People Admit The Laziest Thing They've Ever Witnessed
25. The Manager Wanted Me To Do Her Job, So She Didn't Have To Do Much At All
“Some background: My first job was at a fast-food chain. I worked hard, impressed the store manager, and got myself promoted. At the time, I was still 17. So, I was promoted to “Team Leader” with the implication that I would get promoted further when I was older.
I was still in high school, so I worked the evening shift which started at 4 and ended at 12. The evening manager was a good guy who also worked hard, and as a result, had gotten promoted to a store manager position at a different location.
Since they needed a manager (and I wasn’t old enough), they hired a new manager who I’ll call Karen. So Karen is hired and starts shadowing the current night manager learning the ropes. After 2 weeks, he departs, and she is now set to take over.
That’s where this story really starts.
I normally get in around 30 minutes early. One of my responsibilities is to make a position chart (which tells the workers where they are working that night). I need to hand it off to the manager for approval before posting it.
As I arrive, I notice one of our night shift workers is already there. We’ll call her Jen. She is sitting in the lobby crying and being consoled by other employees. I always found her to be a bit manic, but she was a nice girl.
She had a rough home life, so I didn’t hold it against her. Come to find out she had just had a large fight with her mother, which ended with her getting kicked out. So, she is effectively homeless. Good reason to be upset. I ask her if she needs the night off.
She says no, she needs the money. I can’t disagree and head off to get started.
For the night shift, the night manager typically runs the drive-through register after the day shift leaves. There are a few reasons for this. First, this means that the manager has control of the drawer (and money) for the entire night.
This eliminates the possibility of employees having short drawers. Second, this also puts the manager as the person interacting with the customers. I lived in a college town so intoxicated guys drive through all the time and just want to chat up the pretty face behind the register.
Third, it gives the manager the least amount of responsibilities as far as clean up.
So, given what I now know, I make up a position chart and place Karen on the register and Jen on a fryer where she can get help if she can’t focus.
I walk to the office to hand off the chart to the night manager and was surprised that he wasn’t there. He normally is in at least an hour before the shift to make sure everything is ready. That’s when I remembered, this will be Karen’s first night alone.
I groan inwardly. This is gonna be a “trial by fire” kind of night. The day manager is there but no sign of Karen. It’s now 10 minutes to shift and even the day manager is wondering what’s up. I fill the day manager in about Jen, show her the chart and ask if it looks good.
She agrees, and I said I’ll post it for now and Karen can sign it when she gets in.
I had just finished posting the position chart when Karen shows up looking frazzled. She heads for the office without a word to anyone. Meanwhile, people start getting into position and ready for the shift.
A few minutes later Karen walks up, pulls my position chart, and replaces it with a new one. Again, she walks off without a word. According to the new position chart, Jen is working the drive-through and Karen is working… nothing. Her name isn’t there. She has another employee working 2 positions and the whole shift working effectively one person short.
Huh? I head to the office where Karen and day manager are talking and ask for some clarification. I explain there must be a mistake.
Karen: No, that’s right.
Me: But you’re not in a position and a worker is working 2 positions…
Karen: Well, how am I supposed to be in charge if I’m in a position?
Dayshift and I just stare at her blankly.
Dayshift: You need to be in position.
You are accounted for in the labor calculations.
Karen: Well, I have 6 years of management experience and I have never needed to fill a position to get the job done. Things are gonna change around here. We do things my way now.
Now, she just spent the last 2 weeks shadowing a manager that walked her through every step of the job.
She KNOWS she should be in position and why. This shouldn’t even be a question. She just wants to spend the shift sitting in the office and everyone knows it.
At this point, the dayshift manager and I are sharing horrified glances at each other. I tell Karen that she’ll need to go get people moved around if that’s what she wants because it’s her plan.
She gives an exasperated sigh and heads that way. I turn to dayshift and plead with her to call the store manager and let her know what’s going on. She agrees. I head back to the line and start working. A short time later, dayshift pulls me aside and says that the store manager said it is Karen’s shift; she is in charge.
She makes the decisions. Then she leaves for the night.
The shift proceeds to implode in a spectacular fashion. Less than an hour in, the employee working 2 positions is so filled up with tasks that orders are taking 3 times as long to get out. The drive-through is backed up and the guys stuck at the window waiting are trying to flirt with Jen, who is having none of it and getting more annoyed by the minute.
As the wait gets longer and longer, the people are becoming more and more irritated as they get to the window and they are taking it out on Jen. Things are starting to get out of hand and Karen is nowhere to be seen. I go to the office to let her know we need help and find her watching a portable TV.
I start to tell her what’s going on and she cuts me off. She tells me to get back on the line, do my job and stop bothering her. I was about to try and explain when I just thought, “You know what, screw that.” Cue malicious compliance.
I turned, walked back to the line, and watched the situation unfold.
30 minutes later, a car at the window is giving Jen an earful about how long she has been waiting. She calls her worthless and Jen goes off. She takes the large strawberry milkshake next to her, chucks it at the lady, and calls her a fat ugly witch.
The lady and the inside of her car are covered in pink goo. Everything went so silent you could hear a pin drop. Then the lady starts screaming. Jen closes the window on her and walks calmly to the back. The lady peels around the front and comes in the front door screaming for a manager.
I go and knock on the office door. Karen appears looking angry and annoyed. She tries to snap at me, but I tell her she has a customer at the front asking for the manager. Karen rolls her eyes and heads towards the front, oblivious to the storm that is waiting.
I went and found Jen huddled in the back crying again. I tell her to get herself together and head back to the front when she is ready.
I head to the line where the now purple-faced lady is screaming at Karen about dry cleaning and upholstery cleaning and “I want that girl fired.” At this point, I can see that Karen has finally realized that things have gotten WAY out of control.
She is trying to calm the lady down, but she is having none of it. Eventually, Jen comes back to the line, and the lady starts in on her again, calling her all kinds of nasty things. Karen just stood there and let the woman berate her.
Jen just kinda deflated in front of us. Watching her crumble like that just broke something in me. I walked over to Jen and said, “Just quit. You’re better than this job. And you can do better.” She looked up at me for a moment, then smiled.
She lifted her chin, walked to Karen said “I quit,” handed her name tag to her, and walked out.
Karen started apologizing to the lady who now seemed slightly mollified. Then, Karen started bad-mouthing Jen to her. Saying how she was a terrible employee and how we were all happy she was gone.
That’s when I decided I was better than that job, too. I looked at Karen and said, “The only terrible employee here is you.” And I walked out. 2 other employees walked out right behind me. We all met with Jen in the parking lot and went to an IHOP where we sat and speculated on how Karen was getting along.
Jen told me that was the first time in her life anyone had ever stood up for her.
The next day, I got a call from the store manager asking for an explanation. Apparently, Karen had struggled the entire night with service. Afterward, she had been there most of the night trying to clean and prep for the day shift and had done a poor job.
The story she had given the store manager was that Jen and I had planned everything with the intent to set her up because we didn’t like her and wanted to see her fail. Karen had basically blamed the whole incident on Jen and me. The store manager told me she was investigating to get all sides of the story.
So I told her. A few hours later, she called again and informed me that Karen was no longer employed and asked if I would be coming in that night. I asked if Jen was getting her job back. She said no. The whole shake debacle wasn’t something she could overlook.
I said then my answer is no. She was surprised. She tried to negotiate with me. I told her my price was Jen getting her job back. She said she couldn’t do that. And that was that.
If you’re wondering how Jen turned out, I married her. We are very happy and have 4 children.”
24. He Couldn't Bother To Sit Elsewhere To Stop The Sun From Shining On His Face, So He Had Another Solution
“I was once on a US military ship, having breakfast in the wardroom (officers lounge) when the Operations Officer (OPS) walks in. This guy was the definition of NOT a morning person; he’s still half asleep, bleary-eyed… basically a zombie with a bagel. He sits down across from me to eat his bagel and is just barely conscious.
My back is to the outboard side of the ship, and the morning sun is blazing in one of the portholes putting a big bright circle of light right on his barely conscious face. He’s squinting and chewing and basically just remembering how to be alive for today.
It’s painful to watch.
But then zombie-OPS stops chewing, slowly picks up the phone, and dials the bridge. In his well-known I’m-still-totally-asleep voice, he says, “Heeeey. It’s OPS. Could you… shift our barpat… Yeah, one six five. Thanks.” And puts the phone down. And then he just sits there.
And then, ever so slowly, I realize that that big blazing spot of sun has begun to slide off the zombie’s face and onto the wall behind him. After a moment, it clears his face, and he blinks slowly a few times, and the brilliant beauty of what I’ve just witnessed begins to overwhelm me.
By ordering the bridge to adjust the ship’s back-and-forth patrol by about 15 degrees, he’s changed our course just enough to reposition the sun off of his face. He’s literally just redirected thousands of tons of steel and hundreds of people so that he could get the sun out of his eyes while he eats his bagel.
