Malicious compliance? Most people don’t know what that is. But a lot of Redditors know perfectly well what it means.
Some people really love it when others follow their rules. But sometimes those rules are a detriment to them.
Malicious compliance is when we follow those rules knowing very well that it’s not putting the other person in a favorable position.
This was a long time ago, but I remember it clearly. We moved into a community with tight space between our house and our neighbors, and we didn’t like them being able to see into our kitchen. We put up a bunch of plants, costing thousands, but my parents thought it would be worth it.
A week later, my parents awoke to the plants completely chopped down. My father was furious and marched down to our neighbor’s house. He told my father the plants were on his property line. Therefore he had a total right to take them down. He warned that if anything were to go on his property again, he would report us to the authorities immediately.
Later that day, my father called the company that put in the plants, and with the warranty, we could have them replanted next week for no charge. We made sure there was no way it was on our neighbor’s property. However, a few days later we caught him chopping them down at 2 am.
We called the police for the destruction of property, and after a chat with my neighbor, he decided to call a professional and mark his property line. My father agreed. A few days later, I got home to find orange tape in my neighbor’s yard. Apparently, his fence was 11 feet over our property line!
We watched as he took down his fence, completely furious. Within the next month, we were enjoying our new space and privacy in our backyard, and my neighbor ended up losing a quarter of his backyard. My neighbor ended up having to pay almost $10,000 for the destruction of our property, and we got to plant our plants again.
The next Redditor gave a new meaning to the death stare when she had to bring in her deceased dad to cancel his utilities.
Meet in Person
My father died on Father’s Day 2012. He was divorced and living alone, and I am an only child. So that meant that I had to wrap up all of his affairs.
This story centers around us trying to get his utilities canceled.
I called in to see what we had to do to get them to cancel. The lady I spoke with on the phone said to send in his certified death certificate. I sent in the certified copy of his death certificate the next day. The next month got another bill. I called again, and a new woman answered. She said that because I wasn’t on the account that she had to speak with the account holder. I informed her that the account holder was dead, but she wouldn’t budge.
I had to make an appointment with a supervisor so she could speak to him herself in person. I showed up at the board of public utilities with another death certificate and HIS ASHES IN THE CLEAR BAG that they returned his remains in. I plopped them down on the center of her desk and said when she talked to him to tell him that I loved him for me.
The cops questioned me as to why I would do that. I told them the story. The supervisor’s boss was called in, and they all stepped away from the desk for a private talk. While they were talking, the cops came over to talk to me.
They said that I shouldn’t take human remains out in public, but there were no laws that were broken. I said that I agreed with them that it was extreme, but she insisted on speaking with him in person. By then, they were done talking between themselves. The supervisor’s boss kissed me and got it taken care of.
Managers can often make up their own rules on the spot. But our next clever Redditor found a way to make sure he’d stop doing that.
I work at a grocery store. My boyfriend and I both buy our groceries there, and sometimes he’ll see me and maybe wave or say hi. We don’t chat or waste any time unless I also happen to be going on break. My department manager didn’t know I was gay when he hired me, and he figured it out when he asked me who the guy that was waving to me was. He made a weird face, not necessarily disgusted, but you get the point.
Any time my boyfriend would enter the store after that, he would keep his eye on him. Now if he were to wave to me, my manager would start to berate me and try and make it out like I’m slacking when I’m just stocking shelves and smiling in his direction, nothing bad at all. He didn’t care at all prior to learning he was my boyfriend.
After a week, he had a private talk with me, saying my boyfriend was causing too much of a distraction, and he shouldn’t shop here while I was on shift, and that if something didn’t change, I might be let go. I was mad and told my boyfriend about it. He was even madder. I decided to prank my manager instead of getting into legal or corporate stuff.
We have other gay friends that shop there; crazy enough, we look just like regular people, so no one would realize, including my manager. Sure, my boyfriend won’t shop there but what about other gay people? That shouldn’t matter if he just doesn’t want my SO distracting me at work…
So, I mentioned what happened to my five friends, who mentioned it to their friends, and so on. On my next shift, about 30 extremely flamboyant and openly gay men and women came in, flaunting their sexuality in the store. My manager was trying to hide in the back, but every customer needed “the manager’s” assistance with the most mundane questions.
