People Acknowledge Their "Do Exactly As I Was Told" Revenge Stories

Something I've learned throughout my short 24 years of life is that a lot of people don't like to be told what to do, but in the end, we often do what we are told. Doing what we're told helps avoid drama, punishment from our parents, detention in school, and even losing our job. Not to mention, doing as we were told can also help us become more responsible, less self-centered, more careful, and better at respecting authoritative figures. On the other hand, sometimes rules and instructions not only suck, but they just don't make sense. Other times, they seem very counterintuitive if not more dangerous and less convenient. Let's just say that people followed these ridiculous requests, rules, and verbal set of instructions below, and it ended up not so positive for the person who provided them with such.

13. Yes, French Stepmother, Americans Can Cook

“Dad came into town to visit my brother (let’s call him Mark) and me for a few days and brought Gabrielle, my stepmother, with him. Gabrielle has her good traits, but she does have this one really nasty trait. She is notoriously picky/critical when it comes to food. You know the stereotypical snooty and rude French character in movies/books who always complains, “That is not how this is done in France?” She’s this way when it comes to food.

Going out to eat with her is embarrassing. She constantly sends back food, is insistent on food being made a certain way, and always demands certain things done a certain way. One time, she asked the waiter to bring some mustard to the table, and not 2 minutes later, she called him back because “the mustard is old; bring us a new, unopened bottle.” More than once, I’ve had to apologize to the wait staff on my family’s behalf and told the manager that I will vouch for them should Gabrielle leave a bad review on their site.

She’s made waiters and managers cry.

She’s that bad. Honestly, I have no idea why Dad puts up with her when she does that, even though I know he’s just as embarrassed as Mark and I are. We can only chalk it up to Gabrielle having a magical hoo-ha.

When they got here yesterday, for some reason, they insisted they wanted to go out to dinner. Dad recommended our new favorite diner, which is known for its breakfasts at any time of the day.

We live close to a major interstate and the saying about truckers knowing all the best diners and holes in the wall in all 50 states and then some is true.

It’s a greasy spoon in every sense of the word. Right out of the 1950s, every leather booth filled with truckers or locals, waitresses who automatically know their regulars’ orders by heart and don’t put up with crap from anyone, a bustling kitchen, and while spotless, is just worn enough to let you know many people have been there.

In other words, it has character.

It may not look like a 5-star restaurant, but it has some of the best breakfasts you’re ever going to eat.

I was hesitant to take Gabrielle there if only because I didn’t want to ruin the staff’s day.

Mark and I have been there enough times that the wait staff/cooks know us. However, Dad wanted Gabrielle to experience “a true American classic” and was offering to pay. So off we (reluctantly) went.

Luckily, we got there during a not really busy time, so I told Dad to find a parking spot, and I would go in to get us a table. The reason I did this was so I could warn the staff about Gabrielle and apologize in advance for anything she did.

Fortunately, our usual waitress (let’s call her Mary) thanked me for the warning and warned the rest of the staff.

We go in, get our booth…and Gabrielle tries pulling her usual stunts. I won’t go into everything she did because we’ll be here forever, but I’ll leave a highlight reel.

Gabrielle sent Mary back three times with the coffee because (in order: “it was too cold,” “it was too hot,” and “not enough cream”).

Finally, Mary (who doesn’t let anybody push her around) just slapped the coffee pot on the table along with the cream/sugar and told Gabrielle to make do because she wasn’t going back to get her darn coffee. This made Mark and me chuckle and Gabrielle steam.

While waiting (and probably still stewing from Mary’s little come back with the coffee), Gabrielle decided to accost Stephanie, who had just started, and tell her to get some fresh biscuits.

Not ask. Tell. Poor Stephanie (who is understandably anxious about her job) does as told and then Gabrielle made a fuss about the packets of butter not being soft enough, despite Stephanie explaining that all the butter was kept cold for safety reasons. Gabrielle made a snide remark about how Stephanie couldn’t wait five extra minutes to let the butter soften, which made Stephanie tear up and me about ready to tell Gabrielle to go hook up with a French chef if the food was that important to her.

When our meals did arrive, Gabrielle was quiet during the meal, not making comments.

I was unsure what was going to happen as a result. Either she really liked it (which I doubted, seeing as I’ve never seen her compliment anyone’s cooking whenever we’ve gone out), or she was planning some nasty barb (which I feared). When Mary dropped off the bill, Gabrielle took it before Dad could and said she was paying. Because I was sitting next to her, Gabrielle left a big fat 0 in the tip line and left a note about, “It’s cute that American chefs think they’re good cooks when they’ve never stepped in a real kitchen before.

Prove me wrong,” before closing the little book the receipt came in and hiding it, so nobody else could see what she wrote.

I was angry when I read that note and was about ready to slap Gabrielle. I know the chefs/servers who work at this particular diner learned their skills on the job and, if you ask me, they have every right to be as proud of their work as someone who went to culinary school would be.

While I’m looking at going to culinary school myself to become a pastry chef, I respect people who’ve learned by working in kitchens/on the floor because they have first-hand experience.

I took out $100 using the ATM at the diner and gave it to the staff as a tip along with an apology for her behavior, embarrassment, and anger. Fortunately, they didn’t hold it against us (except Gabrielle) and told me that Mark and I were always welcome back.

I also decided I was going to get back at Gabrielle.

There was a benefit to this 2019 world shutdown.

During this time, bored out of our wits and wanting to better our skills, Mark and I have been binge-watching recipes and cooking how-to videos online along with practicing. And while I don’t like bragging, I’d say we’ve become quite good. We know how to smoke our own bacon, cure corned beef, make creamy scrambled eggs and bake flaky croissants, and that’s just a sampling.

When we got home, I told Mark my plan, and he was grinning ear to ear.

The next day, while Gabrielle and Dad still slept, Mark and I got up early and got right to work.

We prepared scrambled eggs, home-cured/smoked bacon, biscuits, and a fruit salad. Dad woke up early and smelled the breakfast, waking up Gabrielle by saying that the kids were making breakfast.

Dad came downstairs first and Mark asked him to set the table. Gabrielle came down as we were finishing up and she sits down, not offering to help.

While Gabrielle commented about how it smells just like a restaurant she went to in France and couldn’t wait to taste everything, Mark and I served Dad and our plates before putting everything back.

Gabrielle looked at us, confused.

I looked at her, “Oh, I thought you were going to a French cafe for breakfast,” I said. “You did write on the receipt at the diner that you thought it was cute Americans think they’re good cooks if they haven’t set foot in a real kitchen and you wanted someone to prove you wrong.”

Dad looked at Gabrielle, his eyes wide as all the color drained from Gabrielle’s face.

“You wrote what?!”

“Well, hop to it,” I said, sitting down. “Enjoy your French breakfast with your French chefs.”

Gabrielle’s face reddened before she left. I don’t know if she was embarrassed or angry, but we were able to have a nice breakfast without any of Gabrielle’s complaints.

She did come back after getting breakfast and has been nice and quiet all day. Hopefully, she’s learned her lesson and Dad grows a backbone.

Not long later…

Dad and Gabrielle were supposed to stay with us for a few days before I returned to work next week.  They left this morning but not before they had a vicious argument last night after my brother and I went to bed. And when I say vicious, I mean it was so loud that we could hear every word. Thank God the neighbors couldn’t hear; otherwise, we might’ve had the cops called on us.

Dad chewed Gabrielle out on what she wrote on the receipt and reminded her that she had promised him she’d be on her best behavior.

After all, this restaurant was special to not just Mark and me but Dad as well. Gabrielle defended her actions, saying that it was not what she likes, etc. until she finally blew up and revealed the real reason she threw that tantrum in the restaurant.

It turned out, Dad was planning on surprising Gabrielle on a trip to one of the best restaurants in town to celebrate their anniversary (which was yesterday).

She had found the reservations by accident and thought they were going to it the night they arrived when he was planning on taking her tomorrow to make it a real surprise.

So us going to the greasy spoon instead of the super nice expensive restaurant really upset her, and she thought he was catering to his kids instead of her. The argument finally ended when Dad took to the couch downstairs, fed up with her nonsense.

So they left this morning. Dad did tell me before they left that he was going to have a serious talk with Gabrielle about her behavior and that until she learned her manners, he was not going to take her out anymore, even to our place.

Hopefully, that will be either the wake-up call to Gabrielle to behave or to Dad that he should get out.”

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12. Never Leave A Spill Unattended? Will Do

“I used to work at Walmart and the store I worked in had a rule that if you see a spill, you are to guard the area to keep customers from slipping and falling. You were not to leave the spill for any reason while you flagged down another employee so that they could fetch cleaning supplies (only managers and the cleaning crew had radios). I understand the logic here as a lawsuit would certainly cost much more than an hourly employee’s time standing next to a spill until it was cleaned up.

However, there are a few issues with this in practice.

I worked the evening shift in the Meat Department and most days I was the only person in my department. I was situated between Frozen Foods and Produce, which more often than not only had 1 person shifts as well but they also closed much earlier than my department. This meant that I was the only person in my corner of the store for about half of my shift.

If I came across a spill there was no telling how long I would have to wait around for another employee to come by because there was literally nobody else working in or around my area.

Also, being in the Meat Department, we had multiple cleaning stations all around. One was always a few steps away.

One day, while working alone I noticed a small spill. So I stood next to it per procedure for about 10 minutes.

