something along the lines of:
“Hey, we don’t know each other, but I felt you needed to see this and know that your husband is having an affair. He did not go to Switzerland to visit some old school friend. No, he went there with this chick.
Her name is NAIVEGIRL. This is her address, this is her email, and this is her social media page and phone number. She isn’t a bad person. I don’t even know if she knows he is married and has a kid. He told his boss he was in Switzerland to visit an old friend and told his co-workers he was on a business trip in Prague.
Both are lies. He is having an affair with a girl from his work.
I have hacked your husband’s e-mail and found some interesting stuff. You can read it for yourself, his password is “Anderlecht.” Please, take your time in reading these emails and check the last mails he received. They’re meeting up at (name restaurant) at 6 pm today. Before this, they are going to the spa resort at 3 pm.
I am sorry to throw this in your face. I know it’s a lot, but you deserve better than this scumbag. Signed, anonymous.”
I had some reservations as to include this poor girl (CINDERELLA) in my revenge. I was about to destroy her world too and she didn’t deserve this. But my PARTNER convinced me. She said: “If it were you and you were unfaithful to my pregnant butt, I’d wanna know sooner rather than later.
She needs to know!”
That particular Friday I called work to say I’d be a little late that day because I had car problems (the first time I was late in years). Instead, I drove to STALIN’s and CINDERELLA’s place and dropped the envelope in their front door mailbox, and rang the doorbell, after which I quickly went away. I knew CINDERELLA was home alone (her car was in the driveway and she was still home with a newborn).
STALIN was at work.
I then went to work where I sent an email to the BIGBOSS. I told the BIGBOSS that STALIN was skipping work a lot and that it was too much for my team and myself to keep dealing with this. I told the BIGBOSS that I was going to resign because of this. I ended the email with the following..
“And I included a voice recording you’d find very interesting to hear for yourself.
It’s STALIN calling me, right after you called him in Switzerland.”
It only took like 15 minutes and my phone rang. It was BIGBOSS himself. Calling me on my company phone. Oh smack! Even better than I hoped for! BIGBOSS told me he was amazed by how STALIN talked to me and about him and thanked me for sending this to him. He told me he would talk to STALIN about this and asked me to wait with my resignation for the time being.
He would straighten things out.
Me: He’ll just deny everything and as soon as you end the phone conversation with him he’ll project his anger on me.
BIGBOSS: No no, I’m visiting my daughter and grandson this afternoon and I’ll swing by at work before that. It’s not that far apart.
Ding ding ding… did he just say he was visiting his daughter? The daughter I just bombed with the news of her husband being unfaithful to her?
The same husband BIGBOSS wants to talk with before visiting his daughter?
Maybe I should play the national lottery this afternoon because everything felt like it was going my way! I decided to keep my mouth shut about the affair (well duh), but also about him being absent this afternoon. I was originally planning on complaining to the BIGBOSS that STALIN was never in on a Friday afternoon, luring the BIGBOSS to that restaurant at 6 pm, but this was even better!
No, let the BIGBOSS come in and see for himself that STALIN just wasn’t there!
12 am. NAIVEGIRL said bye bye to everyone and off she went.
12:15 am. STALIN shut down his computer and left the office as well (without saying goodbye of course, emperors don’t talk to the peasants and plebs).
BIGBOSS entered the building. It was showtime! BIGBOSS was clearly and visibly upset with something.
Could it be his daughter showed him some naughty, naughty pictures already? Did he visit her first? He asked me where STALIN was and I swear to god.. Leonardo Di Caprio should hand me over his oscar immediately. I acted all surprised and said: oh? You were coming here to talk to STALIN? I must have misunderstood on the phone. Why didn’t you talk to him in Brussels?
At headquarters? He’s there every Friday, no?
The BIGBOSS looked surprised (I deserve that Oscar, I really, really do) and went like: “What do you mean?”
me: He always leaves at noon, every Friday, because he’s meeting you every week in Brussels. Or at least, that’s what he told us.
I could see the dominoes inside BIGBOSS’s head start falling as BIGBOSS’s face went blank.
He took his phone and called someone. He took a few steps back, but I overheard some parts of the conversation. I think he was calling his daughter because he said: “No, he’s not here. Apparently, he went somewhere.” I can only imagine his daughter telling him about the emails and the information I gave her about the restaurant and spa resort. Looked like she hadn’t told him that part yet.
BIGBOSS: “Oh really? I know that place. Ok. Ok. I’ll come over.”
BIGBOSS then thanked me and said he’d take care of this and ended it with his classic “Keep up the good work” as he left the room.
I was full of questions that entire weekend. What had happened? All I know is that when I came in at work that Monday morning, STALIN was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, there was some guy from headquarters telling us STALIN won’t be in that week and that he’d be replacing him temporarily. STALIN never came back though, and after a month or so they appointed a new manager.