I am in awe.
He slowly picks up his bagel and for a moment I’m terrified at the thought that his own genius may escape him, that he may never appreciate the epic brilliance of his laziness (since he’s not going to wake up for another hour). But between his next bites, he pauses, looks at me, and gives me the faintest, sly grin, before returning to gnaw slowly on his zombie bagel.”
23. She Couldn't Bother Paging The Doctor To Bring A Clean Bandage, So She Put The Unsterile Bandage Back On
“My grandson was born with a web of skin between his middle and ring fingers of his left hand. They waited until he was 18 months to have it repaired in a six-hour microsurgery with the area’s premier hand surgeon at that time, probably the only one, connecting nerves and blood vessels to the appropriate finger.
It also involved transplanting skin taken from his wrist. He wasn’t admitted; it was done as a day surgery and was released after he recovered from the anesthesia. We were instructed to keep him confined in his crib for 48 hours.
He wasn’t happy about being in his crib, but someone stayed with him to keep him safe and entertained.
Later that day, he gnawed at the bandage until it fell off. He threw it clear across the room, and the cat caught it and chewed on it.
We called the surgeon who told us to bring him to the ER and have him paged and bring the bandage as well.
When we brought him in, the triage nurse told us, “No need to bother the doctor.”
I protested, asked her again to page the surgeon.
She still refused. She didn’t even take us back just dealt with us in the front area. She grabbed the torn filthy bandage and shoved it hard onto the painstakingly stitched fingers, hard enough to make me wince and the baby jerk away and start bawling.
The nurse said, “That’s enough of that.”
She wrapped gauze around his wrist and said, “See, no reason at all to bother the doctor.
And you MUST try to keep his fingers out of his mouth,” in a tone that said we were stupid or lazy or neglectful or even all three.
Just then the surgeon came in, very irate. Demanded what was going on.
The nurse said, “Oh nothing. The bandage came off, so I put it back on.”
The doctor gave her a dressing down: “The bandage was dirty.
We were in an unsterile environment. There was no privacy. You didn’t page me.”
It was a good 10 minutes before he stopped. He took us back to a room where he cleaned and rebandaged the wounds then he put a hard cast on the baby’s hand and arm, so there was no way the baby could get his hand in his mouth.
The doctor gave us his card and wrote his private phone number on it and told us to forget the ER and call him directly.
The baby’s hand healed well, and he has full use of it with minimal scarring.”
Another User Comments:
“I hope you contacted the hospital administrator. “NURSES” like her are a danger to the public health and a shame to our entire profession. The risk of infection to your little one. She violated The Patient Bill of Rights several times. She should have been severely reprimanded or dismissed.” Jodi Cote
22. They Didn't Want To Check To See If They Received My Fax
“This happened about 5 minutes ago at my local DMV/MVD. I’ve been here for the past hour and 48 minutes and finally saw someone who bumped me back into the queue while my insurance company sent proof of insurance.
I have an email sent about 15 minutes ago but that apparently isn’t enough.
Anyways, there’s this gentleman standing reading out numbers even though they’re announced over the loudspeaker. While I’m on the phone with my insurance company, I approach this gentleman to ensure that they’ve received the fax so that I don’t have to call again.
Instead of double-checking or even politely declining, our docent decides to make a bit of a scene.
‘No!’ he exclaims. ‘We only take faxes of your insurance as a courtesy and you need to sit back down and wait for your turn in line!’ I’m a little taken aback, however, I want to make sure that everything is okay, so I ask the docent, ‘In the event that the fax didn’t go through, what happens?’
Well, this was apparently the wrong question for our docent as he lashes out screaming, ‘That isn’t our problem if it doesn’t come through you’ll have to come back a different day because we’re closing, I suggest you have them send it a couple of times.’ I’m a bit dumbfounded so I walked away telling my insurance agent, ‘Wow that’s possibly the biggest jerk I’ve ever spoken to in my life.’
The agent chuckles and I tell him the docent asked for the fax to be sent a few times, could he accommodate that? My agent looking to make good on customer satisfaction asks, ‘He never did specify how many times right?’ Turns out my insurance company has an auto fax system so they could send as many copies of my insurance as they wanted.
What if someone mistyped and wrote 500 instead of 50? That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? Filling their fax line while 500 faxes came through. Something so petty that only a child would do? Well, unfortunately, I’m a child and the MVD/DMV is currently receiving 500 copies of my insurance. Hope they get at least one of them.”
21. She Couldn't Bother Picking Up After Her Own Dog
Why have a dog if you can’t take care of them?
“My SO and I were renting a ground floor unit at a really nice apartment complex. I wouldn’t say it was a luxury apartment or anything, but our ground-floor unit had a little patio off the back that led out into a really nice courtyard area with hammocks, a walking path, an outdoor fireplace/seating area, etc.
A lot of people walk their dogs out there or let their kids play out in the grass, including us.
We have a 1-year-old Cane Corso. We got her when we’d been living in the unit for about 2.5 months, and she was only 8 weeks at the time.
She’s a really good dog, and we trained her well. We could let her out to go potty, and she’d come right back even if there were distractions/people/dogs out (we always stood on the patio and watched her anyways because our pet agreement said we couldn’t leave our dog unattended).
Then we’d go pick up her poop right away if she pooped (also part of the pet agreement as I’m sure is standard at most apartment complexes). We kept a small step trash can outside specifically for her poop bags because we didn’t want to throw them away inside, and the only outside trash cans were on the other side of the building (which I agree is super dumb).
It really was a small trash can, like the kind you’d tuck into the bathroom between the toilet and the wall. We also had her poop bags hanging on our patio door handle for easy access, so we didn’t have to hunt for them every time we needed them.
This lady and her kid moved in on the ground floor of our building, two units down from us. No biggie. We ran into her one day carrying in groceries, and my SO held open the door for her. She seemed kind of Karen-ish but was polite, and her kid (probably 10- to 11-years-old) didn’t look up from his phone.
Whatever, that’s pretty typical of kids these days. They also had a dog, a little black and white fluffy thing – super cute but not trained very well. Don’t know what kind of dog, but it was much smaller than our already giant puppy.
After about two weeks or so, we realized that there were dog turds in the grass right off our patio.
We found out the hard way because my man stepped in it the first time. Luckily, he wasn’t barefoot. They were clearly not our dog’s turds as 1.) we always picked up her poop right after she went, and 2.) they were very obviously from a small dog, not our 70-pound puppy.
We’d been in the apartment for about 7-8 months at that point and had never had an issue with this, so we figured it was EM’s little dog. So, I wrote her a polite note that basically was like, “Hey neighbor! We noticed that some of your dog’s poops aren’t being picked up and are right off our patio.
Per the pet agreement we all have to sign, we all need to be picking up our own dog’s poop each time they go. I’m sure it was an accident, and you just didn’t notice, so if you could make sure to do that going forward we’d appreciate it! -Your neighbors in (unit#).”
She wasn’t home, so I slipped it under the door and went back to my apartment.
A couple of hours later, this lady is banging on my door and gets really angry with me, insisting that it couldn’t have been her dog and how dare I assume.
I felt really bad, and I apologized immediately and said I didn’t mean to offend her and that it must have been someone else.
She told me never to bother her with “nonsense like this again” and stormed off. I was like okaaaaayyyyy.
Not three days later, I was sitting on my patio with a book enjoying the cool weather when I see their little dog run out of their back door – no one with it – and it comes over to me.
I said hello to the pup (because I love pups), and then it took a dump right off our patio, ran back home, and scratched the door to be let in. I saw her kid slide the door open enough to let the dog in and then closed it again without coming outside to pick up the poop.
I was annoyed because here I saw with my own eyes that it WAS their dog, and no one was even watching it when it was outside.
So I grabbed a poop bag, picked up the poop, wrote another less polite note about her kid neglecting to watch the dog or come to check if it had pooped/pick up after it, and dropped the poop bag and the note on their patio right by the door, then went back to my reading.
EM was quicker to come by this time and stomped right up to me, waving the note around. She then stated that her kid was just a kid and probably just forgot to check.
I said I didn’t care; her kid was old enough to stand outside for 3 minutes and come pick up the dog’s poop.
She said, ‘Well, there’s no poop bags/trashcans on this side of the building’ and that she didn’t feel comfortable making her kid walk all the way around the building for that.
The next part is my own fault, in hindsight. I suggested she put a trash can like mine on her patio and leave their own poop bags handy like we do for our dog.
She eyed our stuff, huffed some more, rolled her eyes, refused to do anything about the poop, and walked off. At this point, I was super annoyed.
I stalked my patio door for the next couple of days as much as I could, just waiting. And sure enough on day 2 in the evening when I was about to give up, I see the puppy run outside towards my patio.
