People Share How They Got The Payback They Wanted By Doing What They Were Told

Isn’t it glorious when someone says something they don’t expect you to take seriously? You know the kind. It’s those underhanded comments made in jest or sarcastic remarks that are meant to come across as threatening but can be received as a dare. Things like, “If you can’t wake up on time, then sleep in the office,” or “We speak Spanish here. If you don’t like it then leave.” Oh, these comments may fall to the wayside for the normal person, but for anyone who defaults to malicious compliance, this is encouragement. These comments stoke the fire, immediately inspiring revenge. Be careful whose feathers you ruffle with words like these because you don’t know who you’re messing with!

The following stories delve deeper into the things people say that stir the pot. Instead of trying to close up the matter and move on, it’s this bad behavior that brings out more bad behavior in return! These are small but mighty acts of revenge that hit hard. From the janitor who went out of his way to make sure his boss always knows where he is, to the server who quite literally does what she’s told and brings her customer a drink EVERY SINGLE TIME she goes to the table, you’ve got delicious malicious compliance in spades! Grab some popcorn and enjoy!

21. You Want Me To Sleep At The Office? Sure Thing, Lady

“This happened a year ago. I still am working at this company.

My superiors (team lead, manager and department head) are all fantastic bosses and they will fight for their subordinates when right. Most of my immediate colleagues are great too, and we often help each other out.

So, I have very severe sleep apnea. After a sleep study was done I was told that I stopped breathing 69 times an hour. As a result, I tend to need more sleep than most normal people. If the following day is not a workday, I will go to bed at 10 pm or 11 pm and wake up the next day at 3 pm.

I have 7 different alarms, all of which I never snooze as I almost never hear them.
Now, my bosses are aware and very understanding, and they do not mind me coming in late to work as I ultimately still get things done. Also, sometimes my work requires me to work at odd hours, in the 12 am-5 am kinds of hours(we handle infrastructure). My usual work hours are 930-1900, vs my colleagues’ usual 830-1800, as I had to work with clients and customers who have 930-1900 work times.

Onto the story.

Our CEO was cracking down on punctuality issues(there were some people who were abusing this, so I can’t blame him) and HR was going hard on everyone.
This lady who was handling disciplinary issues (we’ll call her Karen) knows that I’m typically late to work almost every day, and starts targeting me. My manager explains my situation to her and tells her that it was an exception granted to me. She remarks that it is entirely unacceptable and that no employee should be given special privileges, and called for me to a joint meeting between her, me, my team lead and manager.

After insinuations that I’m just lazy and lying about my situation with sleep apnea, or that I snooze my alarms and sleep late, she states that if I am late one more time, I will receive a warning letter(with the unspoken threat that I will lose my bonus for the year that was coming in 2 months as it is considered disciplinary action).
She then sarcastically adds “If you can’t get up in the morning, sleep in the office.” I was p*ssed for a couple of seconds, but this subreddit has taught me better.

A plan began to form. Malicious compliance it is!

Once work ends, I head home, as usual, have dinner, relax and stuff. However, this time I head back to the office, reaching at 10.30 pm or so, with ALL of my alarms. As per office safety procedure, if there’s an employee in the office the lights need to be on, at least in the employee’s immediate area. On the lights go.
I set them up to start ringing from 6.30 am as usual, and to ring every 5mins.

I should also mention that my desk is right smack in the middle of the office, just outside HR’s closed area. Also, any person with sleep apnea knows, snoring is an immense issue. My snoring is so loud that it sounded like Thor was p*ssed. I went to sleep in my chair.

Morning comes, people start coming in. It is 8.30 am, my 7 alarms ringing, my snoring bringing the thunder. Did I mention that I’m seated right outside HR AND in the middle of the office? Karen, unable to take the noise, tries to get my colleagues to wake me up.

They simply shrugged and said it wasn’t part of their job scope or contract. My team lead and manager both refused to wake me up, as “he starts work at 9.30 am.” Karen tries to wake me up, but a choking/breathing incident happens and it looked/sounded like I was severely ill. It scared her to tears. I ended up waking on my own at 10.30 am. Karen then complains to my department head, which I clarified that this was requested by Karen, to which both my team lead and manager corroborates.

My department head deems that I didn’t break any rules, and in fact did do what she had said to, and thus had no grounds for disciplinary action.
He then gives me 2 days paid off to rest as I was in no condition to handle clients. I found out later that the rest of HR was never agreeable putting me on the late list in the first place, but did not/could not intervene as they were not in charge of disciplinary issues.

No one has really hounded me about punctuality again, outside of the occasional “hey, try to be on time next time.” Just to assure everyone, I do try my best to.” Frogsama86

20. Can’t Give Up Your Seat? I Might Just Have To Basically Sit On You

“This happened just under 2 years ago while I was living in NYC.
I am a woman on the younger side of what the public expects to see for a cane user, and other than having the cane I don’t look disabled.

Also, just because I know it’s going to be asked, I have the cane because of hyper-mobility issues that have basically lead to my joints not functioning as they should. Essentially, it helps keep me from falling randomly/over-straining my already taxed muscles.

Also, those of you who have ridden on NYC subways might know this already, but every NYC subway car has seats that are designated as ‘handicapped’. These seats are to be vacated and given to anyone disabled, elderly, pregnant, injured, etc.

You can definitely sit there if you aren’t handicapped in some way, but it’s a fine if you don’t give up your seat when someone who needs it comes along. There’s actually nothing other than manners forcing you to give up your seat in the rest of the train. That said, even in NYC most people tend to automatically offer up a seat when they see a cane.

NYC subways are especially brutal in my condition if I have to stand.

The constant, unpredictable need to shift my weight leaves my muscles in agony after even a short ride. I always tried to board by the handicapped seats, that way I at least wasn’t putting someone out in the regular ones.
A lot of folks will pretend not to see you but eventually, they realize you caught them staring and they offer up the seat.

One day, I got on the A train at Columbus Circle heading north after a long day of work.

The train was pretty crowded and every seat was full. A guy sitting in one of the handicapped seats saw me and jumped up. The young lady standing in front of him hadn’t seen me and sat down (this happened sometimes, women assuming they were being given the seat by a chivalrous man but most women would see me and realize what had happened).
The lady saw me just as the man gives her a ‘***’ look.

I hadn’t planned on saying anything cause… I mean, invisible disabilities are a thing and I tend to freeze with confrontation anyway. But I must have had a puzzled look or something cause the lady goes “Someone ELSE can give you a seat.”

I look around. Every other handicapped seat is occupied by someone who obviously needs it (elderly, pregnant, etc). So I just say “Well…. They’re all people who are supposed to be sitting in these seats.

It’s a fine if you sit here and aren’t handicapped while someone who is doesn’t have a seat.” I was still tired and a bit startled to be pulled into a confrontation.
Lady: “Well then it’s a fine for all of them!” She points to the regular seats.
Me: “No… just the ones with those signs.” I point to the sign directly above her head declaring the seats as handicapped.
Lady: “Well you can stand for ONE stop!”

Now, I could have probably gotten a regular seat from someone nicer than this woman.

But the subway had already started moving at this point and I needed to hold on. That, and… well… I’m stubborn and petty. So I stand in the crowded car, right in front of her, my cane an inch from her kneecap for the express trip from 59th to 125th.
Those of you who have experienced the joy of an express NYC subway train ride, you know they are not gentle. They speed along, bouncing, swaying, and jostling without a care in the world.

I am in agony in no time flat, but I’m not the only one. Every jerk of the subway car sends my cane hard into this lady’s kneecap. I don’t have to intentionally do anything more than stand there, actually, I’m trying to stay as immobile as possible but this particular operator is driving like he’s late for his own wedding. She tries to shift but I really am all up in her business (grab bar is right above her after all).

We get to 125th and she tries to stand, but I don’t move. She did want me to “stand” after all. She eventually shoves past me up out of her seat (I’m fine cause the car is too crowded for me to fall or anything) but doesn’t make it out of the car in time. By that time I’ve gratefully taken the seat she vacated so she has to stand until we get to 145th. At that point she got off, I assume to get on going the other direction, and I never saw her again.” Queerability

19. Tell The Boss Man Every Time I Leave My Hall? I’ll Give Him The Full Report

“My brother used to work in “environmental services” in a rather large hospital.

For those of you not fluent in corporate *******,* that means he was a janitor. He had a lot of cleaning duties that took him all over the hospital each day, however, each person was assigned a hallway that they had to maintain during the shift. My brother did not have an issue with this and did all of his work as assigned. At this particular job, he often bumped heads with management, but in fairness, the way he describes it, he was working for a bunch of idiots.

I obviously cannot comment on this, but in the time I have known my brother, he has always been an incredibly hard worker and does what he can to provide for his children.
So I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume management was just being stupid.

On one particular day, the management tried to implement a new rule. All staff members were now supposed to call the boss whenever they left their designated hallway. The bossman, Joe, just wanted a quick notification.

I’m sure the reason for this rule made sense at the time, but it’s one of those things that is just so stupid no one ever did it. That didn’t prevent the boss from trying to enforce the stupid rule though. He harassed everyone, my brother included, all the time about “leaving their workspace without notifying him.”

One day, he was really going after my brother hard until finally, my brother had enough.
He decided that it was best to follow the rule.

The very next day he began. At the start of his shift, he called his boss, “Hey Joe, I’m going to my hallway now”.

