People Share The Time They Got Revenge By Sticking To The Rules

When we want someone to see our point of view, there’s no sense in getting mad. You get more with honey than vinegar, so why get bent out of shape? It’s better to keep it classy and subtle and if you can get what you want by sticking to the rules, then by all means, do it. The world can be your oyster when you stay calm, cool, and collected.

The following stories are extra hilarious because of what happens when people behave badly. It’s almost like they are asking for it, and then act all surprised or all of a sudden have their tail between their legs. Like the two Chads who think they are all that and a bag of chips, pretending like it’s their party. Or the tradeswoman who knew exactly what went wrong and was trying to prevent a huge loss, but got brushed aside. Ok, sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches, and do as you’re told. It’s hard to kiss butt before you kick it, but that;’ just the way the world works! Read on for some juicy tales of revenge brought on by people who play by the rules but also know how to break ’em!

27. He Asked For “Something Warm” And So She Made Him Something Warm

“Before I was born, and if I’m correct, while they were still in their dating phase, they lived in Alaska.

Both of them worked very hard, and it was a bit of traveling, considering Alaska has certain parts where cities are few and far between. My mother had been sleeping when my father had just gotten home from work, super early in the morning. Both of them were exhausted. My father had been quite hungry since lunch wasn’t really as filling as he needed. (He’s a 6’6, about 330+ pound man. So it takes a lot.) He made the mistake of waking up my mother, who is the queen of malicious compliance, to go make him something to eat.

She grumbled, but got up, walked to the kitchen, and came back and handed him a bowl of Cheerios. My father can be picky sometimes.
He looked at her, looked at the Cheerios, and said, “Well, I was kinda hoping for something warm…” my mother, wanting to be so nice for her tired, hard-working boyfriend, just took the bowl and sighed. All she muttered was, “Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” and went off to the kitchen. A few minutes later she comes back with the same bowl and hands it to my father, who notices, it is indeed warm.

He was very pleased only until he realized she had microwaved the Cheerios, and already gone back to sleep. Needless to say, he didn’t ask her to cook at two a.m. again.” thesaltipotito

26. Sell The Discounted House I Gave You? Bring In The Hogs

“So one of my brothers is adopted and is amazing.
He didn’t get anything handed to him in life and he’s seriously one of the hardest working people I know. Just as he was starting his own family he had even more financial burden due to some medical problems.

Still, somehow he managed to build half a house on some land my Dad sold him. He used the equity in that to get a second loan and finish it (and he had to fight the bank for that even). Time goes on and he begins to do really well — so he sells the first house he built at a profit and buys some land. Like, 175 acres in the midwest (he lives in a rural area). He likes to hunt and does some farming on the land but the house that was there when he bought it isn’t ideal, despite some major improvements and renovation.

So he builds the third house and puts the house up for sale. He keeps the land around the house for hunting (this is important later).

This is when one of his envious family members asks if he and his wife would consider selling them the house. They can only qualify for something like half of what it’s worth, but my brother is a fairly generous guy — he agrees to sell the house to them at a rather hefty discount since they’re family.

I’m sure he felt some of their pain as well — he’d had his own difficulty back when he was starting out. The bank agrees to loan them the money (they can’t go wrong, it’s for way less than the property is worth) and the deal is done.
A few short months go by. He’s driving by the property and spots a for sale sign. He stops in and the husband explains that there were some things about the house they weren’t happy with, so they were planning on selling it and buying a house more in town or something (etc).

My brother explains that they got a sweet deal only because they were family and that he’d appreciate them selling the house back to him for what he sold it to them for. The husband basically closes the door on that — and my brother leaves.

And he thinks about it. I’m 100% certain that the family members understood that they were getting a good deal because they were family and he was happier selling it to them with the understanding that they weren’t to take advantage of his good graces.

This is a guy, by the way, who manages big projects. He’s a really fair guy. The stuff he does in construction probably half of you has driven over — big bridges that go over rivers like the Mississippi for example. He’s used to solving hard problems. This one isn’t that hard.

The next day he drives out with some fence in the back of his truck, and the family members in the house wake up to some fence posts being driven into the ground.

The husband comes out. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“I’m just putting up some Hog fence on my property. Don’t worry, it’s all on my land — I’ll just go around your house here and put a gate in so you can get in and out.”

The husband is a bit perplexed.
“You’re bringing in pigs?” And my brother was seriously set to do it too. He had about 100 lined up from a farmer down the road.

The husband goes back into the house.

A few minutes of “discussion” occur.

The next day they all meet at the bank and the deed is transferred back to my brother. And he didn’t even have to deploy the hogs…” fericyde

25. It’s Your Party? Ok, You Can Pay For It

“I used to wait tables at an upscale restaurant that was known to be the place to have your holiday or office parties. Great money if you got the right group. The menus were pre-set, the grapes and spirits were pre-set, and it was all auto-grated at 18%.

All of it was in the contract the host signed pre-event. Usually, the host would make themselves known fairly early on so you would know who to talk to if there was an issue and who to give the check to at the end of the night.

One night, I am splitting a party of 30-40 with another server. This event had top tier food and mid-level grapes and spirits. Very nice. A small group of 5-6 people arrives a bit ahead of schedule.

2 guys and 3-4 women. Not a problem, it’s actually nicer if they slowly roll in so we can get drinks started. I walk over, introduce myself and the other waiter, and ask for drinks. Now this was back in the early 2000s and chads weren’t a thing yet, but the 2 guys were the Chaddiest Chads.
If they could have popped their collars in their suits, I’m sure these guys would have found a way.

Superchad1 – “Me and my bro are going to start with a round of Johnny Walker blue, and these ladies are going to have (expensive red grapes)”

Superchad2- (turning to the girls) “Once you have Johnny Blue, you just can’t drink anything else.

It changes you, bro”

Me- “If you like, I can put those on a separate tab, the event contract has Johnny Walker Black, but not blue, and the red grapes selection for tonight is (less expensive grapes)”

Superchad1 – “This is our party, just get me what I ordered and don’t question me again!”

Superchad2- “Who do you think you are? You’re just some waiter, we have MBAs.
Just get us our drinks!”

I walk over to the other waiter and tell him we are in for a hell of a night, but the check should be nice.

For those that don’t know, Johnny Walker blue is 3-4x the cost of Johnny Black. So one round of drinks for these people is over $100. The whole night goes exactly as we thought. Nothing was good enough, the appetizers were crap, the food was horrible, not enough bread, too many bread plates, drinks were taking too long, why do some people have food and others don’t (it’s 40 people man, it takes a minute to get that much food out).

To make it worse, chads and co are all over the place, moving seats and making others move so they can talk to who they want.
This makes serving hell because we did everything by seat number.

Surprisingly, most of the table was normal, not entitled people and who knew that waiters are people too. They were impressed by the food, and graciously ordered the drinks that were in the contract. One older gentleman at the other end of the table from the chads apologized for their behavior, saying “they might have fancy degrees and good jobs, but you can’t teach class.” Love that guy.

Finally, they are winding down and after drinking almost a full bottle of Johnny Blue along with all the other food and drinks they have a VERY hefty check, and the other waiter and I are excited to get paid. We start picking up the dessert plates and asking for last drink requests.
The nice older guy at the end of the table says to bring him the check. Not wanting any more interaction with the chads than necessary, I bring it to him.

I tell him I can take care of it whenever and go about clearing the table. A few minutes later he calls me over

Nice guy – “Maybe there was a mistake in ringing up the drinks? There is almost $600 for Johnny blue when the contract I signed only included Johnny Black. And there are some single glasses of wine that are different from what we agreed upon.”

Me – “No mistake sir, that is what was ordered and drank.” (He is being awesome, and I feel bad)

Nice guy – “Why did you give the drinks to them when we clearly had a contract?”

Me – “I apologize, sir, they told me that this was their party and since I was just a waiter to shut up and do as I was told.

So I did. I’m sorry, I took them at their word.”

I point them out and he calls them over. What follows was the singularly greatest a*s-chewing I have ever been witness to. He goes on about how he was doing something nice but apparently that wasn’t enough. About how horrible their behavior was that night and how he is ashamed for them. But my favorite line was how you see a person’s true colors in how they treat people that work for them and they had shown theirs.

Then he calls me back over.

Nice guy – “Apparently I thought this was my party. I guess I was wrong. This is their party and they will be taking care of the check.
Oh, and up the gratuity to 25%. You earned it.”

He turns around and walks off, leaving the chads with the check. All in all, it was about $3K. I have never seen 2 grown men look so defeated.” Exs_in_Txs

24. Tell Me To Camp In Your Office? Done, And I Want ALL Of My Car’s Replacement Value, Too

“So this isn’t my story but my mom’s.

The woman is the master of malicious compliance and pettiness when someone p*sses her off.

So when I was about 9 my mom was involved in a car accident that wasn’t her fault. But destroyed our car. The car was a complete write-off. It was about 2 weeks before our scheduled summer holidays and mom just wanted the replacement value of the car she had another car all picked out.
She just needed her check from our provincial insurance to pay for it.

The difference between what they were fighting about was about $400 back in 1994. And my mom was bound and determined she was getting the full replacement value. She just wanted to get a new car so she could take us camping for our holidays.

The insurance adjuster declined mom 3 times. And she was just getting more and more p*ssed off. She had every single piece of documentation for the value of her car and the replacement costs and that was all she wanted.

