People Speak Out About Their Greatest Malicious Compliance Revenge
19. Here It Is: Extra Spicy, Just Like You Wanted It
“This happened a few months ago to a friend of mine.
A little background, my friend is mixed, white and Mexican with very pale skin. He usually gets mistaken as just a white male. His dad also owns a Mexican restaurant.
To start, around 3 pm, these guys walk into the restaurant.
My friend was working the register and greeted them.
They look at him with disgust and start speaking to each other in Spanish. They started going on and on about how he was too white to be working there and how he knows nothing about Mexican food.
After they finish their rant, the following conversation went like this.
Friend- Hi, welcome to restaurant, can I take your order?
Guy 1- Yeah, we want to try your “Nuclear” tacos challenge.
And make sure it’s EXTRA spicy.
(It’s basically this challenge where you have to finish 3 spicy tacos in 5 minutes.)
Guy 2 in Spanish- He probably thinks extra spicy is ketchup.
They laugh.
Friend smiles and goes to the back to put in the order while handing each of the guys’ waivers and pointing them to a table.
Friend goes to the back to put in the order.
“Well, guys, we have another one.
Make sure it’s EXTRA spicy,” he says with an evil smile
Friend grins from ear to ear while they make the tacos. He watches them put on the “special” sauce made specifically for rude people like this. He happily walks out of the kitchen and places the food on the table in front of them.
Friend asked to take a video and a before and after photo, which they happily agree to.
Friend takes the before photo and sets up the camera in front of them, making sure it was connected to all of the TVs in the restaurant.
Friend reads over the rules (no drinking before time is up, finish all 3 tacos, no giving away food) and prizes (a t-shirt with “I beat the nuclear challenge” on it, a photo on the winners’ wall, and a free meal with their next visit).
Friend goes over to the speaker and announces, “Listen up, Guy 1 and Guy 2 are attempting the nuclear challenge! Any words you’d like to say before we begin?”
Guy 1- This is gonna be a walk in the park.
Guy 2- Yeah, this doesn’t even look like a challenge.
Friend- Let the challenge begin!
Friend starts the timer and smiles as the men start to struggle after the first bite.
Guy 1 turned beet red, and guy 2 looked like he was about to vomit.
Both men tapped out before finishing the first taco.
My friend comes over and takes their after picture.
Guy 1- SCREW YOU! I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER! WE KNOW THE OWNER.
I CAN GET YOU FIRED!
Guy 2- YEAH! NO ONE CAN FINISH THAT! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US!? GET YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!
Friend goes to get his dad and brings him over to the men.
Dad- What seems to be the problem, sir?
Guy 1- Your employee was trying to kill us! I DEMAND a refund!
Dad- I’m sorry to hear that.
What did you order, sir?
Guy 2- We ordered the nuclear taco challenge, and it almost killed us!
Dad- I’m sorry sir, but the waiver clearly states that we can’t get sued, and we don’t have to reimburse you if something happens during the challenge.
Guy 1- WE CAN AND WILL SUE YOU! I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE OWNER! WE CAN GET YOU FIRED!
Dad- I AM the owner.
Friend was watching from the register and could barely hold in his laughter.
Both guys walk out while screaming multiple profanities at friend and dad.
They did try to sue, but nothing came from it.
Surprisingly enough, more people were interested in the challenge after their performance. Friend makes sure to give everyone the actual sauce for the challenge.
My friend and I still laugh at the video to this day.”
Another User Comments:
“He missed one thing: when giving them their tacos, just as they went to bite in, he should have spoken Spanish to them, letting them know he understood the bullcrap earlier.” excited_and_scared
18. Natural Hair Color Only? Okay, But You Didn't Say Anything About Having Two Colors
“A couple of years ago, I worked retail in a store geared towards children.
A very…. magical store. Lots of princesses, superheroes….rodents. You get the picture. Our store had about 25 female employees (including all of the management) and 3 male employees.
The dress code was incredibly strict. We had a uniform that had to be ironed all the time, no visible tattoos, only natural hair colors, women were encouraged to wear makeup and style their hair, men were either to be clean-shaven or have fully grown in facial hair.
For some reason, one particular manager was intent on nitpicking me regarding the dress code, even when I was in complete compliance with it.
I was constantly told that I needed to iron it better, so I started getting it dry cleaned and somehow that still wasn’t enough.
I wore very minimal makeup and she constantly told me I should wear more (though she couldn’t make me). Hair bows were a big thing at the store and people made and gave as presents custom ones highlighting characters. They weren’t exactly against the dress code, but they did push the limits.
Regardless, this particular manager seemingly only had an issue with them when I wore them.
Once, she got down on her hands and knees with a ruler to prove my pant hem was too long only to be proven wrong. There were also some conversations about my appearance that looking back were definitely body shaming.
As a side note, this particular manager was a natural brunette but she dyed her hair black and bleached a portion of the hair underneath so that it would show.
Point is, her hair pushed the edge of what I would consider natural.
I got the itch to dye my hair and before working for the store, I had always loved to color my hair all sorts of colors. However, with the dress code, only natural hair colors were allowed, so I came up with a compromise: silver.
I went and had my hair professionally lightened and dyed silver.
The next day I worked, the district and regional managers were visiting the store.
I was always picked to work those days because I had the best “stage presence” and knowledge of the company and those two were always impressed by me.
When I showed up to work that day with my new shiny silver hair, my store managers were appalled. They wanted to send me home immediately, and for whatever reason, they decided to talk to me in front of the higher-ups.
This is a paraphrasing of the convo:
‘You’re in major violation of the dress code.’
‘How so?’
‘Your hair isn’t a natural color.’
‘Yes it is, gray is a natural color.’
‘But you aren’t gray yet.’
‘So?’
‘So it looks unnatural to be all gray.’
‘Are you saying that we can’t dye our hair at all if it’s not a color that would grow out of our heads naturally at this moment?’
‘No, you can dye your hair, it just can’t be obviously fake.
It needs to look real.’
I pointed at the manager who was constantly on me, ‘Your hair is half black and half bleach blonde. I feel like that looks more unnatural than my gray hair.’
I turned to the two higher-ups and asked if I was in violation.
They agreed with me that I was not. I also showed them one of my bows and they fawned over it and even asked me for directions on how to make one.
In the end, I got to keep my silver hair AND my bows, and my manager was told that HER hair actually was a dress code violation and she had to dye it before coming the next day.”
17. Sure, Here's Your Crunchy Ice Cream
“Briefly in the recent past, I worked as a manager at a Ralph’s (an NYC-area ice cream chain), and one night, as I’m helping out scooping, I hear a customer getting annoyed at the window and starting to get snippy with one of the young kids who was working the window, so I head over to smooth the situation as manager.
The woman is mad because the hot fudge on her hot fudge sundae is hot and going to melt the ice cream. I explain to her that hot fudge is indeed served hot, but she insists, so I make her a new sundae with magic shell topping instead and let her keep the hot fudge one.
By the time I return with that, this customer is stirring her spoon through another cup of cream ice (kind of like a sherbet) she ordered, obviously about to complain about it.
The flavor she ordered was called “graham crunch,” and she proceeded to tell me that there wasn’t any graham crunch in it. That she orders this flavor all the time, and she knows that I am intentionally stiffing her. I tell her that this is just how the flavor is, and I don’t name or make the ice cream, but she isn’t having it.
She wants me to “fix” it.