A few minutes later my brother realized he didn’t have enough supplies on his cart, and the required supplies were in the closet ten feet outside the area he had been assigned. So he called his boss again, “Hey Joe, I need to leave my hallway. I forgot some supplies.”

He did so. Then once he got back to his hallway, “Hey Joe, I’m back in my hallway now.”

An hour goes by and wouldn’t you know it, he had to use the bathroom.

“Hey Joe, I need to go use the bathroom. It’s a number 2 in case you were wondering.” Then he went to the bathroom. Upon completion of the “subtask”, he went back to the hallway and called again, “Hey Joe, I’m back in the hallway. I had a good bowel movement, no trouble to report there. The color and size all seemed healthy.”

At this point, Joe was getting annoyed, but he couldn’t go back on his rule that he had gone through so much trouble to enforce.

Meanwhile, my brother’s calls and “mini-reports” became increasingly elaborate. He was no longer just calling to say when he left and came back, but to explain WHY he was leaving, HOW LONG he would be gone, WHERE he was going, etc.
Joe eventually stopped picking up his phone, so my brother would just keep calling until he answered.

My brother said he thinks he must have called his boss over 150 times during his 8-hour shift. Each time leaving a very, very detailed report.

With each report, his boss just replied something along the lines of “Okay, okay, okay, Chad. Uh, okay,” clearly just wanted to get off the phone.

The next day he came back to work and didn’t make any calls. And Joe never bothered him or anyone else about “calling to check in with him” after that.” suprmario218

18. Only Cardiologists Can Do EKGs? Be Careful What You Wish For

“My dad was a general surgeon in the ER.
The hospital was collecting some internal info on who was doing what jobs, and it turned out that the ER was having a lot of non-cardio specializing doctors doing EKG’s.

The reason for this was pretty simple: the cardiologists tend to be busy, and the results in the ER have to be read really, really, fast. In order to be fast, they’d just read the EKG’s themselves, as the results generally weren’t subtle. It can be hard to tell some heart problems from others, but in the ER, all you really need is a quick peek to go “Ah, ***,* this guy is having a heartattack.”

The cardiology department got upset about this and said that ER doctors shouldn’t get paid for doing EKG’s as it isn’t their specialty.

The ER management was pretty chill, so they said that they didn’t really care who did the EKG, they just needed the results to be in within 30 minutes of them being requested.

For the first few days, this just resulted in the doctors on the floor reading the EKG’s unpaid. Not a huge deal, but kind of a nuisance.

Then during a night shift, my dad sold the other ER docs on an idea:

The first part of the idea comes from a hospital policy: Technically, if a patient came in with chest pain, you had to do an EKG.

The ER was infamous for being swamped, so management turned a blind eye to the actual enforcement of this policy there as a way to save time.
If someone comes in with chest pain and a hacking cough, for example, they’re probably not having a heartattack, they probably have pneumonia, and you should start your diagnostic with that.

This combined with the second part of the idea which was, what if they actually rigorously enforced the first policy and asked for an EKG on all chest pain patients while following the second policy of handing the EKG’s to the cardio department? Either cardio crumbles first and lets them just do their **** job, or management crumbles first and removes the silly EKG rule.

Either result is a win, EZ PZ.
Thus began the most brutal two days of the cardiology department’s life. The ER handles a much, much larger flow of patients than the cardiology department is prepared to deal with. They’re a specialist division, so they’re not supposed to handle a particularly large volume of patients in a single day. This meant that they quickly got swamped by the sheer flow of patients in from the ER.

Oh, but it gets worse: ER docs work ungodly hours, and when the staff set up the deal, there was the agreement that the cardiologists had to get the results back within 30 minutes, and the cardiologists were getting a request for an EKG reading every 25 minutes.

They could handle the reading very fast but as the doctors were on call, they’d get only another 15 minutes or so to try and sleep before they’d get woken up to read another chart. Again, and again, and again.

By my dad’s guess, the ER kept the entire cardiology department up for about 40 consecutive hours before they begged for a surrender. A second meeting was held, and the cardiologists demanded to be released from the previous policy.

This was granted, and peace returned to the hospital.” InBabylonTheyWept

17. Show Up To Work When You Feel Like It? I’ll Give You An Extra Special Reference

“Let’s call her Karen, just because it fits.
She came in and applied for a job and when I looked at her resume and application, I realized she knew some of my old neighborhood friends and schoolmates. She interviewed well, so I gave her a job. Told her to be in on Monday at 9:00 a.m.

Monday morning, she is not in, she no calls, no shows. Tuesday, no call no show, I had now written her off. Wednesday, she shows up about noon. Claims she was in her basement Sunday night and her brother was working out and he accidentally knocked her out during his intense workout. She claimed her doctor told her she had a concussion and she should stay home for a couple of days.
She had no doctor’s note, no marks on her head, but thinking her story was so off the wall it could almost be true, I let her come to work the next day.

She worked Thursday and Friday. We paid at the end of every week and I gave her a check Friday, I also did NOT deduct the days she missed. She came to me and asked about the full paycheck. I told her we were a family business and realized people had lives outside work. He tried to make sure people knew they were appreciated and tried to take care of our people.
She teared up and thanked me and said we could count on her.

She worked the full next week, did OK. She seemed to fit in. Seemed.

The third week, she showed up Monday, but Tuesday was another no show no call. We did not hear from her for over TWO WEEKS! When she finally showed up, her story was the stuff of legends. She claimed her husband had forged divorce papers a couple of years previous. Thinking she was divorced, she moved back into her parent’s house. She claimed her “ex-husband” was at her parents’ house when she got home the last night she worked.

He told her he made up the divorce and the paperwork was phony so they were still married and he wanted to get back together. She claims she refused and he kidnapped her. She said it took her until a couple of days ago to get away from him. She wanted to come to work the next day.

She did not call the police and he wasn’t arrested. There was nothing in the papers or on the news about any of this.

She was not hurt (thank God!) She asked if I believed her. I did not but told her that I really needed someone I could count on coming in reliably every day.
I gave her a paycheck for one week (she had worked 1 day) and told her I wished her good luck.

I had already replaced her, and her replacement was one of the best employees we ever had.

Here’s the malicious compliance.

The next month, I come into a phone message that someone from XXX Company called for a reference for Karen.

As my secretary is handing me the message, she’s laughing at the look on my face. I asked if she was kidding, she said she was not. She said she got a call from a man saying he was the owner of a company in the area and he asked about Karen.
Then my secretary asked if she could listen in on the call (she was a pistol). She then goes and gets my partner and tells him I am going to call and give Karen a reference.

Now he is in my office laughing too!

I call the guy and we make some small talk. I tell him what we do and he tells me what he wants Karen to do for him. I tactfully avoided answering any of his questions about Karen directly. I think he was beginning to suspect something.

Remember folks, employers can get in a ton of trouble for bad references.
He finally asked my opinion of Karen, and what I said was, “IF you can get Karen to work for you, you will be VERY lucky.” He heard what I said and how I said it.

He repeated that back to me exactly as I said it. All my words were the right ones, it was my tone and intonation that got my point across. He thanked me and hung up.

Karen comes into the office a couple of days later, she looks mad but is trying to be pleasant. She told me she is having trouble finding a job and mentioned she had used me as a reference.
She wanted to know if anyone from XXX Company has called me (she knew they did).

She told me she really wants the job at XXX Company. I told her I had been called and that I told the guy he’d lucky to get her to work for him.

My secretary confirmed that’s what I told him, she told him she was right next to me during the whole conversation.

Karen smiled and thanked me and headed to the door, she said she wondered why she was having so much trouble getting a job.

She asked if she could continue to use me for a reference and I told her absolutely! I also told her I’d tell everyone the same thing, that “any employer would be lucky if they can get you to work for them.”

She walked away smiling, happy and clueless.” SumoNinja17

16. Dock My Pay Because Of A Different Standard? Oh, I’ll Show You A Different Standard

“Several years ago, I started working for a medical testing lab in the IT area.

We supported the doctor’s offices looking for results. Prior to this, they had only hired from within, so no one in the department had a background in IT, however, they knew the internal system.

When I was hired, they allotted 4 weeks for training. By the end of week 2, I was bored out of my skull and I asked to be put on the phones. After a few months, I started blowing their stats out of the water.

I was doubling or tripling the number of calls taken, and spending way less time on them. Judging from what I overheard some co-workers suggesting people do to fix problems, I can see why.
Some of the instructions were just off the wall and made me wonder if they knew anything about computers.

Cut to a year later, and I’m getting my annual review. I KNOW I’ve done well, they told me each month what my stats were.

However, they gave me average marks across the board on review. WTH?!? Well, those people giving the weird solutions also received average marks across the board. Now, this affects my raise, so I’m confused. I had the best stats in the department, and should have received the 2 step raise, but didn’t because of this. I go back to my manager and ask about the marks they gave me.
“Well, we hold you to a different standard, and you’ve been meeting that standard.”

I was MAD.

It just kept repeating in my head.. Different standard… Different standard…

So, I made note of the exact standard everyone else had and started bringing my work to that level. Well, as close as I could get – I still can’t bring myself to give bad advice. But, if the user needed to put me hold, I wouldn’t argue that pressing the power button only took a second – just let them put me hold as long as they like.

I even suggested they go help patients, and get to me when they could.
I took extra time in documentation, every second of my breaks. If a coworker asked for help, I would follow them back to their desk, and assist them through the WHOLE process, instead of just sending them the directions.

Well, come to find out, I had been raising the average for the whole department prior to this, giving the manager a nice bonus every 6 months.