As a last-ditch effort, she even tried reasoning with the adjuster that she had 3 small girls and she just wanted this sorted so she could take her girls on holiday.
His exact words were you can have your holiday in the office here for all I care, it’s not my problem this is our final offer.

Well, my mom took that as a dare. Bright and early Monday morning mom showed up at the insurance adjusters office with a picnic lunch and three girls with toys in hand to have her holiday right there in the office.

They’re crown corporations (province owned) and their office and lobby spaces were classed as a public area back then. So they couldn’t make her leave.

So a 9, 7 and 5-year-old are playing quite happily and rambunctiously since we’d been told we were on holiday and didn’t need to use our going out manners. Which I’m sure you can imagine isn’t quiet at all.
The insurance adjuster called the police to have us removed and show up only to greet my mom by name since she cut their hair and explain to them that it’s a public service office and they can’t force us to leave unless we enter an employee-only area or stay outside of business hours.

One of the officers even sat down with us and was having a cup of pretend tea at our tea party.

My mom proceeded to tell every customer who asked for the whole morning that she just wanted replacement value for her car. She was just a poor single mom with three kids and they’d made it so we couldn’t go camping on holiday but the adjuster had kindly offered to let us have our holiday in their office.
With a big sh*t-eating grin every single time.

About 1:30 pm it’s time for nap time for my youngest sister. But of course, it’s too loud, too bright and she’s ridiculously over-stimulated and also tired and needs that nap. So like most overstimulated and tired children, she kicks off in a huge sobbing tired tantrum. Full volume sobbing about how she wants to sleep and go camping. She easily went full volume for at least 30 minutes. My mom didn’t bother to quiet her just soothed her back.

At that point, the division manager came out and asked to speak to my mom.

So I got told to stay put and mind my sisters for a minute. My mom came out 5 minutes later full value check in hand a big smile on her face, thanked the manager.
Packed us up, picked up my sobbing baby sister.

Took us home called the sitter to come over and came back 2 hours later with our new to us car with a brand new hitch to tow our hard top tent trailer, packed and ready to go and we set off to go camping.” Danigirl_03

23. I’ll Have That Candy Stocked For You

“A few years ago, I was working at a fabric store.

One of my favorite places to be, but there was one manager that I didn’t get on with. Not sure why but this manager had some sort of problem with me. Since day one, the main boss would put me somewhere in the store, and this other one would come in, counter the big boss’s orders, and then spend the rest of the shift coming up to me and telling me to stock the candy ever 5 minutes.
And I do mean every 5 minutes.

Ordinarily, this takes about 3 minutes, and it’s just basic busy work to do between customers. Not this time.

So, it’s the day of darkness in the retail world, more commonly known as Black Friday. Not only are we slammed, but we also have to upsell this new promotional item. We were literally getting marks against us if we didn’t sell a certain number that day. The lines were long, and it was just one customer after another, with no lull in between.

By the end of the sales time, every shelf was empty.

Now, I am by no means perfect, but I try to make sure I do all of what my job entails. Part of the cashier’s job was keeping the front shelves stocked, and everything for that was behind the counter.
There was nothing in the mythical back room, and even if there was, the Xmas stuff had started coming in, and for some reason, this manager thought the best way to store it would be to put it in the direct middle of the hallway that was the backroom and effectively blocks all of the regular merchandise.

There were about 2 feet of aisle to walk down one side of the room, but that’s it. Not relevant, but annoying.

So, the other cashier and I had cleaned up everything, restocked the shelves, and there was nothing left upfront but one box of Necco wafers and seasonal soaps. The candy was decimated, but there was nothing to put there. So, we both chalked it up to a job well done, but we weren’t allowed to leave the register that day.

It’d slowed down considerably, and we both had about 2 hours of shift left. So, we were just talking, attending to the few customers that still trickled through and generally attempting to wind down from the insanity.

So, of course, this manager comes through and tells me specifically to stock candy. I try to explain that there isn’t any backstock, and she waves me off and repeats to stock candy. I spend a few minutes double-checking that there isn’t more stock, but nope, it hasn’t magically reproduced behind the counter.

Ok, guess it’s stocked.

Apparently not, as the manager comes back a few minutes later and tells me to stock it again. My coworker tries to explain and gets cut off with a, “Temp, YOU need to stock it.
I want those shelves full, don’t stop until they are.”

Ok. Sure. Full shelves.

Now, this has been months of her generally trying to get me to do most of the work in the store. This manager was having me do a lot of her own work, double if she found out I was having a health issue, and I was tired of it.

My doctor was already telling me I had to leave for my own health, so I wasn’t feeling generous.

I told my coworker what I was going to do, and she backed me up. I stocked those shelves. These tiny little candy shelves were stocked full of anything I could find behind the counter. Those NECCO wafers, soaps, various items from the promo shelves, I even fit a couple of steam irons on the top ones.
I apologized to customers for the wait because I couldn’t stop until those shelves were full.

The manager came up, red in the face, and ready to start yelling, but I was saved by the fact that there were customers there at the time. I checked my watch, grinned, waved, and my coworker and I walked to the back and clocked out. I never went back. Shopped there a few times since and that manager is gone.” tempthethrowaway

22. Boss Said To Ignore The Customers, So I Did

You’re the boss.

“After graduating college, I worked for about 6 months as a cashier at a local branch of a chain sandwich shop.

Mostly, it was a great job. Customers were mostly polite, my coworkers were friendly and helpful, and I genuinely believed in the company’s products.
Even my bosses were pretty great, except for one. We’ll call him The Jerk.

The jerk was belligerent, vindictive, nitpicky, and pretty much an awful boss in every way a boss can be awful. He had the type of sh*tty ‘no excuses’ policy that defined ‘excuse’ as literally anything besides, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” I could go on and on about all the different ways he was terrible, but this story is about one specific flavor of his awfulness.

During our shifts, each employee had a certain section of the store they were assigned to keep clean in addition to their duties. The cashier’s section was the front counters, displays, and coffee kiosks. I don’t know if it was officially the manager’s job, but as long as I worked there, whoever was the shift manager always took care of the outside patio area.
Except for the jerk.

At first, he would just say things to me like, “I’m really busy right now, could you clean the patio?,” which was fine.

Part of the job description stated that if you had free time and the manager asked you to do something extra, you did it. He was well within his rights. But one day, he suddenly started asking me why I was shirking my duties by not keeping the patio clean. After all, the patio was part of my section.

It wasn’t and never had been. I asked the other cashiers, and they all agreed they’d never been told anything about the patio being part of the cashier section.

I didn’t mind helping out with the patio if my other cashier duties were done, but it irked me that he had taken something extra I was doing to be helpful and turned it into something that I was neglecting my duties if I didn’t do.
It felt like a bait and switch, and I felt cheated.

The bigger problem, though, was that keeping the patio clean through my entire shift was a huge pain for me as a cashier. In the afternoons, I was often the only one at the counter, and customers would trickle in with a few minutes between each group.

This meant that I was constantly having to run back and forth between the patio and the register, which confused customers and made it hard to get any actual work done on the patio.

One day when this was particularly bad, the jerk came upfront and started asking me why I hadn’t cleaned the patio. I started to explain that I kept having to come back inside to serve customers, but he cut me off.
I don’t remember his exact words, but it was something along the lines of, “That’s no excuse.

Cleaning the patio is your job. Now go outside and do your job. Don’t come back inside until the patio is clean.”

That last sentence was music to my ears. I assured him that of course I would do exactly as he said, went outside, and started cleaning. A few minutes later, a family walked past me through the front doors into the store. Through the large front window, I watched them stand, confused, in front of the register. There was no one at it to serve them (the jerk had gone back into his office to attend to his oh-so-important manager duties).

I continued to clean the patio.
A few minutes later, another family came in and joined the first, standing confused, and now annoyed, in front of the counter. At this point, the jerk must have noticed them on the security camera because he came out of his office and started ringing them up. Then came another set of customers and another. The jerk was at the register, so he had to serve them. He was now being forced to cover my job because I was too busy doing his.

I finished cleaning the patio and came inside, and The Jerk immediately tore into me, asking where I had been, why wasn’t I at the counter, couldn’t I see there were customers? I put on my most innocent smile.
“But you told me not to come back inside until I’d finished cleaning the patio. I assumed that meant you would take care of serving customers since I couldn’t possibly be two places at the same time.”

He just glared at me for the longest moment, then mumbled something about how I should have known what he meant, and I was never to pull a stunt like that again and shuffled back to his office.

Not much of a victory in the grand scheme of things, but seeing the momentary flash of panic in his eyes as he realized his “do as I say no excuses” policy had backfired had me giddy for the rest of the day.” SunGirl42

21. Okay, I Won’t Leave The Room No Matter What, Even If There’s A Fire

“So, this happened when I was in fourth grade.
I tell this story often when asked about messed up stories, and my mom still tells it as well.

I was a bit of a class clown.

Let’s call the teacher Miss Meanie. She was mean to me because I was a handful, and she apparently didn’t know how to handle hyper children. This was in the 90s, and one of my previous teachers told my mother I should be on Ritalin to give you an idea of me as a kid.

Anyway, I was always joking in class and distracting others. I was able to do my work, but I admit I know looking back that I was a handful.

So, the discipline at my school was to put the kids outside the classroom.
It was a private school from K-12, so you could attend from kindergarten to 12th grade.

When we were in trouble and were sent out of class, we’d share the hall with 4th-8th graders, and the adjacent hall, joined by a hallway with a dark storage room, was 9-12th. So, I saw kids of all ages. Me being the sociable little monster I was, I would make conversation with them, being friendly.