Years later, I was working in Brussels at headquarters (I got that promotion! Ha!) and I befriended a member of the board. During a business meal, we started talking and when I mentioned I used to be second in command under STALIN the guy started laughing.
“That guy?” he said “Man, let me tell you a story”
The board member then filled in all the blanks I had for all of these years, not knowing I was the one who talked STALIN into the gallows of course. Apparently, STALIN really did get the manager job because of his relationship with the BIGBOSS (being son-in-law). He was the golden kid and BIGBOSS had big plans for STALIN.
He was supposed to take over the company when BIGBOSS retired. But it turned out he was being unfaithful to BIGBOSS’s daughter with a few women and was also stealing time from the company by not being at work when he was supposed to be there. All stuff I already knew of course, but hey, I was still an A-list Hollywood actor, so I acted all surprised and stuff.
Apparently, BIGBOSS and his daughter CINDERELLA walked in on him when he was in a restaurant with one of his mistresses. Oh, how I wanted to be a fly on the wall when that went down.
He then told me CINDERELLA divorced him, threw him out of the house and BIGBOSS didn’t fire him (they were afraid of legal implications) but instead demoted him to a meaningless position in the southern part of Belgium where people speak french.
STALIN did not speak french. He only spoke Flemish/Dutch and even this with a heavy, thick accent so most people didn’t understand him even when they themselves spoke Dutch. Needless to say.. STALIN was lost over there! He did not fit in, had no friends, no connections, no more power, and on top of it all: he did not understand the language! He quit the company after a few months and was now working in a low-wage job.
As for NAIVEGIRL. She walked away unharmed. We never talked about it though. She met someone else and even married the dude a year later. PARTNER and myself were invited to the wedding.
BIGBOSS retired a few years later and sold the company to a foreigner. He didn’t have anyone to succeed him but the millions he received did miracles to soften that. His daughter apparently went back to the guy she was seeing before STALIN.
They were still a couple the last time I checked.
I do not feel bad for STALIN. Not one bit! I’m not the kind of person who enjoys other people’s misery, no I am not a sociopath, but this guy… This guy really boiled my kidneys if you know what I mean. I never met such a narcissist, self-centered b******e in my entire life and he wanted to destroy my life and the lives of many other people.
As far as I’m concerned, I stopped him before he could do any more damage and saved my own career in the process. His wife is better off without him, the company is better off without him, my colleagues are better off without him, and I am better off without him.”
7. Here, Sign This Waiver First
“One of the most entertaining things in a customer service/dealing with the public role is the Husband and Wife dynamic. Sometimes the Husband is the more reasonable of the two. Sometimes the wife is the calm and understanding one. Other times they’re both a bunch of idiots.
On this particular day, I had a lovely wife with an extremely aggressive husband come into the warehouse and pick out a storage ottoman they wanted. Now the storage ottomans were a frustrating item, as the metal mechanisms that allowed the lid to be opened and shut made the ottomans extremely heavy, needing at least 2 x people to lift them.
Naturally, aggressive jerk husband flat out refuses to pay delivery for his ottoman he’s just purchased. In his words, ‘we’ll just pick it up.’ Yeah right buddy… more like, we will drive our small car around back and your warehouse staff can do it.
The husband and wife conclude the sales process in the store and the sales associate passes a copy of the paperwork onto me.
I scan it over and make sure they’ve ticked off and signed off on the Terms and Conditions: that all clearance sales are final, that all clearance sales are ‘as is’, that warehouse staff/sales staff are not covered under any insurance for loading or unloading customers goods and customers are responsible for the pickup of any items they purchase/order, etc.
The customer pulls the car around, and it’s a smallish car, but should be fine.
The husband walks over and I show him where his freshly bagged ottoman is and hand him a trolley.
Man – ‘What’s that for?’
Me – ‘To load your ottoman sir.’
Man (chuckles) – ‘No no no, you’re helping me.’
Me – ‘There’s two of you sir, you’ll be fine.’
Man – ‘Well then I’m canceling my order and filing a complaint against your company.’
I just sigh… I don’t want to cost this salesperson a sale, but my gut is trying to tell me something. I quickly go into the office and grab a release form which we use for anyone picking up clearance, but make a few handwritten notes of my own. I bring the paperwork back out and show it to the customer.
Me – ‘Sir could you fill out your full name, contact details, and initial these handwritten comments, and sign this release?’
Man – ‘Why?’
Me – ‘It just says that you’re happy to have me help you load up your ottoman and that if anything happens you won’t hold us liable.’
Man (smirks) – ‘Wow, you guys sure take things seriously.’