In this time nobody, customer nor coworker, had even entered my view. I couldn’t help but think how dumb this was as I could see a cleaning station just on the other side of a bunker. I decided to throw in the towel and just go get the cleaning supplies and take care of it myself because even if a customer did come around, I could still see the spill and easily call out to them to watch their step.

Unsurprisingly, I was able to make the round trip without any incidents. As I was cleaning it, a manager came walking up and took notice of me.

Manager, ‘What happened here?’

Me, ‘Just a spill. I’ve got it all sorted.’

Manager, ‘Did you just happen to have cleaning supplies on you?’

Me, ‘No, but they were just right there. I was able to fetch them without losing sight of the spill.’

Manager, ‘That’s not how we do things! Someone could have gotten hurt!’

Me, ‘No, as I could have called to anyone that came near it.

I was never more than a few steps away.’

Manager, ‘Doesn’t matter. You should have stood next to the spill and waited for someone else to come by.’

This when on for a few minutes but the manager was not budging so I conceded. That was not good enough for him as he then proceeded to write me up for ‘Negligence and unsafe work practices.’ I was livid, but I was also a college student and needed the job so I just kept quiet and returned to my shift.

A week or two later as I was once again the only person working in my corner of the store, I happened upon another spill. This time I shrugged and decided to guard it as if my job depended on it.

I checked my watch and noticed that I had about 3 hours left on my shift and had a small laugh at the thought that I might be standing in that spot guarding a puddle instead of closing my department.

10 minutes passed. 30 minutes passed. 1 hour passed.

Around this time I was bored out of my mind, but then I heard a call over the intercom system that made it so much more worth it. ‘We need an associate from the Meat Department to the back for a truck.’ This was followed by a few other calls for other departments for their trucks arriving as well.

I started laughing out loud at this because I knew that this meant that the very few people that were likely to come by my department were now at the loading dock unloading trucks while I stood guard over my puddle.

A few minutes passed before I heard the second call, ‘We need an associate from the Meat Department to the back for a truck.’ I just stood there counting the lights on the ceiling.

1 hour left of my shift and there still had not been a single fellow employee walk by. I assumed everyone was starting to finish up their own trucks by this point and would likely soon have to start unloading my truck as well.

I was watching the minutes go by in anticipation trying to decide if someone would come find me before my shift ended or not.

I got my answer 15 minutes before the end of my shift as the very same manager from before came storming through the Meat Department furious. We made eye contact and he stormed over to me and started yelling about how they have been calling for me to unload the truck and how they are now behind schedule and so on. Once he took a breath long enough for me to speak I asked simply, ‘Can you go to a spill station and grab something to clean this up? I’ve been here a while now.’ He glanced down at the puddle next to me and I thought he was going to explode.

Manager, ‘You mean to tell me that you didn’t unload the truck because you were watching a spill?’

Me, ‘Yes.’

Manager, ‘Why didn’t you just clean it up?’

Me, ‘But leaving the spill would be unsafe for any customers. Besides, you wrote me up for doing that very thing recently, right?’

The manager tossed his hands up in defeat and walked the 15 steps away to the nearest spill station and returned with supplies, that he promptly gave me to clean the spill myself.

Manager, ‘Once you are done go back to the loading dock and start on your truck.’

Me, ‘Sorry, I have only about 10 minutes left on my shift and as I’ve been standing here guarding the spill I never got my second break. So I’m going to the break room for a bit before clocking out. You’ll need to find someone to close down my department as well.’

The manager just stomped off in a rage. I cleaned up the spill, played on my phone in the breakroom for a bit, and clocked out with a smile on my face. I know that the manager just made someone else do all the work and wasn’t personally affected by this, but knowing that I could be a thorn in his side was enough for me.”

26 points - Liked by erho, tewi, arspoetica028 and 23 more

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Alliaura 2 years ago
As a former associate I can attest that yes, they're really that petty. I don't miss working there.
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11. Think You Don't Need Help With Your Serious Injuries? Fine

“To fully understand this story, we have to understand the Good Samaritan laws in Canada. These laws can pretty much be the “malicious compliance” of a first aider’s utility belt, as it allows us to help people who don’t want to be helped.

Good Samaritan laws offer legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance to those who are, or whom they believe to be, injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.

These laws in Canada protect you while you are performing first aid and something that all Volunteer First Responders should be familiar with. However, there are a lot of nuances involving the Good Samaritan Laws that you are required to follow.

For example, much of the wording within the law is worded specifically so that you still require certification to perform the first aid. If you screw up while performing first aid and don’t have proper certification, you can be held liable.

Another instance where the Good Samaritan Laws come into play is that “in best interests of the plaintiff” is commonly used.

Some of the first things you do as a first aider when you arrive on a scene is ensure it is safe for you to be there, attract attention, and introduce yourself to the victim.

“Hi, my name is OP, and I’m a first responder. Can I help you?”

“Get the heck out of my face. I don’t need your help,” says the person on the ground with an amputated leg and losing an extraordinary amount of blood.

Now, in the law’s eye, that person has stated that it is in his best interest to lie on the ground and bleed out.

There are some things that can overrule this (such as a medical alert bracelet with Do Not Resuscitate), such as a guardian saying otherwise, but at that point, my hands are tied. Most I can do is call an ambulance and possibly follow the person, but I cannot help directly help that person.

Unless of course, the situation changes. If the person falls unconscious, you are good to go in most situations (again, there are rare occasions that I personally never encountered where you still can’t help the person, but I can’t recall them).

While the person is unconscious, even if they fell unconscious after telling you they don’t want help, the law assumes it is that person’s best interest to help him. Keep in mind this event happened 10 years ago, so things may have changed since then.

This is the part the malicious compliance comes into play. In most situations, you know the person is only going to worsen his condition.

You could continue to insist that you help him, or you could just wait for the inevitable to happen. Sometimes, the latter is required to not worsen the situation or put yourself or others in harm’s way.

This leads to some rather interesting situations.

Everything is recorded on tape since I have horribly bad handwriting. Rather than writing a patient care sheet, I would provide the paramedics with a voice recording of events.

It’s not as efficient as I need to find a chance to transfer the recording, but it leagues better than my actual, unreadable handwriting, especially under stress. A lot of the time, it’s just as easy to stop by the hospital/ambulance depot to pick up my recorder from them if I was alone or have a bystander write the patient care Sheet for me.

As such, the events are fairly accurate, despite this occurring 10 years ago.

I keep all my recordings just in case something comes up.

The scene was at a public campsite, some distance away from civilization. I was technically not on duty (I was on vacation), but someone called for help at one of the camp lots. I arrived and found a man, probably late twenties, at the base of a tree, blood coming from his head and a large gash down his arm.

I asked the lady what happened, and she explained her man fell out of the tree while he was hanging up a tarp to protect from an upcoming storm.

At this point, I realized two things: a) possible head and spinal Injury – secure the head immediately, and b) his partner is not on the list of people who can give me permission to assist this person.

Another first aider showed up at this point, and I went to introduce ourselves.

Me: “Hi, my name is OP, and this is a first aider. We are first responders.

Can we help you?”

Patient: “No, I can handle this myself.”

Patient’s partner: “Just let them help, I saw his card.”

Patient: “No, just let me lie here and collect myself.”

Me: “Ok, well, if it’s ok with you, Patient’s Partner. Can we stay nearby in case things get worse?”

Patient’s partner: “Of course.”

His partner went and boiled some water for hot chocolate and coffee for me and first aider, giving us constant updates of the patient’s condition.

Seems she had some first aid training too but only the bare bones. First Aider ran to use the public phone to call an ambulance. During the time First Aider was gone, the patient fell unconscious.

I went up to him, and asked the unconscious body, “Can I help you now?”

No response. I start working. I showed his partner how to secure the head properly as First Aider was still not back and started looking for more injuries.

There was also a puncture wound on his hip where a branch was sticking in, but it was superficial compared to everything else. I started with the head as the injury seemed more severe and made a bandana out of a towel.

Five minutes later, there is a gut-wrenching scream, “What the frick are you doing?”

I turn around and saw that Patient had woken up. His partner is trying to calm him down and stop his head from moving, but he was fuming.

Patient: “I told you I didn’t need any help.

I’m fine.”

Patient’s partner: “You’re not thinking straight. Insert lovey-dovey stuff here.

Me: “Sir, please stop moving. We don’t know if your neck or spine is broken.”

P: “Ok, fine. I won’t move, but take this darn scarf off my head.”

Oh great… the last thing I wanted to deal with.

Me: “Are you sure? You are bleeding pretty badly.”

The patient started cussing and swearing. “I have my rights; I’ll have you arrested and charged,” etc, etc.

So, I removed the bandage.

Blood started flowing freely from the wound again, and already his face was getting paler.

It was at that point First Aider arrived with Security.

First aider: “Ambulance will be roughly a half-hour.

How is…”

Patient: “You called a fricken Ambulance?”

Security: “Please sir, calm down. (You could aggravate your condition.)” (This guy wasn’t being picked up well on the recording.)

Patient: “Frick that; I’m not paying for that.”

Me: “It doesn’t cost anything for them to perform an examination on you.”

Patient: “You’re not making me…”

At that point, there is a brief pause in the recording, and my voice comes over.

Me: “My name is OP, and I’m a medical first responder, can I help… Can you hear me… Patient attempted to violently move his head.