I whipped out my phone, took some pictures of the dog outside alone (not allowed) and the dog pooping, and then took another an hour later of the poop still there and timestamped all of them.
Then I sent an email to the apartment office people who were always pretty nice, and they responded quickly saying they would give her a warning about it.
And sure enough, this lady comes back AGAIN to get mad and yell at me about how petty I was to report them to the office, and now they had a $150 fine for not picking up their dog poop. (It’s worth noting that these fines were rare.
PooPrints were not used at this complex. In order for the office to fine someone for dog poop, they had to have proof it was that specific tenant’s dog’s poop and that it wasn’t picked up. Hence the photos I’d taken and timestamped.) I told her that I had tried to be nice about it with her TWICE before, and it was her own fault at that point for not abiding by the terms of the pet agreement we ALL had to sign (everyone who had a dog at least).
She went off about how she’s a single mom, and she works during the day, and her precious baby can’t be expected to pick up after their dog. I told her that a 10/11-year-old was plenty old enough to pick up after a dog and that if they weren’t responsible enough, then maybe the kid shouldn’t be letting the dog out at all, and she should be the one to do it or maybe whoever is home with him should be looking after it.
She got angry, told me I had no idea how to be a single mom, that her mom stays with him during the day and shouldn’t be expected to look after her kid and her dog, and then she stomped off again.
I expected to hear more about it, but I didn’t.
(The ironic part is I AM a single mom; my kid isn’t my SO’s, and I raised him alone for 2.5 years before I met my SO, so yes, I do know how hard it is, and I live 1,000 miles from my closest family, so I never even had the luxury of being able to have my mom watch my kid.)
Over the next couple of weeks, we didn’t find any more dog turds off our patio.
But we did notice our poop bags were depleting and our trash can filling up way more quickly than usual. I had my suspicions and wanted to test them. We had recently bought some small security cameras for the inside of our apartment for different reasons, and I had my partner set one up outside on the patio.
We faced it where it could see our door and trash can but didn’t point to the rest of the courtyard or other people’s units (we respect privacy around here).
Sure enough, the same evening my partner set it up, I see the kid walk onto our patio, take a poop bag, walk out of frame, and then come back to throw it in our trash can.
Okay. Now I’m ANGRY but also not trying to fight this lady or her kid. So I moved the poop bags to the inside door handle. It’s a glass door, so you can still see them, but we always lock our sliding door.
The next morning, I hear someone knocking on the back patio door, and I go to see her kid standing there looking annoyed.
I didn’t open the door; I just spoke loudly enough to ask what did he need. He demanded a poop bag for his dog’s poop. I said I’m sorry, but these are our poop bags for our dog, and they weren’t free for anyone else to use.
The apartment provides poop bags in a dispenser near the trash can on the other side of the building.
The kid started demanding a poop bag, saying his mom told him he could use ours, slapping his hands on the glass a few times (trying to scare me? Yes, I’m so terrified of a ten-year-old boy…), and finally screaming at me that he’s telling his mother on me.
I said, ‘Fine, go ahead; I’ll tell her the same thing.’
Sure enough, a few minutes later, his mom is standing on my patio also demanding a poop bag for her dog’s poop.
I denied her a bag and asked her to please step off of my patio as she was making me feel unsafe and uncomfortable (my SO wasn’t home).
She told me I was a bratty child (I’m 24…), and she demanded I let her use my poop bags as I had already told her she could before. I said, ‘No, I told you to get some yourself and do what I do – keep them close by and put your own trash can on your own patio – not use the bags I buy with my own money for my own dog and then fill up my tiny trash can with your dog’s poop.’ I pointed out she could use a plastic shopping bag if she didn’t want to buy her own poop bags, or she could use the bags the complex provided on the other side of the building.
She kept going off on me, and I finally told her if she didn’t leave my patio, I’d call the police as she was harassing me (the apartment office was closed on Sundays, and of course, it was Sunday). She acted like she was going to call my bluff, but then my man got home and walked up behind me to ask what was going on, and she ended up dragging her kid away – again, leaving the poop in the grass off my patio.
So, once she was gone, I took ANOTHER timestamped picture of the dog poop, downloaded the footage from my security camera of her kid stealing my poop bags and throwing them in my trash can, and the footage from them that morning yelling at me and demanding my bags and my denying them, and emailed all of it to the apartment management.
I told them that she made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable in my own home and that she and her child felt entitled to come onto my patio and take my belongings.
I also went outside, picked up her dog’s poop, looked in the trash can on my patio, and pulled out the bags with her dog’s poop (they were significantly smaller than my dog’s poops as I’m sure any dog owners could tell the difference in poops of a 12lb dog vs a 70lb dog).
I went and opened all the bags and dumped the poops straight on her patio right outside the door.
On Monday, I heard back from the office lady who said she would take care of it.
By Friday, there was a moving truck, and the lady and her kid were moving out.
Pretty sure they were evicted or at the very least urged to move before a formal eviction process was initiated. After talking to some of our other, much friendlier neighbors, it turns out we weren’t the only ones who had been complaining about her. They’d only lived in the complex for like 2-3 months before they made so many enemies that they were kicked out.
Sometimes I think I should feel bad for playing a part in them getting evicted, but honestly, I can’t bring myself to feel guilty about it. Not my fault she was a lazy, entitled witch who couldn’t even be bothered to get a shopping bag to pick up her dog’s poop.
I never heard from her about the turds I dropped on her patio, but I like to think she stepped in them without looking and knew better than to come witch to me about it.
Sorry, not sorry.
(Also, I’m sure they were given more than a week to vacate as those are the tenancy laws here, but she packed up and left like a bat.
Guess she didn’t want to stay somewhere she was clearly seen as an enemy… I don’t know for sure that she was evicted or if she was just asked to leave or abide by the lease or what. The office can’t give out that type of info, and she and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms for her to give me the scoop about it.)”
20. Taking A Nap In The Car Halfway To School
“About a month ago now, I woke up for class, and I was still super tired. In an attempt not to look lazy in front of my parents, I drove to school, but around halfway there, I decided I was way too tired to drive, so I pulled into a parking lot, climbed in the back seat, and took a nap.
About an hour later, a bike cop in short-shorts comes up and pounds on my window, and asks what I’m doing. Being too tired and lazy to deal with angry cops, I complied with everything they told me, in the hopes that they’d go away faster. Unbeknownst to me, I had illegal substances in my pocket from the night before and was arrested and sent to jail for the night. Laziness can be deadly, kids. Empty your pockets every night, and don’t sleep in public places.”
19. My Doctor Called My Psychiatrist Down The Hall To Confirm My Condition
Or you can just examine her yourself.
“My hip broke in 2007.
The laziest thing my (former) primary DR has ever recommended for me to do is to call my psychiatrist, without even checking me himself first.
In the fall of 2007, I had been out on a walk a week or 2 before, and while I was out, all of a sudden, I felt this pain in my leg.
I never fell, so it never even occurred to me that my leg could be broken… so I thought I’d pulled a muscle. I limped home and rested as comfortably as possible for a week or 2.
After this time had gone by, I called my mother to ask her if she’d help with laundry.
She said she would but was taking me to the doctor’s office first.
At this point, it was taking me 45 minutes to crawl from my bedroom to the kitchen, about 100 feet (max), and I had already lost 2 inches in height in the leg with the problem (right leg).
When we got to the doctor’s office, I was triaged by a nurse.
She examined me and went to tell my DR what her findings were. He was right down the hall.
When she came back, instead of my DR coming back with her to examine me himself, he told her to tell me (and my mother, who was there with me) to call my psychiatrist.
My mother called my psychiatrist for me, explained the situation and how long it had been going on for, and my psychiatrist ordered an x-ray.
The x-ray showed not only a broken femur (high in the ball of my femur, so they called it a broken hip) but also where the bone had broken.
The ball of my femur had turned upward, and the broken part of my femur in my leg had moved up and those 2 bones had fused back together, making it so that leg was 2 inches shorter than the one that was fine.
I was rushed to the ER, then they rushed me to a large hospital in Boston for emergency surgery.
The surgeon ended up having to re-break the bone where the 2 pieces had fused together, then resetting it with hardware (trying to save the bones, hoping they would fuse back together).
This first surgery (in 2007) was unsuccessful … the bones did not fuse back together like the surgeon thought they would.
So in 2008, I had a second surgery, by a different surgeon, where he tried to save the bones again, using different hardware, but they didn’t fuse.
Finally, in 2009, I had a total hip replacement.
It took lots of recovery after that.
So to answer your question, the laziest thing my primary DR has ever recommended for me to do is to call my psychiatrist (without even checking me himself first), when I had in fact a broken bone. And he had been right down the hall the whole time.”
18. I Refused To Walk Upstairs To Go To The Bathroom
“I lived in a 3 story house, and the only bathrooms were on the third story. My room was on the first.