We’ve got some crushed graham cracker topping in the back, so as she is berating me, I just walk away from her and grab the entire container and come back to the window with it. At this point, we’ve got a line of people down the block because this lady has held us up, so there are lots of witnesses to what I was about to do.
Without breaking eye contact with her as she continues to tell me that I’m wrong about the ice cream I scoop 6 days a week, I open the lid of the container and empty the entire thing over her cup of the offending ice cream.
Graham crackers are everywhere. Her ice cream is now definitely crunchy.
She loses her mind at this and starts yelling at me she knows the owner and will get me fired. I tell her, “Yeah, Steve is a nice guy,” and she responds with, “I’ve known Steve a long time” to which I respond, “Well, his name is John.
Get out of here, and don’t bother my employees for free ice cream again.”
Now sufficiently embarrassed in front of the long line of customers, the lady leaves in a huff and indeed never returns. The next few customers left us $20 tips in the jar to make up for her, so the kids who worked for me left with quite a bit more in their pockets than they normally would and realized that their manager had their back.”
16. Try To Bargain Down A Top-Selling Christmas Gift? Forget About It, Lady!
“I used to be a manager at a video game store. The year the Nintendo Wii came out, they were the hottest Xmas gift. Literally, I would get some in stock and sell out within 20 minutes.
I had just got a shipment and was down to my last one.
This couple walks in and asks for a Wii. I tell them it’s my last one and they are lucky to get it. The woman asks the price, and I tell her $280 (standard price in Canada at the time). Convo goes like this:
Woman: OK, you’re going to sell it to us for $250, no tax.
Me: I’m sorry, all of our prices are set, and we cannot adjust them.
Woman: You are going to sell it for $250, or we aren’t taking it.
Me: I can’t reduce the price of it.
If you don’t wish to purchase it, that’s OK.
Woman: We want it for $250, or we are walking out now.
Me: I am sorry, but I can’t lower the price. That would put my job at risk as it goes against company policy.
Women: Well, you just lost a customer.
She then walks out.
The guy with her looks a little dumbfounded and then follows her. 3 minutes later, a mom and daughter (maybe 12-13 years old) walk in and ask for a Wii. I told them it was my last one, and they are lucky because someone almost bought it.
The daughter lights up and starts pulling her wallet out. Her mom tells me she has been doing extra babysitting jobs to save for a Wii. She had the $280, and her heart sunk as she realized she didn’t have enough for the tax.
Mom of course stepped up and paid for it. They left, and the girl had the biggest smile.
Fast-forward about 15 minutes and turning away a dozen people looking for a Wii, the couple comes back in.
Woman: Fine, we’ll take that Wii for your ridiculous price.
Me: I am sorry, but I sold out about 15 minutes ago.
Woman: What? You didn’t hold it for us?
Me: No I didn’t.
We aren’t holding Wiis because of how high in demand they are. You also told me you would not be purchasing it.
Woman: Well you should have…
Man: (interrupts her loudly) Oh, for love’s sake! You do this all the time, and it never works! We have been looking for a Wii for 2 months, and now you screwed us out of one.
I am sick of this crap.
The man storms out. The woman now is in shock and not sure what to do. I shrugged, and she bolted out after him. Other customers in the store are now watching in confusion and amusement. A regular asked if I was OK, I just chuckled and told him the story. He had a good laugh.”
15. But We Have To Follow Protocol, So No Hotter Temperature It Is
“Trigger warning – I’m about to stereotype. Ready? Men tend to like colder temperatures than women. Are we good? Okay.
It’s 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 heck 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), it’s 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 it’s 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 it’s 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 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 darn 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…”
14. Big Bully Karen Wants Me To Stop The Ride, So I Do
“I work at an amusement park, and we have this ride called Moby D. This ride is 100% controlled by the operator.
A couple of weeks ago, this woman and her friend came up to my ride making fun of one of the kids on the ride.
She was saying so many hateful things about how they looked. Without even looking at her, I told her to stop, and this is how it went.
Me: You’re literally talking about a 7-year-old like that. You need to stop, or you will not be allowed on the rides.
Karen: But it’s true; look at them.
Me: Don’t disrespect other guests, please.
It’s not ok.
Karen’s friend: Stop, Karen, before you get us in trouble again.
Karen: Whatever.
When the ride was finished, I start letting the next group of people in. I say, “Do not pull down on the bars. Pick any seat you’d like!” to everyone as they walk in since pulling on the bars can break the seats over time.
I let a group of young boys in before Karen’s group, and they sat at the end seats. Karen marches over to the kids yelling at them to get out of her seat and that she paid to sit at the end.
Me: Miss, please stop yelling at the kids, or you will be removed from the ride with no refund in tickets.
Karen: Don’t tell me –
Karen’s friend: Stop it, Karen.
Just sit in the middle.
She complained the whole time walking to the middle seats and then pulled down the bar. I was thinking it was time to get a manager over, but I didn’t want to bother them with her. Once I got everyone seated, I closed all the seat bars.
When I was checking the seats, Karen’s one was on the loose side, so I pushed it in a little to make it tighter.
Karen: You’re trying to kill me. First, you left my seat open, and now you’re making it so I can’t breathe.
I ignore her and keep checking seats.
When I finally start the ride, I slowly rock it, and Karen is screaming to take her off, so I make the ride go faster doing full circles now halfway during the ride.
Karen screams: Stop the ride, you freaking witch!
She wants me to stop it? Fine with me.
I park the ride at the top of the ride like I do when closing but keep the ride on. The 6 others on the ride weren’t scared the ride stopped. Karen started screaming bloody murder crying and begging to be let down.
The parents watching know what she said before to their kids and know what’s going on and start laughing. After around 30 seconds, she is screaming, “Let me down” still. So I do on the fastest setting; I start the ride spinning full speed.
I made the ride a little longer since all the kids were having fun.
Before I opened the seats, I scream a warning.
Me: Wait for the bars to fully lift and go above your head before getting up! Stay seated!
Karen pushes it up and gets up having the bar fall back down and hit her in the head. Her friend laughs at her and gets up, walking her off the ride.”
13. I Was Told By Supervisor 1 To Ignore Supervisor 2 And Vice Versa... So I Ignored Them Both
What a confusing situation to be in.
“I used to work Parking Control at a busy airport in Australia.
This story is called, “Two supervisors tell me not to listen to each other…” Okay!
So a little bit of background on how this job works.
I used to work Parking Control at the big airport. It has one domestic and one international part to the airport (about 5 minutes apart via shuttle bus). I was the guy who told you which taxi was yours, to move on if you spend too long at the drop-off or quick pickup zone (Kiss and Ride in Australia), where the Ubers were, covered control in the multi-level car parks, and more.
This particular day, I was on the Kiss and Ride section, or as we called it, Row D, at the domestic airport.
Cars were allowed to pull up and quickly drop off or pick up people. If cars stayed longer than a few minutes, I had to move them on (normally to do a lap around the airport or go to the nearby McDonald’s to wait for their relatives to call them), so others could pick up their relatives.
Due to the nature of how big the airports are, we normally have 3 supervisors/managers on at any one time. One for the domestic, one for the international, and one in the control room. Everyone was on radio networks, separate for each airport.
The supervisor on Domestic that night we shall call Duey, and the one in the control room we shall call Huey.
I was about 4 hours into my 8-hour shift, patrolling all of Row D when Duey walked up to me and asked me to cover Taxi Rank for a while.