He immediately fell unconscious. Restarting first aid. First Aider, can you secure the head. Security, can you get an AED just in case. Patient’s partner, in your First Aid kit, there was a booklet. Get that and copy down what I tell you.”

At that point, I guess I turned off the recording as that was the end of it. I remember the patient started fading into and out of consciousness, each time flying into a fit when he woke up.

We just stood back and let him have his temper tantrum before he went back unconscious. When the ambulance arrived, he had been unconscious at that point for 10 minutes, so we thought he was down for the count.

Come to find out, he was from the USA where medical bills were insane, hence the reason why he was so insistent on not getting help; he thought I was going to charge him for my first aid.

I didn’t even think that was a thing. I was just doing it because I knew how to.

His partner and I stayed in contact via email for a short while. He was diagnosed with a concussion and internal bleeding. There was a chance he was going to suffer permanent damage, but he managed to pull through. He later on apologized for his behavior, but I just brushed it off. You do stupid things while you’re suffering from trauma, so I told him it wasn’t his fault. I still have a card the pair sent as a thank you.

“Thanks for being stubborn enough to save my life.”

I don’t think I saved the guy’s life, but I do think it could have been worse than it was.”

21 points - Liked by erho, arspoetica028, dawo1 and 18 more

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jjma 3 years ago
The US is messed up. Just an ambulance ride to the ER can cost $500+. I was in the ER for only 3hrs, no meds or IVs, and only a EKG and basic monitoring. My 3hr stint cost me over $2,000 out of pocket.
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10. Sure, We'll Unload This Lumber Around You

“So this happened earlier today and was too perfect to not share. I work in construction as the foreman for a new house build. The location is kinda strange, the house is 250 feet up a hill via a footpath only.

All of our materials have to come up this footpath by hand, it’s a pain in the butt to manually carry, quite literally, an ENTIRE HOUSE up this hill.

One of our saving graces is having the two parking spots on the street at the bottom of this hill marked with official No Parking signs. Unfortunately, there is an elementary school about half a block away and the parents of children seem to regularly (at least twice a day) think it’s ok to park in our spots. Now I consider myself a reasonable person, so if someone is parked in the spots and we don’t have a delivery or a need to park a truck I will let it go.

If we need the spots and there’s someone parked there, however, I will ask them to move nicely and most of the time they do so immediately.

Until today.

I get a phone call from the lumber delivery truck that is en route to our location, he says he’ll be there in about two or three minutes. I let him know I will meet him on the street and make sure he has space to park.

He’s carrying all of the material to frame the roof of our house, which is a lot of really big lumber and will take easily an hour to bring up the hill, so naturally, I didn’t want him parked in the middle of the street with his hazards on for an hour, when we have a perfectly good parking spot for him.

As I begin my trip down the hill, I notice there is a school parent sitting in her car idling, assuming she’s just waiting to pick up her child, I walk up to her car and politely let her know that she is parked in a no-parking zone and we really need her to clear it to park a delivery truck.

She scoffs at me and rudely states back, ‘I’ll just be a few minutes, and your truck isn’t here, take a chill pill dude.’ Before I can respond, a giant lumber truck comes around the corner and I wave to him and then gesture towards him to the woman in the car who has now put her window back up to ignore me.

I put on my best customer service smile and wave at her through the window, she put it down halfway and angrily shouts ‘WHAT!’ By now the truck has pulled up alongside her car and I politely ask her again, with a stronger tone of voice to move her vehicle, reminding her that she is illegally parked in a tow-away zone.

Then she gives me this wonderful idea, she says, ‘Can’t you guys just unload around me? Jesus, it’s not that hard.’ I give her another smile and walk away, a brilliant plan forming in my head.

I instruct the delivery driver to park as close to her as possible and block her in with the porta potty that is at one end of our reserved spots and the parked car that is parked just adjacent to our spots on the other end.

He smiles because he immediately gets what I’m trying to do, and proceeds to expertly block this lady and her car into a little two parking spot jail. We unstrap the lumber and my guys begin humping material up the hill, meanwhile, I call the police parking enforcement to let them know the situation. At this point in time, I wasn’t trying to get her in trouble, I just wanted a record of why we were blocking part of the street so we don’t get in trouble with the city.

The very friendly traffic officer lets me know that she can be there in about 30 minutes and deal with the situation for me, wonderful! As we continue to unload lumber the child of the parent shows up, and wouldn’t you know it Mom is just now realizing that the lumber truck is parked so close she can’t get out of her driver’s door to meet her kid.

She awkwardly clambers across the inside of her car and stumbles out the passenger door, shooting glaring looks at me and the truck driver in the process. She loads her kid into the back and then begins to realize that she has no way of leaving. She comes storming up to me and the driver and states, ‘I’m in a big hurry, you need to move your darn truck right now so I can go.’ Before I can respond, the driver gets a grin on his face and says, ‘Ma’am in order to unload the lumber on the truck we had to unstrap it, and per our company policy I’m not allowed to move the truck with an unsecured load on it.


This sends her into near aneurysm levels of blood pressure, meanwhile, I can barely contain my laughter. ‘Screw your policy I have somewhere to be!’ She barks back at him.

At this point, with impeccably convenient timing, the parking enforcement officer shows up and parks behind the truck. The angry lady doesn’t see the officer arrive and while the officer is still getting out of her vehicle I just casually say, ‘Can’t you just pull out around it? It’s not that hard.’ With the biggest poop-eating grin I’ve ever had, I watch as she realizes that I just used her line on her.

‘Fudge you!’ She yells, and storms back to her car and angrily clambers back in through the passenger door and into the driver’s seat.

At this point the officer is walking up to myself and the driver, before she can even introduce herself, the Mom in the car slams it into reverse and stomps on the gas, crashing into our porta potty and knocking it over, and then throws the car into drive and tries to mount the curb and drive on the sidewalk.

The officer, driver, and I are staring in disbelief as she gets halfway over the curb and gets stuck.

I can hear her screaming obscenities over the idling truck from inside her car. The officer promptly walks up to the door of the car and orders her out. My favorite part of the entire thing is watching her face go to shock as she realized she just did all of that in front of a police officer.

She gets slapped in cuffs as the parking officer calls for a second unit and she is promptly sat on the very curb she tried to drive over.

She sits on the curb yelling to the now two officers about how we told her she could stay there and that we never asked her to move.

The traffic officer responds that she was the one who was originally called when the mom first refused to move and that she already knows what’s going on.

While the driver and I are giving a report to the second officer, my guys finish moving the remainder of the lumber and the driver finishes his statement and takes off to go back to the yard.

By the end of the ordeal, the mom was arrested, charged with Child Endangerment, (her kid was in the back of the car the whole time) Reckless Driving, Destruction of Property, (the porta-potty), and Driving on a Suspended License.

On top of all that she also got her car towed, the kid went home with his grandma and she went to spend some quality time in a cell. I never expected her to actually heed my advice to ‘just pull out around it.’ But I think next time she’ll probably think twice about parking in a tow-away zone if she ever gets a license again”

20 points - Liked by erho, arspoetica028, shse1 and 17 more

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lara 2 years ago
Karma is a witch
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9. You Said You Wanted All The Yellow Flowers We Had

So, here they are!

“I was freshly cross-trained onto the sales floor of my flower shop and had just started answering the phones by the registers. Incoming phone calls from guests are set up to go to the phone center lines first but forwarded to the floor if no one answers. I was the lucky one to answer a particularly grumpy regular who we’ll call May. May already had issues with me because I was new, and I had issues with her because I don’t let people walk all over me, customer or not.

She also was generally a problematic customer. I was just her current target for being new.

The phone call goes something like this:

Me: Local Flower Shop. This is OP speaking. How may I help you?

May: OP? No, I need someone else.

Me: I’m sorry, no one else is available. (A lie, but no one was near a phone) How can I help you, May?

May: I need yellow flowers.

Me: …

What kind of flowers?

May: Just yellow flowers! Are you so slow that you don’t know what yellow flowers are?

Me: Well, we have a large selection of yel-

May: You know what, just give me all of them.

Me: All of them?

May: Are you deaf? Yes all of them. And charge it to my card on file, so I can just grab them and go.

At this point, I wave over the sales manager and switch the call to speaker, so he can hear it.

Me: Ok, so just clarifying, May, that you want ALL of the yellow flowers we have in stock, and –

May: YES! And charge it to my card.

I’ve wasted enough time talking to you about it; I don’t want to wait for my receipt at the counter. I’ll be there in 2 hours.

I raise an eyebrow at the sales manager. He gives me a bewildered thumbs up and head nod, and I tell her we’ll have it ready. Sales Manager and I then proceed to pull roses, spray roses, chrysanthemums, snapdragons, literally hundreds of bunches of flowers.

We are the biggest florist in the state, and we get the mums in boxes of 24, and never less than 15 boxes a week, so that honestly took up the majority of it. The entire time, the Sales Manager is saying how May will never actually take all of this, but he doesn’t like people sassing off to his workers, so he was more than willing to play along.

He did have the foresight to not charge her card, as when we finished ringing everything up it came to a whopping $1,000+ order. Between the two of us and some helping hands here and there – some of the other sales clerks learned what happened – it took a good portion of those 2 hours to get everything together, and Sales Manager had to leave before we were finished to handle a different matter.

May comes in, already glaring at me, and asks where her order is.