Well, with my compliance to that “standard”, the manager ended up missing a 6-month bonus, and I changed jobs shortly after that. It was worth it.” Owl_flight

15. You Expect Them To Be Delivered As You Would With Anyone Else? Sure Thing, Buddy

“So I recently started working at a new job at a Canadian retail company that has online services.
My job is mainly to pick items that were ordered online from the store aisles or from our warehouse, arrange for them to be picked up, and have them ready to go by a set time every day.

We average about five to six items per day, most going to places that are between a half-hour to a two-hour drive distance, depending on the direction it goes as other retail stores can cover the same area better than we can.

Now I live in a smallish city and the company that picks up the online purchases, with a lack of a local terminal, has to go to the capital city to their sorting site before traveling to their destination.

This means a minimum of two days before it gets to a customer, but could be up to a week depending on delays. So we reach out and try to convince customers who live locally to pick up their purchases. Usually, once they realize that it would take twenty minutes to get their item AND without charging the extra cost of delivery, most are willing to pick their items up.

Now, of course, there are exceptions. I’m not talking about the elderly and physically disabled who cannot make such a trip.

We implemented at our store a ‘delivery exemption’ initiative for these people – we deliver it to them for free.
No, we are talking about this one customer. He lives literally down the street from the store. As in a three-minute drive down the street. As in, we have employees who walk past his house. And he ordered not one, not two, but three items. Put just over five hundred dollars on his credit card for this…and wanted them shipped out to him via the delivery company.

We saw immediately that it would cost him almost half on top of what he is paying for the items to ship these (I forgot to mention that all postage is paid by the customer).
So I call the customer, explaining where his purchases were coming from, the extra cost and time of delivering these through the company, and that he could save both if he came to pick up the items he ordered.

His response: ‘I have ordered these online and I expect that they will be sent!’

I clearly try to explain that his items were coming from down the street, not from a store elsewhere in the province.

His response: ‘I don’t care where they come from! I expect my online order to be delivered as you would with anyone else!’

Ok! Will do.

Cue Malicious Compliance.

After hanging up, we did as asked.
I let the manager know about this order and his instructions, which he laughs at and shrugs his shoulders. We picked his items, scheduled delivery for said items, had all three picked up. The delivery guy looks at the delivery address, looks at me and gives me a *** look.

I explain that he wanted it shipped like all other online deliveries. He laughs, shakes his head, and takes the items.

So the next couple days I track the order as it travels over two hours to the sorting facility, stays overnight, is on the truck for delivery and finally is signed by the guy.
Not an hour later he’s at the store, demanding the cost of his delivery back. The manager explains that we tried to help him but, in his own words, ‘shipped his online order as we would as anything else’.

Side note: When a customer orders an item online, they are offered a ‘Regular’ and an ‘Express’ option. Express is much faster BUT has a higher charge than Regular deliveries. Depending on the size and weight, it can cost anywhere from 50% to 200% more for Express delivery. He chose Express as his option, and we obliged. And his items were on the heavy end of the spectrum.” Fuzed_Canadian

I have offered again the deal I proposed at the start, but for some reason, they are against it, would have made everyone’s life a lot easier since they pay me the same for the same amount of work anyway.”
FollowerDerrin

14. You Want A Drink Every Time I Pass Your Table? I’m Going To Pass Your Table As Much As Possible

“I work at an independent fine-dining Italian restaurant outside of Chicago.

The other night, I served a table of 14 people at my restaurant. They were all the most terrible people  I have ever come in contact with. One guy sits down and orders an adult beverage. He says, “Every time you come to the table I want you to have one waiting for me.” I thought he was probably just joking, so I leave and come back and he says, “Where is my drink? Did you really forget? I told you like 2 minutes ago? Wow.” So I said, “OH! I am so sorry it won’t happen again.” So, for the next 2 hours, no matter what.

EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I approached the table I left a drink.

After about 45 minutes the bottles began to pile up. The jerk’s friend tried to take one that I put down, but I grabbed it and said, “Sorry sir, this is your friend’s beverage. I would be happy to get one for you if you like.” Every time I put a beer down he said nothing. If he would have acknowledged my presence and told me to stop I would have.

He said nothing. I started to feel bad, for a couple of minutes, and then he yelled at me like a dog to get the food out faster.
THAT IS WHAT HE WANTED. I just want to reiterate that. HE ASKED FOR IT. Also, I was watching him drink. If at any point his behavior/ consumption increased I would have stopped. He walked out the exact same way he walked in. Like a d*uchebag.

Long story short he ended up buying 25 drinks at 8 dollars a pop with a 20% mandatory auto-grat on the table.

He, maybe, drank 4. I have never felt so good in my life. It doesn’t pay to be an arrogant a*s folks! This was a crowning achievement in my 7 years of serving. I work at a place where some people come in and treat me like a piece of stew meat, and I have learned to play the game in order to make money.
I love my job and the people I meet, but I get stepped on a lot.

It’s nice to win one!”  purplebikeshorts

13. Have To Make The Temp Hotter? According To Protocol, You Can’t

“Trigger warning – I’m about to stereotype. Ready? Men tend to like colder temperatures than women. Are we good? Okay.

Its a tale immemorial, one person in a work setting wants the thermostat at one temperature and someone else wants it at a different temperature. One person sets it and the other resets it.

I work in a lab setting. Not a medical or microbiology lab, but an analytical lab all the same.

We have a large open area with a bunch of sensitive equipment and offices around the edge of the building. When I started this job 5+ years ago, there was a changing of the guard. The older workforce was retiring and new people were coming on board. This meant a bunch of new hires in a fairly short period of time.

The old crew that worked in the lab were a bunch of good ole boys. Not in a negative sense, but older gentlemen.

We work in the southern US and we loved our AC (aircon). We would occasionally have to go outside to do various tasks, and when coming back inside, it was nice to have a cool environment.
We would also have to repair sensitive instruments and run samples, all while wearing personal protective equipment (gloves, goggles, lab coats)(PPE) which would make a person quite warm. These instruments are so sensitive that temperature swings would cause issues. We had the temperature set at 72F year-round.

Not too cold, not too hot. Everyone was happy including the instruments.

After a couple of years, they all began retiring. We hire a new lady, and I hesitate to call her a Karen because she wasn’t Karen-like except for one issue, so let’s call her Mary? Mary came on to run the quality control aspect of our lab.
In order to operate our lab, we have to be certified and maintaining that certification was Mary’s job. Think FDA, EPA, DOD, something along those lines.

The guidelines are strict and not complying is a HUGE deal. As more people leave, we hire more people, a few of whom are Mary’s former co-workers. All of whom are great workers, and all of whom are women (yay women in STEM!). The lab now is 2 guys, 5 women.

After a while, I noticed the thermostat starting to creep up and I would turn it back down. The thermostat is somewhat close to my office so I unconsciously kept an eye on it.

Remember how the instruments are sensitive? They sure as **** didn’t like the temperature constantly being changed. This means a bunch more work for me to recalibrate them multiple times a week. So I bring this up at a meeting.

Me – “So I noticed that the thermostat is being changed and it is starting to affect the instruments in a negative way. Can we not touch the thermostat?”

Mary – “Well I am cold in my office, so I need it to be warmer so I’m not cold”

Me – “Maybe put on a jacket? We can’t have the temperature swinging throughout the day.”

Mary – “Well it’s not just me that is cold, some of the other women have told me they are cold as well.” A couple of her friends back her up.

Me – “Okay, well maybe everyone wears a jacket? I’m not sure what to do but we can’t have the temperature changing.”

Mary – “Well if it can’t change, why don’t we just set it higher and leave it there? Why don’t we vote on what temperature to keep the lab?”

Well crap. I didn’t think this through and now I know what’s going to happen. I didn’t have a specific reason to keep it at 72F (22C), its just what we always did.

The only other person that likes it nice and cool is my boss. He doesn’t care as much since his office has its own thermostat.
So, outnumbered and defeated, the new temp is 77F (25C)and everyone is told NOT to change it.

Working in the lab becomes a bit miserable for me. I am trying to work and sweating quite a bit. If you are cold, you can always put on clothes, when I’m sweating while working, taking off clothes or PPE isn’t an option.

The ladies, in their offices, are nice and happy but I am miserable. Goggles consistently fogging up, sweat stains on my work clothes, just sticky and sweaty all day. Not fun. At least I got a fan for my office. This goes on for a while.
I know its only 5 degrees but I am a sweaty guy by nature and it made a big difference.

Then one day, we are updating our certification. We all have to re-read and sign off on the new certification and go over the procedure for noting non-compliance issues.

I actually care about my job and actually read the entire document instead of just signing off that I did. It also meant I got to sit in my office in front of my fan for a couple of days. It’s not as bad as a legal document, but its a chore. Then, I read something in the document that perks my ears up.
I go talk to Mary.

Me- “Hey Mary, just had a quick question about the new certification and documenting non-compliance.

Got a second?”

Mary -“Sure! We have to take any non-compliance VERY seriously, do you need a form?”

Me- “I think so, so what happens if we note a non-compliance?”

Mary – “Well, our certification dictates that we have to file it and keep it on file for 5 years and perform a root cause analysis project to figure out why it happened and to prevent it from happening again. All of this needs to be documented and filed.

We usually do this at the end of every month.”

Now I have done root cause analysis before and it takes a good bit of time and effort.
Non-conformances are a BIG deal. A good lab might have 1-2 a year, a bad lab, maybe 10? Don’t know, been fortunate to work in good labs. Cue Malicious Compliance.