I just smile as he signs the document. I pass it to my offsider, asking him to make a few photocopies for the sales associate, the manager, the Area Manager, and the General Manager.
The wife grabs one end along with her husband and I grab the other end. We all lift it up and begin walking it toward the trunk of the car. The wife seems fine but the husband is struggling. He keeps asking to put it down so he can take a break. We pick up the ottoman again, and as we are just about to reach the car, the Husband lets go of his end, the lounge tips to the right, I lurch forward and the ottoman smashes into the back of their car, taking out the right-hand side tail light.
The wife immediately starts laughing as the husband loses his mind. He is inspecting the damage and is looking at me with wild eyes, wanting me to offer him an admission of guilt. I calmly stand there as they load up their ottoman and drive away.
The next day the husband calls the store, he is filing a lawsuit against the company for damages and has provided HR and head office with excessive estimates.
Immediately, I am called into the board room upstairs. There’s the General Manager, the Manager, HR, and a legal representative who is there for the shareholders. GM and HR explain to me that they’re not risking a lawsuit, that they’re going to pay for this guy’s car, and that they’re going to fire me. Without a word, I take out the document the customer signed. I hand it to the HR rep, who hands it to the GM.
Me – ‘The customer signed off on a release form after I explained that the company didn’t cover or expect me to load his goods. The customer clearly stated here that if I helped him he was absolving me of any liability including vehicle damage.’
The GM hands the document over to the lawyer who scans it. And his face changes – they know they can’t do anything.
Me – ( I couldn’t help but add this) ‘Ask your lawyer over there, I did EXACTLY what the customer asked me to do, I helped them. It was the customer who dropped his end of the ottoman, he caused the damage, not me.’
There’s silence in the room I turn and walk out. I’ve had enough. I go to the warehouse, grab my bag, get a bus home and play some Dead Space 2.
There was some aftermath… I went to my best friend to get a lawyer and put my own lawsuit against the company, for a variety of issues. This started a legal battle. After this nonsense transpired, I got together with my best friend and we started looking into the company and the safety procedures they were breaking; the fact they were not hiring enough staff to safely lift items; no lift access in the store which breaches safety laws regarding moving heavy items and also breaches a few laws around access for people on wheelchairs or disabilities; no overtime pay when people are forced to work overtime, etc.
The General Manager ran a special promotion during my time there for proceeds that would go to a Cancer Charity… and guess what? The $50,000 meant to go to charity disappeared and somehow found its way into his bank account. There were also some claims made about the furniture that were false, made in Italy (actually made in China), 15-year warranty (2-year warranty ), unlimited cleaning for the entirety of you owning the sofa (claims were always denied ), stuff like that.
Armed with all this, my lawyer and I went to a mediation, where their legal team tried to pressure me into NOT taking a payout of my wage, my holiday pay, and a payout of all my other benefits … if they made this lawsuit against me ‘go away.’
Imagine their surprise when my lawyer began bringing up all the safety violations, staff wage discrepancies, not to mention the outright lies and stealing carried out by management.
The meeting was quickly postponed and the lawyer for my ex-employer and the General Manager asked for a private conversation outside. They asked me what it would take for me to not go ahead in court, my lawyer asked for all my benefits paid, and to pay out the rest of the year as if I had been working a 5 day week. They deliberated for 15min before they agreed. What they didn’t agree on is that we couldn’t send off the violations to all the necessary government bodies.
Last I heard the GM AND MANAGEMENT team were fired and the company was fined $250,000.”
Another User Comments:
“At a quarter million fine, I would have asked for 2 or 3 years salary or 100k. They can pay or they can pay more. That would have been my response.” loganlogwood
6. Don't Stop Grilling Until You Say So? Gotcha!
“In the late 1980s, my first job was working at a well-known fast-food chain. I’d been working here a couple of years at the time of this story and had worked my way to crew leader, but had just been passed over for promotion to shift manager 3 days before.
It’s around 7:00 PM and we had just finished the dinner rush and the newly promoted manager (NPM) decided to save some labor and send the bulk of the crew home and just keep the closing crew. We had 1 person covering drive-thru, 1 person in the grill (me), 1 person at the front counter, and NPM.
At this point, it’s important to know that this fast-food chain was running a promotion for their most famous hamburger item (2 for $2), and of course, this was very popular.
With one employee in the grill area, and the equipment and prep methods that were used at this time, it was possible to make this item 6 at a time.
We had code names for cranking out these items from the grill area at speed.
- 6 pull 6 – meant that you make six of this item and when you finished making these 6 times, you started the next 6. With this method, you can make about six items every 2 1/2 minutes.
- 6 turn 6 – meant you start 6 of this item, and when you flip the meat on the grill, you start making 6 more. With this method, you can make six items every 75 to 80 seconds.