They would always talk, especially the older kids. Older guys thought it was funny I was in trouble, and I guess older girls thought it was endearing or funny; I don’t know, but people always talked and even stood around to talk longer rather than passing by awkwardly.

The teacher heard me and scolded me many times.
She eventually moved me to that joined hallway with the storage room in it. It was ceiling to walls with boxes, but she moved some out and put a desk in there.

It didn’t have but one functioning light as I was blocked slightly by the boxes, so it was dark, barely visible to write on my desk with.

Once again, being sociable, I just stood in the hall and talked to passerby kids and older kids. Who was going to see me? It’s at the end of the hall, and no teachers came. Well, Mrs. Meanie caught wind and came back there to scold me. She gripped my arm, hard, hard enough to leave a red handprint, and pulled me into the back room with gritted teeth.

She leaned in an inch from my face and said with the very same gritted teeth, half yelling, “You are not to leave this chair” after pushing me down into it. “No matter what. No matter who you see. You are not to leave this chair again until I come and get you. You are to remain here and do your work, or we will be taking this to the principal and calling your parents.”

Me, scared at that thought, could not help it since my brain is slower moving than my mouth.

“What if there’s a fire?” joking of course. Through the same greeted teeth “Even if there is a fire. You stay in this seat until I say so.”

So, I did.
Hours passed, and it’s nearly lunchtime, I’m starving. I never ate breakfast as a kid, so I’m staring down the dimly lit clock time like it might suddenly start doing backflips. I hear the fire alarm go off. We have a drill twice a month, so I wasn’t shocked. I started to get up, as I know I was supposed to no matter what, but then remembered Mrs.

Meanie gritting her teeth at me. “Better do what she says,” I thought, smiling, thinking it will be funny to see her reaction, knowing it was only a drill.

I saw the kids and teens all filing out. Remember how I said it was literally 8 grades worth of students? Picture 12 or so classrooms each with up to 30 or 40 students in them walking down two narrow hallways.
Like a heard of chihuahuas through a coffee straw. So, orderly, even in a straight line, is not happening.

I see them all taper out and wonder where she is. I see them all gone, and now it’s empty, only the flashing light from the hallway alarm and the ringing siren. I sit there thinking, “Oh man, when I see her face, this is going to be amazing.” Giddy with excitement at the thought of it.

Then I smelled smoke. 2 fire drills a month for 9 months a year for my entire life it felt like, and this time I smell smoke.

Then I see smoke. I’m upstairs, at the back of a dark hallway, in an empty two-story, large school building.
We had no windows in my school for some reason. Looking back, I’m sure this breaks some sort of fire code now.

Ah okay, I might have messed up. I’m going to go to the front. I started tearing up and getting watery-eyed. I was just thinking, “I may have just committed suicide out of pettiness.”

When I hear stomping, loud and clear. She runs down the hallway, red-faced, teary-eyed, and out of breath and grabs me, and for the first time, Mrs.

Meanie is nice to me, and she’s hugging me and crying rambling faster than I can keep up with, “Thank God, thank God, thank God…headcount…can’t see you..panicked…messed up so bad…so sorry…please forgive me..” as she’s carrying me down the hall.
I come out. All the kids are in the parking lot along with the fire trucks. I never saw those in action – neat. They come out with several extinguishers, there was a small fire in the kitchen when making lunch. Thankfully, it was contained to a small area, did no real damage, only made a TON of smoke, and was put out quickly by the firefighters.

The principal wanted to know why I was there, and I told him truthfully, “I was told not to come out, even if there was a fire.” This wasn’t a jab at Mrs. Meanie, but our principal was cold as ice and made you tell the truth. At my school, they actually paddled you with a wooden paddle with holes in it, a very old school type of punishment, even for the 90s.
(Irrelevant, but these horrors run deep, that thing whistled when swung and hurt.)

The principal had someone watch our class, and I’m assuming gave her an earful in her office for the nearly rest of the day.

My mother was called, they all convened in the office, and once again, I’m assuming words were said. My mother was livid and said she paid too much money per month to have me locked in a closet, and even I was being a little sh*t, there are better ways to punish me, like, say, calling her first thing and letting her put the fear in me, which she did after this; I did not get off scot-free from her. As relieved as she was that I wasn’t dead, she knows all of this sh*t was my fault in the end, and my stupidity could have gotten me killed.

Mrs. Meanie was a lot nicer to me then, a lot more patient, and I was less of a little sh*t. I still was a class clown, but within reason, and never tried to distract kids again. She was a lot nicer, and more understanding, and tried to reach kids rather than scream and scold at first glance. I had a lot of bad times at that school and left only a year later due to a particularly bad incident in which, once again, my mother was present.

But this time, the teacher was fired for gross negligence that nearly hospitalized me. (This time, I was not being a sh*t.) Another story for another time, though, and not malicious compliance on my part in that one.”

20. Insult Me? Sure, I’ll Write That 5-Page Essay… About Your Terrible Teaching

“I was a sophomore in high school, and my English teacher just sat and did nothing.
I like English class and would say I’m pretty good in class and wasn’t very disruptive, but the teacher I had seemed to have it out for me.

I’d be sitting in the back, and she’d tell me to stop talking despite the rest of the class talking much more than I was.

One day in class, we were talking about the lockdown procedure, and she told us we had to go under the desks, so I asked her, “What about the fact that in a shooting that is more dangerous than defending ourselves as the shooter would probably not just see the closed door and walk by without trying something?” The school I go to is rather small and so the chances of the threat causing the lockdown would more than likely be going after someone.

I said that, and the teacher said, “How do you know what they’ll do? Are you going to be a shooter?” I obviously wasn’t, so I said nothing more, and the class ended, so I left.

A few days later, she assigns an essay that we had to finish by the end of the class. It was a shorter day that day, and so class periods were shorter than usual. This had already annoyed the whole class as there obviously was no time to write an actually good essay, and so, instead of complaining like I wanted to, I decided to write the essay on why she was a terrible teacher.

I fulfilled the requirements of 5 pages and whatever the other ones were and wrote about how she repeatedly singled me out and how she hardly knew the material she was teaching on.
I also wrote about how she had no right to call me a shooter as that could have actual repercussions that would matter.

I ended up finishing with time left somehow and turned it into her. She had a surprising look of disdain towards me.

A few days later when she handed it back, I had of course gotten a poor grade, and she’d emailed my parents for being disrespectful, but luckily, that was one of the few times my parents sided with me against a teacher, so it wasn’t too much of an issue.

She did start ignoring me, so the class was a bit more peaceful.” Enderman_ace

19. She Asked For Two Seats, Got Two Seats, Then Didn’t Want The Two Seats

“This happened quite some years ago, when I had dizzy spells and would randomly pass out frequently (still undiagnosed due to sh*tty doctor but went away on its own).
Due to these dizzy spells, I was very hesitant to give my seat up on trains/busses, as I was afraid I’d fall and hit someone/something. I would still stand up if someone really looked like they needed it and asked politely, but I just didn’t offer.

One day I was getting on the train and an old lady carrying a cane wanted to board too. A gentleman offered her help:

Man:’Do you need a hand ma’am?’

Lady: ‘No thank you, I don’t even need this cane swings it around but my husband insists I use it just in case. She then hops on the train.’

I end up in the same area as the old lady, in 2 of the very few open seats. After a few stops a Karen enters, she had the haircut, the clothes, and the attitude.

By now all the seats are filled, and there are already people standing around due to the lack of seats. Karen pushes through a few people, looks around, and loudly exclaims to no one in particular “Will nobody offer a lady their seat?!” Nobody responds. She then goes around, complaining to a few random people sitting down that she needs to sit because she’s been standing for over an hour (oh the horror, try working retail) and just needs to put her feet up (…..on a full train.

Okay). One person gets fed up and gives her his seat, right across the old lady from before. The Karen now has a seat, but still no place to put her feet up.
She complains to the person next to her and to the old lady that these trains are always so cramped, and it would be good if people who didn’t need seats just gave them up. The awesome old lady took this as her cue, made a point of standing up really slowly and carefully, grabbing her cane and clutching it tightly, and said “You can have my seat, your feet probably need it more”.

She then walked away very slowly, leaning heavily on her cane, and asking people to please step aside so she could fit through.

Karen got many angry glares at this point, and she called out to the old lady “You can just keep sitting here, I don’t need it THAT badly,” and the old lady replied, “You just said that you really needed it, so take it.” And walked to the next cabin.
Karen couldn’t see her anymore at this point but from my seat I could see the old lady stand up straight and pick up the cane, swinging it around again.

I don’t think many people saw it because everyone continued to glare at Karen until she got off at the next stop.

The old lady just really wanted to teach Karen a lesson by complying and acting her age, making Karen look like a b*tch. She has been my hero ever since.” Azzacura

18. Give Me Trouble For Figuring Out A Faster Way To Do Math? You’re Just Mad I’m A Step Ahead

“When I was in high school. We had a substitute teacher for our algebra class for a week.

And when I was at home doing homework, my father taught me an easier way to solve the problems.
The following day I was doing our in-class work and was almost done when a couple of friends noticed I was getting the answers quickly. So I showed them the way I had learned the night before. Well, the substitute didn’t like that we were talking working out the problems and said if I had something to say I should share with the class.

So not seeing any issue with teaching the class the easier way to do things I went to the board and showed the whole class what I was doing. Well, the substitute then goes to say that where the short cut works now in the real world it won’t always work out. To which I tell her I learned it from someone who uses it in the real world and believes in working smarter not harder.
I was told to sit down and not talk to the rest of the class, which gave me time to finish my assignment.