Some people had been rotated around because someone had to leave early. Hey, no problem, Duey, so I went to Taxi Rank. About 20 minutes into Taxi rank, I get a call over the radio asking why I wasn’t on Row D from Huey in the control room.
I explained that Duey asked me to do Taxi Rank. Huey said he needs me back on Row D now. I ask was no one on Row D? To which I find out no, so off I went back to Row D as Huey told me someone would soon arrive to do Taxi.
Another 20 minutes later on Row D, Duey comes back in person and asks what the heck am I doing here; why ain’t I doing Taxi? I explain that Huey asked me to.
Duey told me not to listen to Huey; he is in charge on the ground at Domestic, so I do what he says. I hesitated a little but did as I was told, so back to Taxi I went.
Now that I look back on things, I think at this point Duey’s radio was down, low battery.
This happens from time to time, and you don’t always notice as you just think things might be quiet. I say this as surely Duey heard Huey over the radio order me back to Taxi.
Like clockwork about 30 minutes later, Huey was right up butt over the radio asking why I left Row D.
I told him Duey told me to do Taxi. I was cut off when Huey told me not to listen to what Duey said. He was in charge, and if I don’t listen to Huey, I would be written up, and if I mention another word about Duey or the Taxi rank, I would be written up.
Okay, so back to Row D I went… again.
By now, I only had about 1 1/2 hours left on my shift, and I was looking forward to going home after this day. Again, Duey found me on Row D and demanded to know why I wouldn’t follow his orders and wasn’t at Taxi Rank.
He said Josh was there, and it was supposed to be me on Taxi, so he came to find me. I tried to explain what Huey told me, but upon hearing Huey’s name, Duey was having none of it. He told me to go to Taxi and not leave it again till the end of my shift, or I would be fired.
Figuring a write-up isn’t as bad as losing my job I complied with Duey and went back to Taxi…
again. And yup, you guessed it. Only took Huey another 30 minutes to get on the radio and scream and threaten me for disobeying his orders. I have to get over to Row D right now or I won’t need to worry about a write-up.
I thought to myself screw this. Both supervisors are having it out with each other and I’m the punching bag in the middle they are taking their anger out on. Both Huey and Duey told me not to listen to the other, you got it.
So I went to the airport food court and had myself a feed for my last hour of work before heading home. Yup, I snuck out of work and clocked off without either of those dumb ducks finding me, was not in the mood for that.
Turned my phone off as well, as I’m not supposed to listen to orders from the other, right?
When I got in the next day the manager was waiting for me with a smug Duey standing next to him. Manager, Duey, and I all shuffled into Manager’s office.
The manager proceeded to ask me what the heck I was thinking using the last hour of my shift to have a dinner break? I asked him did he see the camera footage of me in the food court? The manager said yes and again asked why.
I told him both Huey and Duey kept telling me to go to different locations last night, and if I didn’t do what they told me I would be fired. I told the Manager Duey wanted me on Taxi, while Huey wanted me on Row D.
The manager looked puzzled for a second. He asked me if I was supposed to be at either Taxi or Row D, then why was I in the food court? I told him in more detail this time because Huey threatened to fire me if I didn’t ignore Duey, and Duey would have my job if I didn’t ignore Huey.
So I did what I was told and ignored them both. Duey cried foul, saying I was lying.
The manager asked Duey to step out of his office. Duey only did so after much protest. The manager asked me to tell him the full story, which I did.
He then told me to have the rest of the day off, a sweet long weekend for me (as it was Friday). When I got back to work on Tuesday, I found both Huey and Duey were no longer employed at the airport.
My friend Josh filled me in that both Huey and Duey chucked a huge tantrum in protest of my allegations.
The manager told them that the security footage of me constantly moving locations and testimony from other employees convinced him I was telling the truth. Josh was in the break room near the manager’s office and heard the whole thing go down before seeing Duey storm out of the building, followed by Huey who looked defeated.
The manager told me next time to call him instead of just taking a dinner break at the food court, but I wasn’t in any trouble. Wish I could say the supervisors that replaced Huey and Duey were better, but that might be a story for another time.”
12. You Can't Accuse Someone Of Being Unfaithful To Their Partner...With Their Partner
“I’ve been living in Japan for a little over two years with my partner. 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 equals lots of staring, occasional secret pictures, 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 seats 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 man’ when I’m out alone, which I respond in Japanese “My partner 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 couple 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 partner 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 man 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 partner 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 two-timing my American man! I started laughing because she’s suggesting I’m two-timing my partner, with my partner!
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 tarts! Who is your man, and what’s his rank? Also, I need to know your dependent ID. MY partner is a high rank so he’ll make sure your man 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 partner’s name is Rei 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 terrible statements too.
It’s so ironic because we are in JAPAN, and she’s fussing about me being married to a Japanese man.
My partner has been quiet throughout the whole exchange and says to me we should go. I agree and stand 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 partner 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 partner extremely uncomfortable with her remarks.
She asked me if this person looked like so and so, and 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 two-timing your non-existent military spouse and called your man 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 since we have many mutual friends. Her SNS was SHOCKING. While she set her social media to private, her Twitter was littered with malicious Tweets and reTweets. This included racism slang for many nationalities, colorful language, and using her partner’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 be friendly and 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 two-timed her partner 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 exposed. Super ironic since she became the dependapotamus and adulterer – the same thing she was accusing ME of.”
11. Sure, We Can Remake The ENTIRE Order Since YOU Dropped Your Own Hair Into Your Own Soup
“Worked at a crazy-popular restaurant with a huge outdoor deck on the “ocean” (it was a river leading to the ocean, but as we said in the South at the time, don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story).
This place was right next to the cruise ship terminal, so we’d literally watch thousands of people disembark and hundreds head for our restaurant at the same time. Needless to say, we’d be packed with a line out the door at these times.
A group of six comes in. “And we want to sit on the ocean!” Okay, you and everybody else. I tell them it’s a thirty- to forty-five-minute wait unless they want to eat indoors, which is quicker. They grumble, but they can see we’re swamped and begrudgingly accept the pager I give them, insisting they need to sit “on the ocean.” You’re willing to wait, no worries.
I inform them that ticket times right now are currently higher than normal being that the cruise ship just dropped off hundreds of people. They say that’s fine. Great, hang out over there, and I’ll buzz you.
Twenty minutes go by, and a younger lady with long and curly red hair from the group approaches me at the front desk, waving the pager around.
“Is this thing broken?! This thing must be broken. We’ve been waiting an hour!” Uh, no you haven’t. We have OpenTable (a reservations system) that tracks your status in real-time. I spin the computer around to show her that, in fact, you’ve been here literally 21 minutes.
And you’re going to have to wait at least 10-20 more minutes. She throws a minor hissy-fit in front of some other guests in the lobby, but they’re definitely not on Team Merida. Back to the waiting area she goes.
We get them sat at a picnic table on the front water, prime real estate.
It was about 40 minutes from when I quoted her, so I had five to spare. The rest of her group is happy with the spot and looks hungry and ready to order. I motion over their server, Leah, and say let’s get this order in quickly.
Not good enough for her. She again complains that they waited an hour (nope, 40 minutes) and that they should get free appetizers at the very least. Now, I will always admit a mistake on our part and make it right, but we quoted her, gave her the best table possible, and still came in under time.