So what happens 10 minutes after the NPM sends the bulk of the crew home? We get a large Greyhound bus full of senior citizens that walk into the restaurant. About 80 people flood the lobby and start lining up to place their orders.
From the grill area, I see the flood of people, assess the situation, and decide to start making some food. However, I choose not to make our ‘hot’ sale item since I don’t think the bulk of these customers will order this. I decided to make fish, chicken, and smaller hamburger items, which I believe this group of people will order.
Just as I finish delivering the first ‘wave’ of these smaller items and am about to start another, the NPM pokes her head out of the office and notices the situation.
Obviously, the lone front counter person was overwhelmed, and the NPM rushes to help take orders.
On her way to the front counter, she yells to me in the grill area.
NPM – ‘I want you to do a 6 turn 6 until I tell you to stop.’
Me – ‘I don’t think these guys are going to be ordering that. Are you sure?’
NPM – ‘I didn’t ask you what you think.
They made me the manager, not you, and this is what needs to be done.’
Time for Malicious Compliance.
I start to crank out the burgers and don’t bother to wrap them up. I’m working furiously and get into a rhythm, turning out 6 of these every 75-80 seconds. About 15 minutes pass, and there are about 60 burgers made. With only me in the grill, there isn’t time for me to box the burgers and put them in the bin.
I’m stacking trays of finished burgers on any flat surface I can find in the grill area. NPM is still taking orders at the front counter. She hasn’t noticed how many burgers are piling up in the grill area. At this point, I decided to ask her if she wants me to continue.
Me – ‘Do you still want me to do 6 turn 6?’
NPM – ‘Did I tell you to stop?’
Huh. Well, she’s taking the customer orders, so she must know what’s going on. I go back to the 6 turn 6. Another 20 minutes pass. There are now another 90 burgers and I’m putting trays of finished burgers in the sink area, straddling fryer vats, etc. and she still hasn’t told me to stop.
At this point, all the customer orders are taken and they are now trying to get orders out.
The smaller fish, chicken, and burger items are long gone by now and I’ve had no time to make any more. NMP yells back to me.
NPM – ‘We need chicken, fish, nuggets, hamburgers, and cheeseburgers.’
Me – ‘So you want me to stop the 6 turn 6?’
NPM – ‘What! You’re still doing that? Are you crazy?’
Me – “You didn’t tell me to stop, I’m doing exactly what you asked me to do.”
At this point, she walks back to the grill area and sees the fruits of my labor. There are burger trays everywhere, the prep table is a disaster, the grill needs to be cleaned, and I can’t even get to the fry vats to make chicken or fish since there are burgers stacked on them.
NPM – ‘I can’t believe you did this! We’re never going to sell all of this!
This will ruin my food waste goals!’
Me – ‘I specifically told you that I didn’t think a 6 turn 6 was a good idea, and you told me to do it anyway. I asked you if I should stop and you told me to continue. They made you the manager, so I assumed you knew what you were doing.’
NPM – ‘You did this on purpose!’
Me – ‘I did exactly what you told me to do, so yes, it was on purpose.’
NPM then storms back to the front counter and I start packaging burgers and making the food that was actually ordered to fill the customer orders.
She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night.
The next day, the store manager asks me what happened and I told him exactly what I was instructed to do. The front counter person was able to verify the instructions that were given and I never heard anything more about it.
The NPM was transferred to another store shortly after this and I was promoted.”
Another User Comments:
“”NPM – “You did this on purpose!”
Me- “I did exactly what you told me to do, so yes, it was on purpose.”
Perfection right there.” Starfleet_Auxiliary
5. Come In With A Big Request? They'll Grant It, But I'll Get Better
“I was just a customer. I had a hotel room booked for two nights, from a 5-star well-known hotel chain.
The room was the smallest/cheapest, with 2 double beds, probably even located below the parking garage. That was about the only room available, so it would have to do.
About a month later, I arrive with my buddy to basically drop our stuff in the room, so we can take off right away, while the sun is still up.
In the lobby, there is about a 200-person group shouting all at once to the two ladies at the front desk.
The desk attendant notices us, as we clearly were not part of the huge group, so she waves us over, past the large group, and starts to handle our check-in.
She politely asks us to fill the traveler forms while she’s looking up my reservation. I thank her and try to make pleasant conversation about this and that, complimenting their uniforms and the hotel, trying to improve the sour atmosphere the angry mob has been generating all around.
While we are filling the forms, the angry man next to us, who was apparently the leader of the lobby-mob, keeps shouting, loud: ‘I demand that you arrange us an extra room with two double-size beds! We had a late addition to our travel, and they need a room with two double-size beds! RIGHT. FREAKING. NOW!’
Apparently, the arguing has been taking place for quite a while already.