He ended up going home early, but after that shock, he actually stopped berating me for the past couple of months. He might just be happy that I’m not very open about my sexuality, so he can choose to ignore it.
Another Redditor got the last laugh when one woman thought she could get one over him. But justice was served.
I’ve been a mechanic my entire working life so far, and this is one of my favorite experiences. I had a customer come in complaining about a vibration. I put the vehicle on the lift and checked the front end. I found a nearly broken tie rod and a faulty rack and pinion.
So basically, the passenger side front wheel was not fully secured to the steering system and would soon break and cause the wheel to be completely disconnected from the steering. I told the customer how much the repair would be and told her it was unsafe to drive. She asked me to put it back together so she could leave.
I told her that I could not do that because if it broke after I let her leave, I could be held liable. She started yelling and screaming about calling the cops and suing me and how her cousin’s brother knows a guy who’s related to the chief of police and I’ll be arrested. She calls the police, and they come out. I showed the officers the vehicle, and they understood the safety concern. They told me to just put the car down and let her leave.
I did and even made her sign a statement declining crucial safety repairs. She left with the most “I told you so” smug grin on her face… Until she left the property, got pulled over, and her car impounded. They also gave her a ticket for reckless driving. I was so happy seeing her car gets towed.
The next Redditor only saw malicious compliance. But when it was to his and his son’s benefit, he definitely didn’t mind.
Yesterday I decided to take my kids to an international chain restaurant. In this restaurant, the kids’ meal comes with ice cream. But, you have to serve yourself. That was a problem because there weren’t any bowls beside the ice cream machine. So I thought, “I know what to do. I’ll simply ask an employee for some bowls.” And that’s just what I did.
So he turns to look at the vast array of bowls behind him, some sauce-sized, some entree salad-sized, and many in between. And we realize that neither of us knows what size the kids’ ice cream is intended to be. So he thought, “I know what to do. I’ll simply ask a manager.” And he says, “Hey boss, what do we put the kids’ ice cream in?” Without turning around, the boss says, “a freaking bowl. What do you think?” “Ya, but what size of bowl?”
The boss, with his inimitable charm, tact, and grace, says, “JUST GIVE HIM A BOWL.” The employee looked back at the bowls, and then I saw him get a big grin on his face. “I apologize about that, sir. I think it’s probably these ones,” he says as he hands me two of the largest bowls they have in the restaurant, practically giggling with glee.
My children were similarly delighted. The manager walked by when we were halfway through and made a noise like a startled opossum but said no actual words. Definitely going back there.
A few years ago, I was on a flight from LA to Singapore (which takes 16+ hours). I’m a tall dude – around 6’3, so I don’t fit very well in economy-class seats.
On most planes, my knees are often very close or right up against the seat in front of me. This makes it impossible for the person in front of me to recline their seat, which usually isn’t a problem once the person in front of me sees how cramped I am.
However, for this particular flight, the man in front of me did not have it. He tried to recline his seat but couldn’t because my legs were there.
He turns around and sees what’s happening, and asks me something along the lines of, “Do you mind letting me put my seat back?”
I respond with, “I wish I could, but I physically can’t. I’ll do my best to give you as much space as I can, but it won’t be much.” At this point, he starts to get angry and just starts pushing as hard as he can back on his seat.
Needless to say, this was not particularly pleasant for me. I ask him to please stop, and he says, “I’ll stop when I can put my seat back.” After about 10-15 minutes of this, he calls a flight attendant over and proceeds to demand a new seat. The flight attendant tells him there are no available seats and he will have to deal with it.
He demands to speak to the pilot. So the flight attendant goes up front to talk to the cockpit. After a couple of minutes, the co-pilot (he wanted to speak to the pilot and wasn’t happy about this) comes back and tries to explain to the man that he can’t change seats because there are no other coach seats free.
The man continues to demand a seat that is able to recline, make a scene, etc. The co-pilot finally gives in and says, while looking at the man, “Sir, would you like to sit up in business class?”
The man stands up and mutters, “Finally.” To which the co-pilot responds, “Sir, sit down. I wasn’t talking to you.” He turns to me and repeats, “How would you like a seat in business class?” I have, to this day, never seen someone as furious as the man as I walked past him to my new business class seat (with free drinks).