I smile at her and gestured at the 20 or so buckets of yellow flowers surrounding the pick-up area. It honestly looked like a display, we had so many buckets. While she’s doing her best imitation of a suffocating fish, I tell her as nicely as possible, “I just wanted to check that you wanted this order charged to one card since $1,000 is a lot of money.”

You could hear her brain short circuit before she went beet red and said, “This isn’t what I meant! Where is Sales Manager?” I call him over on the radio, and sure enough, as soon as he comes over, he’s asking May if we pulled enough yellow flowers and that we had more coming in early tomorrow morning if she wanted them.

She starts stuttering about how this isn’t what she ordered and how incompetent I am, etc.

until Sales Manager says, “OP confirmed with you that you wanted all of the yellow flowers in stock, and these are all of the yellow flowers in stock. If you wanted specific flowers or quantities, you would have to specify those with our sales clerk when placing your order.” At this point, she grabs an armful of daisies and some roses and stomps off to the registers.

The store got a rather nasty email with me mentioned by name about my incompetency and rude behavior, but Sales Manager corroborated my side of the story, cameras showed I at least appeared nothing but friendly the whole interaction, and the number of other incidents regarding this particular guest basically ended with an, “If you can’t be nice to our workers, don’t shop here” responding email.

We were scolded for wasting 2 hours when we knew she wouldn’t take all of it and there were other things to do, but we did exactly what the customer said, so not much else happened repercussion-wise.”

Another User Comments:

“I just want to know what she was expecting to get with an order like that. She literally told you to get all of the yellow flowers. Did she think that would be a small bouquet? Are people usually able to read her mind?” tshirtnosleeves

17 points - Liked by erho, arspoetica028, dawo1 and 14 more

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jjma 3 years ago
I worked at a baked goods store for 2+ years. Management was awful. We were not allowed to let the phone ring more than twice. No one had any designated position. We had 3 people on staff during busy times and we were all expected to do cashiering, answer calls, help in-person customers, and restock shelves/supplies. It was a sh*t show. The manager would stay in her office and talk on her cell phone. She was late with schedules all the time. She would only come out to yell at us if a phone rang too long or she finally noticed a long line of customers. It was always a hot mess. When she was gone, we designated ourselves to specific tasks and things went smoother. We would have one person focus on stocking/cleaning/tidying up and then one person on register. The other person would answer phone calls or jump in if customers had questions. Less stressful overall. I remember this because I literally got written up for "ignoring" an in-person customer while on the phone with another customer. I told the in-person customer I would be with her in a moment and she complained that it was rude to be talking on the phone while helping a customer, even though the person on the phone was also a customer.....
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8. Cut My Salary In Half? It'll Affect Your Business

Why would anyone think it’d be a good idea to cut their employee’s salary in half?!

“This takes place near the very beginning of my software engineering career, back in ’05 or ’06. I’d just been let go from my previous place of employment due to not being compliant with directives I’d been given (although not maliciously, so that story wouldn’t be appropriate here, sadly), and thus, working myself out of a job.

I was a young college dropout from a technical college that hadn’t been federally accredited yet, and thus, all my student loans were from banks and loan companies instead of from Uncle Sam, and debts were due. I was also making payments on my very first car, even though it was a beater that the prior owners had already nearly driven into the ground (4 years old and nearly 200k miles on it when I bought it), and of course, rent and utilities.

The job I’d just been let go from already had me working paycheck to paycheck as they paid far under average rate, but I was still a new professional, so I couldn’t be very choosy. I was living in Los Angeles County, so the cost of living was so bad. I was having to choose which bills were going to be late on a monthly basis.

Specifically, I was living in a town called San Pedro, a small town tucked fairly out of the way.

After blasting my resume to all the job boards, I get a call from a startup that seems interested in my resume and wants me to come in for a face-to-face interview (skipping the call-screen entirely). In my desperation, I agree. I’m given an address, which is all the way up in Woodland Hills.

I check the internet… 55-minute drive as long as there’s no traffic. With traffic, it looks like the commute will be more like an hour and forty-five minutes each way. I’m desperate though, and literally, nobody else has reached out to me about my resume or responded to my applications, so I go to the interview. I arrive at a mostly empty office complex. Maybe 6 or 7 other cars in a parking lot capable of holding at least 50.

I go into the building mentioned in the address and call the phone number I was given to let them know I’ve arrived.

Enter Chad. Chad comes to meet me and seems excited that I’ve come! He escorts me through the building to an office. Mind you, as far as I can see, we’re the only two humans in the building. He gives me the pitch for the company, tells me he built the software being sold, but it’s not scalable and needs someone who can rewrite it. After we go through the whole interview song and dance, he offers me the job on the spot.

The pay is marginally higher than the last gig, so I figure gas would be covered for the commute. I agree, and we shake hands, as I’m going to be starting the next Monday.

Red flags start appearing from the very first minute I arrive on Monday. First, I’m given a tour, which consists of the 14×14 foot office I’m going to be sharing with Chad, as well as another engineer who’s going to be starting the following Monday.

I’m not a fan of having someone able to look over my shoulder; it makes me nervous. I ask why each engineer’s desk has two computers. “Because the one you will be writing code on doesn’t have internet access for security purposes.” (Note: This was pure paranoia. There was nothing about this software that required such tight security; we weren’t doing any government contracts or anything of the sort.)

Then, I’m escorted clear across the building, to meet with the CEO (Richard), the IT guy (Eddie), and the sales/support team.

I’m told that half of the team is supporting the existing version of the application, two people are selling the existing version to new clients (or trying to), and one person is explicitly tasked with selling the new version. The one I haven’t even started on yet. I’m still young and dumb at this point, but even I know this means the salesperson is probably giving out a date when the customer should expect their purchase to be filled.

“It’s a good thing you started when you did. We’ve been telling customers it’ll be ready in June.” Did I mention all this was happening in February? Apparently, I’ve agreed to rewrite, test, and package an entire application I’ve never seen before in approximately four months. So, tour being done, I sit down and get to work. After jumping through a bunch of hoops of getting the software I prefer downloaded onto the actual work machine, as well as the code, I set about reviewing code so horrific, I’ve not seen anything like it since, and there isn’t a single comment in the entire thing.

Before I can ask a single question of the CTO, however, he tells me he’s headed to downtown LA to scalp his tickets to the Lakers game and that he’ll see me tomorrow. So, now I’m alone in the office with this abomination, a machine that’s been hamstrung to heck and back, and the only thing I’ve got to console me is the fact that at least I’m employed again.

Fast-forward a week, I’ve documented the bulk of the code (because there wasn’t any), and the boss and I do not get along.

He’s mad because I’ve not written any substantial code, and I’m frustrated because I’m trying to understand a lot of what specific code is trying to do, and he’s routinely leaving around noon to go sell his tickets for Laker’s games or just not in the office because he’s chatting with someone else. When he is in the office, I show him my documentation and try to get him to verify it or describe the purpose of the code where all I can say is, “What?” By the end of the week, I’ve covered about 30% of the project in a wiki-like document, and I’ve taken to leaving after sunset, so I can a) get more done, b) have a shorter commute, and c) drive when my car isn’t an oven (the AC didn’t work).

I’ve barely managed to convince the CTO that what I’m doing is necessary, so the engineer starting the next Monday doesn’t have to do anywhere near the same crap I’ve got, which would make us a more efficient team.

Monday arrives, and in comes Big Bro. I call him this because he was a much more experienced engineer than I was. We spend the first day with him getting set up, then us reviewing what I’ve documented.

He manages to answer some questions the CTO never did, just because he is that much better, and I start to feel more confident. Over the next weeks, Big Bro took me under his wing as an engineer teaching me best practices, standards, and where my plans were good and where they could be better. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d have gone insane! I end up joining him outside for smoke breaks even though I don’t smoke, just so I can get a breath of non-office air.

He and I discuss the project, and we also make friends with Eddie, who makes us laugh by telling us horror stories about the CTO and CEO (apparently he was a school friend of theirs and basically worked with them because they paid him to do something he felt was super easy).

April rolls around. I’ve got a special occasion I need the day off for, which happens to be a Wednesday that year.

I’d advised him when I first started, and he’d been cool with it. I remind him on April 2nd (since I had an irrational fear of policy decisions being made on April Fool’s Day), and he loses it. He goes off on a rant and straight-up informs me that he regrets hiring me, claiming I didn’t have the skills I told him I did, and wasn’t worth what I was being paid.

We’re definitely not halfway done (more like one-third), and it’s already been decided that June is a lost cause and that we’re shooting for August now. That habit I started before of leaving after the sun went down? Yeah, that never stopped. I was arriving at 9 am every day and leaving around 10 pm every night, trying my best. Big bro was the same, and Eddie would stay late with us just because we liked hanging out together.

So, it should be understood that I was very close to losing it right back at him. In a strained, yet diplomatic voice, I told him that if he put in the same amount of work to help us as we put in to rewrite his code, we’d probably be a lot closer to done than we were, especially given the twelve-hour days. He was not a fan of that and switched to straight-up yelling, blaming us for the lost sales and refunds due to the delays and that the only way he’d get off our backs was by getting the project done.

This entire time, Big Bro is just sitting there and says nothing to back me up. Chad then left the office for a bit, and I just declared I was taking my lunch and would be back in an hour. I felt frustrated by Chad and betrayed by Big Bro, who I felt (rightly or not) should have had my back since we were in the same boat.

When we were both back in the office, he apologized for yelling and told me that since he agreed when I was hired I could have my day off.