She tries to get a word in, but gets interrupted: ‘I don’t care if your stupid trash hotel is full, it’s your job to give us a place to sleep! Stupid woman. Get. Us. Another. Room! And double-size beds! Don’t try anything else, I’m not interested in anything else! You are an idiot… I wonder how you can keep your job if you can’t even arrange a room for us.’
Every time the main desk attendant tries to talk to the angry man, he rudely interrupts her, with more and more shouting.
The only thing I can do is to keep smiling at the ladies, sympathetically.
She: ‘We don’t have double-size beds available, but we do have—‘
Him: ‘I don’t want to hear! Just do your job and press the buttons to make it happen.
Two. Double. Beds. Or is that too difficult for you?’
The clerks share a tired look with each other, but suddenly both seem to have an idea. They converse for a moment (using their native language) while pointing at their screens. One lady starts speaking to me. ‘Our apologies sir, but unfortunately, we don’t have your room with two double beds available for you, which you had booked for.
As you see, we are a bit full today,’ while she is gesturing to the mob in the lobby.
What?! I don’t have a room anymore?! My heart sinks a bit, but she continues: ‘So, because we are fully booked, the only room we can offer to you, is the executive suite on the 24th floor, obviously for no extra cost. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have two double-sized beds…’
She makes eye contact with the angry man and continues: ‘…but it has 4 king-size beds. Each with their own en-suites.’
Angry man drops dead silent and is just staring at us, bewildered.
While looking at me again, she continues: ‘I hope you accept the free room upgrade, with our most sincere apologies on behalf of the hotel management. And of course, all the room service is free, including the refreshments available in the suite kitchen and suite bar areas, and all hotel VIP facilities are at your disposal 24/7.
Please do enjoy your stay and let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable.’
She dings a small bell and the support staff takes our bags while gesturing towards the fancy separate elevator at the side. I’m so shocked that I can mutter only a little bit of thanks.
While we are making our way towards the elevator, the main-desk is explaining to the angry man: ‘Sir, I’m happy to inform you that we were able to make arrangements to have a single room with two double-size beds, available to accommodate your extra guests.
That will be 199€ added to your bill.’
The man snaps out of his trance-like state, and shouting resumes: ‘What the heck!? I don’t want some single room with double-size beds! I want a free executive suite too! Why do those losers get the freaking suite and I get some trashy single room!? This is unacceptable! Why did you give my better room to those two idiots instead of to me!?’
She now has a much more commanding tone, and she responds: ‘Unfortunately, Sir, our “free executive suite” is not available. It is booked now. I tried to offer you king-size, but you were having none of it. So will you take the single room or not?’
I can’t tell accurately what was said next, but I’m quite sure it is lots of cursing and throwing more insults from the man (using the man’s native language).
I can’t help but have the biggest grin on my face.
Maybe half an hour later when we head out to check the city, the lobby has been cleared. We go to the desk to thank the two attendants and give them both good tips. The executive suite was absolutely fantastic. The only downside was that I would have needed to bring my own helicopter to use the helipad on the roof, to fully enjoy the privileges included with the room.”
Another User Comments:
“When I worked front desk I would do this in a heartbeat. I can and did blatantly upgrade people who were being polite over the dude screaming at me.
Like you want to check in at 7 am. Well, you will take what I have available, and what’s available is the room right next to the elevator and I’m very sure it’s my only clean room.
Enjoy your stay. Followed by notes on file to not move them.” Danigirl_03
4. Completely Ghost Me Just Like That? I'll Make You Drive 30 Minutes To "Meet Up With Me"
“I’ve always been a Craigslist guy but I moved somewhere where Craigslist isn’t popular and it’s all about OfferUp.
To say the least, dealing with people on OfferUp is an awful experience. I had accumulated a whole lot of pent up bitterness at the countless people that have ghosted me, wasted my time, showed up with fewer bills than agreed upon, the onslaught of low ballers, people that can’t make up their mind about selling their OWN item, liars, low ballers as they’re handing me their agreed-upon payment, etc.
My second to most recent exchange was me driving out 30 minutes to buy a laptop waiting at a Starbucks, the guy telling me the laptop wasn’t done factory resetting. Waiting for him for hours while I did my shopping, and then finally ghosting me. I told him, “If I were you, I would delete my account and take down all the listings.” I then logged onto an alt account a day later and changed my name to Anton Chigurh and messaged him about an item he had for sale, he told me yes it was available.
Then I asked him, “What’s the most you’ve ever lost in a coin toss?” He left me on read, and then a day later his account was gone, or he blocked me. I don’t know. I like to believe he thought he was about to be executed by a cattle euthanizer.