Every day I come in, fill out the non-conformance form and put it into the system. The non-conformance? The temperature is outside the specified range for the lab.

You see, our certification covers a wide variety of laboratory types, and while we are not a microbiology lab, our certification does cover these labs and they need to be kept cold to prevent microbial growth. If you have ever wondered why hospitals seem to be cold all the time, this is why.
The certification temp? 68-72F (20-22C).

At the end of the month review, there are 20+ non-conformances. Our director is livid! A meeting with the director, my boss, Mary and me is called.

Director – “Op, why in the world are you submitting the same non-conformance over and over each day?”

Me – “Well, I noticed a non-conformance and reported it via the proper channels. I came in each day and noticed the same one again. Was I not supposed to report it?” Big no-no to say not to report it

Director – “Well no, you should report it, but why didn’t you just fix it? It would take 10 seconds to change it the thermostat.”

Me – ” Well I would, but we took a vote and it was voted to stay at 77F and was told I couldn’t change it”

Director – “Is this seriously all over the **** temperature in the lab?”

Me – “Yes sir.

We used to keep the lab at 72f, but we took a vote as the lab and decided on 77f. I wasn’t in favor of it, but was told this was now the new temperature.” Boss starts to chuckle.

Mary – “Well, those are just the recommended temps, we can set it to whatever we want as long as it doesn’t change. Why don’t we just remove these non-compliances and move on.”

Me – produce the certification document.

“Actually if you read it, there isn’t any leeway. It says the lab is required to stay between 68-72F.”

Everyone reads the certification

Boss- “He’s got you there Mary, better start those root cause analyses.”

Director – “Just fix it.”

The next day, I come in and maintenance is putting a lockbox around the thermostat.
The heat kicks on if the temp drops below 68f and the AC kicks on when it goes about 72f. Ahh…..” .Exs_In_Texas

12. Learn Spanish? Ok, Señor

“So this takes place at the McDonald’s.

When I started working there, I had barely any knowledge of Spanish outside what I could speak in High School. Even then it was not really enough in my opinion at the time to really say I could speak it. A strong majority of my co-workers, especially my grill team, spoke it exclusively. They knew enough English to say a few things, and this is where our story really begins.
One day I was taking an order in Drive-Through when a Spanish Speaker started asking for someone to take their order.

I did my best but turned to the grill-team leader for assistance. For this story, we’ll call him Jose. Jose was great at his job, but a ********. You know that old saying that gets thrown around by uptight conservatives, something like “Here in ‘Murica we speak English!” Well, that was definitely not Jose. The day I asked for his help, he glared daggers at me and said very curtly, (forgive my Spanish) “Escucha gordo gringo.

Tu necesitas hablar espanol. No mas inglés. Nosotros hablar espanol aqui, si tu no me gusta eso tu lata salir.” Which translates to, “Hey fat white boy, you need to speak Spanish.
We speak Spanish here, and if you don’t like it you can leave.”

I had another Spanish speaking manager take the order, and a bi-lingual friend of mine later told me what he said. I was pretty upset.

Well, I could’ve taken the stance of “Speak English, you’re in the United States” but if I said anything like that, I would’ve been rebuked by my co-workers and probably lost a few friends.

Instead, I decided to Maliciously Comply!

I started to memorize every topping they would call out to one another, and in my head pair it with its English counterpart. I listened to my bi-lingual managers greet and communicate with the customers, and in a couple of weeks, I had it all figured out.
No lessons, no computer programs, just simply by paying attention to everything they said.

It was about two weeks after the incident, a Spanish-speaking customer came through the drive-through.

I turned to Jose, and said, “Listen to this.” I took the whole order, greeted, and concluded the conversation 100% in Spanish. I turned towards him and repeated the special order to him in perfect Spanish.

He looked like I’d just mooned him. He was shocked, his jaw agape, and he stammered a second before saying, “Naw. F-that. Learn French.” And proceeded to start talking to his grill team in French. My store manager had heard enough, and called him out in Spanish, telling him what he’s doing is just BS, and rude.

She told him she’d been in the country half the time he had, and she learned English and that he should too. He told her to shove-it, and quit on the spot, saying no one will ever force him to speak English for a job, and that he didn’t need us.

My manager congratulated me on taking the initiative to learn a very important skill in the job. Gave me Employee of the Month for doing so.

My family, which once were based out of San Diego and were pretty fluent Spanish Speakers, were also elated to hear that I’d picked up on the language so fast.” Damionstjames

11. Make Me Grow Through Extra Security For Fun? Enjoy A Pic Of My Medical Condition

“My coworker, and absolute hero, maliciously complied at security on one of our subcontractor jobs.
The customer was a manufacturer for high-end electronic components. Security was tight as a small 4″ x 6” box could contain $250,000 worth of microchips.

Our team was installing equipment in their facility for one week. A security checkpoint had to be passed every trip in or out of the building.

Mr. Security guard, Chad maybe, decided my coworker, Steve probably, was more suspicious than the other 4 techs. So every trip in or out, not only was Steve made to dump the entire contents of his backpack out on the table and go through it, Chad required Steve to show him the last 5 pictures taken on his phone “to prove he wasn’t stealing secrets.”

This is all fine, except Chad lets everyone else through without any sort of inspection.

Steve is trying to stay positive, but obviously this is eating away at him. Steve tries to be overly positive and also a bit snarky with comments like “thank you Paul Blart, for keeping America safe,” which busts up the rest of our crew. Then, Steve has the idea that will free him the rest of the week.

Wednesday comes along, Steve is overly scrutinized on our way in as usual. As we head to security at lunch, Steve says he has to go to the bathroom.

He comes back out a few minutes later, absolutely giddy.

Chad Blart, mall cop, stops us on our way out and asks Steve to see his camera roll.
Steve gladly hands the phone over. Chad is greeted by some very peculiarly angled shots of Steve’s ********.

“What the F@%$?” Chad throws the phone down on the table.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I had hemorrhoids and wanted to see how bad it was. Is everything ok with my pictures? Is the facility safe?”

Chad never checked Steve’s materials again.

Good on you Steve.” stuufthingsandstuff

10. Take Away Her Lip Balm? She’ll Bleed Everywhere

“This is my sister’s story, but it’s too good to not share. This was back when she was in second grade, and this girl was the perfect child. I wish I was kidding, but no.
You know that ONE kid with the halo and the sweet smile, the manners to make a parent proud, and cutesy little voice? Yep, that’s her. But, she DOES have a mean streak when you push her.

You would think that ALL the teachers loved her, right? Nope, not her second-grade teacher. This woman was hellfire personified, and she for some reason hated my little sister. More often than not, my little sister came out of that classroom trying to hold back tears. Two more very important things about my sister – she has always had lips that would get so chapped they would bleed, and she always carries around Carmex with her.

So, one day, she’s sitting in class with ****** favorite teacher when she pulls out her little tub of Carmex and the teacher immediately starts screeching at her to see her after class. End of class and the teacher tells her that she MUST keep the Carmex with the school’s office because it says “medicated”, and back in the day, you had to be literally dying just for the office to give you your things (no joke, I’m asthmatic and it took almost dying on the office floor for them to hand my inhaler over but that’s another story).

My sister tries to explain that without the Carmex her lips will bleed, but the woman does not care.
Well, **** hath no fury as a sweet baby scorned.

Very next morning, she doesn’t use any in the morning, doesn’t use any for the ride to school, doesn’t use it before little sister hands the little tub of Carmex over to the office lady (who looks at her very confused but just does not give a ****) and she heads off to class.

She does her best to keep calm when she starts to feel her lips get chapped, keeping her lips as drawn in and neutral as she can. She spends most of the day with her head down and not speaking until finally, the teacher calls on her to answer a math question.
Sister lifts her head up, looks this woman right in the eyes and smiles as wide as she can. Tears are rolling down her cheeks as she can feel her lips splitting open so badly that they’re not just bleeding a little.

It’s rolling down her chin, mixing with her tears, down her neck and onto the collar of her shirt. This woman screamed so loudly that us third-graders across the hall could hear it. Little sister ended up ripping her lips so badly they had to page little third grade me to call my mom to pick her up, and she had to stay home for a couple of days to recover.
When she came back, however, not only did the teacher personally hand her Carmex over, she had bought her a few more little tubs of the stuff for “just in case she ever ran out” and never bothered her again.

I don’t know if it was a coincidence that that year was the last year the teacher taught at our school,  but a little part of me likes to think that she met her match in my little sister.” Punchology

9. Return A Shady Item? Ok, It’s Garbage Now

“I work at a chain retail discount home goods store where the main demographic is older women.
We have a very clear and somewhat strict return policy due to the number of people that have abused returns in the past (stealing and returning to launder money), but it’s simple and printed at the bottom of every receipt: “Unused merchandise can be returned with the original receipt and packaging within 30 days.” Simple as that.

Today I had an older woman (probably late 60s / early 70s) come in with a return. I give my usual, “anything wrong with it or did it just not work out for you?” as she hands over the bag with the receipt.

“No, it’s a headband but when I unwrapped it I realized it’s not the style I wanted,” she explained.
“Alright!” I said as I took the headband out of the bag. No packaging. No tag.

No SKU. Just a piece of gray fabric (a bandeau wrap, if you know what that is).

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t take this as a return since there isn’t any packing or SKU number,” I said.