Cool. I apologized too, although not for anything specific. I just didn’t want to talk to him anymore and figured that was the fastest way to end the conversation.

Fast forward to June, and the opportunity for malicious compliance. Over the last two months, Chad has been getting worse and worse. He’s yelling nearly every day (and still leaving early too). Big Bro and Eddie are also feeling the pain; nobody is safe from his ego.

The smoke breaks and afternoon/evening portion of our day are when we’re most productive, as nobody can focus until Chad leaves. The first Monday in June rolls around, and Chad invites me to go on a walk outside for a 1-on-1 meeting. I figured I’m being fired (at this point, we’ve had to refactor the rewrite almost entirely due to missing a critical chunk of functionality, and we’re still only 60% done.

August release is looking less and less sure). Chad informs me that he’s hired a 3rd engineer, but in order to stay within the budget to pay him, he’s cutting my salary in half. I stop on the spot and just give him a blank look.

“Are you serious?” I ask. “I’m barely able to pay for my bills and the gas required to commute here as it is.

If you cut my salary at all, I won’t be able to afford to live.” At this point, the idea of cutting my productivity to help ramp up a new engineer, so he can help us meet the deadline doesn’t even occur to me, although in hindsight, that would have also been a pretty major issue.

Chad brushes me off. “That’s not my problem. The fact that you missed one deadline and look like you’re gonna miss another is.

If you’ve got a problem with that, you’re more than welcome to go find another job. The new guy starts in two weeks.” And with that, he walks inside. I’d just been told that I had two weeks left of my job at my current salary. Cool. So that day, I do something I hadn’t done since I first started. I left while the sun was still up.

(Specifically, I left at 5 pm). I drive my oven-car (no working air conditioning in a car that had been left in the sun all day in Woodland Hills had me feeling like a baked potato) through traffic (an hour and a half commute home through LA heat) and updated my resume before reactivating my accounts on all the job sites. I’m contacted the next day by a potential new employer, and I get an interview scheduled.

I decide to tell Big Bro about the new opportunity, and he hits me with news that lets me know just how small a world we live in.

Me: “Hey, Big Bro, just an FYI, I’ve started looking for a new job. I’ve already got an interview lined up.”

Big Bro: “Really? Where?”

Me: “Over at (Company Name)”

Big Bro: “Wow! That’s where I worked before I came here! That place is pretty awesome, and I left there on pretty good terms.

I know the CTO there – go ahead and use me as a reference!”

Me, skeptical: “Really? Okay….”

Turns out, Big Bro was true to his word, and the CTO and I even talked about Big Bro during the interview. Apparently, they’d already talked about me, and Big Bro had been the ultimate hype man, confirming everything I said about why I was looking for a new job and everything.

All goes well, and I’m electronically signing an offer letter that Friday afternoon (Chad had already left for the day, so there was nobody to look over my shoulder as I used the work computer that had internet access to get this done). At the new job, the commute is cut by more than half and comes with a pretty significant raise. I tell Big Bro and Eddie on the last smoke break (I still don’t smoke) that I’m done, and I’ve found something new.

Oddly enough, they both smile and just wish me luck. “No hard feelings – hope we stay in touch!” Odd, but I’d stopped really caring about anything related to that job, so I paid it no mind. I went back inside, packed up my stuff into my backpack, and walked to the CEO’s office.

Me: “Hey Richard, got a minute?”

Richard: “Hey OP, what’s up?”

Me: “Just wanted to let you know I found a new job, so I’m moving on.”

Richard: “Really, why? We need you!”

Me: “You guys decided it was cool to cut my salary to a point where I couldn’t afford to live.

Chad said if I didn’t like it, I should look for something new, so I did.”

Richard, looking defeated: “Well, when’s your last day?”

Me: “Today.”

Richard, now livid: “We need you here to train the new guy who starts soon!”

Me: “Hey, I had to train myself, and to an extent, Big Bro when he first started. The new guy should be able to as well.”

And with that, I left for greener pastures.

The unexpectedly massive fallout:

Four months later, Big Bro texts me to ask me how things are going.

I tell him things are great, and we schedule a lunchtime call because, apparently, things have gone sideways in a huge way.

Apparently, Chad came in on Monday almost violently angry and demands Eddie re-image my work machine first thing in the morning, which erases everything I’d left on there. Big Bro comes in an hour later, and he and Chad discuss the new timeline for the project.

Somewhere in there apparently, Big Bro asks Chad to log into the admin account on my old work machine, so he can pull the documents I’d accumulated about the planned architecture, the existing code, meeting notes, etc. Chad answers by apparently punching a hole in the wall, and leaving for the day (probably to go to the hospital to deal with his hand), at 10:30 in the morning.

Big Bro then spends the rest of that week ostensibly working on recreating the documentation from scratch.

When I asked how the new guy handled the new documentation, Big Bro laughed and told me there never was any documentation. Apparently, he and Eddie had become really good friends in the months we worked there, to the point where they’d become roommates about a month before I left.

More than that though, they’d decided to start a freelance/consulting business together and only had to decide on when to make that their full-time jobs. Neither of them liked Chad much and wanted to make their departure hurt as much as possible. So, they decide to make Big Bro’s last day the day before the new guy starts, and Eddie would quit shortly afterward, sticking around just long enough to watch the bomb go off.

Did I mention Big Bro never told Chad he was quitting? Yeah. He just didn’t show up that Monday. He had, however, emailed that ‘documentation’ he’d spent a week writing to Chad. Turns out, he wasn’t documenting the code at all. He’d spent a week writing a letter explaining in excruciating detail why Chad was such a bad boss, and he’d emailed it to everyone in the company.

I asked if he still had it so I could read it, and he sent it to me after the call.

Thankfully, like the big helper he was, Eddie had ensured that the new guy’s email was set up and in the proper groups before the email was sent, so the guy’s first email in the company was a novella about the kind of person he’s agreed to work for.

Apparently, Chad thought it was appropriate to take his frustration out on the new guy, who’d already read a significant portion of the email before Chad shoved him away from his desk and deleted it. Apparently, new guy promptly decided (and rightfully so) that agreeing to work for Chad had been a mistake, packed up his things, and quit on the spot.

With the new guy quitting, the August deadline was now little more than a dream within a dream, which according to Eddie doesn’t stop Chad and Richard from trying to find that miracle rock star engineer who can save them from their own situation (which, given what they were offering as pay, didn’t exist).

So time advances in its unstoppable way, August arrives, and customers find that they’ve paid for something that hasn’t been delivered yet, and pretty much unanimously demand refunds, with a few customers bringing legal action against them. With the amount they have to refund and the funds they now need for legal fees (because of the way they’d incorporated, they were personally liable), they could no longer afford to pay anyone, and were forced to shutter the business.”

15 points - Liked by rut, dawo1, peta and 12 more

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lare 3 years ago
Nice one
5 Reply

7. Can't Play By The Rules? I Will Then

“This happened in 2016. I am a Chartered Accountant/CPA and got a breakthrough in one of the largest accountancy firms in the world.

I was hired as a manager in 2014 after working as a trainee student for 3.5 years in the same firm (I was required by law to complete the training to get my degree).

I was over the moon until I got face to face with Mr.


The 2 Senior Managers who hired me resigned from the firm abruptly leaving me second in charge to Mr. Partner. Being that this happened only 3 months after me becoming a manager, I had no idea how to cope with Mr. Partner and his work style.

The important thing to mention is that I was hired on probation of 6 months which is the norm. After 6 months, Mr.

Partner had to sign a confirmation report because of which my post-employment benefits would start accumulating. This means Mr. Partner would have to contribute 10% of my pay towards my provident fund.

Being the money-grubber he is, he never signed that confirmation.

I went to him to question about this and he said the agreement says that the probation period can be extended if your performance is not satisfactory.

He emphasized that I am not working up to mark and I need to do more in order to be ‘confirmed’ as per agreement.

According to him: Me working for more than 60 assignments in a single year (each assignment can run from 2 weeks to 4 months), without overtime, coming in on weekends, and staying all together in the office for 2 to 3 days consecutively was not up to mark.

I lost my mind but I knew he could bend me over since it’s as per agreement. Oh, I also single-handedly managed to increase his revenue by 18% in that year alone from existing assignments by renegotiating contracts and identifying unbilled work.

1 year passed and he didn’t confirm me always citing the same reason. My life was a living nightmare. My hair went grey from the stress and I gained a lot of weight since all my time was spent working.

Mr. Partner left no stone unturned to prove he is a typical greedy curt old and narcissistic jerk who only cares about profits.

At the same time, he was pressurized by senior partners to hire a senior manager despite my good performance (my annual increment finalized by HR based on performance was 35% after I helped the firm secure A+ rating in annual internal audit).

Enter Mr. K.

He was a snobby little jerk who viewed me as his competitor and immediately started to down trode me in a very passive-aggressive manner. I won’t go into details as this is already getting long. After 3 or so months, I was asked to change cabins and I was cleaning out my drawer where I found my appointment letter.

I started to read it and lo and behold: I found gold!

There it was written that after confirmation (emphasis on after), the notice period to serve after handing in your resignation is to be not less than 6 months otherwise amount equal to short number of days of salary will be deducted.

Since I was never confirmed, this did not apply to me.

I go to 4 of my other colleagues who also worked for Mr. Partner and I discussed this with them. They were also never confirmed so technically we were never permanent employees of Mr. Partner. Keeping this in mind, we started searching for new jobs actively.