Our next Redditor was charged an extra $1.50, but after doing some accounting, he figured they actually owed him $300!
I work in an office, and we have an eight-week busy season with mandatory overtime (12-14 hours/day). During this time, the company agrees to reimburse us for dinner, up to $13/meal. We just have to submit a claim with our receipts at the end of the busy season.
Food options around my work aren’t great, so I usually bring my dinner from home. But sometimes, I was too tired to cook after a long day, so out of the eight weeks, I purchased maybe ten meals. For 3 of those meals, I spent $13.50, going $0.50 over the limit. This resulted in a whopping $1.50 overage which my manager said was no big deal and that I could include on my expense claim. He signed off on it and everything.
A few days after I submitted my report Head Office emailed me saying they rejected my expense claim and that I could resubmit after I removed the $1.50 overage. I wrote back saying my manager was fine with the $1.50 overage and even signed off on it, and they responded by telling me that they do not allow overages under any circumstances, that the $1.50 must be removed, or they wouldn’t approve any of my meal expenses.
They ended their email with the advice that I should “actually read the company policy next time.” Fine, they were right, and I was wrong. So I decided I’d read the policy very thoroughly before redoing my expense claim.
Yes, the policy clearly stated a $13/maximum on purchased meals. Oh, and what’s this? The policy also allows a $10 per diem for meals you bring from home. I very happily removed the $1.50 overage and added an additional $300 for the 30 meals I brought from home. I should read the company policy more often!
I work in a shop. Despite the big, bold sign written in such a way that even the visually impaired could understand it, almost everyone with $50s and $100s thinks they don’t need any stinking bank and will just come to us to get that big bill broken down. Well, it keeps wiping out our tills when they raise a fuss, and eventually, they call corporate. Their response was to have us rescind the policy and carry more money in the tills.
Obviously, they have never worked a till in their lives; otherwise, they would know why we don’t carry disgusting amounts of money in the register. But they didn’t tell us we needed $20s and $10s. So we decided to start some ‘malicious compliance.’ We go to the bank, and their mouths twist into a grin when we tell them. We get hundreds of $5s and $1s for the tills. And we wait. The first dude walks in and smugly places down $100. his change is $95. Here we go! I start singing the Schoolhouse Rock song.
Five ten fifteen twenty twenty-five, he gets nineteen $5s. He asks where the $20s are, and I tell him, “We are out. People keep paying with $50s and $100s and wipe out the $10s and $20s.” The second dude comes in and pays for a $0.50 cookie with a $50. When he gets nine fives, he says he wanted the twenties. I informed him that he could always go to a bank. We continue this until people start to get the point.
The next Redditor had to quit their job every time they needed to help one of the clients. But they’d get it back immediately every time.
Worked for a medical transportation company that had a contract with Medicaid. One of their many rules was that you could not provide any assistance to the patient INSIDE of their house. One elderly lady had an old house with a very small foyer where you had to climb three steps to get to the main floor.
The only other entrance was around back and up two and a half flights of rickety steps to an old deck that opened into a bedroom. Upstairs. She’s in a wheelchair. Common sense says to take her in the front door, up three stairs, and she’s home on the level she lives on.
Medicaid says to take her up the outside stairs, dump her in the bedroom upstairs and let her worry about getting down to the living room level. We ignored their policy and took her in the front door anyway.
A random inspection by a random inspector showed that we were not in compliance. We appealed, and the inspector came out and saw the different options, and decided that we had no case for appeal. Take her up the outside stairs.
Nope. From then on, when the driver arrived at her house, he would get her out of the van on the sidewalk and then get on the radio and tell the boss to shove his stupid job. Now that he was no longer an employee, he was free to assist this lovely person to her front door and up the stairs.
Once finished, they would come back to the van, tell the boss they’d reconsidered, and ask for their job back. Boss was ALWAYS understanding and took them back, but very carefully noted the 10 to 15-minute break in their employment to show that the company remained in compliance.
Another story about making change ended up in a Redditor having to close their bank account. Was it worth it in the end?