This is business as usual. BUT sometimes I’m a nice guy and realize people are hangry, have low blood sugar, and need some love. So I ask her, “Have you ever had she-crab soup?” She looks bewildered and shakes her head.
I say, “I’m gonna bring you some she-crab soup.” The group orders apps and entrees at the same time. Leah asks if they want her to bring it all together. No, no, they say—bring the apps first, then fire the entrees.
Leah does just that, and it takes about twenty-plus minutes for them to come up.
Since we have a problem child, I run the apps personally. Put fried green tomatoes, crab cakes, and of course the (delicious) she-crab soup on a tray.
Run it out to them. Drop the apps on the table, and like a scene in The Matrix, I watch one of Brave’s curly, red, ten-inch hairs slow-mo fall from her own head into the bowl of soup I’ve just presented to her.
She looks down and FREAKS THE HECK OUT. “Your hair is in this soup! This is disgusting! You need to remake this entire order!” Y’all. I’m bald. I shave my head every day. You could pluck your eyebrows while looking at the back of my head.
As gently as I can, I tell her I watched her own flowing, luxurious lock fall into the soup, and insist it’s not mine.
She is in outrage, calling me a liar and insisting that I did this on purpose because I didn’t like her. Uhhh? She demands I remake the entire order. The rest of the table is uncomfortable, sees she’s in a mini-rage world, and insists it’s fine; let’s just eat.
Me? NOPE. “Yes, ma’am!” And I scoop everything off the table onto my tray. Apps, beverages, plates, silverware. “Let’s start over, and hopefully we can get off on a new foot. By the way, I mentioned that ticket times were long as the cruise ship just docked, so it may be a while to get a new course of appetizers to you.
We’ll do our best, as busy as we are. I’ll have some new beverages out to you as soon as Leah slows down.”
I go into my kitchen and tell my slammed Sous Chef Brian that I needed a refire on that ticket.
He is a loud and angry dude and initially screams at me—but on the plus side, he’s also incredibly vindictive, so when I tell him, “This one’s about sending a message,” he smiles and puts the ticket at the end of the line. Two hours later, the table finished and left Leah a 30% tip (guess who didn’t pay the bill?). The worst part of the story, she never got to try the she-crab soup.”
10. Since I Got Your Permission, I Quit, Then
“In high school during the late 90s, I was a server at a pizza chain with a red roof. At the time, this place had dine-in service.
We had a GM, Ray. Ray was a nice guy, but he was better on the business/financial side of the restaurant than managing employees.
People generally got their work done, but in retrospect, everybody that worked under him was young, and we probably didn’t give him the respect he was due. Eventually, Barb showed up. She was an assistant manager from a nearby store that closed.
Barb wasn’t like Ray: it was like she was hired to come in and crack a whip over all of us.
Never a “please” or “thank you” for anything. Forget “if you have time to lean, you have time to clean;” if you have time to lean, you have time to clean out the walk-in fridge and rinse it from floor to ceiling.
On Fridays and Saturdays, the restaurant didn’t close until 1 AM.
These were generally the busiest nights. However, I was 16-17 at the time, and I walked to and from work, and my parents said that under no circumstances did they want me working past 11 PM. They didn’t want me walking home after 1 AM and risking being hit by an inebriated driver or some other idiot out at those hours.
I had already been attacked by a homeless person one Friday night that year.
This limitation was written into my file by Ray. We had several other teen servers with similar scheduling limitations, but it was usually okay– things started dying down at 11, and the adult servers were happy to take all the late tips themselves.
One Friday, it’s 9:45, and we’re still swamped.
Mean ol’ Barb is managing. My tables are mostly wrapping up, so I inform Barb I need to come off the floor if she expected me to do any side work that night. She says to me that I need to keep serving and do my side work, and I can’t leave until the side work is finished.
I remind her that I must be out the door at 11:00 PM.
If I’m not, there’s a high likelihood my parents will make me quit this job, especially after being attacked by that homeless person. It’s just too busy. If I take more tables, there’s no way I can do side work. Plus, I’d just have to hand off those tables to the adult servers anyways, so there’s really no point in me taking more tables.
Barb blows up at me.
She starts screaming loud enough for customers to hear about how kids these days are all a bunch of babies and how she hates that “helicopter parents” won’t let their kids “do real work” anymore. After that tirade, she says, “You have work that needs to be done.
You need to stay and do it. I don’t give a darn what time it is. If you don’t like it, you can quit.”
For some reason, her saying that felt like a smack to the forehead: I don’t like this job. There are plenty of other minimum wage jobs I could be doing that would work with my schedule limitations.
I’m a teen just doing this job for scratch cash, so forget her!
I reach into my server apron and move all my tips into my pants pocket. I untie the apron and place it on the front counter. Her eyes get huge, and all I remember coming from her was this screech of, “WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
I tell her I’m doing what she said.
I don’t like it, so I’m quitting.
Cue more screeching. She’s so loud the entire restaurant can hear her. At that point, I just turn around and walk out, letting the door of the restaurant close and muffle her screeching. I make it home before 11 PM.
Ray calls me the next day to get my side of the story.
I explain everything. He says he understands, and he backs me up that she shouldn’t have tried to make me stay. He asks if I could at least come in and work the Saturday dinner rush, but I told him I wouldn’t set foot in that restaurant if Barb was there.
He said that Barb was managing that night, so I chuckled and said, “Well, that’s your problem.”
A week later, I get another phone call from Ray. Over the course of that week, Barb yelled at two other teen employees of the restaurant for similar reasons, causing one to quit.
She apparently also nearly got into a fight with an adult server because she called that server a terrible name and said she was going to “slap the taste out of her mouth.”
The final nail in Barb’s coffin? Two customers called to complain that their carryout pizzas appeared to have ashes on them.
Managers usually worked the register at this store, which meant they also cut and boxed to-go orders. Apparently, on less busy nights, Barb would smoke while behind the counter. She was caught on video multiple times in one day smoking as she cut pizzas.
Suffice it to say, Barb got fired.
Ray was calling everyone back who quit to see if they wanted to come back. Me? I declined. I had already found a gravy gig working at an antique mall. I didn’t make tips, but I made a better hourly rate, so the pay was more consistent.”
Another User Comments:
“So, yelling at teens, obliging two to quit, nearly fighting with an adult colleague. Management (Ray) knew all this, but it took customer complaints to get her fired?
Corporations think it’s okay to maltreat minimum wage employees but will squat when customers say “crap.”” AlisonLiterally
9. Throw A Tantrum And Cancel Your Wedding Hair Appointment? Good Luck On Your Big Day
“So, I work at a day spa with a full hair salon, and we JUST opened back up for services due to shutdowns at the beginning of this month. We have STRICT capacity limits mandated by the government that includes not allowing anyone in who doesn’t have an appointment.
We are currently slammed. Each day, we’ve been booked solid between three hairstylists. We’re booked solid until late August, and that’s WITH them opening up for extra days. If we get a cancellation, it fills up the same day, sometimes within an hour.
So, a woman had booked an appointment to get her hair done up for her wedding this past Saturday and had also booked her sister in to get her hair done as well.
She was lucky to get a spot as it is, but there had been a cancellation. She called this past Tuesday, and the conversation is as follows:
Me: Hi, thanks for calling X Spa. How may I help you?
Client: Hi, yes, I have an appointment for my sister and me to get our hair done for my wedding this Saturday.
Me: Yes, I see that here!