It started out innocently enough, however. At first, I’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night and just have to go, so I’d just pee in an empty Gatorade bottle or the like and toss it in the rubbish in the morning.
Then one day, I didn’t have any empty bottles in my room, and since the front door to the house was right next to my bedroom door, I walked right outside, peed in the bushes, and went back to sleep.
This went on for a while, until one day when I rearranged my room.
I ended up putting my bed right next to the window, and while moving it on my own, tripped, and fell into it. Luckily, the window was opened, so all I did was irreparably damage the screen.
I took it out, tossed it, and thought nothing of it.
A week or two later, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning with an overwhelming urge to urinate, and genius struck. I opened the window, rolled over, and peed out the window without ever leaving the warmth of my bed.
I was thrilled at my newfound discovery.
Then, one day, tragedy struck. I got intoxicated and proceeded to pass out in my bed. I awoke early in the morning once more, and the 12-pack I had consumed the previous evening was battling to find a way out of my system.
In my still intoxicated haze, I opened the blinds, rolled over, and began to pee out the window. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem except that I forgot to open the freaking window.
What proceeded to happen next was nothing short of confusion and disaster on my part.
It took a solid 5-6 seconds of full-on firehose-stream pee for me to realize what was happening.
My urine was splashing back all over me. My face, my legs, my stomach, and of course, my bed. Not only that, but it was now streaming down my window and wall. I had a problem and needed to rectify it. So I pinch the ol’ one-eyed monster and contemplate what to do.
I was unclothed and had a torrent of pee still remaining in my bladder waiting to be unleashed. I decided that there was only one option: to go outside and relieve myself. Why I didn’t just open the freaking window and finish, I’ll never know. Being hungover like crazy doesn’t exactly improve your critical thinking skills.
So I get up.
It had just gotten light outside, but I figured that it was a Sunday morning, and no one should be out there. So I open my front door and start to pee in the bushes while letting out a thunderous exclamation of relief. This also happens to be the instant that my neighbor stepped out of his front door for his morning jog.
I didn’t notice him until he said, “OP, I don’t know, and I don’t even want to know.”
I grunted something unintelligible, walked back inside, strolled upstairs to grab a bottle of water with which to rehydrate myself, and after rummaging through the fridge, turned around to notice that my roommate’s girl was passed out on the couch in the living room.
Was passed out. I had woken her up.
She looked at me in utter confusion and asked what I was doing, so I stopped in my tracks, placed my hands on my hips as if to frame the gloriousness between my legs, and told her, “Fighting a hangover. Now unless there are any more questions, I’ve got things to attend to,” and promptly went back down to my room and passed out in my urine-soaked bed.
It was not one of my greater moments.”
17. A Lazy Way Of Trying To Remember An Idea Or Thought Before Falling Asleep
“Have you ever been just about to fall asleep, when you’ll suddenly be struck by an absolutely amazing idea?
It’s something of a double-edged sword, as they say. On one hand, you’ll have conceptualized something that could be truly monumental. On the other, though… well, you’re tired, you’re finally comfortable, and it would take an excessive amount of effort to get out of bed and find a piece of paper.
Besides, if the idea is really that great, you’ll remember it the following morning.
After having let more good ideas slip away than I’m comfortable admitting, I finally started keeping a notebook on my nightstand. Unfortunately, it didn’t do me much good. I was entirely too lazy to sit up and write down coherent notes, and more often than not, I’d start doubting the brilliance of my thoughts by the time I got halfway through a sentence.
This led to me having a notebook full of half-complete scrawls and the occasional doodle, which – though possibly entertaining in its own right – was hardly the sort of creative reservoir that I had intended it to be.
So, in an effort to combat my own lethargy, I tried a different tactic.
Rather than attempting to write down an entire thought when one struck me, I decided to take the lazy route and just offer myself one-or-two-word notes.
They were each intended to reignite whatever thought process had originally prompted my ideas… but they almost never worked. One morning, I woke up to discover that I’d scribbled “SHOE MURDER” and circled it several times. On another occasion – after convincing myself that I’d devised the most emotionally evocative melody to ever grace human ears – I found a note that said nothing more than “lemon lemon lemon lemon lemon.”
Clearly, my attempts at reminding myself of things weren’t working out…
but rather than putting in a little more effort, I decided to be even lazier the next time I thought of something compelling. I reasoned (or, if we’re honest, rationalized) that since my notes weren’t having the intended effect, what I really needed to do was invoke the same state of mind that I’d been in when the ideas had occurred to me.
I would accomplish this – so I told myself – by leaving some kind of subtle prompt near my bed, then laying down for a nap later in the day.
It didn’t work. Or, well, maybe it did, but I still can’t remember what my next idea was.
I woke up to discover that I’d jammed all of my pens into a half-full glass of water as my “prompt,” and then – when I laid down for my nap – I saw fit to knock it across the room and leave a faint stain on the wall.
Maybe I was just trying to inspire myself to clean.”
16. They Couldn't Even Lock The Freaking Door
It only takes a second…
“So, this was a few years ago during my freshman year in college. I had worked hard in high school to save up enough cash to buy two TVs, a PS4, speakers, kitchen utensils and plates, a futon, and a few other smaller items.
The college I went to had suite-style living where each roommate got his own individual room. There were four of us, so we had four rooms: two bathrooms, a small kitchen, and a great room/main room. Since I was the first one who moved in, I got unpacked and settled in, making sure to leave plenty of room for everyone to unpack and claim space in the bathrooms and other common areas.
I set up one TV (the larger one) in the great room with my PS4, so we could all enjoy it, and I put all my utensils and plates in the kitchen, so we could use those as well. I didn’t mind sharing my stuff up to this point since I liked to share and put my faith in others.
However, I wouldn’t be posting here if this trusting nature of mine wasn’t changed…
Onto the story.
One night, an intoxicated college kid came barging into our room screaming at the top of his lungs, waking me up. I was about to get out of bed until one roommate, the slob of the group, ran out and kicked him to the hallway.
Since I left a lot of expensive items in the great room for us to use, this made me fear anyone could walk in and steal my stuff, and that would be the last I would’ve seen of them. So, I asked my roommates to lock the door if no one else was home, and we agreed on it.
It worked for a few days until I noticed I walked in, and no one was home, but the door wasn’t locked.
Granted, they would go to a few friends’ dorms across the hall, but they had gone out for almost 5 hours. I asked them again, but they blew me off.
A one-to-three vote doesn’t work too well at the college I attended as far as roommate agreements went, so there was nothing I could do. Anyway, there were three more instances of dumb, young freshmen walking into our dorm and either yelling or passing out on our couch with just the TV on and nothing on it.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I noticed my dishes I was sharing were in the trash along with some stainless steel utensils. As I looked around, I also saw one of the four controllers I had was smashed and under the couch, and my remote was totally lost (never knew what happened to it after all these years).
I finally asked them once more to lock the door and to try to respect my things I shared with them, but they blew me off and said, “It’s not like you use them. It’s basically ours anyway.”
With this, I got petty, and I mean petty.
I started my revenge when they went off to get booze since they wanted to play a new Call of Duty game (can’t remember which title). I first started by moving my TV and PS4 into my room, along with everything else I had out there, as well as my futon, which we used as a second couch.
It took me about thirty minutes of hard labor, but I finally had a packed dorm room, but man, it looked awesome!
But that’s my petty part; time for revenge.
After another 20 minutes, they returned with a whole group, and they were stoked to play the new CoD, until they noticed the entire great room empty, except for the couch and tv stand.
I decided to leave before they got back, but I was receiving calls and texts for almost an hour asking where I was and where all the stuff went. I decided to keep quiet and allow them to embarrass themselves in front of their friends. Not only that, but they confronted me on a few occasions to get me to surrender my items, or else they’d have to pay for new ones out of pocket.
(None of them worked and sponged off all the snacks I bought for myself, which were now safe under my bed.)
I merely said, “Oh, sorry, but they are now LOCKED behind my room since that’s the only door that is locked in this whole place. I told you I won’t share if it isn’t behind a locked room, but now it is.”
They were very unhappy and spent way more than I did on my items since I got my stuff from back-to-school sales and used work discounts to buy my items.
I probably paid nearly $1,400 on everything I bought, and they paid nearly $2,100 to get back everything I had shared, and they had to split it all up at the end of the school year. I know one thing for certain; it is fun to see three guys fight over a PS4 and a large TV since they all chipped in to pay for them.”
15. I Guess Washing The Dishes Is Too Much Of A Task
“We had a TV series here, many moons ago, entitled Steptoe & Son, which featured two rag-and-bone men (peddlers) living on the breadline.
The son had aspirations to lead a better life but was continually trapped into a life of poverty by the father and his own love of his father, who was measly, miserly, and generally unwilling to budge – possibly incapable of it too.