When our regular teacher returned he had a note that said I disrupted class. When asked why I disrupted the class, which was strange to me, I just told him that I had learned a different way to solve the homework and when asked to share it with the class by the substitute I did. He laughed and asked me to show what I did, then he laughed again because he was going to show us the method I used that week.” ragnarokxg

17. You Want Pics Of The Party I’m Going To? Ok Sure, No Problem

Although I am:

– 21 years old

– very sheltered within my church youth groups and fellowships

– have always been totally transparent with my parents about all the major events of my life (perhaps to my detriment)

– have never been to a house party or come home drunk ever

– have always come home within curfew

My parents, particularly my mother, believe I am not trustworthy of any independence in my life.

Today I told my parents I would be attending a party without letting them know a few days beforehand. Mom was already p*ssed at me for the past few days because Dad bought me a car (it’s a requirement for my university program, unfortunately) and she wanted me to Uber everywhere (which is not possible).

She was screaming all the way up until my ride arrived, accusing me of my hating my family, demanding I stay home, and then she lurked by the door trying to glimpse who the driver was.

Half an hour later, she (through my dad) texts me to send her photos of the party I’m going to (mind you it’s just a small gathering). This makes me laugh and infuriates me.
I have never done anything that is worthy of her suspicious scrutiny, believe me. I have never given her any reason not to trust me, always updating her on everyone I’ve dated, every gathering I’ve attended, every friend I’ve spoken to that day.

But you know what? Dear mummy asked for photos.

So I gave her photos.

Photos upon photos. Photos of every inch of the party. Dozens of photos. Photos of the clock. Of the appetizers. Photos of people’s socks. Photos of the fridge. Of the bathroom. Of myself in the bathroom. I must have sent them 30 individual photos (and more to come, believe me). Did someone move? Mummy was updated.

She asked for photos so…” n00bserver

16. Berate Me And Tell Me I Don’t Know What I’m Doing? Ok, Go Ahead And Make A $50k Mistake

“So this is my mother’s story and an old one but I still remember it fondly.

My mother was a potting/coating specialist and did special soldering work for a major defense contractor. While she couldn’t afford to go to college she has a solid 35-year career and knew her stuff. This happened about 10 years before she retired.

In the early 90s, her company decided to do a big push where they wanted all managers to have a degree, any degree. This resulted in her manager who had years of shop experience being replaced not by my mother or one of her coworkers but by a 22-year-old with a BA in interior design.

My mother as well as her coworkers were fairly vocal about this but management insisted.

Fast forward a few months and a circuit board arrive in the shop.
My mother reviews the instructions and realizes they checked the wrong box. Now I’m no coating expert but generally to there are 2 main ways to protect: to carefully spot cost the areas that need coating or to ‘pot’ it by filling any open spaces with resin. This type of board needed coating but they checked the potting box.

Now my mother is actually a pretty nice lady so she goes to the manager and tells her they need to get the paperwork corrected so she can coat it and the manager can sign off on it. The manager proceeded to berate my mother that she had no place to question what the form said, that it’s filled out by engineers who are way smarter than her and actually know what they’re doing and to do what she’s told.
My mother goes back to her work station, carefully solders on the pieces, grab a mold, and pots the board.

She put this circuit board into a solid cube of potting resin like it was suspended in a cube of ice. Perfectly visible and untouchable. She slaps the paperwork on top, gets the manager to sign off, sends it down the line at 4 pm, and picked me up from school with the biggest sh*t-eating grin.

The next day she comes home with the next part of the story. Turns out that wasn’t just a circuit board (hence the hand filled out the form) it was a prototype.

That board costs $50k to replace in straight manufacturing costs and put them 2 weeks behind on their defense contract.
And while yes the engineer did make the initial mistake my mother was more than happy to explain to upper management that actually the mistake had been noticed and caught but that the shop manager refused to address it.

The manager lasted for about another month. They replaced her with someone with a completely unnecessary electrical degree who cost a ton more than just getting someone who knew coating or heaven forbid would listen to those who did.” misranoregami

15. Want To Yell, And Throw A Tantrum And Tell Me To Call The Cops? Done. See Ya!

“Australian here. To set the scene, I had minor surgery in the morning (Kidney stones aren’t fun) and decided that it would probably be best to Uber to an appointment instead of drive.

For most of the Uber drive, everything goes relatively peacefully, we’re about 2 minutes out an everything has been going as expected. What I wasn’t expecting was for some ‘roided up stress head in a 4WD to have an insecure masculinity meltdown.

Traffic is a little backed up, and my Uber driver does a socially frowned upon, but not illegal maneuver, as we are stopped to let turning traffic have unrestricted access to a side road (not something we have to do, as it’s not an actual intersection).

Uber driver notices that the guy in the right lane has done the same because the gap in front of him is too small for his giant 4WD. She indicates, takes that opening, and then is immediately honked at by the 4WD (Diagram – thanks /u/SiameseQuark).
She looks confused at me and asks if she did anything wrong, I shook my head.

We are approaching the lights that caused the backup, and our emotionally stunted 4WD owner speeds violently into the lights right turning lane, screaming at us through his car, giving us the finger, the works.

I laugh, the Uber driver ignores. As we continue up to the lights going straight on, 4WD owner slams his 4WD into the straight lane with no warning or indication and slams his brakes on. It’s worth noting, that this was done at a well-surveilled set of lights.

He’s in front of us, and brake checks us again as we cross over the lights, and then he turns off onto the next side street… the side street I was going to get my Uber driver to drop me off on.

I get her to go one street further up, and U-turn, so as to not antagonize the clearly angry driver and give him time to get ahead. She agrees, does the U-turn, then turns onto the side street.

Only guess what is at the entrance to the street? The 4WD. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I realize there is a pretty solid likelihood this dude is going to come over and try and abuse us. The Uber driver drops me off and asks nervously ,”do you want me to hang around?” but I shake my head.

I get my phone out and hit record just in case, and sure enough, as my first steps down the street happen, Mr.
I purchase large cars to make up for deficiencies elsewhere is coming over.

He’s Greek or Lebanese. I can tell right away. The clothes, the annoyed strut, the glasses, the skin tone. Sure enough, he starts right away being verbally aggressive, and his accent confirms my suspicions. For 8 minutes, I let him go, complaining all about her driving… but when I bring up his own actually illegal actions saying ‘so what?’.

He tells me he doesn’t care if I’m recording, does the short man syndrome thing of entering my personal space and calling me “tough because I’m big” and telling me how hard he is for doing “4 years in prison” and then makes a fatal mistake, he tells me to call the cops.
So I do.

He’s standing there, riled up, a mixture of nervous and self-righteous energy. Except I tell the police immediately that I arrived at the location via an Uber, and was being harassed.

When I mention the word Uber, his head tilts, and when I explain his actions, as well as him admitting to them on camera… he looks surprised and then concerned, and then he runs to his car, but not before I can relay to the operator his license plate.

Police arrive later, and I show them the video footage of the altercation. I didn’t think anything serious would happen, most likely just a fine unless he’d done this kind of thing before.

Turned out he had done worse, he had been involved in a nonfatal hit and run where the police were only able to get a description of the vehicle and of the driver.
He was sentenced just last week, 6 months. Not much, as it was his first offense… at least now when he tells folks he’s spent time in prison he won’t actually be lying.” BaneWilliams

14. ID Everyone? Ok, That’s You Too Karen

“When I was in college I used to work for my local movie theatre.

The job was amazing most of the time. You had a lot of freedom from the managers if you did your job right.

On a busy night, this was the situation: I was working behind the bar. We had a system where we would sell tickets and concessions at the same registers. Most of the time this would work just fine, but one a busy Saturday night it would take a lot of time to take tickets orders, discuss seating in the theatre and get all the food and drinks.

On this evening everything was running smoothly. It was a buddy night, but the team was well prepared and we had everything under control. I was taking an order from a longtime customer (let’s call her Linda). Linda was a nice woman and we always had a nice chat with her. She was 25 and had a subscription at our theatre. This would mean it would show her picture on the app with her date of birth and a QR code.

This way we could see that the person was old enough to see the movie.

Linda was ordering some nachos and two drinks. Now I know that Linda is well above the legal drinking age (in my county 18) and had already scanned her QR code (you would get points for free stuff when you bought drinks and foods).
I already knew her age was alright. So no reason to ask for any form of ID.

So I’m here getting the order ready and when I say the total to Linda a lady behind her (let’s call her Karen for obvious reasons) starts yelling.

Karen: “You didn’t check her ID!” Linda looks over her shoulder probably wondering why this woman is meddling and turns back to me: “Do you really need to see my ID? I could grab it if you want to?”

So I’m here thinking: “Karen should stfu and mind her own business”. Me: “No, need to, Linda. I know you’re older than 18 and it also says so on the app.”

Karen: “No, you need to check it! You need to check everyone that buys alcohol!”

Me: “Miss, I already verified her age and…”

Karen: “NO! Only a legal ID or passport is good to verify age!”

Sure, this is the case in a normal situation.

But when a customer has a subscription at our theatre they already have to verify their age and name with a legal ID. So we accept the app as a legal form of verification.

At this point, I’m already losing my patience. Why is Karen meddling in this situation when Linda is clearly over the age of 18?

Me: “Miss, thanks for bringing this to my attention but this woman is a loyal customer and we already know here age because…”

Karen: “NO! This is unacceptable and you should check her ID!”