Client: OK, I need to cancel my sister’s hair (well within our 48 hours notice policy, so whatever), but instead, she and a friend are going to come in at the same time to take pictures of me getting ready.
Me: Oh…
I’m sorry, but unfortunately, we are under strict capacity limits, so anyone who isn’t booked for an appointment isn’t permitted to come in. As it is, if you were keeping your sister’s appointment (which was booked with the same stylist AFTER the bride), you would have to exit the building before she can come in for her appointment.
Client: Are you serious? That’s ridiculous! Cancel my appointment as well!
Me: Yeah, I’m so sor…
(click) – She hung up on me.
So, I canceled the appointment with LOTS of notes and made sure the rest of the desk staff as well as the owners and the stylist were aware of the situation. I’ll admit we all had a bit of a chuckle at her tantrum because we don’t think she realized how hard it would be to get an appointment for a SATURDAY at this late notice, not to mention when every other salon is under the same rules as us.
We thought that was that. The appointment was booked up the same day.
Fast forward to Thursday, and I get a call:
Client: Hi, do you have any appointments this Saturday for a bridal updo?
Me: I’m so sorry. We are booked solid for Saturday.
Client: (sigh) Ok, thank you.
As I hung up, I looked at the caller display.
IT WAS THE CLIENT WHO CANCELLED CALLING FROM HER SISTER’S PHONE. I confirmed the name and phone number in our booking system – exact same one. I was losing my mind. It seems like they DID indeed try to book somewhere else and had no luck so tried calling us back.
Congratulations, you played yourself because you threw an adult temper tantrum the week of your wedding.
EDIT: Ok, so I remembered she had messaged us over social media to ask for a quote for her hair originally, and I decided to see if she had posted pictures to see if she had gotten her hair done.
No pictures, but I found a rant post about her having to cancel her hair appointment because we “doubled the price out of nowhere” and, of course, “don’t allow any pictures.”
Regarding the price. We gave her a quote for a partial updo (let’s say $70) because that was what she described originally and didn’t say it was for her wedding.
When I spoke to her over the phone and realized it was for a wedding, I told her that it could go UP to $83 depending on what needed to be done as per the stylist (this covers us if they happen to bring in hairpieces, extensions, flowers, etc.; plus, she didn’t book a trial, so we give more time for her to talk with her stylist about what she wants). It was literally $13 more POTENTIALLY. Definitely not double.
Also, “I’m sorry, we can’t have you bring in extra people just to take pictures.” Apparently, that means no pictures are allowed at all.”
8. You Want Your Pizza Cut Straight Next Time? How About Just Into Straight Lines?
Is that straight enough for you yet, Kevin?
“One guy complained every week that we didn’t “cut the pizza straight enough.” To be fair, we probably didn’t cut it particularly well most of the time, but this guy kept calling and kept complaining, even after we made sure to cut his more carefully.
After every delivery, he’d call and complain, and the manager would give him a 50% off code (mainly to get him off the phone).
Every week, we’d expect his call. Every week, he’d call like clockwork, bang on about how we “wrecked the pizza last week,” and insisted that “someone else should double-check that the pizza is cut straight” or he’d be complaining again.
This went on for a couple of months.
We found it pretty funny; it didn’t really affect us, and he actually tipped the leftover change (which is moderately rare in Australia).
Over the weeks, we really tried to make his pizza as perfect as possible. One of the guys even made up a template on a pizza box with centering circles and perfectly aligned marks for where to cut – nope, still not straight enough.
Eventually, the franchise owner found out and said we can’t keep giving him free vouchers (even though 50% off, it was still very profitable).
So, we politely cut him off from the discount vouchers. But, that just made the complaint calls longer, and he complained harder because “he expected better” for a full-price pizza.
One week, the manager thought it’d be funny to mess with the guy and cut his pizza really messily (I think we ended up with 9 vastly different-sized slices).
This just angered the customer even more. So much that he took photos (the paper kind) and brought them into the store for the owner to see.
Apparently, the owner thought it was funny, but he still warned the manager, saying, “Don’t mess with the guy.
Just cut the darn pizza straight, so he stops complaining.”
Which is when I had my malicious compliance idea – “Cut the pizza straight,” yes!
When his pizza came out, I grabbed a tape measure and cut him 8 parallel, equal-width slices (we discussed making them equal area but couldn’t work out the maths).
We boxed up his long, straight, pizza fingers and sent them off for delivery, and… that was that.
He stopped complaining.
Still ordered occasionally (though not as often).
As a bonus, we started cutting our “staffie” pizzas into long parallel slices. It actually works pretty well!”
Another User Comments:
“No surprise he kept complaining; it netted him 50% off every time he complained, so of course he’ll continue because it’s cutting his pizza price in half. The manager should never have given him a code in the first place. Every pizza place I’ve been to doesn’t have perfectly even slices.” Asuran8
7. Don't Want To Listen When He Brings Up His Concerns? Fine, We'll Do It Your Way
“In the mid-1980s, I worked at one of the two largest aluminum companies in the US as a machine automation programmer. I was sent to work on a set of machines in a factory in Alabama. This factory took in raw materials and produced gigantic rolls of sheet aluminum in a wide variety of alloys.
This particular factory was an early adopter of the continuous draw electrical smelting method. If you haven’t seen this in action, it’s worth seeing, as it’s amazing. Basically, there’s this smelting furnace in the floor running a bazillion kilowatts of furnace heating, and the smelting draw machine very slowly pulls up the ingot from the smelter.
The raw ingots were rectangular in cross-section and weighed about 30,000 lbs each (13.500 kg) when fully drawn from the furnace.
These ingots were drawn from the furnace with this gigantic claw device, and they were very, very, very slowly transported from the furnace area to the stacking area over the course of a few hours.
In the stacking area, there was this massive cradle thing that accepted the ingot in a vertical alignment and then very slowly rotated it over to a horizontal alignment. All of this is was done very slowly.
The factory is a union shop with lots of trades represented.
I was considered ‘management’ because I was not a part of any union, and there were a lot of restrictions placed on me in the factory. I come from a union family, so I generally respected the restrictions that made sense and put up with the ones that didn’t.
My job was to work on the control software that was very slowly being phased in to replace the completely manual system of ingot and roll transport inside the factory. The union guys were all in favor of an automated system, as ingot handling and roll handling were considered to be dangerous jobs.
Our story begins one day when the ingot claw machine breaks down.
There are about six or seven of these claws on a long oval track, and you can’t transport the ingots if the claw machine won’t bite into the ingot coming up from the smelter. The entire production line in the factory goes offline when this machine goes down.
The machinists take a look and tell the bosses that the line will be down for about 12 hours while they investigate the failure in the control board (manual relays).
I’m sitting in the factory office which looks down over the smelting floor, having a cup of coffee.
I overhear a couple of the middle management types discussing how to get the line operating again. One of them, who I will call “IdiotOne” suggests that they could use a wire cable sling like you use on a log to lift the ingot from one location to another.
IdiotOne and IdiotTwo discuss the merits of this for a while and then head down to the shop floor to implement this idea of incredible brilliance.
Down on the shop floor, a screaming match ensues between the union guys and management. The guys working on the smelter all ‘drop tools’ and walk off the site, having filed a dispute with their steward.
IdiotOne and IdiotTwo then proceed to head over to the claw machine operator and tell him to rig up a cable hoist to move the ingots that are standing in the smelters.