“What??? But I have the receipt! That’s all I need for a return!” She was already getting snappy and angry with me, and when customers act like this, it just makes me want to help them less.

Nevertheless, I kept my customer service smile and voice on for her.

“Ma’am, at the bottom of your receipt here you can see where our return policy is stated,” I explained calmly while pointing out the policy to her.
“Well, the receipt should be all I need. I want my money back.” At this point, I’m done arguing with her. I ask her if she wants to speak to my manager regarding the policy and, of course, she says yes.

I go to the office to get my manager (mid-60s) who’s on an important conference call with the other managers of the district.

I explain what’s happening to her and she says, “Oh we’ll get this straightened,” with a smirk on her face.

I follow my manager out of the office and back to the register where the woman is still pouting.
Now, my manager doesn’t put up with any crap and trusts me probably more than any other employee to deal with irate customers, but she knows that since I’m only 20, a lot of these older women refuse to take what I say seriously and will only hear it from the mouth of someone much older.

My manager opens the bag and looks at the woman with a straight face, “And no packaging? Not even a tag?” she asks.

“No,” the woman replies, this time a little less aggressively.

“Accepting this return would be breaking company policy,” my manager says bluntly, “but it isn’t worth losing a customer over $2.99, so we’ll do it this one time.
Please keep your tags in the future,” she says.

Cue the malicious compliance.

My manager turns to me as I input the return into the POS and says firmly so that the customer can hear, “Damage it out and throw it away.

Make sure you destroy it, too.” So I do as I’m told.

I grab the scissors from my register’s pencil cup and begin hacking away at the headband, slicing it up as messily as I can right over the counter in front of the customer.

“What are you doing?!” She almost yells at me.

“We’re very serious about following company policy here, ma’am, and since you don’t have the original packaging or tags, we can’t resell this,” I say as I chuck the shredded bits of fabric in the trash can.

“I could have used that as a dust rag!” She protests. At this point, I know for a fact that my manager is sitting in the office quietly listening and snickering to herself. I finish up the return and give the woman her $2.99 back with a friendly, “have a nice evening!” as she walks out the door.

The woman in line behind her comes up to the register, and as I’m scanning her items she says, “You don’t realize how stupid and entitled the general public is until you work retail.”

I couldn’t agree more.” HeidiBlooms

 

 

8.

Make Me Come Into Work Even Though I’m Not On The Schedule And Unable To? Hmm, Ok

“A few years ago I worked at a kiosk in a local mall that applied phone protectors to phones.
These protectors were absolute garbage for the price they were asking, (if I recall, the iPhone X came out the Christmas before I started and it was £150 to get it applied) so I wasn’t all that keen about aggressively pushing the product.

My supervisor (who was a friend of a friend – we’ll call him Alex) was tasked to write up a work schedule every Monday for the next week. This is important because I had asked Alex if I could have 4 days off but make up for them later as I was planning to go on holiday and propose to my fiance, to which he spoke with everyone else to make sure they were ok working more days in a row if it meant that they got more days off as I caught up on my hours.

One important note is that Alex would have to send the schedule to the owner of the company, (we’ll call him Randy) for verification and an hour check as legally we weren’t allowed to work over a certain amount of hours.

So Randy accepts the hours and the fact that I have days off but make up for them right after I get back, which I did agree to, but it was absolute **** because I was working from 9-5, doing double shift to make up the hours I had lost in high temperatures, heatguns on full blast, a black hoodie (as it was part of the uniform) and nothing to drink or eat because it was against the rules to eat or drink at the kiosk.

(Looking back on it, I wasn’t even allowed to have lunch during that week).

Along comes the weekend and all of my and my fiancee’s close friends want to go out drinking to celebrate the engagement and considering the ****ish week of work I had, I was down.

It gets to about 3 AM and I’ve been drinking heavily since around 7 PM. I receive a phone call from Randy demanding that I work the next day (which means I would have worked more hours than I was legally allowed to do) which wasn’t even on the schedule.

I explain to Randy that I’m extremely drunk and in no fit state to be going into work.  Randy then tells me he doesn’t care how drunk I am and if I keep drinking, he just wants me at the kiosk at 9 AM.
I continue drinking throughout the night because I wasn’t in the right mindset to be making smart decisions but I remember clearly that Randy wants me at the kiosk for 9 AM. I get to the kiosk at 9 and Alex is already there with everything set up and can see that I’m clearly drunk and sits me down while he calls Randy asking why I’m telling Alex that I’m meant to be there at 9 AM (Which I just kept muttering).

Randy is FURIOUS that I turned up for work drunk and basically demands that I’m fired immediately which Alex refuses to do, because I technically, I hadn’t done anything wrong.
The next day, (I was scheduled in for it) I walk up to the kiosk and Randy is there and fires me on the spot for yesterday, which he actually wasn’t allowed to do because all I had done was fulfill his request.

I ended up with a huge pay off because, as it turns out, you cannot fire someone for following orders (provided you haven’t broken the law).” SolaireKnught

7. If A Customer Donates One We Can Keep It? Consider It A Done Deal!

“Okay, so we’re back to my days doing voluntary work.

We had a meeting with the chairman of the board of trustees, during which we were asked if we had any ideas or suggestions.
A couple was made that actually made sense and were indeed implemented, and we get a typical “anything else?” at the end.

“Can we have a dartboard or snooker table?” I asked, jokingly, “You know, for when we’re quiet.”

“I’ll tell you what,” the chairman laughed, “if a customer donates one, you can have it.”

We all laughed at the joke, meeting ends and I forget about the conversation.

That is for about a week or so, when I’m out with my mother, and see a half-sized pool table, complete with cues and balls, sitting outside a local charity shop (I don’t know what they call these outside the UK: it’s a volunteer-run shop that sells donated goods to help fund a local charity).
It wasn’t exactly completion grade, more something you might by for kids to play on, but still perfectly serviceable. I suddenly remembered the conversation with the chairman, and tell my mum about what had been said, pointing to the table.

“Well,” she says, “I’m a customer of [charity I was volunteering at]. Go find out how much it is.”

I go look at the price: it was something like £10-15, certainly under £20. My mum takes the money out of her purse and hands it to me, saying that it’s her donation to the charity for all the hard work we do. Not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, I thank her for the money and quickly buy the table before anyone else can.

So, the next day I’m back doing my charity work, and I walk in with a massive sh*t-eating grin on my face.

“Hey [other volunteers]! Remember what [chairman] said about a dartboard or snooker table?”

Everyone looks at me, confused, as I produce the pool table from round the corner. Everyone breaks out laughing, even more so when I make it clear that it’s not a joke: it actually has been donated by a customer, perfectly within keeping with the stipulations put down by the chairman.

Our team leader, who was having trouble standing she was laughing so much, relents and says we can keep it, so long as we finish any work that needs doing before we play with it, and we never use it when there’s a customer around.
Thus began two weeks of joy: work was getting done much faster, as everyone wanted a turn at the table. Everyone was happy, and we made sure that we kept to the rules set down by the team leader, not wanting to lose our pool privileges.

Unfortunately, all good things must end.

One day, when I wasn’t there, the chairman paid a surprise visit and was shocked to see two of the volunteers enjoying a quick game between customers. All other work had been done, and there was still someone on the desk to answer the phone and greet visitors.

I don’t know the exact exchange that took place, but the chairman asked what the **** was going on, and the team leader reminded him of what he’d said at the meeting.

She also confirmed that the table had been donated by a customer, even digging out the paperwork to prove that my mother had been registered with the charity for almost a year at that point.

But the chairman didn’t see the funny side of it, and insisted that the table be gotten rid of. So, at the start of my next shift, I loaded it into the back of my car. It ended up being donated to a charity fair my mother was helping out at, and someone else got to enjoy it.” Starbug360

6. Tell Me To Stay Home Until I Figure It Out? Don’t Have To Tell Me Twice!

“Ok, this story is set 19 years ago.

I remember the exact time frame bc I was working at this place when September 11 happened.

“This place” was the office of an interior designer in BIG CITY I LIVED IN. I’d been looking for tech work, and an acquaintance had recently been hired on as office manager, so she brought me on.

I was happy to land a job providing tech support and to be earning a decent hourly wage with flexible hours. But little did I know how bizarre this place was.

How bizarre, you ask? Well, my acquaintance, the new office manager, was never in the office.
The designer, let’s call him Boss, was also rarely there. Let me tell you a little about Boss: he was an older guy (60s easily… which was ANCIENT to my 22yo self), he constantly ground his teeth and clenched his jaw, he always seemed distracted, and had a general vibe of just being weird.

So I get this new gig, and pretty immediately find myself alone in a nice big office space, with no onboarding, no training, and nothing to do.

Literally come to work, surf the web for hours, go home or to class.

Every now and then, Boss would randomly come in, ask me to do something vaguely tech-related, like create a spreadsheet for client names.
And then he’d ask me to show him how to do the same thing. I’d do it, he’d be thrilled and give me a bonus on the spot.

Sweet, right? Right.

Until *Boss start*ed coming i*n and los*ing his *** about random things.

Like the green ink on his printed Excel spreadsheet was the wrong hue. Or the office manager had called in, and why the **** did she need the day off? Or any number of other random things. None of which were my fault and many of which I had absolutely nothing to do with.

Boss was ripping my *** a new one whenever he was in the office.
Which became more frequent. I learned from the office manager that Boss had been cleared to return to work more hours by his psychiatrist.

Wait, WHAT?