In one memorable episode on the radio (it made for good listening too), the son came home to find his father having a shower – with the pot plants, dishes, and laundry in the bottom of the shower tray….
You can still see some episodes on YouTube, the film stock is now very grainy, but it was a much-loved series at the time.
In advertising, there was an ad (can’t remember what it was for now), where two men come home, desperate for coffee after a night of boozing, and the next shot shows them sitting, dazed on the sofa, drinking coffee from a vase and a gravy boat, respectively.
So funny. I have done this myself before now – when I was a student.
One of my housemates used up so many dishes and pots in the kitchen that you could not cook without doing his washing up. I decided to eat out, but also to teach him a lesson.
I carried each item and stacked them all up carefully – including all the pots full of lentil and water gunk – and balanced them in a giant, highly intricate Leaning Tower of Pisa, so precariously against his door, that he could only open it safely, without spilling his disgusting mess on the floor, if he removed them all one by one.
I never had so much fun as I did creating that tower of dishes.
It was a total masterpiece. I pointed it out to my housemates and found it was the subject of much-whispered admiration in the house before we all left to go eat out.
I then left and ate out. Needless to say, he took the point and changed his ways.”
14. She Didn't Have Her Life Managed At All
“I’m still in college, and I had to live in the dorms. I transferred to a new school, so I didn’t have time to find an apartment. I got assigned a random roommate, and she seemed normal enough when I social media-creeped on her. Speaking for myself, I’m a very clean and organized person, and I’d like to think that I have my stuff in order.
But this girl – this girl… turns out she was the most disgusting and dirty person I’ve ever met.
Now onto the many things that made her the worst:
She rarely showered, and when she did, she never looked clean; her hair was always a greasy mess. And I don’t mean waiting two days to shower; I mean having four or five days between showers.
Whenever she went to the gym, she never showered after, and whenever she was on her monthly, you could… smell it. Absolutely disgusting.
She messed around with a random frat guy, and apparently, something happened during it, and she needed Plan B. Alright, I can sympathize, accidents happen.
Well, it’s 4 days after the incident, and she’s too lazy to go to the store by herself. On day 5, I offer for her to come with me to the store, and she goes, “Yeah, I probably should. I need to get that Plan B.” Then we get to the store and she’s angry about how expensive it is, and she doesn’t want to pay that much.
She reluctantly buys it, and as soon as we get back to our room, she calls her dad and tells him about the “big grocery shopping trip we just had, and she needs more money put into her account.” So, of course, Daddy puts money into her account.
She didn’t like to clean things, important things that you should clean like dishes that you eat off of.
Instead of cleaning them after she used them, she liked to use every single dish, stack them up on her desk, and just freaking leave them there. She dirtied all of her dishes by about October, and they sat on her desk until January.
Her food would constantly go bad and get moldy, and I would be the one to throw it away.
Have you ever seen clementines mold? I didn’t know it was possible, but she did it. The mold was turquoise. She also ate deli slices of turkey over the course of three weeks even though the packaging said it would go bad within 6 days of opening.
Then she tried to keep the remaining slices in our fridge over spring break, which was two weeks because she didn’t think they would go bad.
The final straw for me was when she kicked me out of our room on her birthday weekend, so she could get with someone.
Now, let me explain. I’ve needed our room for time with my partner before, but usually, we go at it when she’s not there, and I shoot her a text, so she doesn’t barge in. But she has zero class and handled this situation so poorly.
So, she asked to have the room on a Friday night because her most recent guy was coming to stay. It was already 10 pm, and I was going to go to bed within the hour, but I said fine and stayed with my partner that night.
The next day, I’m in my room studying for an exam, and she waltzes in with three of her friends that are staying with us this weekend, a minor detail she forgot to mention until they were already here.
So, I decided to let it pass and try to roll with it. They get ready here, pre-game a little, and head off to a mutual friend’s house who’s hosting the birthday party for my roommate. An hour after she leaves, she texts me. The summation of her text was, “Hey, Random Guy is going to stay again tonight, and we are both going to get really wasted.
We’re going to have fun, and I’m going to be too wasted to look and see if you’re in your bed. But also we’re going to do stuff whether you’re there or not, so you might want to get out.” I texted back “So, I don’t get a choice? I have to leave again tonight,” and she responded with, “Well, you don’t have to, but it might be awkward if you stay, haha.”
There are numerous other things she did. After spending a year with her, I realized that she’s really messed up. She moved out yesterday, and I hope I never see her again.”
13. The Company Spent $30,000 On A Lazy Solution
“The company I used to work for was a manufacturer, and it came around to us that at one point the company was having issues with the packaging machine where it would not put the product into the packaging box before sealing it and shipping it.
So, as a solution, the company brought in a 3rd party company to assess the situation and develop a solution to the problem. The solution was a 30 thousand dollar system that weighed each box to determine if it was empty or not. If it was too light, the conveyer would stop and sound an alarm, and a worker would be responsible for clearing the empty box and starting the conveyor again.
After a few months of this, the company was very happy with their production increase and started looking over the metrics for the production facility, when they spotted something odd: not only had the instances of packaging being shipped out empty reduced to zero, but the instances of the scale alarm tripping had fallen to zero.
Confused, the company sent one of the managers to the plant to find out what was going on, thinking that perhaps there was a bug in the system keeping the conveyer alarm from logging accurately.
He did not expect to see what he actually found: Attached to the conveyer about 5 feet before the scale, he saw a common house fan, set up and powered on, pointing directly at the conveyer belt, and a garbage can nearly filled with empty packaging on the opposite side of the conveyor.
When an empty package would come along the wind from the fan was strong enough to blow it off the conveyer while full boxes would not be blown off. The manager immediately questioned the worker and found that the scale alarm had been triggering far too frequently and it was too much work to constantly be walking over there to clear the alarm.
The fan fixed that. The cost for this new solution was $15. Laziness could have saved the company $29,985.
To this day, I don’t know why they didn’t try to fix the machine, so it didn’t fail to put the product into the box to begin with…
but that’s the story I heard.”
Another User Comments:
“Mother of God, they spent 30K on a scale!? The fan idea is brilliant, but there are like a billion different ways to fix this cheaper than 30 grand. Jesus almighty, that is stupid. Haha, great story!” HatGuysFriend
12. She's In Her Fifties But Refuses To Do... Anything
The bummiest of bums.
“In October I (32F) got a roommate (54F). She seemed nice enough. We chatted often and we also video chatted. We did not meet in person because she lived far away but she was coming here to finish school. I asked her if she has dependable income and she said she did (and thankfully she did).
So she moved in. The first thing I noticed was how very little she moved in with. She literally had 2 boxes. That’s it. I thought it strange a middle-aged woman had literally no furniture at all. She said she was going to buy some furniture.
Ok. No problem.
The apartment I live in is nice. I take pride in it. I have put so much money into it to make the place enjoyable and comfortable. Sofas, TVs, awesome kitchen appliances. I really worked hard to get to where I’m at. And our counters are super huge, so my roommate has a TON of room to add her things….but if she didn’t, then she was more than welcome to use my stuff.
I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to that stuff as long as you clean it you can help yourself to it!
First Red Flag – Sofa as Bed
I noticed she was sleeping on my couch. A lot. Using the decorative pillows as sleeping pillows all the time.
The first couple of nights, I figured she fell asleep watching tv. Then it became habitual. Long story short, I forced her to buy a cheap mattress on Amazon and put it in her room after two months of doing this. (She initially had an air mattress, but she would sneak into the living room when I fell asleep to sleep on the couch every night.)
Second Red Flag – Smoking
I came home early one day from a leadership conference.
She had assumed I worked a normal day (out of the door at 9:30 am and back home at 10 pm). However, this time, I walked in at 2 pm. She had a stranger in the house with her (remember, she’s from many states over), and the apartment was full of smoke.
I told her she can’t be doing this because our complex will kick both of us out and how she is lucky we do not have a downstairs neighbor.
The dishwasher broke and a mechanic came to fix it (a couple of weeks later). I received a complaint that my roommate reeked of smoke and so did the kitchen when he was installing the dishwasher.
New neighbors moved in.
Three weeks after they moved in, I received another notice that my roommate was still smoking. The neighbors smelled it coming from our vent system.
At this point, I decided to work from home. For now, I had to babysit a 54-year-old woman because her screw-ups would land me in trouble too.
Now, back in January, I had a private discussion with my leasing office.
They told me they did not put her name on the lease. They told me when she came into the office to sign the lease; they opted for her to take a background check and fill out the occupancy form instead (her smelling like smoke again gave my landlord a better judgment.
This happened back in October when she signed the papers before I knew this woman was foolish). So we made plans for her removal.
Long story short, we can’t remove her. Thank God she’s still paying rent though. She gets social security and as I said before, she doesn’t have an issue with that.
But I noticed other things.
All my plates and silverware started to disappear. One day I opened her bedroom door to see if I can find any, and they were all there.