I was working at a large national chain restaurant as a manager. I was asked to temporarily re-assign to a location in a city about an hour away and accepted. They put me up in a hotel. The first weekend I was there, I discovered that the GM had screwed up and not ordered any change (small bills/rolls of coins) for the safe and that the local branch of our bank would be closing in the next hour.
I also happened to have a personal account at the same bank and had, in the past, gone and gotten change from the branch back home. Since time was tight, I quickly looked up the address of the bank, grabbed $800, and jumped in my car. I get to the bank, wait in line, and then ask them to make change ($400 in $5 bills, $300 in $1 bills, and $100 in assorted rolled coins).
The teller tells me that the bank doesn’t make change. I, thinking it was because they didn’t know me, informed her that our restaurant had an account she could look up. She then told me, “No, we don’t make change at all.” I left, went back to my car, then had an idea.
I went back inside the bank with my personal checkbook. I got to the front of the line and (luckily) the same teller. Before she could even greet me, I held out my checkbook and told her, “I would like to close this account since this bank is no longer customer service oriented.” She kind of rolled her eyes but went about my request. Then she asked how I wanted my cash back. I said, “$400 in $ 5’s, $300 in $ 1’s, $70 in rolled quarters, $25 in rolled dimes, $4 in rolled nickels, and $1 in rolled pennies.
The rest can be on a cashier’s check.” No reason for her to deny it, so I got my change. And the following Monday, I returned, closed out the other two accounts I had there, and I opened accounts at a different bank, where I have been banking ever since.
One dispatcher decided to pull one on an unreasonable woman who was calling 911 for no good reason.
I used to work as a 911 dispatcher, and I once took a call from a lady who was complaining about a black man walking down the street.
He was doing nothing wrong except, as she put it, “He’s black and walking down the street.” She insisted an officer be dispatched to speak with her, and we had a policy that we had to dispatch. So I sent the only black officer on duty.
It was out of his area, but a computer message to him and the supervisor made it obvious why he was going. When he arrived, she went nuts and called again, screaming that there was now a black man knocking on her door. I said, “Yes, this is the police officer you requested.” Ultimately I had to send the supervisor out because she refused to open the door and was throwing a huge fit on the phone.
Tipping is a generous way of saying thank you to your server. But one Redditor’s company didn’t want him tipping a measly $3. But he got them back for it.
When going over my expense report, my company saw I tipped 20% for lunch one afternoon. Lunch was $15; the tip was $3. They told me that is too much “because I wouldn’t do that with my money.” Heck yeah, I do.
I just took the better part of an hour of my server’s time. The least I could do is leave $3. It’s $3, for crying out loud, but rules are rules. However, my company is fairly generous, allowing me $75 a day to spend on food, which I never do, and that’s about to change.
For lunch today, instead of my usual salad or sandwich, I went for lobster grilled cheese. And, of course, upgraded my regular fries to duck fat fries. Enjoy “saving” that 5% for the rest of my travel meal expenses.
Karen’s can be the worst nightmare when it comes to being in the service industry. But one employee got the better of her.
I worked at a Subway that didn’t have any authority/managers, just a couple of minimum wage base-level workers. I don’t remember what this particular customer was mad about, but she was arguing with me and didn’t like the answer I gave her.
She asked to speak to the manager, and there not being a manager, I decided to promote myself on the spot and replied with, “manager speaking, how can I help you.” This did not make her very happy because she realized she was not going to get a different answer and asked for a phone number to call.
The owner has specifically told us never to give his cell number to customers, so I gave her the store number. She gives me a triumphant grin thinking about how much trouble she’s about to get me in, when the phone behind me starts to ring. I will never forget the face she gave me as I answered the phone, looked her in the eyes, and asked her, “how may I help you?”
The next Redditor found a loophole in their multiple-choice test. But when the teacher’s the one who points it out, is it really their fault?
Some years ago, my dad was at a several-day course to earn some additional qualifications for his job. On the final day, there was going to be a multiple-choice test to actually pass the seminar.
On test day, everyone got settled into place, and the teacher announced that he would not go easy on cheaters: You had one strike to be caught trying to copy off of someone else or use a cheat sheet, but if you were caught a second time, you would be immediately thrown out, and your score made invalid. Now, this teacher was very old-school strict and treated grown working people like unruly schoolchildren, and my dad did not like that very much.