But this wasn’t the most recent event. 2 months later, I found myself short on rent and conveniently somebody messaged me that morning about a VR headset I had for sale.
I was like, ah yes, this is perfect because he seemed like a serious buyer. We were messaging back and forth all morning, asking me questions about the headset, even planned to drive out to him 30 minutes, so we could meet somewhere that was closer and more convenient to him. I asked what time we could meet, I’m available now, he said he was at school but he’ll “let me know.” I asked if he could at least give me an ETA so I can plan my day out?
Leaves me on read.
3 hours go by and I realize this guy is full of nonsense. So I log onto an alt account and message him about an item he has for sale. Immediately he responds saying it’s available. Alright cool, I’ve got him nibbling on the bait. I asked if we could meet in a couple of hours but asked if he could drive to me cause “I don’t have a car.” I choose a fake location in a suburban neighborhood about a 30-minute drive from him.
Initially, he leaves me on read, but then I ask him if he’ll do it for an extra $30. He immediately responds yes.
Alright, so I got this guy on the hook. I go about my day, oh and a nice surprise, my check ended up clearing at the bank, so I don’t have to worry about being short on rent anymore. I’m at the bank when I get a message from him saying he’s on his way.
30 minutes later, he tells me he’s outside the address I gave him, 123 W. S St. I waste his time by telling him I don’t see him, and oops, I gave the wrong address; it’s only a block away at 456 W. F St. I take my time before checking again, and there’s a message saying he’s been waiting a few minutes at the “correct address.”
I tell him, “Do you know what the “S” in W. S St stands for?” He says, “Uhh 2nd? Second st?” And I say, “S stands for ‘Screw you.’ You inconsiderate jerk. Next time think twice before wasting people’s time. Would it have taken much effort to at least send a message saying, ‘sorry I’m no longer interested.’ You’re not the main character.
People have lives. Get screwed.”
Hook line and sinker, baby!
He responds “What?” And then I block him. And I block him from my main account too, lol. Oh man, that was such a satisfying moment. All the pent-up bitterness from all the nonsense I’ve dealt with from the scum of OfferUp just released at once. Hope he thinks twice before doing that again.”
3. Keep Bragging, Buddy, But It Won't Get You Anywhere
I’m sure that dropped his ego very quickly.
“The company I work for requires you to pass a series of tests to be considered for employment.
The first test is general knowledge (idiot test) just to sift out people who aren’t that bright. I took my tests with 30 other people that day and 20 of them failed this test. 10 left.
The second test was general knowledge part 2 (the revenge of idiot test) and a further 7 people failed that test leaving just 3 people left.
The tests take a total of 8 hours and there are breaks in between. We were not allowed to leave the building during testing. If we had to leave then we would have to reschedule the tests for another day. I think this is because of fear of someone stealing a test booklet and finding the answers and different versions of the test given on different days.
The other two guys and I were stuck there together for the rest of the day so we got to talking in between tests. One guy was older, maybe in his mid-fifties, early sixties, and was bragging about how easy the tests were and couldn’t believe 27 people failed. The other dude was my age at the time…pretty young for the job we were applying for.
He was nervous and seemed happy he made it through the first two tests.
As I studied for the tests there was one that I wasn’t sure about. I knew I would have a hard time with that one and when they put out the docket for tests, I saw the hard one would be the last one on the list. My plan was to pass 4 of the tests and reschedule the 5th to give me more time to study.
All three of us passed the 3rd test and I had to listen to the old man gloat about how easy it was when the young guy and myself lamented it was harder than we thought.
The young said he knew all the math parts but the theory and hardware parts would be the most difficult for him.
I said the math would be hard for me but I was confident with the hardware stuff.
I was bluffing of course. I studied using old navy manuals that didn’t have anything about newer hardware so I was ignorant to that stuff. I, too, was strong in the math part because I found out we would be able to use calculators and my father-in-law gifted me his best old scientific calculator. The old man called us both stupid if we thought that was hard and was in for a shock if we actually got the job.
I sit down for test #4 thinking it was the math test according to the docket…but when I opened the book I found out it wasn’t. It was the hardware test. I raised my hand and asked to reschedule because of the mixup and she said that was impossible after I opened the booklet. I freaked out…
My whole life was riding on this test. I moved here for the job and if I didn’t get it I wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment.
I calmed myself and just tried to answer using context clues and deductive reasoning…
After the test, I asked the young guy how he did and he said he was sure he failed it. I said me too. This launched the old man into a tirade about how he has worked in this industry for 25 years and if I thought the tests were hard now then I was never going to make it in real life.
This went in for 20 mins. About how my generation was weak and stupid and he feared for the future. He said he knew that test like the back of his hand.
The old man failed. And the young guy and I passed.
He didn’t say a word and just got up and walked out.