I’m really starting to get annoyed and Linda is noticing as well.

Luckily Linda is a chill woman en smiles at me while grabbing her ID.

Linda: “Here it is, all good right?”

Me: “Sorry about this and thanks for showing.
It’s still not necessary though”

Linda: “No problem at all and good luck with her,” she says while smiling and giving me a wink.

I finalize the purchase and get ready to enjoy serving Karen. Karen has a major attitude and the order takes ages. She doesn’t like the seats and changes them a couple of time.

She also demands a student discount (which we don’t have on Saturdays and she is clearly older).

Finale she orders her food and last but not least she orders a red wine.

This triggers me instantly. I’m standing there with a big smile on my face like a kid in a candy store. You all see where this is going. I grab the wine and put in on the counter.
Then I say with my most polite voice.

Me: “Can I see your ID, miss?”

Karen: “Excuse me?”

Me: ” Well miss, as you pointed out to me I should check everyone for ID.”

Karen: “Well I’m obviously older than 18!”

Sure Karen wasn’t looking anywhere near 18.

But she didn’t hit prime Karen age either. I would say she was early thirty’s, but with all that plaster on her face, she could pass for a 25-year-old.

Me: “Miss, the woman I asked before you were well over the age of 18. You insisted I follow the rules. If you don’t have your ID with you I can’t sell you the alcohol.”

Karen: “Preposterous! I demand to speak to the manager!”

Me: “Sure, I will get him.”

Now the manager this evening was Bob.

Bob hated types like Karen and I knew he would stand by my side. So I go grab Bob and inform him of the whole situation. When I explained it all Bob smiled at me with a huge grin on his face.

Bob: “Let’s go have some fun”.

So Bob walks with me to the registers and Karen yelled the whole story. Bob listens carefully and then reminds her of the rules and she needs to have some ID or she won’t get her wine.

Karen is done with the situation, I could clearly tell. The previews already started so she grabs her wallet and pulls out a public transport card.

Karen: “Here you go! It states I’m old enough!”

Bob: “Sorry, miss. This isn’t a legal form of ID.”

Karen at this point is bright red and I thought she would burst out in anger.
Karen:” I DEMAND YOU SELL ME THIS WINE! THIS IS RIDICULOUS AND I’M ABOUT TO MISS THE MOVIE!”

Bob: “Nothing I can do for you without ID miss.

I should also note that when the previews are over (usually after 15 minutes after starting time) we can’t let you go inside the theatre because this will cause a disturbance for the other visitor”.

At this point, I wish I could have taken a picture of Karen’s face. The utter face of defeat was amazing to see.

Karen: “Fine! Just keep the wine! I’m going to see the movie and then I’m never coming back here!”

Bob: “That’s a shame miss. That will be XXX please”.

After the whole incident, I got a compliment from Bob for sticking to the rules and for defeating a Karen in her own game.” JvandeP_NL

13. Chop Down The Plants? Oops, 11 ft Of Your Yard Is Actually Ours

“This was a long time ago but I remember it clearly.
We moved into a community with tight space in between our house and our neighbors, and we didn’t like them being able to see into our kitchen. We put up a bunch of plants, costing thousands but my parents thought it would be worth it.

A week later my parents awoke to the plants completely chopped down. My father was furious and marched down to our neighbor’s house. He told my father the plants were on his property line, therefore he had total right to take them down. He warned that if anything were to go on his property again, he would report us to the authorities immediately.

Later that day my father called the company that put in the plants, and with the warranty, we could have them replanted next week for no charge.

We made sure there was no way it was on our neighbor’s property. However, a few days later we caught him chopping them down at 2 am. We called the police upon obstruction of property, and after a chat with my neighbor, he decided to call a professional and mark his property line. My father agreed.

A few days later I got home to find orange tape in my neighbor’s yard. Apparently, his fence was 11 feet over our property line! We watched as he took down his fence, completely furious.

Within the next month, we were enjoying our new space and privacy in our backyard, and my neighbor ended up losing 1/4th of his backyard. My neighbor ended up having to pay almost 10k for the destruction of our property, and we got to plant our plants again.” BallooonUnderstudy

12. Dock Pay For Being 2 Minutes Late? Better Provide Pay For Working Late Too!

“I worked in an electricity retailer call center.
It was highly unionized, but the management tracked login times to the minute.

One incredibly ridiculous thing they did was if you were a minute or two late, they would literally dock your pay by that many minutes. It wasn’t really enough for us to really notice, and I’m sure they didn’t actually save any money – I mean, if you were 15 minutes late I could understand not paying but 3 minutes late?

Well, eventually the union discovered what they were doing, and were completely p*ssed that they hadn’t been consulted about this d*ck move.

This is where their MC comes in.

The union demanded logon and log off times for everyone in the call center. What management hadn’t counted on was that all of us would often need to wrap up calls and clear the call queue before the call center could officially close.
This often meant that operators would leave several minutes after their shift. On bad occasions, it could be 15-20 minutes delay before they could clock off, but mostly it was only a few minutes.

The union made management recalculate everyone’s pay for the year based on the clock on and clock off time. They also pointed out that staying past the end of shift triggered penalty rates. It turns out everyone (and I mean everyone!) had spent more time wrapping up calls at the end of the day than they were late clocking on. Each of us got paid for lost wages, at overtime rates.

It cost them a fortune and they never docked the pay of anyone who was late ever again.” tbsdy

11. I Tip Too Much? K, I’ll Just Choose The Lobster Grilled Cheese Instead

“When going over my expense report my company saw I tipped 20% for lunch one afternoon.

Lunch was $15, the tip was $3. They told me that it is too much “because I wouldn’t do that with my money.” Heck yeah, I do. I just took the better part of an hour of my server’s time. The least I could do is leave $3. It’s $3 for crying out loud, but rules are rules. However, my company is fairly generous allowing me $75 a day to spend on food, which I never do and that’s about to change.

For lunch today instead of my usual salad or sandwich, I went for the lobster grilled cheese. And of course, upgrades my regular fries to the duck fat fries. Enjoy “saving” that 5% for the rest of my travel meal expenses.” Vielden

10. Just Give Him A Bowl? Here’s The Biggest One We Have Sir

“Yesterday I decided to take my kids to an international chain restaurant.
In this restaurant, the kids’ meal comes with ice cream. But, you have to serve yourself.

That was a problem because there weren’t any bowls beside the ice cream machine.

So I thought, “I know what to do. I’ll simply ask an employee for some bowls.” And that’s just what I did.

So he turns to look at the vast array of bowls behind him, some sauce-sized, some entree salad-sized, and many in between. And we realize that neither of us knows what size the kids’ ice cream is intended to be.

So he thought, “I know what to do. I’ll simply ask a manager.” And he says, “Hey boss, what do we put the kids’ ice cream in?”

Without turning around, the boss says “a fu*king bowl, what do you think?”

“Ya, but what size of bowl?”

The boss, with his inimitable charm, tact, and grace, says “JUST F*CKING GIVE HIM A BOWL.”

The employee looked back at the bowls, and then I saw him get a big grin over his face.

“I apologize for that, sir. I think it’s probably these ones,” he says, as he hands me two of the largest bowls they have in the restaurant, practically giggling with glee.

My children were similarly delighted.

The manager walked by when we were halfway through and made a noise like a startled opossum, but said no actual words.

Definitely going back there.” Mango123456

9. I’m Over By A $1.50 And You Won’t Approve My Meal Expenses? K, I’ll Read The Company Policy

“I work for an office and we have an 8-week busy season with mandatory overtime (12-14hrs/day).

During this time, the company agrees to reimburse us for dinner, up to $13/meal. We just have to submit a claim with our receipts at the end of the busy season.
Food options around my work aren’t great so I usually brought my dinner from home. But sometimes I was too tired to cook after a long day so out of the 8 weeks, I purchased maybe 10 meals. 3 of those meals I spent $13.50, going $0.50 over the limit. This resulted in a whopping $1.50 overage which my manager said it was no big deal and that I could include on my expense claim.

He signed off on it and everything.

A few days after I submitted my report Head Office emailed me saying they rejected my expense claim and that I could resubmit after I removed the $1.50 overage. I wrote back saying my manager was fine with the $1.50 overage and even signed off on it, and they responded by telling me that they do not allow overages under any circumstances, that the $1.50 must be removed or they wouldn’t approve any of my meal expenses.

They ended their email with the advice that I should “actually read the company policy next time.”

Fine, they were right and I was wrong. So I decided I’d read the policy very thoroughly before redoing my expense claim.

Yes, the policy clearly stated a $13/maximum on purchased meals. Oh, and what’s this? The policy also allows a $10 per diem for meals you bring from home.

I very happily removed the $1.50 overage and added an additional $300 for the 30 meals I brought from home.

I should read the company policy more often!

Some of you are asking if I got paid the $300 and the answer is yes. Many are suggesting the person was sincerely trying to help me out, but I’m not 100% sure because they were so snippy in their email.
Also, when we were emailed the meal policy at the beginning of the busy season there was no mention of the per diem and no one else in my department knew about it. Either way, I made sure to thank them just in case they were being sincere and I was just too jaded to see it!” TheRomper

8. Tell Us If We Don’t Like It We Can Leave? Ok, Bye

“I work(ed) as a housekeeper at a small local hotel.