Third Red Flag: She’s gross.
I say this because she has not showered in three weeks. She has not washed her clothes in two weeks.
She still has the same travel-size tide pod bag she came with back in October (so that tells me she has washed clothes less than 9 times since October).
She smells like socks, pee, and fish. I am stuck with her.
So to recap:
Monopolized the sofa as a bed for two months
Smoked in the home after repeatedly telling her not to
She baths about once a month.
She has never cleaned any part of the common areas of the apartment (never ever).
She smells like fish, socks, and pee.
She literally believes she is a Generation Z (she doesn’t want to hear about how it’s impossible).
She still does not have any furniture. The only thing she has to her name is a coffee pot, a $100 Amazon mattress, and a couple of suitcases (she’s still borrowing my lamp).
And the awful thing? I have another roommate who is ready and willing to move in now. And I vetted him. He seems ok enough.”
11. I Made The Pizza Guy Deliver Inside My House
It’s one thing to order pizza because you don’t want to make your own food, but to have them deliver INSIDE your home?!
“I was hungry one day, and sitting on the sofa in the living room with my laptop. The sofa is situated within a long arm’s reach of the front door, so rather than get up and fix something to eat in the kitchen, I ordered pizza on my laptop.
The delivery guy comes by, and I holler to come in. I tell him to set the pizza on the coffee table in front of me, sign, and ask him to close the door on his way out. I couldn’t be bothered with getting up and walking 10 feet; I had to keep watching The Walking Dead.
Yeah, it’s not creative, but the most truly lazy actions are not demanding of either body or brain.
Also, I’m a sack of poop.”
10. I Let My Son Draw All Over Inside Of Our House
“When my son was about 2 years old, I was exhausted. I thought we would take a nap, but he wasn’t the slightest bit interested. So, I set out a desk-sized tablet of paper for him and got him the giant bucket filled with I think something like 48 presumably water-soluble markers.
All of which he had used successfully before.
Since there were presumably no worries, I thought I would simply lie down and watch him make a pretty picture. Well, it was not long before he strayed from the tablet and started to draw on the fireplace hearth! I thought, awesome, those markers are supposed to wipe right off.
I’ll just enjoy his creativity.
Then he went to the walls, and I was so tired, much too tired to move, and was feeling really very grateful it would be no trouble at all to wipe it off later, so decided to simply see what he would create! Create he did, all around the entire room.
When he had completed the bedroom, he decided to go into the bathroom to continue rendering his masterpiece there.
Since the bathroom was completely Baby Proofed, I thought no problem. As he begins to color the cabinets, I was feeling rather grateful as I thought that would be easier than the walls to clean up.
Somewhere around there, I accidentally drifted off to sleep.
About that time, my man walks in and gasps. Our son had just completed the bathroom. I have to say by the time his father arrived, it was really impressive. Cabinets, drawers, tiles lining the tub, and walls.
The walls and the door, both sides, and our son was just finishing the outside when his father walked in. The progress from where our son started on paper, and by the time he finished was a magical array of colors, symbols, and forms.
Whereas he had begun by scribbling, he had finished with really incredible cave-like renderings.
My man was standing there gasping while our son beamed over his masterpiece mural. I really liked it although I could tell my husband was having mixed emotions. Regardless of his sentiments, I suggested we keep it up for a while and take it down later as it really wasn’t a problem because the markers were water-soluble and wiped right off.
My partner didn’t think that was correct, but I was fairly certain and showed him the bucket with the picture of the mother wiping the marker right off the wall with no problem whatsoever.
Granted this consideration would not have been an issue, but for the first time ever, the landlord was in town and had just notified him she would be visiting soon for an inspection.
Oh my God. Those markers did not wipe right off. Of course, they budged just a bit on the walls but would not move off the cabinets and seemed to have soaked through the pores of the tiles and the plaster.
I cannot remember how we got them off the bathroom cabinets, door, and tiles finally, but I remember my man paid a lot trying to paint over them on the walls because they kept leaching through.
Thank God we got it cleaned up right before the Landlord did not arrive.
I kid you not, she did not come. She only called to cancel. We were so rushed to clean it up, we forgot to take pictures. I regret that most.
I will say the advertising was spot on though. You could wash the markers with water all you wanted, and the water would wipe off. It only didn’t mean the markers would come off with the water!”
Another User Comments:
“WD-40 is good on non-porous media. Clorox bleaches water-soluble markers but other things, too. And those markers for whiteboards wipe right off whiteboard but nothing else.” Steve Dutch
9. She Assumed My Diagnosis Based On My Appearance Instead Of Examining Me
“I was in my late 20s when this happened; it still irritates me. Apparently, I had some type of flu. I never did have a diagnosis. My son was in nursery school, and my daughter was in 1st grade, and I wanted to be sure that I didn’t pass along whatever I had to them.
I also wanted to feel well enough to get out of bed. Everything hurt.
At the time, we were Kaiser members, so I called, and learned that I would not be able to speak to my doctor but could come in and wait for the first available doc.
So, I put on my clothes and made the trip of perhaps 2 miles to their facility.
I tell this story with apologies to anyone who was driving my route to the doctor’s office that day. I shouldn’t have been driving, I was simply too sick, but I was careful and had no close calls.
Please know that my eyes are light sensitive (photophobic), so my sunglasses were prescription lenses.
(I also had night-driving prescription lenses.) I did not take those glasses off once inside because the fluorescent lights in the building made my headache even worse.
Eventually, my name was called, and I walked into the examining room. My complaints were on the chart. In came a doctor I didn’t know.
She took one look at me and asked me if I was intoxicated. I asked her why, and she said because you’re wearing sunglasses.
This question took me by surprise. I explained the light sensitivity and that I never took substances. Apparently, she didn’t believe me. She decided that I had mono and ordered the tests and told me to call her the next day for further instructions.
And with that, she left the room.
So I had whatever tests she ordered, drove home, and went back to bed, now more exhausted and feeling even worse.
I called her office the next day and was told there were no instructions because as yet there were no results.
I felt even worse the day after that, so I called the office and explained to the nurse that I had been told to call the day before and had been told nothing.
She laughed and said the doctors always told patients to call too soon, but the results would be in the next day, so I could call back. I then told her I was worried that if I did indeed have mono that I didn’t want to pass it along to my children and wanted to know what precautions to take.
She told me to wait for the results. Since these were pre-computer days, I couldn’t look up any info and had to rely on the medical office for information.
I called the next day, and as usual, was put on hold. I remember lying in bed, too weak to even hold the phone which was resting on a pillow.
After 45 minutes, the nurse came on, told me the mono tests were negative. I tried to explain that I was sicker than before, hadn’t been actually examined, and still needed to be diagnosed and treated but she was gone.
I called back immediately and eventually was connected so that I could get answers but she hung up on me saying that she’d already told me the results.
This call was followed minutes later by my phone ringing.
It was the doctor who demanded to know why I was bothering her nurse. And before I could explain, she too hung up.
So I did what anyone in my position would have done. I called my mother, who in turn, called her brother, a GP, and he gave her some broad-spectrum antibiotics to take to me to use.
She did, I did, and within a few days, I was feeling much better.
Here’s what really made me angry. The doctor made an untrue supposition about me which colored her opinion about what might be wrong with me. She didn’t examine me but rather made a knee-jerk diagnosis.
When it turned out that she was wrong, rather than attempting to treat me, she decided to punish me for her prejudiced “diagnosis” solely upon seeing my sunglasses. She was also wrong about the patient call-back procedure information she gave me per her nurse. She totally ignored the fact that I had come in to be accurately diagnosed/treated because I was too sick to care for myself or my family.
I just wanted to be helped. (Note: having mono had never entered my mind, only hers.)
Here’s what makes me angry with myself, I didn’t report her. In my defense, I was still very sick for a few days so once I was better, I had a lot of catch-up to play.”
8. A Quick And Lazy Misdiagnosis
One time, I went to the doctor for chest pain that would come and go. I received a misdiagnosis of costochondritis because the doctor was too lazy to do any actual tests on me other than making sure my chest was clear to rule out other conditions.
And she asked me a few questions like if I had a history of asthma or if I suffered from seasonal allergies. Yeah… So, it wasn’t really costochondritis; it was a combination of tense muscles in my chest and acid reflux due to severe anxiety. Thanks for your “help,” doc.
“This is a fun one, and it only happened about a month ago.
So for all this to make sense you need to know, I have stomach issues and I feel sick frequently, since I’m so used to pain, I handle it well. And because I’m used to the pain I know when something is insignificant and when something is more serious.
I was sitting in a hotel room with my family on vacation and everything was perfectly fine until I stood up, then within two seconds I was in the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.
I ignored it at first, maybe it was just bad cramps. But I wasn’t on my period and it kept getting worse. About an hour later my parents started to feel concerned, especially since my lower abdomen was sensitive to touch.