Turns out Boss was never around when I started bc he had a mental breakdown, and had been advised to step back from work. So the distractedness? Meds. The teeth grinding? Uncontrollable stress reaction. He even did it in his sleep; it was so bad his dentist had concerned about his jaw bone having micro fractured.

Oh great.

So the guy gets back into the swing of things and takes EVERYTHING out on me.

I’m 22, my wife’s in grad school, I need this job.

But I’m feeling the stress, I’m always thinking about work, stewing over the last thing I got unfairly yelled at about. I’m waking up 3 or 4 times a night for no reason I can think of, my wife says I toss and turn when I do sleep. This goes on for a week or two.

Then Boss walks in with a new, handheld digital voice recorder. Hands it to me, says “when I record a voice note, I want it to be saved in there as Boss_date_note_##” and I need you to show me how to use it.

Ok, this is actually in my wheelhouse, so I take the recorder, grab the manual, and start tinkering.
I come up with a quick how-to curriculum and then read a note in the manual: “Voice recordings are saved in the device as vr####_TIMEDATESTAMP.vrn. Once you import them to your PC, you may rename them as required.”

So Boss’s initial request is not possible with the hardware, but there’s a simple workaround. I document that as part of my curriculum and go sit with Boss to go over it.

Naturally, he blows up that he can’t rename the files on the device. He can’t believe I can’t figure this one thing out. Did I even look at the manual? He KNOWS it can do what he wants, I just have to do my job and learn how to make the changes.
And then: “GRS_ONE, GO HOME RIGHT NOW! AND DON’T YOU COME BACK UNTIL YOU HAVE FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO WHAT I WANT!”

cue my relieved but gleeful malicious compliance.

I go home. And since I know that what Boss is asking is impossible, I never even consider returning. I don’t call in the next day I’m scheduled. I don’t go in. I try to forget the whole ordeal.

I DO begin to sleep like a baby.

Two weeks pass. I’ve moved on… looking for another job, doing school, normal stuff.

I get a call from Boss, outta the blue. “GRS_one, you haven’t been in in a while.
Is everything ok? When are you coming back to work? I’ve got some tech issues I need your help with…”

I’m floored.

This guy is talking to me like the last time we spoke he wasn’t screaming at the top of his lungs, spewing spittle everywhere. So I say, “Dude, you TOLD me not to come back until I figured out that voice recorder thing. So I didn’t come back. Cuz that thing is never gonna do what you want.”

Boss: “oh that? I took it back to the store. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Me: “Ummm…Nope. I figured I was fired, so I’ve got another job.

Please mail me my last check, but don’t call me anymore. Thanks, bye.”

And I disconnected the call laughing. It never felt so satisfying to be unemployed.” GRS_One

5. Use The Nailgun? Ok, But You Are Gonna Have To Move The Pallets…

“This happened while working as a warehouse assistant for a small business. The boss in question is actually a great dude but like all bosses, he’s under a ton of stress and has his “moments”. This particular piece of compliance revolves around a nailgun in use in the warehouse (Don’t worry, no idiots were harmed in the writing of this story)

So every afternoon we have pretty large shipments getting sent out.

Everything sold for the day would be popped onto pallets and shipped off to customers. Now pallets are surprisingly expensive and if not sized properly cost a fortune extra in freight. So we eventually started making our own in order to fit the size of the products being shipped using the previously mentioned nailgun to put them together. All was going well until the delivery guy told us that, and I quote “Those f**king pallets of yours are *** and keep falling apart, stop using the f**king nailgun and put them together properly.”

We looked into it and he was 100% right, see the nails from the nailgun were super small, thin and couldn’t grip for ***.

The warehouse manager could actually pull the pallets with his hands. So yeah, not good. Twas reported to the admin folks upstairs and the show went on.

From that point on we started using normal nails instead, yeah it took longer but we were still saving money and the delivery folks were happy as clams.

Now for the turn. One Friday, late in the afternoon the boss comes down and lets us know the sales team has just landed a big’un.

Boss: We need some pallets lads, I want this to ship this afternoon. Grab the nailgun and throw some together ASAP.

Me: No problem I’ll get on it now.
Boss goes back upstairs and I start belting pallets together using normal nails. 5 minutes later Boss comes back down and he is fuming.

Boss: OC I can see you on the cameras. What the **** are you doing?

Me: Hammering the pallets up boss, as you said.

Boss: I SAID to use the dam nailgun

Me: Well I would but when we used it last ti……

Boss: NO BUTS.

We bought that nailgun, now you better ****** use it!! In fact, I’ll show you how!!

Bossman takes the nailgun and slaps together a pallet in 20 seconds flat. (Normally takes about 3 -4 minutes by hammer)

Boss: There see, now do it the right way or go home

Me: Yes boss.
And so begins our compliance, I pick up the nailgun and smash out 5 (fragile) pallets in the space of about 3 minutes. Exactly the same way the boss man did, which I’m ok with (its a ton easier).

All while my coworkers giggled with glee. Come shipping time I realize just why they were all giggling. All the other forklift users are out for the rest of the afternoon. With local deliveries, sickness and general excuses. The only person with a fork license who was going to have to load the truck was……. you guessed it. Bossman.

So Bossman picks up the first pallet and is about to load it onto the truck when the pallet is hit by a stray breeze and proceeds to fall apart on the forks.

Delivery Guy: THE F**K DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THOSE PALLETS? ARE YOU IDIOTS USING THAT NAILGUN AGAIN?

Boss stammers saying we needed them sent this afternoon and the nailgun should have done the job

Delivery guy: “I don’t ****** care. I cannot take any of the pallets you’ve built with that nailgun. If they fall apart in our possession and damage something or someone it’s a ****** nightmare. Do em again and I’ll pick em up tomorrow.

And with that parting gift, in his own act of compliance, the delivery driver keeps to his word, closes the truck and drives off without our shipment.
The boss sits in silence, contemplating the thousands of dollars in product which has now experienced a nice big shipping delay (did I mention this was Friday?)

Boss: OC?

Me: Yeah Boss?

Boss: Retire the nailgun… and sorry about earlier

Me: Don’t worry about it. Want a hand getting these all these back inside?

Boss: Yep, and if you’ve got some time before closing I would appreciate some fresh pallets as well.

Me: On it. I’ll have em knocked up in a bit.

And the nailgun was never heard from again. Don’t you all enjoy a happy ending?” Recor55

4. Make Us Go Above And Beyond At Work? See You Never!

“A little over a year ago I started my first job at a local restaurant.
I was 16 making me, at the time, the youngest employee there. Nevertheless, I was determined to show that I was just as good as the older servers and bussers.

Things started out great, I was learning a lot and quickly becoming a solid busser. To me, the job was perfect as I felt I was good at it and working nights fit in with my schedule perfectly.

Then about a week in, I walked in to see (but mostly hear) Jackie, the owner of the restaurant, screaming into her phone. I gather that she is on the phone with the internet provider and trying to get the internet back up before people sit for dinner.

Dissatisfied with the customer service, (hint foreshadowing hint, hint) she hangs up and asks me to take a look since she knows I like computers. I head around the bar to the router and modem and see that neither has any lights on; both appear to be completely off. A proverbial gong goes off in my head and I decide to check the outlet. Turns out the outlet had a built-in surge protector that tripped. I press in the reset button and the internet was up within 5 – 10 minutes.

Little did I know, by pressing that button, I had just sold my soul as IT support to this rinky-dink restaurant.
In fairness, it wasn’t that bad most of the time. For about 5 months it typically was just “Have you tried turning it on and off” and the occasional part replacement. All of the IT stuff I did was going un-paid which I didn’t really care about. I knew how to do it, Jackie knew that I could do it, so why wouldn’t I do it.

What I did care about however was how Jackie treated me when I tried to help her. Sometimes she would get oddly defensive and insist she knew how to do a thing when 5 minutes before she had asked me how to do the thing.
I also noticed that on weeks where she decided to have an argument, my scheduled hours for the following week went down, she would also withhold pay. I can’t definitively say that there is a relation, but it happened multiple times with the exact same excuses.

Also during this time, my buddy Brett was hired. Brett is my age (a grade ahead tho), we like similar stuff, and we knew each other from our school’s robotics team.

Around mid-August at the time, about 5 – 6 months in, Jackie has a brilliant plan to buy a brand new camera security system for the restaurant and get yours truly to install it all.
When she told me, I was completely shocked. I mean yeah I had soldered and wired stuff before, but she is trusting a very expensive system to a kid with no real experience.

When I brought up my concerns Jackie brushed them aside with “Just document everything you do so you can trace back any mistakes.” Not fully convinced but also not wanting to upset my boss I, naively, accepted to install the system.

I spent the next few days going over wiring schematics and drawing up a master that the whole system would be directly traced by. I may have been stupid enough to accept the job, but I was smart enough to do it right.

I got Brett to help me with wiring and installation and thanks to him we were able to get the system completely running within a few hours between the lunch and dinner rush (The place isn’t that big but there are 4 camera zones, some with multiple cameras to limit blindspots).

Heres where the real trouble starts.

When we finish the install and triple check all cams, I tell Jackie that we’re done. I then start going through with Jackie to show her how everything works.

She starts having trouble with playing back cams since the system she bought was a “relatively” cheap one and had a poor interface.
She started getting very annoyed and here is the conversation that followed. (Paraphrasing a lot)

Jackie: ‘You definitely did something wrong, I can’t work this thing.’