As fate would have it, it took us 1 year to find alternate jobs, and I was the first one to leave.

As soon as I got an appointment letter from the other company, I went to Mr. Partner and handed in my resignation with 2 weeks of notice. I put in 2 weeks since I wanted to finish all my jobs in hand which was crucial for me, both ethically and ensuring I stay on good terms with these rich people.

Mr. Partner goes on a rant as I have to give at least 6 months’ notice.

I calmly said sir, you never confirmed our appointment so the clause does not apply to me.

At first, he resisted, then called in HR partner and went on another rant. I sat there calmly and the HR partner listened to him, his face turning red. He knew Mr. Partner had messed up because if he says I am a permanent employee, he would have to pay all post-retirement benefits retrospectively which amounted to a hefty sum.

If he says I am not a permanent employee then I am not bound to serve 3 months’ notice.

So I serve my 2 weeks, finish all my assignments and on the very last day, went to Mr. K, handed over my laptop, cabin keys, and employee card; and exited the building without saying a single word.

Within 2 months of my leaving, all 3 other colleagues got different jobs and all of them went out after serving a week’s notice and there was nothing Mr.

Partner or Mr. K could do about it.

Since I was handling more than 50% of the workload, I start receiving calls from ex-clients about the deteriorating quality of work and lack of attention. 2 clients left immediately after they got to know about my departure.

The incremental benefit I received from switching immediately compensated for no post-employment benefits within 6 months so it was a win-win situation for me.

Plus the mental peace… Those 2 years were awful for me but the satisfaction of this malicious compliance was only topped by the fact that I also met my now wife in that office and we are now as happy as a human could be…

My wife went on to work for another partner in the same firm (who is a very thorough gentleman) and just a week ago she told me that the firm has kicked out Mr. Partner due to ethical issues and Mr. K has been denied promotion to Director level over non-performance which effectively means his career has ended in that firm.”

13 points - Liked by erho, dawo1, peta and 10 more

6. Be A Bad Neighbor, Get A Bad Neighbor

“I grew up on a horse ranch in Colorado. We had a long piece of property, about 80 acres, and we raised Missouri fox trotters. We had lived there for almost 20 years when some folks bought a strip of property way at the back of our land. It was a strange plot of land as it was very narrow, and was sandwiched between our back fence, and a busy county road.

We were surprised anyone would buy it actually, as it forced the house to be pretty close to said road.

Well, we never met these new neighbors until one day, my dad gets a notice from a lawyer telling us that after having surveyed the property lines, our back fence encroaches on their property between 3 and 6 inches depending on the spot along the fence line.

These folks had never met us, never introduced themselves. Our first introduction was this legal demand.

My father was a salt of the earth kind of man, very kind, but also very strong-willed. He called these folks, arranged a meetup, and tried to talk some sense into them. First, did 3 to 6 inches really matter that much, and why had they not come to us to talk it through? He even offered a number of different compromises.

These folks were hostile from the get-go. They demanded he move the fence immediately, or they would sue. Apparently, the law stated they had to put their house so far away from our fence line, and they wanted to push it as far back from the road as they could when they built it, so they wanted that 6 inches very badly.

I still remember when my dad got home from the meeting.

He hung his hat up and shook his head when he told my mom in his slow way.

‘Well looks like we got the kinda folks for neighbors you don’t ever want to have for neighbors.’

They sued and won, and we were forced to move the fence in 2 weeks.

I say we because I was the free labor as all farm kids are for this kind of thing.

All that fencing material, and the time were a big cost for my family. But we got the work done that late fall.

Here is where the fun comes in. So the new neighbors broke ground and built all through the end of winter and into spring. The very next weekend after they had moved into their house, Dad rousted me out of bed and we took the big truck into town to the lumber yard.

I was extremely puzzled as we loaded up a bunch of fencing material, and building supplies.

We didn’t have any big projects going that I knew about, and I kept asking him what it was for, but he just told me to wait and see with a devilish smile on his face.

We built a pen and a small enclosure very near our back property line, directly behind the neighbor’s new shiny house.

The next day one of our farm friends delivered a half dozen pigs to their new home.

Dad insisted on feeding those hogs table scraps and all the things that would go in the composter, as well as some well-balanced hog feed to keep them healthy.

Now you may not know this, but the smell of pig excrement is directly related to what they eat, and their pen conditions.

Table scraps make them smell BAD. I mean BAAAAAAD. I had to drive the four-wheeler back there every day to take care of them, and within a month halfway to the pen and my eyes would start watering it smelled so bad. When we mucked out the pen with the bobcat we also made the pile right next to the pen. I can’t even imagine how bad the smell was living in that house.

The neighbors, of course, freaked out and again without ever even trying to talk to us, went the legal route.

They lost the case asking to have the pen removed as the area was zoned agricultural, and my dad had done his homework to make sure he was NOT breaking any laws or regulations. The pigs were far enough from us, and our other neighbors that it didn’t bother anyone but the people he wanted it to bother.

Come fall when winter moved in we sold the pigs to slaughter, and dad stacked up a bunch of building supplies next to the pen and let the neighbors know we would be expanding the profitable operation in the spring. He smiled the whole time, speaking in his slow steady way as they screamed at him.

The new neighbors sold their new house in January when the ground was frozen and the new owners would not smell the pen.

Though as soon as the old neighbors were gone we tore down the enclosure, spread the nasty stuff on the hayfield, and the new neighbors never had any bad smell come spring. They also were great neighbors and are still lifelong friends.

Never mess with a rancher…

(Here’s a little more context: My dad really, really did want to try to cultivate a good relationship with a new neighbor, even though they started on such a lousy foot.

He offered to sell them 5 acres of land at the back of the property at a super affordable price so they could have a better plot, and get well back from the road.

Our back fence line was almost 5 acres long, so it would have shaved an acre long line off is all, and that was wooded land that was not good pasture land anyway.

They were not interested. They had plenty of funds too btw, as they were sitting on a million-dollar payout from selling their home in CA which we knew as they brought it up multiple times in the discussion. Statements that ‘They had all the funds they needed to take us to court if we didn’t comply immediately!’

My dad asked if he could move the fence over time them, rather than being hit for the cost all at once.

Ranchers are not made of money. We could move the section right behind the proposed building site immediately to help with planning etc first. They were not willing to do that. It all had to be moved immediately.

Lastly, my dad was friends with the two guys that did the inspections for the county for this kind of stuff. We had built many additions and changes on the ranch over time as well.

They were all in the volunteer fire department together. He offered to get all of them together and see what options they had for dealing with the offset issue.

The neighbor refused, again demanding the fence be moved immediately.

If you see a theme here, so did my dad. There is no pleasing some people, so my dad let him take us to court. I later found out dad was using the time to save up some funds since he figured he would have to move the fence and that was expensive, and he hoped maybe the neighbor would not push it that far and come to work with him rather than go to all that cost. I know my dad reached out a couple more times to the neighbor before things went to court too.)”

13 points - Liked by erho, Haywire, dawo1 and 10 more

5. Have To Work Despite Being Soaking Wet? Okay, But Don't Be Mad When HR Intervenes

“Back in 2017, I was working on a call center for a telecommunications company. I was almost three years there, and the job had gone from ok to okish to crappy in six months. The company did a lot of things that angered most of us and led to a few malicious compliances and revenge. In six months, we had 4 different managers and 10 shift managers.

The second to last before I bolted and one of the protagonists of the story was a real piece of poop. He was a racist, misogynistic, homophobic tyrant with a big ego. Let’s call him Kevin. He was the kind of manager who would try to micromanage your call log (how many incoming and out calling you had, how many customer support, how many sales) and if you didn’t hit your daily, would shout at you, and if you were late you would have to work the same amount, and if it was more than 10 minutes, they would dock an hour of your pay.

The other protagonist and malicious complier was Mary. Mary was a good-looking woman in her late thirties with 20 years of experience in call centers and a “no-nonsense” attitude. As you may understand, Mary and Kevin didn’t like each other very much. But the incident that got the ball rolling happened during Pride Week. Mary was wearing a pride shirt in support of her lesbian daughter.

Kevin said a few chauvinistic and homophobic things, and they almost came to physical blows. HR intervened, but that seemed to galvanize Kevin, and after that day, he tried to make her life difficult every day.


I was working the 1st shift (07:00-15:00) on a Friday in early July. The weather was good until 11:30 when it suddenly darkened and a heavy rain started falling. As the 2nd shift (12:00-20:00) started coming in, we noticed most of them were running a bit late (heavy rain interfered with traffic) and wet to the bone.

Most of them did a beeline to the bathroom to try to dry themselves with paper towels. Mary steps in at 12:05, looking like a drowned rat, and starts to go to the bathroom to dry herself. Kevin notices her and stops her. The following, very loud (almost shouting) conversation followed:

Kevin: Where do you think you’re going?

Mary: To the bathroom to dry my t-shirt?

Kevin: You’re late.

You can to the bathroom during your break.

Mary: I’m soaking wet! I don’t want to work with a wet shirt. I need to dry it down!

Kevin: I don’t give a crap! You’re late! You have to start working!

Mary: But my shi-


While most of us were a bit stunned by the whole exchange, Mary walks purposefully to her station, fires up the app, and removes her t-shirt and puts it on the back of the chair to dry.