It was 1:30 in the morning, and we headed to the ER.
We got there and it took the doctor 25 minutes to even talk to me. I knew from the start he wasn’t taking me seriously. It’s important to keep in mind I’m a very small child-looking teenager and I had not shed a single tear. I don’t cry when I’m in pain, I don’t think he believed it was as bad as I told him.
They gave me some pain medicine and sent me home, he said my problem was acid reflux.
I have acid reflux but this had zero of the symptoms of what that causes.
I was really tired and the pain medication was making me feel odd so I didn’t realize he was wrong until we got into the car. We’d started to drive back home when I looked at my dad and said, “Mom he definitely misdiagnosed me.”
He agreed. My aunt, who is a nurse later agreed as well. That doctor has very lazily misdiagnosed me.
That pain has not come back and I sincerely hope or never does but we still don’t know what was wrong with me. And that worries me.”
7. I Refused To Remove Cheap Earrings I Was Severely Allergic To
“I am terribly allergic to any metal that isn’t 12k + gold, but when I was younger, it never stopped me from wearing cheap earrings on a night out. My ears would get all angry and inflamed, but I’d take them out and put some Neosporin on them, and they’d be better by the next day.
Well, this one night, I was very intoxicated and my ears had gotten very, VERY infected over the course of the very, VERY long night. So painfully infected, in fact, that – in my intoxicated stupor – I decided it was a smarter idea to wait until the morning to take them out because I was too lazy to deal with how much it would hurt at the moment.
That was dumb.
What ended up happening was a gross infection that spread to my lymph nodes. The next day my ears weren’t just inflamed, they were oozing green pus. I did everything I could think of to quell the infection, but it was too late. I’d given it a whole night to incubate.
When I first pulled the earrings out, they came out with a “pop” sound, and green pus literally popped out of them. It was so gross, and it smelled like death.
By the following day what appeared to be burns appeared over my lymph nodes. Those open sores would remain there for over 3 months.
Both my ears swelled up to about 5 times their normal size and took on the texture of rubber. I could flick them, and they would literally jiggle.
The sores on my lymph and my earrings holes would just weep pus day in and day out. I did everything I could for someone with no health insurance.
I tried the traditional Neosporin/hydrogen peroxide/bandaids, etc. Eventually, I tried soaking my ears in bleach solution twice a day. Considering I had four weeping sores on my head, and I worked in food service (well, I was a bartender but still), I had to get pretty freaking creative to keep them covered.
I took to wearing a big scarf over my head and ears. Became my look for months.
It took months for the infection to go away, and even after the infection was gone, the scars lasted for like a year. All because I was too lazy to take out the cheap earrings.”
Another User Comments:
“My little brother is also allergic to metal that isn’t gold.
Not quite as bad as you, but over time, he can develop a pretty nasty rash.
When I was nine and he was five, we were sent to live with our dad for the summer. Little bro had gotten his ears pierced about four months prior because I’d gotten mine done around then, and he wanted to be just like his big sister.
Right before we left for a big camping trip, one of his earrings fell out and got lost. We were going to be gone for about a week, and we didn’t want his piercing to close up, so I gave him a pair of my earrings, not even thinking about the fact that they weren’t gold.
We went on this camping trip.
We were out on this sandy beach in southeastern Alaska that’s only accessible by boat. The weather was fantastic. A bunch of our dad’s friends were out there with us. The grownups were fishing and pulling up crab pots by day, and we were eating what they caught for every meal.
We were making campfires every night. There were other kids out there for us to run around with. Everything was great.
One day, after all the kids were sent on a quest to find the biggest shell, my brother complained to the camp “mom” that his ears hurt.
She had a look, and, “Oh my god, where did his earrings go?!” She felt around. My brother’s ears had gotten so irritated that they swelled up and basically sucked his earrings inside. Fortunately, this woman was a nurse, and she’d packed supplies in anticipation of some kind of medical emergency.
So, she did her thing, pushed his earrings back out the front of his ears, and cleaned him up. We were able to continue our camping trip without any further issues.
Then his piercings closed, and our mom got mad when she got us back months later.” Reddit user
6. He Didn't Want To Make His Own Food, So He'd Steal Mine
“My dad is an incredibly selfish and very lazy person. He will take the easy option even if it inconveniences someone else; he doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t have to do much.
I had started a diet, so I had made some prepped meals to take to work (anyone who has ever been on a diet knows how hard it is and how tetchy you get about your food).
I’m very fussy about what I eat and will only microwave certain foods (my dad knows this).
I had made some pasta and put them in the refrigerator. Some were marked with a P for pork, and the others were chicken and weren’t marked. I went to my sisters for a couple of days and took some of the meals with me.
The rest I left at home in the fridge. These were for taking to work for the rest of the week (my dad knew this!)
I came home at the weekend and I was going to make pizza for the family. I make my own dough and sauce for this.
I go to the fridge to get the stuff out to start making the sauce, and half of my meals are gone! I call my dad and ask him:
Me: Did you take my meals out of the fridge?!
Dad: I thought I could because they didn’t have a P on them!
I hung up on him when he said that (he had been told by me more than once not to touch any of them).
I was fuming at this. He knew exactly what he was doing but did it anyway because as I said he is extremely selfish. I text my mom about what he did (I don’t call her when she’s at work unless it’s an emergency as she is a nurse, and it doesn’t look professional answering her phone).
She was on a break and called me straight away.
She told me she had questioned him when she saw him taking my meals, and his response was I’d said he could.
At this point, I have steam coming out of my ears as he had royally screwed with my diet. My meals had all been measured so as to not go over my calorie intake for the day.
I had also prepped for the week, so I wouldn’t have an excuse to be lazy and grab junk.
Now I’m down half of my meals for the week and won’t have time to prep anymore because I have other things to be doing as well as making the pizza for my family.
Then the light bulb moment happens; he took my food because he was too lazy to make his own lunch… Well, have fun making your own pizza.
I made everyone else’s pizza and left him the dough for his in a bowl and enough sauce in a side dish to put on his pizza.
He was going to be back late, and I knew he would be expecting his pizza waiting for him already cooked, so all he had to do was reheat it.
I told my mom what I was doing and why. She happily signed off on it as she knew my dad would not make his own and thought it would teach him a lesson.
I wasn’t there when he got home because I would’ve thrown something at him. My mom told me that he wasn’t happy to come home after being out all day (he wasn’t at work, just out at one of his many hobbies that cost a fortune) and find out he had to make his own pizza. He didn’t and just had soup from a can. However, the next time I saw him, I got the first and only apology from him that I can ever remember.”
5. My Best Friend Refused To Be Held Accountable For The Messes They'd Make
“I’ve lived on my own for about 8 years now. I’ve been through a lot of different situations from living with an ex-lover, roommates, moving back in with family, etc. My last roommate was in her 30s, and we had a great relationship. It was time for me to move out since her partner moved in with us, and I felt like I was intruding on their “love nest.” Kinda sucked being the third wheel in my own home.
It was in a lovely area near the Jersey shore, but I wanted to be closer to my man and the hip city of Asbury, so, recently, I decided to go in on an apartment with my best friend and his chick. This is their first time living on their own (we are in our late 20s), so I knew we were going to have some adjustment periods.
Our house was not in the best area and on a busy road, and the outside of the building looks like trash, but the inside is freshly remodeled.
We have been living together for about 4 months, and I’ve really hated living here. I knew my friends smoked (I don’t smoke but don’t mind), but I didn’t know they smoked like chimneys.
When they asked if they could smoke in the house, I thought they smoked once or twice a day, and that’s what they made it out to be. I hate the smell, but despite that, if they smoked a couple of times a day I could put up with it, but that isn’t the case.
They also leave messes all over the place – from open food, to planting soil all over the table, clothing strewn all over, etc. Ya know, kid stuff. I’ve found the oven on, toasters on, wax warmers, and lit candles on, all of them through the night.
Thank God I have renters insurance.
I also didn’t know how my best friend lived. He has insomnia, so he never goes to sleep. I’m a very light sleeper and enjoyed the fact that my old roommate had the same schedule as me, but I’m going insane waking up in the middle of the night to hear the TV blaring.
Multiple attempts to get him to quiet down have gone unheard. He also only works 2-3 hours a day, so the fact that these things are so out of hand feels really lazy to me. I try to be understanding with his mental health, but there is a point where it goes past that.
I have depression too, but I’ve learned to clean up after myself. I’ve told him that him ignoring me isn’t fair, and he just “yes sorrys” me, which frustrates the life out of me. An apology without resolution is useless. Any time they have asked me to do something or them airing a grievance about me, I actually do.
I feel like they’re not keeping up their end of the bargain.
I feel like I’m living with a 16-year-old boy. I try to be vocal about anything that bothers me, in an appropriate manner. No one can read my mind, and I can’t be angry at them for doing something they don’t know is bothering me.