I didn’t say a word either. I just smiled as he left.
After the old man left the other young guy started laughing and making fun of him. Talking about how we ‘got this’ since we had our calculators and he was talking about how he hopes we work together and how cool of a story it would be. He went to the payphone and called his partner and told her it was in that he was going to pass and that she can start looking for a new house and everything.
He had his calculator out playing with it while we waited for the last test. It was a TI-82 graphing calculator. I was horrible in math in high school so I never took high-level math…but my friends did…and I loved playing with their TI calculators (this was before smartphones).
I looked at it for a minute and something hit me.
Holy…this calculator didn’t have scientific functions on it at all.
No octal, no hexadecimal, nothing. He assumed since it was so fancy it did, but it didn’t.
I told him this and he went white. What do you mean he said. So I showed him in my old beat-up calculator how I do number conversions and he didn’t have the buttons to do it.
Now being the over preparing dude I am…I learned how to do it on paper in the event we couldn’t use calculators.
He was not so studious. So I tried to give him a crash course on how to do it on paper and write out number lines and all that. He wasn’t getting it. I said maybe he should ask to reschedule and get another calculator. He suggested I give him mine since I knew how to do it on paper.
“Uh…man…you are cool and all but I just met you.
I’m not good at math and this is the rest of my life we are talking about. I’m sorry I need mine.”
He refused to reschedule saying he got this far and would be fine.
He failed.
BUT silver lining the 4 tests he passed qualified him for another job that paid almost the same but it was not as good and the one we were going for.
I got the job and have been here for 19 years now.
That day taught me to always be humble and never count your chickens.”
Another User Comments:
“I am really curious about what company (or at least what industry/type of job) this was.” mrchaotica
Reply:
“It was for a communications company.
Strangely I never used a single thing learned for those tests in my actual job.
I didn’t need to be able to identify any of the hardware I wasn’t familiar with… and I never had to convert Decimal to Hexi-decimal.
It was a big deal at the time though because they hire in 10-year cycles, and in 2000, there was a big hiring push. I stood to make over 5 times what I was currently making at 20 years old. So I was pretty proud of myself for making it.” blackjesushiphop
2. Threaten To Fire Me Despite Being Put On Bed Rest? Fine, I'll Show Up
He’s lucky his employee didn’t try to sue or report him for this incident.
“This happened about 15 years ago. I was working as a server in a chain restaurant during the summer while I was home from college. I had gone to a party one night, got hammered, and wound up passing out near the bonfire in the brush by a treeline of this big field.
I woke up the next morning feeling pretty rough and gradually saw large patches of poison ivy popping up all over my body. By the end of the day, it was absolutely horrendous – head to toe – and I realized I had slept in a patch of poison ivy. I could barely move. I went to the doctor, who put me on steroids and bed rest. I was scheduled to work the next day and called my supervisor to let him know that aside from not being able to move my limbs because of the swelling, itching, and pain, I looked AWFUL and should NOT be serving food to customers.
He was a jerk about it, asked me questions trying to poke holes in my ‘story’, and then demanded a doctor’s note. I called my doctor and had one sent to him. The note cleared me from work for at least a week.
A few days later I get a call from my manager. They are slammed on a busy weekend night and need me to come in.
I remind him that I have a doctor’s note, it hasn’t been a week, and while I’m feeling better, I am covered in oozing sores. He tells me, ‘You’ve had long enough. Come in now or you’ll be fired.’
Fine.
I put on shorts, my polo shirt with company logo, name tag, and apron and head to the restaurant. I get to the hostess stand and everyone around me stares at my skin with their jaws dropped. I tell the hostess I was called into work and would like to check with the manager about where my section will be.
She tells me he is busy in the party room helping out with a VERY large group and that I probably shouldn’t go in there. She offers to go get him and tries to get me to move to a less conspicuous place.
‘NO.’ I insisted. ‘I was told I would be fired if I didn’t come to work today.’ I walked straight back to the party room, tapped my manager on the shoulder, and cheerily said, ‘Hi Manager!
I’m here for my shift! How can I help??’
His eyes opened wide in horror and he told me immediately to go back home. I loudly protested that I was feeling better, that my sores weren’t THAT bad and I was worried about being fired, like he told me on the phone. He told me to go home, which I did. This was not the first incident where the manager was an absolute jerk, and I called to quit the morning of the next legitimate shift I was scheduled for after the poison ivy cleared up.”
1. Don't Get Mad At Me When Your Car Gets Destroyed
“Concrete mixers are big, ungainly things. Trying to maneuver them around a crowded job site is like trying to play miniature golf with a tennis ball. The biggest problem is, of course, other people, specifically other people’s cars. Nobody is going to lug 50 pounds of tools any further than they have to, so if there is an open space near where they want to be, they park there, never mind that it is right next to a sidewalk or directly across from a driveway that a crew is obviously prepping.