As the story goes from a conversation over beer later on with the claw machine operator…
CMO (Claw machine operator) – No, lifting these 30,000-pound ingots on a steel hoop is a bad idea.
IdiotOne – Well, we’re telling you to do it.
CMO – Okay, well, this is not going to turn out like you think.
IdiotTwo – Look…
I’m a gosh darn college graduate in mechanical engineering, and I’m a senior manager here, and I’m telling you this will be fine.
CMO – Okay, well, the cable is going to pull off of the hot aluminum and drop the ingot.
IdiotTwo – No! The coefficient of friction is high enough that it will not drop.
IdiotOne – Just freaking do what we’re telling you, or you can just quit.
CMO – Okay, let me get my shop steward over here to hear all this, and I’ll do it.
Then the shop steward comes over, hears the conversation, and gives the CMO a long look.
Steward – Okay, let me clear the shop floor out, and we’ll move one ingot.
The entire shop floor is cleared of personnel, and the CMO does as he’s told.
One of the riggers sets up a steel cable hoist, and they snag it around an ingot. They put a little tension on it and fire off the siren to indicate that there’s an ingot moving.
They get the ingot up in the air and slowly move out of the smelter.
The cable bites deeply into the ingot and seems to hold. Then, someone notices that the cable seems to be cutting more and more deeply into the ingot. It begins peeling a huge shaving off one side, exactly like a knife peeling a curl off of a stick of butter.
Then, of course, the ingot sways dangerously, the CMO stops the machine, and the ingot falls.
30,000 pounds of hot aluminum smashes into the concrete floor and topples over.
The CMO turns to the completely white-faced IdiotTwo and says…
“That coefficient of friction you mentioned… that was for hot aluminum, right?”
The company has to pay out and deal with a grievance from both the foundry/smelter guys and the CMO.
IdiotOne is demoted and assigned to a role in the accounting unit. IdiotTwo is reassigned out of a factory role completely and sent to work reviewing technical documents, his dream of being a factory manager gone forever.
And… it takes almost a week to clean up and fix the shop floor before normal production can resume.”
6. Can't Bother Taking The Class? Then Try Passing This Test
Let’s see how well you do.
“This happened in 2018. My partner and I own a company that works with companies to provide doctors and nurses for factories and construction, OSHA and First Aid training, and some other things. One of our major accounts is a power company.
We not only provide on-site personnel but also train them on First Aid. This particular company is very strict on its Health and Safety protocols. They require all their crew members to have an up-to-date First Aid certificate, and they had shelled a decent amount to equip each of their sites (including their offices) with two AEDs (Automatic Electric Discharger).
We were also required to provide adjusted training for their staff and crews. Because of the nature of the job, we trained them in a 3-hour, 2-day schedule. One day was theory (because in a factory environment, instead of ABC, you EABC) with a written test at the end, and the next day was a practical exam.
We were scheduled for a two-day training with this company. We were told it would be a small class, around 40 people, so I booked myself and our senior trainer.
We arrive for the training, set up, get the roll call and there was when it happened.
As I said, this company is very hardcore in their Health and Safety. Except for the crews, they require every person that has even the slightest chance of visiting a power plant to have a current First Aid certificate. This means we trained a lot of suits.
As the room is filling up, I notice John (Senior Trainer) talking with a woman I didn’t know.
The conversation is heated and I approach to see what’s happening.
Me: “Is everything ok?”
Karen: “No, it’s not. As I was saying to this man, I don’t need to take the class.
I did First Aid in my previous company and I have VERY IMPORTANT WORK (yes, you could actually hear the capital letters) to do!”
John: “As I explained madam, we follow the company policies about training.”
Karen: “But I already know everything!”
Me: “Madam, your manager booked you for the class.
He probably thinks it’s more important than anything else.”
Karen: “No. I’m very high in the company. If you don’t release me immediately, you may lose your contract!”
At that point, she looked at us with crossed arms and a smug face. John, being a no-nonsense former trainer for the Army’s Medic Corps, was ready to explode.
Cue Malicious compliance:
There was a rule for the training, set by the company, that any person that could provide an up-to-date certificate, could sign a waiver for the in-person training, BUT they had to take the test.
I quickly provided this as an option for Karen.
She wasn’t completely happy, but she took it.
I explained there were two tests, one in writing, one practical. She said fine and to notify her when it was time to take them.
So, two and a half hours later, she is sitting to take the written test. Immediately, I can see she is struggling, since most of the questions are tailored for an industrial setting.
The test ends and we collect the papers. At a quick glance, I knew she had, at best, passed with a very low grade.
Despite her struggling in theory, she just came for the test the next day. In this case, I knew she was going to fail.
Along with their normal CPR, we had added an AED training (per company rules), and despite being a fairly easy and straightforward machine to use, she had serious trouble.
So, we pack up, go back to base. We rate the tests and as expected she was the only one who had failed both spectacularly.
Of the rest 39 people, only one had failed the written test.
We sent the results and certificates to the company.
Aftermath:
Monday morning, just after we opened, I got a call from Chad, the company’s COO. He is one of our major contacts because the training was part of his responsibilities. The call went like this:
Chad: “Good morning Wak (me).
I’m calling about the results of the training.”
Me: “Good morning Chad. I had a feeling you would call.”
Chad: “Can you tell me why my Assistant COO failed?”
Me: “Is Karen your Assistant?”
Chad: “Yes…”
Me: “Well, she said she had very important work to do and already had a certificate and she signed the waiver.”
Chad: “Of course she did…”
I could hear the frustration in his voice.
Chad: “Can we arrange a quick training for today? I want you to do it.”
Me: “Let me check.
It has to be a late one, otherwise tomorrow at 10.”
Chad, after some thinking: “Tomorrow then. See you at the office.”
The next day rolls up and at 10 sharp, I’m at the offices. I’m led to a conference room, glass all around, and told to wait.
A few minutes later, Chad and Karen step into the room. She looked chastised. She sat across me, while Chad stood. Chad asked for the waiver, which I handed to him.
He took a look at it and gave it back.
Chad: “As I explained when you were hired, you had to pass this training.
The certificate you gave us was coming up and you came from a different field. Now, do the training properly and pass it. It is one of the prerequisites for the job.”
Karen took the training properly this time and passed. Since then, she has never complained about First Aid training again.”
5. Want Your Coffee Even Hotter? We'll Even Curdle The Milk For You!
Are the nerves in your tongue dead?
“This happened a few years ago when I was first starting in hospitality, but this was the best intro I ever got to what hospo is really like.
It was the afternoon, and my boss was already in a cranky mood because he was teaching a 17-year-old how to use the coffee machine, which would drive anyone mad.
A woman came in and ordered a dine-in coffee extra hot. He let me do the coffee while he went out back, and I made the milk to 75C. For those who don’t know, milk is steamed to around 65C (149F), so this should have been fine.
She came back: “I asked for extra hot, and this is lukewarm at best.” I’m brand new at this, so my boss assumes I’ve made a mistake.
I remake the coffee showing him it’s now at 80C (176F). He tried a bit (by pouring the milk into a separate first), burnt his mouth, and confirmed the thermometer was fine.
I took it out to her, said sorry, and came back into a life lesson from my boss saying that customers can sometimes tell when someone is new, so they prey on them.
Again, the woman comes back. “I come here all the time, and I have never been so disappointed” or something to that effect and storms back to her table.
My boss and I are really freaking confused at this point. He remakes it again.