So my dad proceeds to take the test, and it goes pretty well! When he’s through with the questions, there is just one left where he’s not sure he’s got it right. And he has a free strike, after all. So my dad yells out into the class. Just calls out, “What’s the answer to question 14?” Some complete bro elsewhere in the room yells the answer-back.
My dad fills in the sheet, gets up, walks to the teacher’s desk, presumably tries not to trip on the teacher’s jaw as it lies on the floor, hands in his test, and leaves the room. To the teacher’s credit, he approached my dad afterward with some begrudging respect. I don’t know if he changed his policy afterward or the tone in which he conveyed it.
After getting his pay docked, our next Redditor ended up getting overtime pay for wrapping up calls.
I worked in an electricity retailer call center. It was highly unionized, but the management tracked login times to the minute.
One incredibly ridiculous thing they did was if you were a minute or two late, they would literally dock your pay by that many minutes. It wasn’t really enough for us to really notice, and I’m sure they didn’t actually save any money — I mean, if you were 15 minutes late, I could understand not paying, but 3 minutes late?
Well, eventually, the union discovered what they were doing and were completely furious that they hadn’t been consulted about this stingy move. The union demanded log-on and log-off times for everyone in the call center. What management hadn’t counted on was that all of us would often need to wrap up calls and clear the call queue before the call center could officially close.
This often meant that operators would leave several minutes after their shift. On bad occasions, it could be a 15-20 minute delay before they could clock off, but mostly it was only a few minutes. The union made management recalculate everyone’s pay for the year based on the clock-on and clock-off times. They also pointed out that staying past the end of the shift triggered penalty rates.
It turns out everyone (and I mean everyone!) had spent more time wrapping up calls at the end of the day than they were late clocking on. Each of us got paid for lost wages at overtime rates. It cost them a fortune, and they never docked the pay of anyone who was late ever again.
Years ago, I had a thankless labor/service job with a pretty unappreciative boss. One morning, I roll into the office at about 7:25 and get a dirty look from the boss as I head to the dispatcher’s office to collect my day’s work (supposed to be there for 7:15).
I’d actually been working until about 1:30 the night before and was thinking that only being 10 minutes late wasn’t bad. When I got my stack of papers for the day, I let out one of those low groans and said, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” It was going to be another long day.
Boss takes that as his chance to call me out in front of the rest of the office: “Hey, if you’re going to show up late and then complain about work, we don’t need you around here. You’re fired.” Dunno if he thought I would apologize for coming in late and ask not to be fired, but I knew that I could have a new, equally crappy job before the end of the day.
So I called his bluff, handed over my clipboard, and walked away. He must have looked through my work for the day and realized that he didn’t have anyone that could do what I could do, and with the labor market crunch, he just didn’t have anybody. On my way out to my car, I stopped and started chatting with my buddy and the dispatcher, having a smoke. Boss comes out and tells me to meet him in his office so we can discuss my attitude.
I said, “I’m not going to your office. I just got fired.” My buddy and the dispatch are shocked. Buddy says: “you know he pulled 18 hours yesterday and 15 the day before that. Why did you fire him? We’ve got no one to do his run today!” Boss is taken a little aback and says: “I didn’t say you’re fired. I said you’re FiHired. So here’s your route for the day.” I say, “Well if I just got hired, we should talk about my starting wage.” And that’s how I got a $2/hour raise.
The next Redditor gave a little justice to a little brat that was having a tantrum.
Ice Cream Vendor
Last summer, I worked as an ice cream vendor on the beach of my hometown. Best job I ever had. People were nice to me. I got to work on my tan, and it paid pretty well, but most importantly, we were allowed to eat the delicious ice cream during our breaks. One day, I’m serving a man and his son. The man orders a cone with two scoops for him and a cone with one scoop for the little one.
The kid wasn’t happy about that and said to his dad that he also wanted two scoops. The dad explains that the scoops are pretty big and that one will suffice for him. I confirm this to help the Dad, even offering to make it extra big. Still, the kid doesn’t budge. Instead, he starts throwing a tantrum, nearly crying about how he wanted two scoops.