At the beginning when I started (about three years ago), things were pretty peachy. I got above minimum wage and worked in an environment with a more relaxed working pace. We had more time than your average hotel to clean rooms and it showed in customer satisfaction.
We had stellar reviews with customers raving about how there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, how everything from the lampshades to the bathroom drain was always scrubbed squeaky clean.

I loved my job and took pride in it, and when we had extra time (which happened from time to time), we would do some deeper cleaning like scrubbing all the walls inch by inch, disinfecting the whole bathroom, cleaning the blinds, etc.

Even though we all had some extra time, we used it to make sure the rooms were always up to a very high standard.

As a result of this, we got a reputation of being an affordable but very clean hotel, so our popularity spiked. Even before we got so popular (in our prime we were booked full about 90% of the days) our boss made a pretty nice amount of money.
We don’t have a reception, we’re self-service (you just get a passcode for your room via text message) so he saved money with that.

He drives an expensive car and seems very well off. We were never struggling financially.

Then things started changing. We’re a very close-knitted team of cleaners who have been in the house for years. A couple of us left at the end of last year (one moved to another state, another became a housewife after having a kid), and we started expecting newcomers to our team. They never came. Our boss claimed that it’s hard to find workers for this kind of job.

We never had anyone interviewed and I never saw ads anywhere that we’re hiring, so I’m not sure he was even planning on replacing them.
So our work pace got tighter. We managed somehow but there was no longer time for thorough cleaning.

Then, the boss opened a restaurant so that the guests could have breakfast. Cleaning it daily got added to our workload (and that place is massive, it takes at least 1½ hours to clean daily). At the same time, he also opened a separate Airbnb-style apartment (three bedrooms, kitchen, living room, and bathroom) for larger groups who wanted to reside together.

Cleaning that fell on us as well.

So suddenly, we were down two people (there were seven of us initially) and shoved two massive new responsibilities. We asked our boss again to hire more people, but he said no and that “we’ve been having it too easy” beforehand.
He also refused to add another hour or two to our daily working hours (currently 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.). We have six hours and everything needs to be done at 3 p.m. sharp because that’s when the new passcodes start working.

Understandably, we were stressed out. There was suddenly far too much to do and our boss also simultaneously expected that we would keep up our usual cleaning standard. But when our time per room plummets from 45 min to 25 min tops (usually closer to 15), obviously we’re not able to clean everything the way we did before. We would get yelled at when we got bad feedback because there wasn’t enough time to clean thoroughly enough, customers who came in after our clean rooms were disappointed and took their business elsewhere.

Also, my coworkers started calling in sick because they were burnt out. It was a mess, but our boss maintained the outlook that if he just pushed a massive amount of work on us, we’d somehow magically find an extra pair of hands and get everything done 100%.

Last week, we had a meeting with my coworkers. We discussed the current situation and to my surprise, everyone was considering quitting. Out of loyalty to our long-time employer, the five of us agreed to have a meeting with our boss and try to persuade him to hire more staff to bring the hotel back to its earlier standard.

A couple of days later, we had the said meeting. Our boss was still in denial and said that we just need to up our pace and do things faster.
He cited that most hotels give housekeepers about 20 minutes to do everything. We pointed out that it’s true, but in that case, he can’t expect us to clean better than those hotels.

He scoffed and told us, “If you don’t like working here, then leave.”

That was all we needed to hear. That night we had another meeting amongst us cleaners.

We checked our contracts and realized there was no agreed-on notice for resignation as we’re at-will. So, we were all going to take his advice.

This morning, at 9 a.m. sharp, the five of us paid our boss a visit. The look on his face when we simultaneously slammed down our resignation letters and marched out, leaving no one to clean the whole hotel today, will warm my heart for the rest of my days.
He was absolutely stunned.

He tried to call us to talk things over.

Nuh-uh, we just did what you told us to. Have fun replacing what was a motivated, loyal, and dedicated team of cleaners who made your business bloom.” Throwinitawaymkay

7. Don’t Ask Questions? Ok, I’ll Just Let You Ruin Thousands of Dollars Of Equipment

“A few years back, I was working in a food manufacturing facility. I was a newer hire and basically what you’d call a grunt. I was only there because they hadn’t figured out how to automate my job yet.

This particular company was a great place to work and our sanitation programs and general cleanliness were world-class.

In addition to doing our normal daily equipment cleanings, we would be doing scheduled heat treatments a few times per year on every piece of equipment.
The thought was that some pathogens could start to become chemical resistant, so every so often we would cook the sh*t out of the equipment in an oven. Nothing would survive, it would be like starting over. Not a bad idea. Many companies do this, particularly meat packaging plants.

My foreman was a bitter woman. She was the worst ball buster there was.

She would throw you under the bus and berate you every chance she got. Unless that is, you were one of her friends. They got a free pass.

She was tasked with helping spearhead this heat treatment project. We had a temporary enclosure made out of very heavy mil plastic sheeting and a steam wand teed off the plant’s steam boiler piping.
We tossed a couple of temperature probes in the enclosure. This whole thing was a proof of concept before the owner dropped a fortune on a gigantic oven big enough to fit a few medium-sized cars in, for heat-treating equipment.

So my foreman delegated the task of trialing the heat treatment process even though it was her project. She wasn’t very bright, so she made me do it because I was the new guy. We had an entire production line shut down for a week. I had to move every single piece of equipment across the building and steam cook them one at a time. Some of these machines weighed as much as two tons. I was lucky to get a couple of pieces of equipment done per day.

I told my foreman that the heat was too much for the food-grade grease in the bearings, the hydraulic systems, and the moisture from the steam would destroy electrical components.

She didn’t care. Very rudely she told me not to ask any questions and just do what I was told.

Being a foreman in an industrial environment, I could not believe how mechanically inept she was. This was not the first time she had directed us to make bad decisions with expensive equipment.

“OK,” I said.

I spent the next 4 days getting paid over $20 an hour to destroy hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment. All the bearing shields blew out, all of the seals on the hydraulic motors failed, and I destroyed the contents of a few electrical panels along the way.
The problem was that the temperature probes were placed on stainless steel pieces of equipment. If the surface of that equipment was 175*F, the air inside the enclosure was well over 250*F near the top of the enclosure.

Heat rises bro!

The maintenance department was absolutely livid. A dozen pieces of equipment needed total overhauls. Sensors were damaged, electrical contacts were corroded. Everything was covered in hydraulic oil from the fluid expanding and rupturing the housing and disconnect seals. It was a nightmare.

Our plant manager was understandably upset and wondered why my foreman didn’t call him after I ruined the first piece of equipment so we could stop and reevaluate the process.

I didn’t catch any heat for it. ….And my foreman, later on, was let go for personal misconduct.

(A bunch of us were questioned by upper management about some other incidents, namely having a relationship with a subordinate.) I’m sure destroying a bunch of equipment and incurring a week or so of lost production time didn’t look good on her resume either.

For those of you asking, I did my due diligence and I felt guilty about what I did, but I wasn’t risking being fired for insubordination. I talked to a foreman on another shift and our maintenance supervisor but my orders remained the same.

I was a new employee and I had no idea how to get in touch with the owner or other people in higher management. It was a huge company that employed thousands.

I don’t know the exact way it panned out they obviously don’t tell us why our boss is gone.
I am sure this incident didn’t do her any favors.” Hammsbeer4life

6. You Really Want To Know Exactly Where I Am Right Now? Oh I’ll Tell You Exactly

“More than a decade ago I was an at large Quality Inspector for a large industrial manufacturer.

I say at large because a majority of my work was on the plant floor, with my office only being used for paperwork and the occasional precision inspection. In the approximately 2 and a half years that I worked there, I had seven different people as my boss. Nine if you count the two guys that were in charge of my work twice.

Zapa  was an engineer from overseas, and his culture tends to produce arrogance in people that gain positions of authority.

I don’t have a problem with people from that country, but both Zapa and his boss are some of the most arrogant men I have ever met (topping that list is a professor from the same country).

All of the supervisors and quality staff are required to have a radio. Our radios had several channels, and the QA team had their own. This would seem to make any conversation private, but the line inspectors all wore radios so a lot of the plant could hear them.

This particular bit of MC starts with a “biological break.” I am almost finished doing my business when I get called over the radio.

Zapa: “Tales, this is Zapa.”

Tales: “Go for Tales.”

Zapa: “Where are you right now?”

Not wanting to give the whole plant a mental picture they can’t unsee, I reply with, “Indisposed.
I can meet in 5 minutes, just tell me where.”

Zapa:“But where are you right now?”

Tales: “Not currently available.”

Zapa: “Tales, tell me where you are, RIGHT NOW.”

It sounds like he wants to chew my *ss.

Little did he know… Okay, boss, you asked for it.

Tales: “I am currently in the 4th stall from the door in the east bathroom, sitting down and feeling much better.”

There is a pause on the other end of the line. I’m pretty sure that he was with someone else at the time, but I’ll never know. “When you are finished,” he said quietly, “please see me in my office.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I don’t remember what was so important, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t have waited five minutes.

But he never pressed me over the radio again.” Talesfromdathrowaway

5. Finish My Task And Get The Next One From her Every Time? I’ll be By Her Side Like Glue!

“I work at the orange fabric hardware store, located mainly on N/A continent. I was putting myself through college on the overnight team. Working 9 pm – 4/5 am and then having class at 7 am and labs until 5 pm most evenings meant my allowance for BS was low (I’m a science degree.

I always had labs). I was supposed to clock off at 1 each night since I was only part-time.