She brings it back again and begins to yell at me full Karen style; my boss has gone to the toilet at this point. I’m 17, brand new to customer-facing jobs, and trembling and crying.
Finally, my boss walks up, yanks the cup from her hand, puts it under the steam wand, and turns it on. Milk is boiling over the cup, all over the countertop, and onto the floor; he just stares at her. He hands it back to her without ever breaking eye contact, milk curdled, half a cup of liquid missing, and says, “There.
It’s hot. I made sure of it.”
She was mortified. I was horrified. She sat at her table too stunned to complain and drank the coffee in peace. He went into the kitchen to tell the chef, and they cracked up laughing.
That boss was the best and worst boss I’ve ever had.
One time, we were overbooked and had to cancel the most recent reservation. They called him a horrible name, so he set up their table cloth and utensils on the ground outside the restaurant and sent them a picture confirming their booking.”
Another User Comments:
“I had an experience like this with a pedantic customer who sent her coffee back twice saying she wanted it hotter.
I explained to her in no uncertain terms that the milk would burn, and she just pushed the coffee towards me and told me to “fix it.”
When I got back to the machine, my manager took the cup from me without a word, put the handle of the cup under a jet of boiling water for a few seconds, dried it, and took it back to her.
The exact same cup of coffee with a hot handle. She said it was finally the perfect temperature and thanked him profusely for making it right.” s1a1ky
Reply:
“You would be surprised at how often this happens in the service industry. Servers will take things back all the time, and chefs will “fix” things but not actually do anything. Most customers are satisfied with this. I’m not sure if it’s a power move or if they’re just special snowflakes that want extra attention, but it’s usually annoying.” Tolvat
4. Okay, I'll Stay Home While I Figure It Out
“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 started coming in and losing his crap 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 heck 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 butt 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 concerns 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 woman’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 woman 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: “OP 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. “OP, 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.”
3. Here's Your "Everything" Burger
“My first job was waitressing at a 50s diner style burger-joint. I think I was about 16? It was a sweet gig. My coworkers were generally nice, the customers were a mixed bag. Though we did have one homeless guy that would come in and do our food challenge weekly for a free meal.
He was cool.
Anyways, I had a family come in. If I remember correctly it was the traditional dad, mom, two kids. It was lunch rush and basically all the tables and the bar were filled. So, I’m taking their order and the dad asks for a burger.
Me: ‘What would you like on that burger?’
Dad: ‘Everything.’
Me: ‘Well we have a lot of options.’
I gesture to the menu section containing the topping choices. The dad does a once-over (clearly not long enough to read) looks back at me and states.
Dad: ‘Everything.’
At this point, I should note we had a bunch of choices:
Mustard
Onions
Slaw
Chili
Mayo
Ketchup
Lettuce
Tomatoes
Pickles
Grilled Jalapeños
Grilled Mushrooms
Grilled Onions
Grilled Bell Peppers
I feel like there were even more choices when I worked there. The place also had 4-5 cheese options. I ask the dad a few more times if he’s sure.
Even tried to list the toppings.
His lady even tried to explain the situation. I could tell he was getting agitated but I also knew he’s didn’t know what ‘everything’ meant. Eventually, I take his word for it and attempt to get the rest of his order.
Me: ‘Do you want cheese?’
Dad: ‘I said everything!’
Me: ‘Well we have 4 –’
Dad: ‘Everything!!!’
Yikes.
I want to point out he’s literally yelling here. Those exclamation points are not for emphasis Well, I finish taking the table’s order. On the ticket, I remember specifically taking the time to meticulously write out every ingredient as clearly as I could.
The tickets were small and each ingredient was denoted by an acronym so it was a challenge to fit ‘everything.’ I also made sure to include every possible cheese.
I knew this monstrosity was going to be sent back. I knew it was an abomination, but I was determined to give that man what he asked for.
The line cooks looked at me like, ‘You sure?’ With a simple nod, I pulled the trigger.
I walked that burger out to the man with the biggest crap-eating grin. It had to have been 2 pounds of sloppy, wet burger. The annoyance on his face would have been reward enough, but as predicted, the father called my manager over and complained.
My manager came to me fuming. Clearly, he had been chewed out by the man.
‘You know you have to ask the customers what they want on their burgers?!’
‘I did. I –’
‘Well, the man at table 11 said he didn’t ask for that.’
Mind you I was still 16 at this point and timid.
Still, I explained the situation. My managers’ demeanor changed and he had a little smirk on his face. My manager asked me to follow him back to the table and grabbed a menu on the way.
Manager: ‘Hi sir, I need some clarity.
What exactly did you ask for on your burger?’
Customer: ‘Uh, everything but –’
My manager opened the menu on the table pointing to the topping options.
Manager: ‘Sir, this is everything. This is what’s on your burger. I’ll be happy to remake the burger to your specifications if you can give them this time, but we are very busy and it could take a while.
OP, please take his order.’
So I did. I can’t remember his actual order anymore, but it was definitely a more traditional burger. It probably took about 10 minutes to come out so his family was mostly done with their meal while he was beginning. We could’ve taken another burger off the line to make his, but why make a chill table wait?”
2. Won't Let Me Work On Weekends? All I Have To Say Is, "Good Luck"
“My story happened about 10 years ago.
I work in an office and, at the time, I was the new guy who only worked part-time, taking shifts here and there when needed. I could do pretty much anything and did it well but often had to ask around for extra shifts to make ends meet.
One day, our supervisor went on short-term disability leave after an accident, and an assistant, let’s call her Brenda, took over the job, which included the scheduling duties. Brenda was easily overwhelmed, and we believe that she was too proud to admit that she needed help.
She had to plan the schedule for 5 teams, and I’d often tell her that I’d be available for more shifts to cover X or Y, as the slots were clearly empty.
She was always pretty dismissive, and most times, I’d end up not working more.
People tried to work around her mishaps, so there was never any direct impact on the overall production.
One time, I noticed that a lone position on the weekend (that nobody wants to do when that person lady was sick/away), was not being backfilled, even though it was essential to have someone in that chair.
Hoping for extra shifts, I sent Brenda a casual email to bring to her attention the fact that the shift was not filled and if she had plans for that yet.
Her response was an extra-long email on work ethics and respect for my colleagues’ time, that I’m new here, that I should learn my place, to stop begging for extra shifts all the time, and that she had nothing else for me that week.
Duly noted, ma’am.
Cue malicious compliance: My last day at the office that week was Wednesday, and I knew that the shift had still not been filled. When I left, I wished everyone a nice weekend, including Brenda, “See you next week!” It’s important to mention that I was on-call.
They couldn’t just put me on the schedule and expect me to show up. They’d have to confirm with me beforehand.
I got many many calls on Saturday, about 30 minutes after the beginning of that shift that was not being covered, asking where I was, why I wasn’t in, that error alerts were being sent ALL OVER THE COUNTRY because nobody was there to do the job.
I told the weekend manager that I was out of town, as I wasn’t on the schedule when I left on Wednesday.
They’d need to take it up with Brenda.
Monday morning, I was called into a senior manager’s office. I was told that they were giving me a written warning because I didn’t show up to work that weekend, and it caused a lot of trouble for other managers.
I pulled the email thread and was able to prove that I warned Brenda that a shift was not being filled, that I would be available if needed, but that Brenda made it clear she didn’t need me.
They then checked the log to see when the schedule was last changed, and yup, Friday afternoon, long after I was gone.