So I speak up about how the absolute mess of the place messes with my anxiety and mental health (if the place is cluttered, my mind gets cluttered). I tell them I don’t expect the place to be spotless, but maybe the counters not be filled with half-opened boxes of food or bags of groceries placed literally underneath the cabinet they belong in.
I ask them to keep the common area clean, so I feel like I belong there too. I ask that the whole coffee table not be filled with wrappers, empty bottles, and paraphernalia. I even wrote up a chore list and schedule to ease the pressure and to make everyone accountable for their messes.
They ignored that after telling me, “Oh, that’s a great idea!”
I’m very fortunate they pay rent on time, but I’m getting so exhausted living here. It’s worse for my mental health than I thought. I’ve told them these problems and they are either ignoring them or not taking me seriously.
I don’t know what else to do. I stay up all night, anxious and angry, and wanting to lash out. I avoid them sometimes because I hate explaining, again, that they are the reason I’m so anxious all the time. I had to force myself to decorate my room, so I felt comfortable there, but now I feel locked away in my 10×10 room.
I have my issues with moving.
I wanted this to be the last time I moved until my man and I are ready to move in with each other (we wanted to wait a bit longer since we have only been together a year). This has been move #6 for me in 8 years.
I’m exhausted. I never feel like I belong anywhere. I don’t want to move, but at this point, I feel like I have to. I hate living here. And I don’t want to ruin our friendship; it isn’t worth it. I’ve been spending more time at my man’s house because I can’t stand to be around my friends more than I have to.
I knew I was taking a risk moving in with them, and I know this isn’t the worst situation. But I hate it here, and I want to leave. We have 8 months left on the lease. I am gainfully employed still. I just don’t know what to do. I hate being in this position. Any advice helps.”
4. Just Wanting To Live For Free
“In 2013, one of my best friends from college starts talking about moving to the city where I lived. I was looking for a new place to live as well, so we decided it would be cool to get a place together.
Then all of a sudden, she got a romantic partner and wanted her to come too.
Sure, ok, no problem. We agreed and had written out a contract that I would find an apartment and pay the deposit, then when they arrived, they would pay me back 2/3 of the deposit, and all rent and household bills would be split three ways.
So, they get there and move in. And are incredibly lazy and leave pizza boxes on the floor for days at a time, which at one point, causes an ant infestation.
I send them an email two weeks before rent and utilities are due saying here’s the bill, and here’s how much you owe.
They miss the first months’ rent. And then the next four months’ rent after that. I had to enroll in grad school to stop my student loans from billing because I couldn’t afford to keep paying the rent and all the utilities on my own and pay the student loans.
Not paying their portion wasn’t an option either, because where I live, you’re all jointly responsible.
If I don’t pay their portion, we all get evicted.
Eventually, I run out of funds and have to use the $5k I inherited from my grandfather when he died to prevent us from being homeless.
I even buy their food because I’m a sucker, and they were too lazy to go to the food bank. As previously mentioned, this went on for several months.
Every month, I would send them an email saying this is how much you already owe, and here’s the new total with this month’s bills added.
They would acknowledge that they owed me and promised to pay. That never happened, and then one day, they emailed me back stating that me telling them they owed me what they agreed to pay was impacting their mental health. By that point, I was pretty fed up and about to become homeless myself, so I was like, “Your mental health is not my responsibility.
You agreed to this. Now, you need to pay me what you owe me or get out.”
Their response was to tell me that if I wanted the funds, I’d have to sue them.
So I did. I went to the courthouse and filed paperwork for small claims court.
I had them served properly to give them notification of the lawsuit and when the court date was, etc. They moved out a few days later. I notified the landlord that they had abandoned the apartment but left a bunch of stuff behind. She advised me to close the door to their room and not touch it for some months, at which point she’d certify they abandoned the stuff, and I could dispose of it.
The court date came, and I showed up, but they did not. The judge wanted to hear the case anyway, so I presented a stack of papers about an inch and a half thick of printouts of all our emails, chats, and texts regarding getting and paying for the apartment as well as receipts for everything I paid and all the emails with bills due, etc.
He read through all of it, and by the time he got done, he was SUPER angry at them and even more so that they didn’t show up at court.
So, he sided in my favor and awarded me not only everything they owed me but 12% compounding interest until it was paid off.
They have never once tried to pay… It’s been now 5 years since the court date. I am getting ready to sell their debt to a debt collection agency that will give me 70% of what they owe me. Normally, I’d be bummed about that, but it’s been so long that with the compounding interest, I’ll end up getting more than what they owed me to begin with.
Oh, and after however many months went by, and the landlord came to unseal their bedroom door and certify they had abandoned their stuff, she and the maintenance worker she brought with her found poop in the closet. So, yeah. They were great roommates.”
3. Driving Across The Street To Get The Mail
“I live in a rural part of South Texas. We have a mailbox at the end of our driveway, across the main road. It is the same for the other families that live out here in the country. The mailman comes every day except Sunday.
Here is the lazy part.
Some people come home from somewhere and decide to check their mail. So they drive across the road, pull up to the mailbox, and get their mail. Then they back up a little bit and pull into their driveway and go home.
This to me is one of the laziest things I’ve seen, and also a pet peeve of mine.
Because the vehicle, when pulled up to the mailbox, is facing the wrong way for that lane of traffic, and also because they tend to back up without checking traffic first. Many times I have had to slow way down and go carefully around these lazy, no-driving fools.
Me? I pull into the driveway, get out of my car and walk across the road to the mailbox. Much safer that way, and it only takes a minute or two. But some people are just too lazy to do this. I hope I never have a wreck on account of these lazy mailbox checkers.”
2. She Demanded The Desk To Be Cleaned, So We Used Her Backpack To Clean It
“I was in ninth standard, and it was lunchtime.
What usually happened was that one desk is selected, and all the students would be fed there. Mommies poured in a lot of love (and food) for their lovely kids in their lunch boxes.
Everybody surrounded the desk and opened their lunch boxes.
As soon as the boxes are opened, Maggi and ramen noodles vanished first. One boy would be found crying because his ‘friends’ ate all his paneer. The guy with the louki (bottle gourd) was treated like an untouchable.
When it’s all done, we’d leave a lot of mess behind.
The animals didn’t know what table manners were.
One fine day, for some reason, the girls lost their minds. They weren’t happy with the monkeys.
“Just look at the mess you have done,” said a girl.
We had our heads down. We did feel guilty.
“What happened to the girls today? They never objected before?” said my friend.
“My mother scolds me the same way.
Maybe she is training to be a mother too. She is going to have kids someday.”
“Makes sense, but we aren’t their kids.”
“Are they pregnant?”
“No, they are just fat,” we giggled.
“Are you boys even listening?” Screamed one of the future mommies.
“Oh yes, we are.” Of course, we weren’t.
“But this is my seat, why do you care, miss?” I asked.
“Because this is our class, and it is our duty to keep it clean.”
I didn’t know what to say.
She had a point.
“Now, get this cleaned, or else I will tell the teacher,” saying this much, she left.
Back to her friends, she was brimming with pride.
Deeply moved by her words, I asked my friends to do what she said.
Soon, the desk was cleaned and dusted till it shone like new. We managed it on our own without help.
The girl looked happy and proud, but our happiness actually knew no bounds. (We used her bag to clean the desk.)”
1. Getting Clever With Avoiding Household Responsibilities
“During college, I shared an apartment with 2 other guys, and we had a shared kitchen area. We had an agreement to rotate doing the dishes, but I started making notes. One of my roommates would say, “I did the dishes yesterday; it’s your turn other roommate.” And when it was supposedly my turn, I’d just leave it there or hide the plates under the sink.
And I kept this up for 5 months before they figured it out.
Hmm, also worth noting, I just got a student loan, never showed up for classes, and just played pc games.
Oh, and I’d call up one of the roommate’s girls getting them to clean and vacuum the place (also worked for a while, until he found out).
Hmm, this reminds me of when I was younger, living with my dad.
He had this rule that every day he’d give us some chores, and then leave for work. Then I and my brother would split the chores (or that was the general idea).
But I found this nifty trick. Let’s say we were supposed to take out the dishes and hang up the laundry.
I’d tell my brother we have to vacuum the 1st and 2nd floors, do the dishes, and hang up the laundry. You can choose what you want to do; I’ll do the other. He’d feel all clever and say he’ll do the dishes and hang up the laundry and leave me with the vacuuming!
BUT!!! There was no vacuuming.
I’d just add stuff, and this way, I could just relax and play video games. Sometimes I’d just put on the vacuum and leave it on for 5-10 minutes for good measure.
Now I live on my own and have to do my own laundry (which kinda sucks). But I just hang my clothes to dry and never fold them. I just get them from where they’re hanging and put it in the washer, and when it’s full, rinse repeat, pretty clever.”