(I was only taking 15 credits. So sometimes there would be an hour or two between classes or a class would get canceled.
So I’d nap in my 2001 Ford Expedition from my last class and lab if I didn’t have any work to do. And weekends are great for catching up on sleep.)

At the orange fabric store, they consider it a working warehouse so they have all the powered lift equipment and I was pretty good at it, so good that after 4 years there I was the only person trained on one of the machines for my singular team stocking freight.

The OP ( think a cherry picker with a 4-foot metal platform attached for the uninformed).

The Problem:

Because I was in school I refused to work late evenings before tests and I would sometimes call out entirely for big exams. It was the primary use of my sick/vacation time.
My supervisor and the operations manager above me loved me so it was no problem. Until cool bosses left. Enter D*ck Manager and Ditsy Supervisor.

D*ck manager wanted to clean house of anyone who could think for themselves.

Meaning someone like me. The ditsy supervisor wanted to be promoted quickly so she did whatever DM wanted.

The prelude and the act:

DM and DS were being ridiculous one night and I had an exam the next morning. So I started getting things ready for me to do OP work. I planned on leaving at one, I talked with DS about it two weeks prior and had gotten it in writing from the store manager. DM and DS stop me asking what I was doing, no one was leaving until everyone was done (we had 5 people, and got from 3 to 4 trucks a week.

To say we were behind was an understatement. ).

Me: I have an exam in the morning, I’m the only one who can do these tasks. I’m getting them done before I have to leave (it’s around 11:00)

DM: looks at me, says “Okay go about your business.”

Freddydroid1I should have seen the stupidity coming. The next day I come in and get called into the office. Dm and DS are there.

DM: Last night we noticed that you were doing tasks that weren’t functioning with the group, and while we didn’t explicitly say not to do them, you were asked to work freight, not the OP work.

Me: “Isn’t the OP just another part of the freight? And I had an exam” looks at DS.
“ You were aware, it’s on the note here and in the system.”

DS: “While that’s true since you’re a veteran member of the team we need you to be more proactive and showing the new guys what to do/who in charge.”

DM: “So from now on, every task must be given to you explicitly by DS. If you’re seen doing something that isn’t from her direct orders than you’re not to do it when you finish your tasks you’re to go to her and get your next one.”

Me; Stares.

(my father was in the military, and my grandfather was a DI. I’m told I’m quite stoneface).

DM: “We need you to sign this stating that you understand.”

It was one of the sheets they use when doing non- firable punishments.
Basically, “you’ve been told you’re screwing up. If you keep it up we’ll use this against you later if we decide we want to be rid of you.” And they stay in the computer system for 6 months. So, for example, you can only be late 4 times in a 6 month period.

So say you’re late three times in January if you’re late before a certain date in June they’ll put you on a final warning.

Enter the malicious compliance:

It didn’t matter what I did, I was under DS’s heels waiting for my next task the moment I was done. If she was in a meeting with another associate I waited outside the door. If she was on lunch I waited for her to decide to take notice of me.
If she was in the bathroom, guess who was right outside the door.

To top it off I made some charts and spreadsheets of my grades from when I had the good bosses and then the new situation. After reviewing them with my store manager I convinced her that under no exception am I to be kept late. So for the next 5 months, I left exactly at 1:01. If they tried to keep me later the manager called DS and DM in for a tongue lashing.

Last October I switched from this job to the loading one.

Much better job with only 1/4 the stress. Load carts and load people’s purchases. I’m in the process to enlist. After a bit, we collected enough evidence on DM that when we sent the pictures and such to corporate, they moved him to a lower-performing store.” Zeebird95

4. Under No Circumstances Am I To Prepare Drinks And Leave It To The Experts? Ok Boss

“So a few years back I worked in a pub, I hated the place and the people within, management who just didn’t give a sh*t about their staff, bar staff who didn’t understand the concept of teamwork, etc.

So on a Friday night, we offered 2-4-1 cocktails, which were generally quite popular, very middle-class area, lots of ‘yummy mummy’ types on their ‘one night off from the kids!!!’ which is fine, you do you, just don’t be an entitled pr*ck about it.

This pub had a system on a Friday, the rest of us lowly bar staff would do the usual, pour pints, liquor and red bulls, ‘definitely LARGE’ glasses of grapes while two ‘specially trained’ members of staff would stick to the cocktail bar.

Honestly, not the worst system in theory, in practice, however?

So Friday night begins, it’s a busy one so we’re all going full throttle until I walk past the cocktail prep area and notice the tickets are piling up and the cocktail girls are nowhere to be seen.
Taking some initiative I get started on making some drinks, here I should mention, I’ve worked bar jobs the majority of my adulthood, I know how to make cocktails, especially the very basic ones available at this bar, and, even if it wasn’t essentially second nature to me at this point, the instructions for each drink are quite literally taped to the back of the prep station, essentially, I know what I’m doing.

I’m about halfway done with the tickets when my manager appears and reprimands me for making cocktails when I’m ‘not trained’, reminds me that I should leave it to the ‘experts’ and to get back to the (at this point very quiet) rest of the bar. I tried pointing out that I have no idea where these ‘experts’ have vanished to (they’ve been gone for about 20 minutes at this point) and that I’ve had more extensive training in previous jobs, but he won’t hear me, yells that I’ve been told before and that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES am I to prepare or assist with cocktails in any way other than delivering tickets and that these things should be left to the experts, so I decided that sure, you want your ‘experts’ on it, I’ll leave them to it.

As the night goes on I take orders and find myself to be not very busy. I take some cocktail orders, print the tickets, take them over and add them to the ever-growing stack, and go back to just standing around, there are about five of us regular ol’ bar staff at this point just standing around since everything that needs to be done has been done, and other than a few elderly regulars, everyone wants cocktails.

However, the two girls are somewhat overwhelmed at this point and the manager is helping them out, customers are coming up to complain, requesting refunds, and to cancel their order, which requires a manager to do.

So the manager, more than a little flustered at this point, comes over and sees us all standing around, and demands we do something.
We kindly point out that everything has been restocked, glasses collected, garnished prepped, everything cleaned to within an inch of its life, customers are being seen to when they appear and there’s nothing else that any of us lowly lot can do without his permission or assistance.

So he finally makes a request that anyone in his position would make – “Ok go help out the cocktails they’re overwhelmed!” The others hop to it while I stay where I am, he isn’t impressed and verbalizes as much.

Until I remind him, under no circumstances am I to assist cocktails in any way. That I’ll happily bring tickets over for them, but as he kindly pointed out earlier, I’d been told previously, and I wasn’t going to go against his orders again now was I?

He was p*ssed but couldn’t actually find a valid argument and just stormed off.
Throughout the night I watched as he and the experts struggled to keep up, I dealt with customers complaining that their drinks were taking 30+ minutes to arrive, and kindly explained that unfortunately, I wasn’t able to assist in making their drinks as I was under strict instructions, and who was I to disagree with a manager?” lozangelol

3. Steal My Photo Then Tell Me To Sue You? I’ll Do Just That

“This happened circa 2013.

I used to have my hair dyed in a lot of different colors… Think pink, purple, green, blue, all the colors in the rainbow.

And I always took pride in my hair, I won’t have false modesty, I had pretty awesome hair, so well taken care of that people started asking me what my upkeep was.
Because of that, I started a blog to tell what I did to my hair, and in that blog I posted photos of my hair adventures (obviously). It wasn’t huge, I didn’t have that many followers, I was on the low hundreds, not a big blogger in no way imaginable.

It was just for fun.

One day I received a message from a friend saying that he saw a photo of me in a catalog of some brand of hair dye, congratulating me.

I was surprised and kinda miffed about it. I asked him to take some pics of the catalog and send me it. And there it was  – A photo I had uploaded to my blog. Immediately I went to the company’s website and took a look at the online catalogue.

And there it was again

I sent an email to the company asking them to take it down, that they couldn’t just use my photo for advertising.

No answer.

I sent a message on their Facebook page telling them the same thing I said on the email (but less politely, I must admit).

This time I got an answer. They could send me a few bottles of dye, I could even choose the colors they would send. It was good exposure, why I was so mad about it?

Well, the thing is… I don’t know how it works in other countries, but here we have something called, “direito de imagem”.

It means that no one can use your image without your authorization, especially if the person had monetary gain because of your image.
I responded to their message saying that they should take everything down and pull every catalog that had my photo in it, that I haven’t given authorization, so they couldn’t use it. Simple as that.

There was some back and forth, they say that they wouldn’t stop using my photo and it was good exposure. That I was greedy, ’cause they had already made an offer to give me some products… And I saying, adamantly, that the photo MUST GO.

The head of marketing of the company messages me, then. She gets all cocky, saying that if I don’t want the hair dye, I would get nothing. That they didn’t do anything wrong…

And here comes the malicious compliance:

She said: “If you’re unhappy with the outcome, sue me.”

Okay, I will sue the company and you, personally, because you were the person responsible for the catalog.
And she admitted that she was the one who designed it.

Long story short, I did sue them, I won, I was awarded a hefty sum, but I still haven’t gotten paid, because they took everything they owned out of their names and stopped using their bank accounts.

That is more common than not in my country, unfortunately.

The thing that brought this back to memory is that she messaged me on Facebook today, asking me to make some sort of agreement with her because it’s been h*ll, her credit is destroyed, she can’t use any bank account, she can’t have anything to her name and it’s been really hard on her, and she’s another victim of the company’s owner. She basically asked me to stop pursuing payment.
I forwarded everything to my lawyer and will let him handle everything… But I really wanted to say to her: “I only did want you asked me to.