The dad, clearly not wanting to ruin his vacation mood, gives up and says to the kid he can have two scoops. “However,” he adds, “if you can’t finish your ice cream like I said you wouldn’t, no more TV for you for the rest of the vacation!” The kid happily agrees, claiming he could eat a whole tub of ice cream. Big mistake, kid.
I, being the petty person that I am, wanted to teach this brat a lesson. I proceed by scooping one of the most gigantic scoops I’ve ever scooped in my entire scooping career. I put it on the cone; the kid’s eyes widened in shock. My scoop goes back for more. I see the kid tremble in disbelief.
I scoop the second most gigantic scoop a scooper could scoop and graciously add it to the first one. I hand the monstrosity I’ve created to the kid, who by now realizes he won’t watch TV again this summer. The dad seemed pretty cool with it. He even tipped me a little, which was very rare. All in all, a pretty good day.
Our next Reddor’s friend decided to let his teacher meet his dad after their persistence. The only catch was that the dad was in an urn.
Meet My Dad
So my friend Talon’s dad died about five years ago. They got him cremated, so Talon has an urn with his dad’s ashes in it.
One of our teachers was mad at Talon about something (I’m not sure what), but the teacher demanded to meet Talon’s father. He tried multiple times to tell our teacher that his dad was, in fact, dead.
But Mr. McJerk wouldn’t listen to him. So the next day, Talon shows up to school with his dad’s urn and plops it on the teacher’s desk, and says, “You wanted to meet my dad, so here.” I have never seen a teacher so mortified in my life.
Another dispatcher called the grumpy owner of a stolen car. It didn’t end well for the owner.
I work as an emergency dispatcher and 911 operator. The other night we got a call about a pickup truck parked at a tire store, loading tires in the back. Deputies responded and found that, yes, a theft had obviously occurred and asked if I would call the owner to see if he wanted to come out and file a report.
The owner was obviously annoyed with the 1:30 phone call, as people tend to be, but once I explain the circumstances, they tend to react appreciatively. But as I began, “This is [County] communications. We have deputies out at your-” he snarled, “YOU DON’T CALL ME AT THIS TIME OF THE MORNING!” and hung up.
Well. He obviously didn’t care that much, then, did he? I radioed the deputies. “Made contact with the owner, and he advised we do not call him at this time of the morning.” “[County], did you add that to the notes?” “10-4.
I did.” “Show us clearly, then!” A few days later, my supervisor told me the owner, after filing a report the next day for the stolen tires, complained that we should’ve contacted him when it happened. The complaint made it down to my supervisor, who kicked the notes and a recording of the 45-second phone call back up the chain. The owner was basically told where he could shove his complaint.
Our next Redditor’s dad was the boss of a company, and when the landlord of a bar crossed him, he had to deal with repercussions from the entire company.
Everyone Walked Out
My dad was one of the three partners at one of his former companies (about medium-sized). One day, he and his company went to a drinks party. I don’t think it was exactly a company party, but it was more than an after-work drink at the pub.
Anyway, the bar was serving aperitifs, and my dad asked for his without ice, as he hates ice tainting his drink. The landlord, who was behind the bar, refused and said the ice was mandatory. So he served my dad’s with ice. Dad accepted it, took the ice out, and laid it on the drain rack that goes under the beer draughts. The landlord ordered him to leave.
My dad was half expecting it but asked him to repeat himself. The landlord once again told him to leave. My dad said, “Okay,” and started to leave.
And his company all started to file out after him. The landlord protested, “No, no, you don’t all have to leave. Only he has to leave.” One of the other staffers said something along the lines of, “Sorry mate. He’s the big boss. We all go where he goes.” So they all left and went to another bar.
They had made a reservation at the bar they were leaving, but they hadn’t put down any deposit for it and hadn’t bought any drinks yet. The aperitifs had been complimentary, so the landlord didn’t even get paid for those.
What’s worse than a bad case of food poisoning? Well, not having the aisle seat in a plane when you bought one.
Here is a bit of a backstory before we jump in – I’ve been in India for the last two weeks on a course with my university. Just a day before I flew out I must’ve eaten something dodgy because I got the infamous “Delhi Belly.”