Now Mary is sitting there, wearing only her bra, which is attracting a lot of attention. She had calmly put her headset on and already doing a call. To HR. Kevin being Kevin is the last one to notice a barely-clothed woman making calls. He goes and stands menacing behind her.

Kevin: ‘What the heck do you think you’re doing?’

Mary, on the phone: ‘I did exactly what he told me.

No, I don’t feel comfortable at all!’

Kevin: ‘ANSWER ME, YOU BEE WITH AN ITCH!’ (Did I mention his lovely personality?) And then he pulls her headset off, unplugging in the process.

The phones we used had a quirk, that if the headset unplugs, it turns the speaker on.

Unknown voice: ‘Did he just call you a bee with an itch?’

Mary: ‘Yes he did.’

Kevin: ‘Who the heck are you?’

An unknown voice on the speaker: ‘HR.

We’ll be there in a few minutes.’

Kevin lost all his color as the speaker hang up. In about 10 minutes, HR had arrived to find a properly cowed Kevin and Mary covering her legs with a beach towel (courtesy of a colleague who planned to visit the beach after the shift) and wearing a “Manowar” T-shirt while her own was still on the back of her chair and a barely-clothed me (I provided the t-shirt).

The aftermath:

Before HR arrived, Mary had made one more call, to the union.

After interviewing everybody, Mary and Kevin were allowed to go home. Kevin was fired after two days. The delay outraged the union, who caused a fuss, and the next time something happened, they came down like a megaton of bricks on the company. Mary had collected evidence (including this one), and when the company tried to fire her, she sued and won a nice settlement.”

12 points - Liked by erho, dawo1, peta and 10 more

4. Order Things For The Store That We Don't Sell? You Got It

They just don’t want to accept that they’re wrong.

“When I was in my early 20s, I was a seafood department manager for a chain grocery store. I was good at my job, motivated to do my best for the company, etc. At my first store, I increased the sales and gross profit percentage within a few months. After a year, I got transferred to a larger store that had tons of issues with instructions to turn things around.

Within 3 months, we were leading the district. After a year there, I get transferred yet again with the same instructions, which is where the fun begins.

This store was the smallest in the district and was barely making money. My first store averaged $12k in sales per week. My second garnered about $20k in sales a week. The third counter was only doing $3-4k in sales per week and was losing money.

Five different department managers had failed in trying to fix things. My first week was spent getting things organized, going over sales reports, and getting to know the type of shoppers the store had. The problem was easy to see. The company was trying to sell things that people didn’t want to buy.

I quickly changed what was being ordered. Since it was such a slow store, there was a lot of downtime during the day.

I was ordering whole fish and marketing everything in multiple ways (whole but pre-cleaned, steaks, fillets, even the heads and bones), cutting everything myself. I also switched from fresh to frozen for high-dollar items that didn’t sell well. I was keeping very detailed records in Excel spreadsheets. I was bringing in a lot less overall product but had a much better variety than our customers actually wanted.

By the end of the third month, we were doing almost $6k in sales per week, and my profit was again leading the district (it was something crazy like 50% when the target was 30%). More people were coming in the store, so total sales were increasing as well. The fourth month was just as good, even though it was during our slow time (mid-summer).

Enter the district manager and my supervisor.

Both came in to visit after seeing the reports for my third and fourth month. They had figured the third month was a fluke, and when they got the fourth month, they figured I must be playing with the numbers somehow. Their first reaction was, “Wow, the department looks amazing.” As I showed them what had been happening and what I had done to fix it, you could see the supervisor getting more impressed while the district manager was getting mad.

I finally looked at the district manager and asked what was wrong.

He went on a 10-minute rant about needing to carry all of the things that didn’t sell and asked why I didn’t have fresh flounder. I replied that when we carried it at full price, we would only sell about 2 pounds per week but would have to order 20 pounds (things came in 10-pound increments, and fresh fish had to be ordered twice a week) a week to carry it.

I explained that doing things like that on a regular basis was why the department had been losing money. I also explained that I had been told by the supervisor (who was there) to fix things any way I could. The supervisor denied saying that. I was told that I was to follow the plan the company had for the district at all times and if I ever didn’t have something on the sheet or had something that wasn’t on the sheet, I would face disciplinary action.

I asked for the instructions in writing this time and received it in the form of a written “verbal” warning for failure to follow instructions.

I was obviously angry, but I did what I was told. The next month was a nightmare. The store manager, district manager, and supervisor were constantly checking on me and trying to find things to write me up for. At the end of the month, we had sales just over $3k per week with a 2% gross profit and thousands of dollars of fish had been thrown away when they went bad.

We also were getting customer complaints about not having the items they wanted. The district manager and supervisor came back in and started chewing me out. I sat patiently until I was asked if I had anything to say. I pulled out my reports that showed that I had ordered everything I was supposed to and how much of that was being thrown away because my customers didn’t want it or couldn’t afford it.

Things went back and forth, and I finally asked how two people who obviously knew nothing about marketing had reached the positions they had (maybe a mistake, but I was young and hot-headed). This time, I ended up with written warnings for insubordination and failure to follow instructions and was told I was being demoted to clerk because I “didn’t know how to do my job.”

I challenged both through the union.

Long story short the insubordination was lowered to a verbal warning and the failure to follow instructions was completely removed since I had written proof that I was doing exactly what I was told. I was given a full-time clerk position at a different store and kept my manager pay. I ended up staying for about 8 more years before being forced out after refusing multiple promotion offers (they wanted to eliminate the full-time spot to save money but couldn’t take away my full time).

That isn’t the end of the story.

The way I had been treated angered a lot of people at a lot of stores in the area. A lot of the same people also got worried the company would do the same to them which sparked two issues. The first was almost every seafood department started following the company plan 100%. People started getting jobs with competitors as well.

Over the next two years, seafood profits went down company-wide which affected all other sales and a lot of talented people had jumped ship. The company ended up closing about 1/3 of their seafood counters (they switched to pre-packed product) and closed 3 slow stores altogether in attempts to increase their gross profit (not sales or actual profit, just the percentage). They are still around, but they lost a lot of market share and still struggle to keep talented employees. I no longer work any form of retail and will never go back.”

12 points - Liked by erho, Haywire, dawo1 and 9 more

3. Won't Get On The Plane Unless You Get An Upgrade? I Guess You'll Miss Your Flight

You’ll be waiting for that upgrade for a while, sweetpea.

“This one happened a few months ago at the airport in Madrid (Spain). I witnessed it, but I am not directly involved with this.

I was seated near a gate, well in advance for my flight. The previous flight to use the gate was still boarding its last passengers.

It was a pretty short one to Lisbon, so probably less than an hour flight time.

In comes an entitled woman with her suitcase, going straight to the counter, and without any form of politeness starts complaining to one of the two gate agents. The conversation was more or less:

Entitled Woman: “I know you have a free seat in First (the airline publishes seat maps online). I am a loyal member of your airline. Can you upgrade me?”

She slams a card on the counter.

Agent: Entitled Woman, I am sorry, but I cannot randomly upgrade people. Plus, you have an economy basic ticket, even if I could, we would upgrade any standard economy passenger before you. Finally, this is a silver card. We have gold and platinum members on this flight who we would upgrade first.’

You have to note that European airlines typically do not automatically upgrade passengers as in the US.

Also, the difference between first and economy is usually not that much: seats are the same, but in front of the plane, with a blocked middle seat and slightly better food. That’s it.

Entitled Woman: ‘They have already boarded. If you don’t upgrade me, I won’t use this airline ever again.’

Gate Agent 2 makes an announcement about the final call for passengers, that the entitled woman ignores completely.

Agent: ‘Ma’am, I repeat that I don’t have the power to upgrade anybody as per airline policy. It would not be fair to those who actually paid for the ticket.’

Entitled Woman: ‘The seat is free, I’m sure you can make an exception.’

Agent: ‘Once again, I cannot. But I would recommend you to board …’

Entitled Woman: ‘So, will you upgrade me, right?’

Agent (annoyed): ‘For the third time, this is not something I can do.

You are the last passenger we are waiting for, can you please go to the gate?’


Agent: ‘You should really…’

Entitled Woman: ‘Unless you are telling me I’m upgraded, I don’t want to hear about it.’

Agent: ‘Alright…’

Passes like one or two minutes.

Entitled Woman: ‘So, have you made up your mind and have me upgraded?’

Agent: ‘Actually, ma’am, the gate is closed.

We are not accepting late passengers anymore. I would suggest you go to the customer service desk to rebook.’

Entitled Woman: ‘WHAT? I have been here for like 10 minutes.’

Agent: ‘Yes, but you refused twice to board the plane, and made it clear that you would not move from this desk until I upgrade you, which I told you 5 times I cannot do. We couldn’t delay the plane because of you.’


Agent: ‘I’m sorry, but you made it clear that you didn’t want to hear about it if it was not about your upgrade, which, once again, I cannot do.’

At this moment, the entitled woman left with at the same time a defeated and infuriated look.

It was pretty fun to watch I have to say. I have no idea whether the entitled woman could be rebooked for free, but I hope not.”

Another User Comments:

“I travel an average of 4 flights a week, 48 weeks a year, for 15 years. One thing I learned very early on is that you get nothing from airline employees by demanding it. However, if you show up with a pleasant disposition and do what you can to make their jobs easier, you will get many things that you didn’t even ask for.