I sued you.” Pinkhairedravenclaw

Another User Comments:
“Please stop suing me. It’s becoming very difficult to avoid paying you.” piclemaniscool

2. Cheat On Me, Live A Separate Life I Know Nothing About And Then Try To Take My Money? Keep Dreaming

“Over 10 years ago I started dating my ex, I didn’t know this then but she is an entitled Karen. They say hindsight is 20/20

We met when I was 20 through my brother’s friend. We are both the same age, both from dysfunctional families.

I was a seasonal worker (working a variety of seasonal jobs like picking fruit and packing sheds, hard work but good pay, work available 45 weeks of the year) she was “between Jobs”.
We met, started dating and things were going well, after a year we got a flat together, 6months later she begrudgingly landed a job but quit one month in when we found out she was 2 weeks pregnant.

At this point, we got a mortgage and I was working as an apprentice chef.

working shifts on apprenticeship wages, 6 days a week, leaving for work between 7-9 am, getting home between 9-11 pm depending on how busy we were. I won’t lie, it was tough. Our daughter was born. I was told she became pregnant to trap me but I dismissed it.

This is where things changed.

I was working 40-60hrs a week, coming home to an angry girlfriend a trashed house. (Just to clarify, I don’t believe in traditional gender roles.
It’s not a man’s place to work or a woman’s place to clean, I believe in a partnership where both parties pull their weight.)

A typical week for me was working Tuesday to Sunday than spend Monday cleaning every dirty plate, cup and pan in the sink (which was every dish I owned) Her week was watching tv and shopping on Facebook Tuesday to Thursday, take away Friday (because we are out of clean dishes) than spend Saturday and Sunday at her sisters.

She developed this “the world owes me” complex. Took control of the finances, I wasn’t allowed to spend any money, to the point that she would yell at me if I purchased fuel (gas) to get to work. The amount of money she wasted on useless crap still makes my blood boil.
Fast forward 5 years. Things have not changed. I work, clean on my day off and I’m still explaining why I need to spend money on work-related expenses and fuel.

One day, while working I got a text from her sister “emergency, please call me ASAP” I tell the head chef I got to make a call and head into the storeroom.

It was the call I will never forget. “Hi, it’s me (Karen’s sister), I’m not sure if I should tell you this, Karen’s been cheating on you” to summarise, 7 different men over 3 years. To make it worse, she was buying them crap with the money I earnt, redrawing on our mortgage.

She even spent $800 on fixing one of their cars.
I was livid.

I confronted her, most of which she eventually admitted to once finding her family told me. I said I wanted to break up. I changed my banking password, offered her the house to which she declined stating she doesn’t want the worthless dump. We agreed to 50/50 custody.

I spent the next 6 months working, decluttering from years of Karen’s impulse spending, and staying strong for my now 5-year-old daughter. My work was understanding and agreed to reduce my hours and gave me a pay rise to make sure I’m not too much out of pocket.

Karen went on to date and got engaged one of the guys she cheated with(er, number 3 I think). Introducing Bob. Bob was twice her age, working 8 hours a week trying to find ways to work less.
She was still “in-between jobs”

Needing money, Karen calls me stating she wants her half of the house. (My country allows 2 years for assets to be divided before they become the sole possession of either party so she is well within her rights to ask).

The conversation went like this Karen:” So I decided I want my half of the house” Me: “Um, ok. I thought you said you wanted none of it.”

Karen: “Well I changed my mind. Now, the house is worth $120000, by law I’m entitled to half which is $60,000 but I’ll do you a favor and settle for $20,000.”

I explained that she is indeed intitled to half the property, she needs to look at the capital (amount owed vs value of the property) house had an estimated value $120000 (local government evaluation), we still owed $115,000 (should be less but she kept withdrawing money from the mortgage and property values dropped that year).

I said that by this maths, she is entitled to half of $5000, but I’m willing to give you $5000, remove your name from the mortgage and pay for a conveyancer to remove your name from the deed. This would costed me $10000 in total, she would walk away with $5000, more than she would get if we sell right now.

She said: “I’M WORTH MORE THAN $5,000, MY OFFER IS NOW $30,000. BY NEXT WEEK OR WE SELL!”

Cue the malicious compliance.

I calmly said ok. And hung up letting her think she had won. (She also texted me with the same demand.) I booked in to see a lawyer and had a letter drafted. I also met with two real estate agents.
One week later Karen came around, let her self in. I gave her an envelope, assuming it was a check she snatches from my hands tore it open to find a letter from my lawyer to the effect of (summarized):

Karen as directed by yourself on (date, text screenshot enclosed).

My client (my name) will vacate the property on (date) mortgage payment made up to this point has been made by my client, as you had no use of the property, we will not seek compensation for payment made.

My client spent $7000 on repairs (receipts included), as co-owner, we are seeking compensation of $3500 from you.

My client has paid $1500 in rates & utilities. (Receipts included) we are seeking compensation of $750. Additionally, between (date of moving out) and date of sale, you are responsible for half of the mortgage payments, rates, utilities, and repairs required for sale.

She realized the predicament she was in. “Oh, I’ll just take the $5,000.”

Me: “Hmmmm, Nah. You told me if I don’t give you $30,000 by today we sell.”

Karen: “Oh I was just kidding.”
Me: “no you weren’t”

Karen: “$4,000” Me “No”

Karen: “$3,000 and I give you something on the side” wink wink.

Me, backing away: “No, we’re selling”

Her yelling again “I can’t afford this, you know I’m between jobs and Bob isn’t working much. We need this money for our wedding.”

Me: “Not my problem”

I also suggested she speaks to real-estate agents.

I was told to sell for a profit, we need to spend $2000 or chances we are selling for a loss. (Both estimated house would sell for $110000) her real-estate against have the same evaluation.
With her written promise to pay me back. I did the work. I spent the $2000, got the house re-evaluated, and was told we should make a profit. At her request, we used her lawyer to handle the sale House took 9 weeks to sell, 15 weeks including settlement.

She owed me $8000. After-sales cost, fees paying back there was a $19,000 profit. In typical Karen fashion, she assumed her lawyer would give her the whole lot as it’s her lawyer. I told the lawyer that she owes me $8000, the money can remain in trust until she agrees to pay me back. (As per settlement laws, both parties must agree on how the funds are going to be divided before the lawyer can divide it.
She wasn’t happy with this and threatened to sue her lawyer.)

3 months go by.

Money is still with her lawyer. I get a call from Karen.

Karen: “Hay listen, I know things have been awkward. I really need my half of the money. Can we please split it and il pay you back $20 a week.”

Me “No, you get you money after you pay me back, you could pay me out of your settlement” Long pause, whispers between Karen and presumably Bob.

“If we agree to $7,000 out of our settlement, would you consider the debt paid?”

Me: “That means you get $2,500.”

Karen: “I know but I’m in real need of this money right now.”

Me: “Put it in writing and you got a deal.” Scott3496

1. Never Work Together Again? You Got It, Buddy

​”Many years ago, I got a programming job for a very new oil and gas automation company (they were the company that O&G companies would hire to build the SCADA systems for their wells).

I had heard of the owner from other people in the industry as being “interesting” to work with but if they had come right out and said he was insane, that would have saved me some trouble.

I was the only SCADA programmer in the office and as such was incredibly busy with our clients. I was also the only other woman than the receptionist. Being in a male-dominated industry had never bothered me – I used to go to well sites and got used to seeing hardcore p*rn on the walls (I’ve been out of the industry for over 10 years so I don’t know if they’ve cracked down on that, but I doubt it) – but people would allow me to do my job.

The owner of this company, however, treated me like his secretary. He’d expect me to get him coffee, make appointments, etc, all while continuing to do my real job. The last straw was the day he berated me in earshot of a client for failing to pick up his dry cleaning, even though I had just spent the last 4 hours on the phone trying to troubleshoot why a well wasn’t talking to the SCADA system (aside: it turned out it was on fire and no one knew because it was so remote).

I had managed to last a month before I finally gave my 2 weeks notice. Honestly, I could have just walked out, but I wanted to be nice and help him train someone to take my place before I left so our clients weren’t left in the lurch.
When I told him I was leaving, he went ballistic. He yelled that he wanted nothing to do with me ever again and to leave his office that minute because he didn’t want to be in the same room for even a second.

We would never work together again and I’d regret leaving…He was still yelling when I turned around and left the building without saying anything.

Less than a week later, I had a new job with an actual oil and gas company. Fast forward a few months and I loved my job. I was on a very busy team that dealt with many of the company’s well sites. We had so much work, in fact, that we had to consider bringing in outside contractors.

Because I knew the systems we were dealing with better than anyone on the team, I was put in charge of assisting the department manager in choosing an automation company to bring in.

Being one of the larger O&G companies meant we were courted by every support company, so we had a ton of bids to go through for this job. One of the lowest bids was, of course, insane ex-manager’s company, so he was called in for a meeting. The department manager was running late that day so she didn’t get a chance to brief me as to whom we were meeting before we walked into the conference room, or I would have given her a heads up.

We walked in and the automation company owner’s face lost all color when he realized who he was meeting with.
Before either the department manager or I could so much as say hello, he started sputtering that there was a misunderstanding between us and he had no hard feelings if I didn’t. I told him that I had no hard feelings against him, but in his own words, “we would never work together again.”

He was right.” Altrissa

Who knew doing what you’re told could yield such perfect results? Stick to the rules and you never know what could happen.

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