As someone who likes to think ahead, I decided to book aisle seats for all my flights, knowing I’d probably be taking multiple trips to the bathroom. As I made my way to my seat, I realized an older woman had taken it for herself. I pointed at the number above, but instead of moving to her middle seat, she got up and motioned for me to sit in it.
At this point, I thought about telling her what the deal was with my colonic calamity but decided to just let my actions speak for me. As soon as the seat belt sign went off after takeoff, I got up to take the first of many dumps. She had actually fallen asleep at this point, so I had to wake her up so she could get up (grumpily).
Twenty minutes later, I had to go again. A total of 4 dumps later, and we’re still 1.5 hours from landing, she’s getting irate. Finally, after my 5th and final defecation, she offered to swap seats. The cherry on top – I didn’t even get up again until we landed.
What do you do when a customer never tips and wants her food at the exact delivery time? Sit outside her house and wait.
Not Early or Late
I deliver food for a major company for a living, and while most of our customers are very nice, we get the occasional person who drives us crazy. One customer requested her food be delivered at 5:30 pm. I left the store at about 5:20 pm, knowing it’d take about ten minutes to get there.
I ended up getting stuck behind slow drivers and arrived at 5:34 pm. This woman flipped out. She was yelling at me and telling me that when she requests something for a specific time, it had better be there AT that time, no sooner, no later!
No tip. This process repeated, but I came to enjoy having some quiet time to eat, even if I wasn’t getting tipped. One day I was in a particularly mischievous mood and decided to just sit outside her house and eat my lunch.
When I finally rang the doorbell at 5:30 pm, she immediately whipped open her door and yelled, “HAVE YOU BEEN SITTING OUTSIDE MY HOUSE THIS WHOLE TIME WITH MY FOOD?!”
“Yes,” I said. “WHY DIDN’T YOU BRING IT TO ME THEN?!” “Because you said when you ordered something for 5:30, you wanted it at 5:30. It’s 5:30. I Didn’t want to bring it to you too early.” No tip. Worth it.
A similar story where a Redditor couldn’t make his deliveries early meant that he took advantage of the system.
Years back, I drove a truck/delivered furniture. My helper and I got along great, and we worked very well together. The warehouse manager was kinda a douche-bag that really got off on the power trip. He was always so serious like he believed that you couldn’t have fun at work. He instituted a “Two Hour Window” policy for deliveries. I’m sure most of you are familiar with this now, but it was new to the company.
He would create our route for us, time everything in his head, and create a schedule. He would then call the customers and let them know what two hours we would be expected at their house. The first day the policy was in place, my partner and I kicked butt. We got so we were ahead of our window, So I called the next customer and asked if they minded if we came early.
The customer was very happy that they didn’t have to wait. I did that for the rest of the deliveries that day. We ended up back at the warehouse before our last delivery was even scheduled. Did we get a GREAT JOB!!? Did we hear,” Maybe I messed up on the scheduling?” No, we hear, “You broke the rules by going to the customer’s house before I said you could be there.
If it happens again, you will get written up!” We would start out our day working really hard. We would fly through the deliveries until we reached a time where would just stop for an hour or two. I live in New Jersey. There is a lot you can do. We went to arcades, museums, and the beach. All paid time because we wouldn’t want to break the rules and get written up.
Another Redditor had their roommate’s sister hate certain phrases. Luckily she had a thesaurus.
Synonyms Don’t Count
So my roommate’s sister is some kind of religious tyrant and apparently doesn’t let her kids say common words and phrases, including “oh my God,” “oh my gosh/goodness,” “awesome,” “good,” or “great.”
Because only God can be those things. Cue me being a bit of a jerk. My roommate and I went to his sister’s house to drop something off, and I made sure to use words like “venerated,” “sacrosanct,” “sublime,” and “pietistic” when talking about the most mundane things.
I got a couple of half-awkward smiles, clearly showing she had no idea what I was saying. It was so ironic and funny at the same time.
When a boss decides to cancel your leave when you have all the passwords, what are they supposed to do when you resign?
Cutting Her Leave Short
My employer decided to convert all of a certain class of our records from paper-based files to digital. There were three immediate problems. Our company was not going to buy a generic system but develop our own unique, tailored system.
It was to be done on the cheap, with net savings for record-keeping from Year 1. The guy in charge (let’s call him Genius) always (and I mean ALWAYS) thought he was the smartest guy in the room. Believe me. He wasn’t.