Me:’ There’s nothing wrong, look.’ (I go through again how to playback video)

Jackie: ‘Exactly, you’ve made it so I can’t control it.’

Me: ‘I didn’t make the interface, that came with the system.’

Jackie:’ Just fix it, how hard can it be?’

After this continued for a bit with both of us getting madder and madder I realized that she thought the way I wired the system affected how to use it.

To you and I, that is stupid beyond words, but she was 100% serious.
So I decided to go all-in as well.

Jackie: ‘I’m going to personally go over everything so I can use it.’

Me: ‘Okay go for it. (I pull out all the wiring schematics that I kept in a folder in the office) Here you go.’

Jackie: ‘What is all this’

Me: ‘It’s the complete map of how the cams are wired, you said to document everything.’

I see her eyes go wide as she tries to take in everything on the sheets.

To an untrained eye, complicated wiring schematics look like a maze with no exit.

Me: ‘Oh and by the way, I quit.’

I turned around and walked out of the office leaving her sputtering and screaming.
I felt like I was on top of the world.

And that’s where the story should end, but we still have a bit more.

Before I left the restaurant, I had a quick chat with Brett about what happened and warned him that she might try something with him since he helped me.

To my surprise, I saw his eyes light up and he told me he’d give me a call in a bit.

A little later that night I get a call from Brett. Turns out I was right. Jackie tried to pressure him into rewiring the whole **** thing by himself, saying she would “fire him just like she had just fired me.” Brett was able to convince her to just take the time to learn this setup (Still no idea how he managed that, Brett was always way better at negotiating than I am).

He walked her through how to bring up cameras and playback the video, and the camera he chose for the example, was the camera in the office. Right. Behind. Jackie. Once the video was going and Jackie realized what was going on, she was just a passenger as our entire conversation was played out in front of her. When the playback ended, Brett turned to her and said “Yeah… I quit too”.

The final nail in the coffin for Jackie.

This was right before labor day, a HUGE time for restaurants especially where we live. Jackie couldn’t get replacement employees on time and the restaurant tanked BADLY.
Missing out on easily thousands of dollars in profits. It managed to stay open until just a little while ago, which reminded me of this glorious memory.

Brett and I are still close, and he’s doing really well at college, I don’t know where Jackie is now, but I’m assuming she went back to doing what she does best, being a ****** *******.” Snow_Mizer

3. Start Completely Unnecessary Drama For No Reason? It’ll Come Full Circle Back You

“I’ve been living in Japan for a little over two years with my husband.

He was born here and we decided to move to his hometown. It’s a small city, but there’s enough to do without getting bored.
I’d describe us as an AMWF couple (Asian man, white female for those who don’t know). It’s not so common in western countries, and it can feel like we are some rare shiny Pokemon as AMWF in rural Japan-lots of staring, occasional secret picture, or even small chats if an old lady is brave enough to approach us.

It can feel uncomfortable eating at a restaurant because kids will turn around in their seat and stare at us the whole time with an open fish mouth. Coincidentally, there’s a small U.S. military base located in this city. The closer you are downtown, the more American families you see.
I’m constantly mistaken for being military by Americans and Japanese which is understandable. Besides myself, I only know 5 other interracial marriages here. It’s always locals who ask about my ‘American husband’ when I’m out alone, which I respond in Japanese “Watashi no otto wa nihonjin desu.

Koko ni sunde imasu” (My husband is Japanese and I live here) or something along those lines. Americans never ask about my marriage as they assume my spouse is American. When we are together in public, we do abnormal couples behavior such as holding hands (no, couples rarely hold hands in public, let alone say ‘I love you’).
We don’t go downtown too often since it’s all pay-to-park and it’s a nightmare to find a place. It was a beautiful warm day for the first time in months, but we decided to battle for a spot and walk around the shops.

The crowd was heavy since the weather was great and winter was ending. The season for new American families to move here just finished, so I’m sure this was many peoples’ first time to leisurely walk and shop outside.

We find a parking spot and made our way to the outside shops. Of course, we are holding hands and casually talking and laughing.
“WOW.” I hear this from an American woman about 10 feet behind us. You should know that a Japanese stereotype against Americans is that we are rudely and obnoxiously loud.

And this ‘wow’ was loud enough for me to turn my head around at the noise. She was with 2 other moms who had like, 3 kids each. They were staring at me, but perhaps we just accidentally had eye contact at the right time.

“Seriously, another little homewrecker is doing this in PUBLIC?” Chill woman, you’re so loud even I can hear you. We find a table nearby at the Starbucks outside.
We are enjoying our drinks when the same group of women approached us with their strollers in tow.

They definitely had some sort of purpose with something to say to us. Let’s call her Onna (woman in Japanese).

Onna: “Excuse me, but you need to keep whatever you’re doing in your messed up home. Doing that in public in front of families to see is disgusting and immoral. My kids don’t need to see such a bad display of marriage.”

I’m SO confused, as was my husband who can speak English. Who knew drinking coffee outside was a crime against humanity and marriage?

Me: “I`m sorry? What…did we do?”

Onna: “You know exactly what you’re doing.” *She points to my wedding ring*

Me: “No, I don’t….”

Onna: “Good lord, does your husband know about this? Is he on a ship right now? That’s soooo like a dependapotamus!” Her friends laugh.

In case you don’t speak military, a dependapotamus is slang for a military wife who stays at home all day, doesn’t clean, uses their spouse as an ATM, and looks like Jabba the Hut. It dawns on me; she thinks I’m a military spouse and I’m cheating on my American husband! I started laughing because she’s suggesting I’m cheating on my husband, with my husband!

Me: “This IS my spouse. I’m actually not part of the military community and have a Japanese visa.” Onna looks at my significant other up and down.

The two women behind her apologize, but the Onna didn’t believe it.
Onna: “No one would voluntarily WANT to live in this little town. Nice lie, but you’re not representing the military community. You make all of us wives look like ******! Who is your husband and what’s his rank? Also I need to your dependent ID. MY husband is a high rank so he’ll make sure your husband is aware of your infidelity.” She pulls out her phone to probably type my response.

I’m offended since this is actually a nice place to live and very open to foreigners.

Me: “Look, my husband’s name is Rei (not his real name; I don’t want to reveal personal info) and he’s sitting right here.
I’m not going to show you my military ID since I don’t have one, and you’re not the police. As proof, you can obviously see our wedding bands match and here’s a picture.” I show her my phone screen which is of us in traditional Japanese clothes on our wedding day.

Her eyes became huge at the picture. Her two friends and their spawn have already started walking away.

Onna: “Why are you in a relationship with HIM? You should be in a normal relationship and start having a family with American kids.” She says some other statements which I’d consider racist against the Asian race.
It’s so ironic because we are in JAPAN, and she’s fussing about me being married to a Japanese man. My husband has been quiet throughout the whole exchange and says to me we should go.

I agree and stood up.

Me: “STOP. The things you are saying are extremely offensive. I was part of the military community myself some years ago and what you’re doing is against spousal conduct.”

She smirked. “Go ahead and tell people what I did, then. My high ranking husband is an E-7, and everything will be swept under the rug no matter what happens. You can’t touch me.”

So that’s what I did.
Note, this is a small military community.

Someone does something minor and it’s talked about between wives like chickens. Later that day, I run into my friend who works on the base and she’s well known in the community for being one of the main event coordinators. I don’t miss this chance to comply with Onna’s demand and explain to my friend about the exchange and how it made my husband extremely uncomfortable with her remarks. She asked me if this person looked like so and so, which I said yes.

My friend rolls her eyes.

Friend: “She just arrived a couple of months ago and is already causing problems with rumors and drama.
Looks like we have a racist, too. I’ll make sure what she said is passed on.”

It’s been half a year later and I didn’t hear anything about Onna again since I distanced myself from making military friends here. I’ve only been in my new city for a little over 2 years and experienced more drama from military families than I have my whole high school career.

That is, until now. Last week, I ran into my friend who’s getting ready to leave back to the United States. We had a little discussion about her moving and my family planning and dropped a huge surprise.
Friend: “Do you remember Onna, who accused you of cheating on your non-existent military spouse and called your husband a racist name?”

Me: “Of course! I haven’t heard anything from her since.”

Friend: “Well, I mentioned we were already having problems with her not long after she got here.

I told my boss that there’s a person who was bothering and threatening civilians and asking for IDs which isn’t allowed for someone with her status. My boss was extremely interested after I mentioned her name because Onna was scheduled for an interview in my department! I suggested we look at her social media accounts from her past behavior because we don’t tolerate racism.
It was easy to find her Twitter and Facebook, particularly Facebook since we have many mutual friends.

Her SNS was SHOCKING. While she set her Facebook to private, her Twitter was littered with malicious Tweets and reTweets. This included racism slang for many nationalities, colorful language, and using her husband’s military rank to bully others. She made it very clear that she ‘wants to see her current city burn to the ground’ and ‘why would anyone want to learn Japanese since it sounds terrible’. We printed some of the more extreme things she posted and we still invited her to the interview.

“Oh, and did I mention my boss is JAPANESE?!!”

“So she comes into the interview which I was part of. I asked three good things about her which is she says ‘dependent, gets things done, and friendly.’ My boss just looked at her for a second before he pulled out her Tweets and asked her to explain how she can friendly serve the local community if she hates it so much. Onna was FLOORED and said someone hacked into her account, despite there being at least 3 years of slanderous Tweets.