I made it clear that she made no attempt to try to contact me. The senior manager apologized, and I was able to return to work.
I don’t believe Brenda was specifically punished (as we’re all allowed mistakes. It happens), but she was eventually demoted. She retired probably a year after the incident. I ended up being promoted to full-time shortly after, and as it turns out, 10 years later, I’m now office supervisor, doing a much better job at managing schedules!”
1. Want Me To Write An E-mail That You Should Be Writing? I'll Try My Best, But No Promises
“I am currently an executive for a large bank. My job is to manage the accounts for businesses that have an existing relationship with the bank. Specifically, I manage the Credit Card Processing side, AKA Merchant Services.
About 6 years ago, there was a huge uproar within the organization about a new position opening up (the executive position mentioned previously).
It would be a new team with amazing pay, flexible hours, and above all actual authority to make business decisions. It was a big deal. So, naturally, I applied. It would be a huge step up from my (then) job of managing escalations for the senior directors.
Fast forward a bit, and I’m hired. I join the team in October, a few months after the team was started. So, 10 or so people had already started working with their assigned customers. I strangely was not given any accounts to manage.
Instead, they decided to give me training modules to complete to get me “up to speed.” I’m cool with that. I figured it was a difficult job, so it made sense at the time.
Well, I complete the silly modules in a few days and decide to walk to the manager to ask what he would like me to do.
This is when I discovered this department was a cluster mess. The manager informs me that those modules were all of the work that they could assign to me. They had already assigned all of the portfolios of customers for the year, and I would not be getting to manage customers until the new portfolios were approved.
Having come from a world where everything is literally a dumpster fire emergency, I am confused. I assumed that I would be fired or something.
Nope. My manager told me that I would be allowed to “assist” the other executives with their customers should the need arise.
Not a single soul asked me for assistance, understandable since they were all trying to make the appearance that they were capable. So, every day I would sit at my cubicle, with my feet on my desk, watching movies, reading books, and browsing Reddit.
It was an unbelievably great way to support my family, literally a dream job.
I feel like I need to add that I did not receive the portfolio to manage until March. FREAKING MARCH. Six months of me entertaining myself on the company dime.
I’m not going to lie, it was wonderful.
Anyway, I finally get to do my job, which I am extremely excited about. My first order of business was to reach out to my customers and the team of merchant services reps that previously assisted the customers to basically let them know that there was a new sheriff in town.
Not a single rep took me seriously. They knew nothing about my position or the responsibilities of my job. They assumed that I was just a support member that they could dump their problems on. It was a mess, and our management team did nothing to smooth over our role to the reps or their higher-ups.
A day or two into the job, I am added to an enormous email chain with a customer, their accountant, several directors, and a VP of a partner banking channel.
The long and short of it is that the customer was upset about the rates that we were charging them.
I reviewed the pricing and offered a very appropriate alternative to their current pricing schedule. It was a small change to be sure, but it would have saved them in the neighborhood $20k per year. My first mistake was assuming that the directors and VP on the chain understood that it was my call to make.
My manager immediately gets a call from that VP ranting about my email. My manager comes to my desk (breathing heavily) asking me about the email. I explain what I was doing. I was 100% in the right, and my manager agreed.
It was a good business decision, but the VP felt that they would get to set the pricing as it had always been done in the past. He wanted to gut our rates so that we made little to nothing on the customer.
Well, I didn’t work for his channel, and I refused to gut it. He wanted to gut the pricing on our side because that’s not where he made his money. He made money on the banking side. He was forcibly trying to ruin my take to protect his own.
My manager is in hot water, so he insists that he tell me what to write for the remainder of the chain. I do not like to be babysat.
I’ve never really experienced working for this guy before, so I felt it was a good time to test the waters.
While the peter measuring contest is going on between the manager/VP, the customer fires back in an email that she completely agrees to the new terms. However, she also requires that we refund her the difference in fees for the last 3 years.
Due to my manager’s order, I let him dictate what I am going to write.
This is where the malicious compliance comes in.
He tells me to write that we can change her rates to the new pricing, or we can refund her the difference of fees.
She cannot have both. For those of you in the know, this is an extremely bad move. For those of you that don’t know, it is not a good business practice to give your customer an ultimatum if you want to keep them.
In this situation, the customer holds all of the cards.
I still have the email to show off in the office. I am going to cut out the personal details. Here is the email. I made sure to add the first bit myself.
My manager’s part starts at, “You are entitled..” I write EXACTLY what he says. Keep in mind everyone and their mother is copied on this email.
“Thank you for your email, (Customer name). I have reviewed your request with my leadership, (manager name).
We appreciate the opportunity that you have given us to retain your business.
You are entitled to the rate change or the refund. At this time, we are not prepared to grant you both of these things. We can get you the numbers on the savings if that would help.
We feel that your request is unfair to our business. It is with a heavy heart, we decline. (VP name), (manager name) said he got your voicemail. He said he’ll call you back after we are done with this deal.”
Sent.
I have never in my life sent such a disrespectful email like that.
I was awestruck that someone like this was able to crawl his way up to such a position in the company. My first real experience with this guy was a living crap show. It sickens me to know that at the bottom of this email was MY name.
To someone on the outside, it would look like I was the dumbest person in the world.
Now for the fallout. I still don’t know the exact details of what happened after the email was sent that day.
I was not added back to the email chain.
The very next day, I was invited to a conference room with 6-7 people. The only people I knew there, at that time, were my manager and the manager of our sister team. I was greeted by one of the people.
She was smiling and very friendly. She asked me if I knew who she was. I said no. She sat at the table and said that she was the Senior VP of sales for my bank.
At the time, we rolled up to her.
She was the head honcho (My boss’s boss’s boss). She had flown from our headquarters, literally across the country, just for this meeting.
She seemed like a very nice person (she was not) but it was unnerving how all she would do is ask questions.
She held up her hand and shushed me anytime I tried to say anything outside of answering her questions. I was there for a while, and I was nervous, so I don’t remember all of the questions.
The big ones were: “How do you like your job?” which scared me.
And, “Why did you feel it was appropriate to email a customer a rude email?” This one turned the tables in the room. I told her that the email was completely inappropriate. “Then why did you send it?” I told her I was asked to send the email by my manager and then was allowed to explain my side of things.
It was dead silent in that room even after I finished speaking.
After some time, she asked me to leave the room.
I sat at my desk for a good two hours working when one of my teammates told me that I was needed back in the conference room.
This time, it was just the manager of my sister team and the senior VP there. This time, the manager of the sister team did all of the talking. He said that the customer that I was emailing is pulling their account not just from us but from our banking partner as well.
He explained how much they made the bank through the partnership. I don’t have access to the other banking systems, just the merchant services side. I was shocked to learn that they had tons of loans, business accounts, and stuff I had never even heard of.
It was part of a very large organization that spanned several different sectors. The person that I had emailed was the decision-maker. He didn’t give me an exact number but said we had just lost millions of dollars in annual revenue.
I was certain that I was going to be fired. Instead, he lectured me on the importance of diligence and other corporate mumbo-jumbo.
A few extra details: I later found out that one of the people in the room was my HR rep.
He was there because they were indeed going to fire me, up until I had explained what happened. Also, my manager didn’t get fired. Miraculously, he is still my manager to this day. He did leave the office for the day which probably means that he was grilled pretty hard.
He is not a good manager but he is genuinely a good person.”
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