Heck, one time as I was boarding the plane, there were 2 people arguing over the use of the overhead above their seat. I looked at the flight attendant and just said to him, “Wow, you would think they are fighting over the last cocktail on the plane.” He smiled, reached into a cart, and handed me a bottle of wine, and said, “Thanks for making me smile. It has been a long day and this seems to happen on every flight.”” Dyemond

12 points - Liked by erho, dawo1, peta and 9 more

2. Of Course You Can Be Paid Back On This High Value Item

“I run an anime/geek store and we are really lenient with pre-orders. We used to not require a deposit to make an order, and in case you needed more time to pick up an item, all you had to do was ask. We could also hold the items for as long as needed in our storage if you wanted to gather a lot of items so you could save on trips/shipping.

Back in February, Funko released a special edition Vinyl POP of Naruto Hokage. This one, in particular, had a 1 in 6 CHASE variant that ended up reaching up to a resale value of $130. But the way I do pre-orders is that, if you order 6 of the same piece, you are guaranteed a chase. But if you only order 1, you still get a 1 in 6 chance of getting the chase, I just mix them up in random boxes and do a public stream raffle on social media, so everyone knows who won the chase, and I get good publicity that way

A client ordered just one and left $5 as a deposit.

The piece was $15. This particular client won the raffle (along with several other clients), but he wasn’t that interested in picking it up or paying for the rest of it. I send him a message letting him know that he had won the special variant and had a week to pay it, or he will lose his pre-order. At first, he was angry because he wanted the normal version, not this “yellow thing,” but we explained we could change it if he wanted, but that this one was far more valuable.

He said he asked his son, and his son wanted it anyway but asked for more time to pay, so we gave him one more week. Then he asked for another week. And another.

Then we had to close the store for a time for, you know, 2020 reasons, and we told him we had to close, but we could still schedule an appointment to give him his item or wait until the worst passed.

He never answered.

Eventually, we were able to re-open the store with regulations in place and send him another message telling him we can save it for as long as needed in these strange times. He still didn’t answer the messages, but at this point, he arrived at the store and demanded his money back, citing how we were in the middle of what was going on (fair), and he couldn’t waste funds on frivolous plastic (also fair).

I asked him if he was sure and even showed him the price the figure was selling for (at that point in time, the chase figure was selling closer to $150, and he just had to pay retail price so about $10 more for it).

He said he was sure I had made up the numbers, that he had ordered the figure for his son, but he didn’t deserve it (harsh), and just wanted, no, demanded his money back.

I just said, “Fine, I’ll give you your money back.

Also, I’ll just put this figure out for sale.” He just said, “Whatever, just give me my money.” I made a point to grab a post-it note (that I use to put prices to not damage the box), write in big black letters “$90 bucks, last one,” and put it on the glass window that leads to the street. I could see him turn his eyes while I did this.

While my employee was giving him his 5 bucks back and giving him a receipt, a young man knocked on the door, I gave him some cleaning goo, checked his temperature, and let him in.

He immediately asked to buy the Naruto chase figure. The angry man’s eyes went wide open over his mask as I picked the POP and guided the young man to the desk, where he handed me the bills one by one.

The angry man stood there shocked as the younger man was gushing about how hard to get that figure was and how he was getting it for half the price other places were asking and in such perfect condition too.

I couldn’t have had a better reaction even if I paid him for it. The young man completed his purchase and left as fast as he came. The angry man looked at me, almost as if accusing me of taking advantage of him.

I just said: “Well, you got your money back. I’m happy you are happy. If you need anything else, please let me know, and stay safe out there.”

The man just didn’t have much else to say and left. Kind of a small and silly thing to feel good about, but 2020 hit us so hard that any unexpected profit was cause for celebration, so we celebrated that good sale with some (instant) ramen, Naruto style.”

11 points - Liked by erho, dawo1, peta and 8 more

1. Make Us Perform A Task That We Don't Recommend? Whatever The Boss Wants

“This story is from a buddy of mine who works as a deliveryman for large loads of construction supplies.

He’s a Truck Driver (TD) and he works for Do What the Customer Says Inc. (DWtCS Inc.) which distributes contractor supplies. He drives the trucks that deliver different loads of materials.

About a month ago, he was on a job for Strict General Contractor to deliver lumber for a housing development being built on marshy land.

At the point of his delivery, Strict General Contractor had not drained a lot of the area for some reason except for a few large, deep isolated puddles. This wood TD delivered was being used to frame up some sidewalks and foundations for some other things.

The access road was just packed soil with gravel on top of it. The previous day to TD’s delivery, it had rained a lot.

When TD pulled the eighteen-wheeler with a nearly full trailer of lumber (that’s about 30 tons just for the wood) to the entrance of the access road,  he noticed it had fallen into mud sludge with rocks in it. To test the sludge for driving, TD took a paint stick and stuck it into the mess that was the access road. The stick sank on its own.

The housing development was a good 1/2 mile into the marsh, so he called up Strict General Contractor.

Strict General Contractor: ‘Hello?’

TD: ‘Yes, Strict General Contractor, this is TD from DWtCS Inc. and your access road is too wet and dilapidated for me to deliver the lumber in, your guys have to come out and get it in either separate trailers or by hand.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘I can’t do that, we’re on a tight schedule.

It’d take hours to unload it and take it to the site.’

TD: ‘I can’t do that, I’d get fired, wreck the truck and cargo and probably a ticket for reckless driving.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘I’m filing a complaint about this.’

Strict General Contractor hangs the phone up.

TD is left waiting there for a solid 1 and a half hours and other supply trucks and contractors back up on the road.

He gets another call from Strict General Contractor.

Strict General Contractor: (Screeching) ‘Where’s the lumber I expected over an hour ago!?!’

TD: ‘I told you, the road is too dangerous for me to drive over.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘JUST GET THE GOSHDARN LUMBER HERE!!!!’

Strict General Contractoronce again hangs up. TD calls his supervisor, Big H.

Big H: ‘Hello? TD?’

TD: ‘Yeah it’s me. The service road for project X is dilapidated and if I crossed it, it would bury me and the truck in.

Strict General Contractor insists I drive over it.’

Big H: ‘I’ll drive over there.’

Big H was the supervisor for the multiple drivers for the development, so he worked nearby. It took 30 mins for him to get there, with two more angry phone calls from Strict General Contractor and the line of contractors getting longer. Big H gets to the scene. Strict General Contractor is called out to meet with Big H.

Big H: ‘Big H, Supervisor of the drivers servicing this area for DWtCS Inc. I hear we have a problem with the service road?’

Strict General Contractor: ‘There is no problem with the goshdarn road. Your driver just refuses to go across anything other than perfected asphalt.’

Be aware, the service road had dried a little, so it looked a bit better than in the morning, but still dangerous driving territory.

The packed soil had fallen apart, so it was just semi-wet dirt piles and gravel drying in the 10:30 am sun.

Big H: ‘The road seems fine to me, let’s test it.’

Big H borrows concrete boots from another contractor waiting in line and walks onto the ground. Surely enough, he starts sinking.

Big H: ‘Yeah, we can’t drive over this. The truck would sink real bad in this stuff, it’s quicksand without the sand.’

Strict General Contractor: ‘DON’T FREAKING CARE I NEED THIS LUMBER NOW!!!’

Strict General Contractor storms off, leaving all the viewing contractors, including Big H and TD dumbfounded.

The trucks are DWtCS’s property, however, the trailers and their cargo are often rented or borrowed in the name of the contractor that subcontracts us. The trucks are owned by DWtCS and they can detach cargo from in the cab. Per company policy, in an emergency, discard cargo and prioritize the safety of yourself and the truck.

Strict General Contractor contacted Big H’s Supervisor. He was told to tell TD to just drive across it.

Big H told his supervisor he’ll only accept if Strict General Contractor signs a liability contract. He handwrites a contract in his truck saying any and all damage will be the liability of Strict General Contractor and must be paid to DWtCS.

Strict General Contractor comes back and signs the contract with a smug grin on his face.

TD jumps in his truck and gathers everything important while Big H takes pictures near an oblivious Strict General Contractor.

TD drives the truck into the road, makes it so that the trailer is 3 feet away from the edge of the road before the truck starts sinking past the point of no return. TD detaches the cargo, and tried to get the truck to escape, but is unable to. Remember, multiple-ton truck, this crap is heavy. The truck is already about 1/5 the way submerged when TD releases the trailer.

As the mud surrounds to about 1/3 of the way up the trailer. The engine is sputtering as it overtakes the truck and gives up.

TD panics and abandons ship. He shoves the door. Nothing, the mud is too deep. The window makes it 2/3 the way before the battery gives way to a rising mud flood. TD has his GI Joe instincts kick in and smashes the rest of the window out and claws his way out of the truck.

There, a mildly concerned Big H and livid Strict General Contractor stare at TD as he makes his way across the top of the sinking lumber, where it stops sinking about halfway into the quicksandy mud.

Big H turns to Strict General Contractor and says the most triumphant words ever.

Big H: ‘Lumber delivered. Since you signed the liability contract, I’ll send you the invoice for everything.’

80,000$ went to the company plus taxes and fees and the price of the actual lumber delivery. Strict General Contractor tried to argue against it in court but failed miserably. Don’t make holes in your sinking ship kids, jump out of it.”

Another User Comments:

“From the mouth of a cement truck driver: “If a driver refuses to pour without you signing the contract, take a moment to think long and hard about whatever it is you just asked them to do.”” Shtgun321

11 points - Liked by erho, peta, caho1 and 8 more

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