We thanked her for coming and said we can’t accept an employee with this conduct.
As far as I know, she’s still not working because some spouses found her Twitter not long after the interview and was shared in all departments. No one will touch her application now.”

Me: “So all of this was discovered because I told you about her accusations?”

Friend: “Yes! Oh, and she’s kind of an outcast socially right now because she cheated on her husband a couple of months ago.”

There you have it, folks, because one person couldn’t mind their own business, they lost a potential job and had their social media exposure.

Super ironic since she became the dependapotamus and adulterer-the same thing she was accusing ME of.” heterochromia

2. Put Me In Detention Because Of An Overdue Book? My Prayers Have Been Answered

“It was the late nineties, I was still wearing too much flannel and continuing my historical trend of keeping books from the library much too long.
I had a paper due for my sophomore Global Studies class, so I naturally took out more books than I could read, wrote the essay, and completely forgot about the books piled in the corner of my bedroom.

After a series of overdue slips sent to my homeroom, I eventually did return the four or five books one sunny afternoon in the anonymous drop book during a study period. Promptly moved on to bigger and better things.

About two weeks later, I was called down to the assistant principal’s office in that space of time before classes officially started that was reserved for one thing and one thing only – the reprobates and delinquents were in trouble.

I walked the halls thinking that surely this was just a timing mishap and I was being summoned to receive congratulations for some kind of award I didn’t know I had entered into a competition for. Yup, he just wants to prepare me for the surprise ticker-tape parade. I was wholly unprepared to hear that I was receiving lunch detention, to start immediately, because I had not returned a single book, that I still remember was slim and had a white and red cover, from my GS paper research.

I tried to argue that there was a mistake since I was sure like I am sure that I have fingertips, that I had returned it.
But he could not be moved, and I was sentenced to indefinite lunch detention until I either returned the book or paid the sixteen bucks to replace it.

I left the office, late for the first period, defeated, but kept my head held high at lunch later that day as I walked past the entirety of the cafeteria, which held a couple hundred of my peers.

Plastic food tray in hand, I went down the hall to the old shop classroom that had since been moved and the awaiting detention. I checked in with Mrs. Brown at her desk in front and took an inconspicuous seat in the back.
Staring down at my canned peach slices, I braced for the worst. A ruckus was going to break out any minute, I could tell. But once my ears stopped ringing, I discovered that it was really a calm escape from the crowded and rowdy lunchroom.

I eat slowly that day, enjoyed my young thoughts in blissful quiet, and wondered what kind of heaven was this.

To be fair, I did search far and wide for that book that first day. Attempts to find it in my locker, bedroom, and backpack were fruitless and the general consensus in my home was that the school was being ridiculous.
I certainly wasn’t going to pay for something I didn’t lose. So the next day, considering my brief brush with the law and the invisible stain already attached to my reputation, I went armed with a book and my lunch past the maddening crowds to the detention room.

I sat there, day after day, for nearly two months of lunches.

In retrospect, to this day those remain some of the most relaxing lunch breaks of my life. I had around forty solid minutes to recharge in (mostly) complete silence with my reasonably priced lunch and whatever book I was currently reading. I had to recount my origin story a few times since no one could figure out how the quiet bookworm of a girl who had never been in trouble before had landed in the wilds of detention, but I was mostly left to my own devices in this newly found peaceful retreat.

I was friendly with Mrs. Brown, who had worked for the district of my small town since I was in elementary school, and even hooked her up with a sweet Horse Whisper poster that she loved from my family’s mom and pop video store. She must have felt bad for me because somewhere around the one month mark she started up a collection to cover the cost of the book. She added the initial donation, but teachers who would stop by to chit chat would add loose change to it, and race to buy my freedom was on.

After a few weeks, she handed me just under seven dollars.
My love of solitude was no match for the guilt of carrying around that money or my mom who had just started a new job in the school district, so with a heavy heart, I paid in full for the missing book and went back to my old lunch table in the thick of the action.

Months later, during the last week of school, I was called down to the library at my convenience and with sweaty palms forced myself to face the music over what was inevitably going to be yet another overdue book at the end of the day.

Well lo and be-f*cking-hold, the end of year inventory check had located the book as waylaid in the wrong section of the library.
I received a few sheepish looks from the librarians as they refunded the money and apologized in a backward way that still made me the bad guy, as overdue books are the real blemish on one’s character, so how were they to assume that I didn’t lose the book. Remember my mom’s new job in the school? Well, she just happened to be walking by the library just as I was finishing up and to say that she laid into them is far too extreme sounding.

But she did scold some stern-faced librarians into giving me a proper apology. She also demanded that they look into reforming their system and, my favorite part, take the proper measures to expunge my record – she was very concerned about me carrying around the albatross of false accusation apparently.
And just like that my life of crime was over… “jwbr3185

1. Can’t Fire You? We’ll Get You Promoted

“I worked at a place that was once truly fun to work at and easy to earn a bit of extra overtime until it became a dog-eat-dog struggle to survive.

The low-level peons like me were split between those who felt disenfranchised and hated by the management, those who were basically looking for an escape route, and that group of snakes who would smile to your face and act sympathetic to your situation before sneaking away to inform the managers of anything they had learned which might have value.
We were in a specific area of the business that was isolated and slowly being replaced by technology, so from over a thousand in our building, it dropped to just around 250 when I left.

Most of this was done through voluntary redundancy but the mangers were given the incentive to fire as many as possible to save money on voluntary redundancy, and since manager jobs were also slowly being cut, they were desperate to fire as many as possible but most were incapable of following procedure.

Mike was that intelligent and brutal kind of manager who, like the others, had been promoted into the position, but knowing he wouldn’t get trained officially, took it upon himself to become competent.

The man had gotten dozens of people fired directly and more indirectly by helping less competent managers follow the correct procedure.

A certain quantity of work at a certain level of quality was required, which everyone met. Yet they had a bottom and top 10 list and if you were on the bottom 10 list your job was on the line regardless if you met the basic requirements. Since there was always a bottom 10 by definition, there were always 10 people on the firing line.

This might be vague but it has to be.

Mike’s team was a sort of clearinghouse for the bottom 10.
We were shifted between shifts and teams for various reasons but what I quickly learned is that somehow the shift’s bottom 10 were all on Mike’s team. Now my performance was consistently in the top 10 so I was safe on that count but my attendance was low due to health issues and my attitude was really bad.

I also learned that the rest of the team was made up of people who weren’t low in performance but had low attendance and attitude problems just like me, and we had all been on the chopping block by managers who failed to follow procedure.
In short, Mike was the executioner of the workforce, the most vulnerable to being fired were shifted around to his team so he could succeed where the others had failed. Sooner or later my time came, my health caused a series of absences while I had hospitalizations and Mike pounced into action.

In the space of a year, he made 7 attempts to fire me and each time I involved HR who stepped in and protected me.

I approached HR to make a case that what was happening was wrong, not just to me but to everyone. I made the case that the situation of Mike being the executioner created a hostile work environment and the fact that I had gotten his attempts to fire me thrown out proved that he was not only hostile but was actively toxic.

That it was against the law to discriminate on age/disability and a myriad of other arguments.

I was told that there was nothing they could do, Mike was untouchable and had the full support of the upper management in our building because he was saving a lot of money in voluntary redundancy payouts by firing the vulnerable. Legally there might be a case but it would have to go through a court system and not through HR unless I had an example of him being hostile and abusive.

The person I spoke to was very sympathetic and he suggested I look into some things related to job opportunities that were coming up, he mentioned that many of them were managerial positions because a new type of roaming manager had been introduced.
These were very needed and weren’t getting much interest, think substitute teacher where a manager gets sent all around the country at the drop of a hat.

It didn’t occur to me instantly but weeks later as I sat at work listening to Mike talk about his family it clicked into place and my plan began to take form.

Instead of making a complaint, I gave a glowing review and had several others do the same. If we couldn’t get the man fired for his actions, we could get him promoted into a job that he couldn’t take.

The managers in our area were not even being considered for transfers because they lacked the training and qualifications to be managers anywhere else, our reviews might just push him over the line into getting a promotion, and since roaming managers were being sought the two should dovetail nicely.

We didn’t give the reviews to our management but directly higher up the food chain, way above anyone that ever dealt with our area of the business. Each of us mentioned that Mike had done an amazing job at sorting out problems etc, had great managerial skills and in-depth knowledge of the procedure.

Then we sat back and waited, a few months went by with nothing happening and I thought the attempt had failed but then we came into Mike losing his mind, he was shouting at the shift manager (his boss) about how he wasn’t being given a choice.

Turns out the higher management had gotten our reviews, looked into his record and decided he was a perfect fit for the roaming manager position and since they were in the process of getting rid of managers in our area they insisted that Mike be pushed into it.
Mike had, of course, tried to refuse the promotion as was his right, but the higher management had made it a choice of accepting the promotion or be demoted back to peon.

Mike had a family and couldn’t just uproot them whenever the company needed him elsewhere, and a demotion with a pay cut back into the workforce of people who despised him and that were slowly being culled was just as bad.

So he asked for voluntary redundancy instead and was accepted. His last day he went berserk shouting and swearing about how badly the company had treated him after “all he had done”, I was unfortunately absent for it but got a play by play and loved every second of it.

Since I was told explicitly that I couldn’t get him punished or fired, I got him a promotion he couldn’t accept instead.” locusness

You never know who’s actually going to take what you say very seriously. Some of us out there love to comply maliciously. It’s the best subtle act of revenge yet! Do you do the same? Tell us everything!