It only makes things worse when it’s done by people who should know better (and done intentionally).
So, we’re pumping grout walls in the late afternoon, which already has me in a bit of a mood. Grout jobs tend to be very slow. Each cinder block has two cells, and the crew pumps the grout into those cells filling them all the way to the top of the wall.
Grout is really just a term for a weak concrete mix that is pumped super wet. It has to be that wet to make it all the way to the bottom of the wall, otherwise, it sticks to the sides of the cinder blocks (or gets caught up on steel reinforcement). There is a lot of stopping and starting, as well as a lot of moving the pump.
It all takes time, during which that concrete starts to go off and stiffen up. Things only get worse on a hot day, and the subs will do anything to get more water in the load (substance addicts looking for a fix have nothing on grout pumpers eyeballing your last 20 gallons).
As we move to a new street, we find a line of cars parked all along the side of the street we are working on, just far enough apart to take up as much space as possible without leaving enough room to get the pump in there.
Turns out it is another concrete crew setting up to do patios. No problem, we’re all concrete guys here, and they know how it is. We ask them to move. That I am writing this post tells you what their response was. It turns out they are waiting for their own pump and mixer to show up, and they intentionally blocked the street because they don’t want us to be in their way.
Their crew chief tells us we can wait for them to finish and move on, or we can just work around them.
It’s pretty obvious he expects us to wait. Waiting is, of course, going to make the concrete go off even more and will rack up standby charges for the customer, but trying to work around their cars is going to mean blocking the street and rolling up the hose every time we move (normally the crew just drags/carries it down the sidewalk, but we can’t do that with the cars in the way).
It would take much longer; depending on when their pump shows up, it might not even save us any time. Still, Todd the pumper rolls his pump right up next to the lead car and feeds his hose out around it.
At the best of times, a concrete pump farts and sputters like a nervous chihuahua, flinging small globs of concrete out the hopper. If the driver isn’t paying attention and accidentally lets the concrete level get too low, the pump sucks in air.
Feeding a concrete pump air is like feeding a hippopotamus Olestra; stuff’s not pretty, and it gets everywhere. We probably end up moving that pump twice as many times as we have to, but it ensures that every single one of those cars gets to spend some quality time next to the hopper.
We finish with the job and are washing out the pump when the crew chief (whose own concrete and pump still haven’t shown up yet) storms over to complain about all the concrete splatter on their cars.
I point out that we told them we’d be pumping there and asked them to move, but they refused. At this point, he sees that I have a truck wash bucket strapped to my water tank and demands I let him use it to clean off his car.
I tell him that is a terrible idea, smoking lounge on the Hindenburg levels of terrible.
The stuff we use is designed to dissolve dried concrete, and it will probably damage his car. The concrete is fresh enough that he can probably just rinse it off with water. He isn’t having it. He tells me to stop lying because if it doesn’t damage my truck, it won’t hurt his car. Besides, he’s done this before and knows what he is doing.
Now, keeping a concrete mixer clean is a downright Sisyphean task. No matter how hard you try, chutes overflow, pumps splatter, and plants huff cement powder all over your truck. There are a variety of chemicals used to clean off concrete, and most of the modern mixes are relatively safe (for something that can dissolve concrete). Our plants provide a phosphoric acid mix (relatively safe isn’t the same as actually safe) to any drivers that need it, so it quite common for there to be a bucket of it stashed somewhere on the truck.
Of course, part of what makes these chemicals safer also makes them somewhat less effective. That’s why some of us will bring in our own cleaning products to fortify the company mix. These are not the friendly chemicals that will just leave you with a mild chemical burn; My bucket of fun dips down to the good old days of leaded gasoline, asbestos, and red dye no. 2.
Still, I warned him, and he assured me he knew what he was doing. Besides, he’s intentionally being a jerk and expected my sub to pay standby for his convenience. I let him have the bucket.
I half expect him to stop when he pulls the lid off. The witch’s brew in the bucket smells like Walter White’s bathtub. Somehow, the fact that his nose hairs are curling up like a spider in a flame doesn’t seem to faze him.
Brush goes in the bucket. The brush comes out of the bucket. Brush slams onto the hood of the car with a wet slap. I can only watch in mute horror as the man proceeds to not just clear off the concrete, but bathe his entire hood in hydrochloric acid, rubbing it in to get out all those nasty water spots. It’s like watching an orphan unwittingly skin his favorite puppy.
None of us stick around long enough to see the final result, but it is already apparent that he has scrubbed off the clear coat and is in the process of etching brush marks in the paint.
I don’t want to be anywhere near him when that hood dries out. I let him keep the bucket.”