Anyway, one of the girls I worked with took on the project on the condition that she could have the next July off for her wedding and honeymoon. She worked hard, and the project was actually making progress. One of her duties was passwords, none of which could be written anywhere because Genius knew this was ‘bad.’
She periodically reminded Genius about the July wedding, and he told her it’d be fine, but never signed off the paperwork. Come mid-May, the project was WAY behind, mainly because Genius told management it could all be done in-house at negligible cost, and Genius kept changing the design every time he read a new magazine article on IT.
My friend was then told six weeks out from the wedding that her leave was canceled. The project took priority, and she’d just have to reschedule her wedding, honeymoon, the work. Genius could not see that this might be a problem. So she did her job, updated the passwords as required, never recording them anywhere, as required, and resigned without notice on the last day of June.
On her honeymoon, she gets a frantic call from Genius demanding all the passwords. “Sorry, I don’t work there anymore.” Click. That’s why a decade later, our company still has a few hundred electronic case files we can’t access.
Another retail working Redditor found some malicious compliance when a rude customer wanted to inconvenience his day.
Four, You Said?
Rather minor, but cashiering doesn’t offer many opportunities for malicious compliance. One of those very loud customers came up to the counter and tossed a round battery onto the counter. “Hey! You have that battery?” I checked the size and confirmed that we do sell 2032s.
“Well, are you gonna go and get it?” I walk over to the battery rack, pull one out, and return to the register. As soon as I step back there, and no earlier: “I need four of those!”
I go back out, and instead of putting it back and grabbing the four-pack, I pull down three more single packs and once again return. Altogether, they cost about twice as much as the multi-pack, but you can’t put a price on shaving ten steps off your shopping trip.
Another Redditor’s brother was told to turn off everything in his room as punishment. But the father forgot one crucial detail.
You Said Everything
My younger brother has just been helping my dad with his computer. As is often the case, an argument ensued, and my brother withdrew his IT services.
In the act of spite, my father instructed my brother to turn off everything in his bedroom. If he doesn’t help with my dad’s computer problem, then my brother can’t use his own PC.
There’s some logic there, I suppose. However, he seems to have forgotten that the router is located in my brother’s bedroom. He’s been in the study for 10 minutes. We don’t know what he’s doing on his laptop without an internet connection, but my brother is practicing his grin for when he eventually emerges.
Another Redditor was asked to tell their sibling when they were going to take a shower, no matter when. Big mistake.
Letting Her Know
I’m home on spring break, and Saturday night, after we finished watching a movie, I turned on the shower and got ready to get in when it sounded like the KGB was going to break down the bathroom door.
I open it expecting my dad to yell at me about something, but it’s my teenage sister screaming at me to let her use the bathroom. So I get out and let her use the bathroom. She comes out again, screams at me some more about how I need to let her know when I’m going to take a shower, go into her room, and slams the door.
I take my shower. I’m on a college sleep schedule, so I go to bed at 1 am, so the next night, I do some work, and I start to get ready for bed around 12. My sister has high school the next morning, so she’s in bed. Before I take my shower, I open her door and say in a loud voice that I will be taking a shower now.
Imagine someone threatens to sue you for leaving a negative review. Our next Redditor doesn’t have to imagine!
No Hard Feelings!
I was going to buy a car from a small used car dealership. We agreed on a price and a day to meet. The morning of, he sold it out from under me right before I was there with no courtesy call or text or anything. I wrote an accurate review reflecting my experiences with the dealership online. A couple of days later, he called and threatened me with a lawsuit claiming my review was slander.
He warned me everyone else that gave a one-star review was sued for slander and had to pay court fees and remove their review. He said if I edited the review, everything would be fine, and he wouldn’t take me to court.
Well, I obliged and edited my review, stating he threatened me over the phone with a lawsuit since I gave a negative review and that my review was, in fact, 100 percent accurate of my experiences.
The icing on the cake was that I texted him right after I edited the review and said, “Hey man edited the review as requested hope there are no hard feelings.” I guess he didn’t read my edit before replying with, “thanks, man, I appreciate it. No hard feelings!”
In order to protect the privacy of those depicted, some names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.