A while back, there was this wild drama over a shared fence between my family and our new neighbors in our HOA neighborhood. We had just moved in from an apartment and were super excited about our new backyard.

My dad went all out and got these rows of plants, spent like a thousand bucks, and had them professionally planted along the backyard fence. We loved that space, family gatherings, playing around, you name it.

Then one day, we stepped out to find our fence-high plants chopped and shredded, a real mess. Dad was FURIOUS. Those plants weren't cheap. He stormed over to the neighbor's, demanding an explanation. The neighbor simply said our plants were crossing his property line. So, Dad got them replanted, costing him another few hundred, but this time, he made sure they stayed well within our fences.

But, surprise surprise, one night, Dad caught the neighbor in the act again! That was it. He called the cops for destruction of property. After some heated discussions, they agreed to bring in a professional to mark the property line.

I remember the next day clearly as a day. Orange tape everywhere, showing that the neighbor's fence was 11 inches into our space. The professional said their fence had to be taken down and moved 11 inches in. 

The whole thing blew up in the neighbor’s face when we got to re-plant our plants and enjoy a much larger yard area, while he had to cut down his property by area and also pay $10,000 as a fine.


My dad passed away on Father’s Day in 2012. Being his only child, I had to take care of all his affairs, pay all due bills, and also cancel his utilities account.

When I called the utility company to cancel, the lady on the phone asked for a copy of his official death certificate. I sent it in promptly, but the next month, we got another bill. When I called again, a new woman insisted on speaking with the account holder, despite me explaining that he had passed away and that they had a copy of his death certificate.

Frustrated, I made an appointment with a supervisor. Not only was I in mourning, I was furious at their customer service. I arrived at the board of public utilities with the original death certificate and along with it, my dad's ashes in a clear plastic bag.

I asked for the same lady as the one on the phone, went over to her desk, and politely placed them on her desk, and I asked her to tell my dad’s remains I loved him when she spoke to them.

Her jaw? DROPPED! She called the cops, accusing me of assault. The police questioned me, and I explained the situation. I acknowledged it was extreme to bring human remains in public, but the lady on the phone insisted on speaking to my deceased dad in person. No actions were taken against me because there were no laws broken.

After this, the lady’s supervisor and the supervisor’s boss had a private discussion. They apologized over and over, and I calmly stated, “It was an extreme measure, but sometimes, extreme situations call for extreme actions.”


I am 31 M, and gay, and work at a grocery store, where my boyfriend and I often cross paths as he shops for his groceries almost daily. Sometimes, he'd wave or say hi, but we kept our convos brief unless I was on break.

One day, my department manager, who was apparently clueless about my sexual orientation, noticed my boyfriend's friendly gestures and asked about the guy waving and smiling at me. His reaction was, well, strange. Not necessarily a disgusted face, but it clearly hinted at his realization.

From then on, whenever my boyfriend visited, my manager watched him like a hawk. If my boyfriend waved, my manager would jump on me, accusing me of slacking off, even though I was just doing my job with a smile.

After a week of this scrutiny, my manager called me aside for a chat. He claimed my boyfriend was too distracting and shouldn't shop there while I was working. He even threw the word “termination’ around, if things didn't change.

I was infuriated and wanted to take serious action. But my boyfriend had a different plan in mind. So, instead of taking legal or corporate action, we decided to get creative and decided to prank him.

We got about 15 of our gay friends together. They all came into the store, dressed in the most ridiculously colorful clothes. Well, you could clearly tell these people were part of LGBTQ.

My manager tried to hide in the back, but every gay customer needed "the manager's" assistance and they had the most hilarious questions. Like, will these carrots improve my vision? Or, do you have any left-handed scissors? I will never forget my manager’s face. HE WAS SO CONFUSED!

After that evening, you could clearly see a change in my manager's behavior. Though he never really acknowledged it, he stopped berating me, and the work environment became more pleasant and inclusive.

Some may say that this was really unnecessary. It just goes to show that sometimes, a little creativity is all it takes to make a statement and bring a change.


Okay, So I have been a mechanic my whole adult life. One day, a lady with the tallest heels and the pointiest nails came in complaining of a rattling noise in her car. I put the car on the lift and inspected it, only to find a nearly broken tie rod and a faulty rack and pinion. Her steering system and front wheel were on the verge of breaking. This car was just moments away from the wheels  being disconnected from the steering wheel!

I clearly explained the situation to her, but she insisted that I temporarily fix it somehow, because she was in a rush. I obviously denied the service because if her car were to be in a crash, I would be the one blamed for it. But she kept insisting, saying that I must do a rushed job. She had a meeting that she had to get to, so I suggested she take a cab and leave her car with me while I properly fixed it. 

But she then accused me of robbing her and overcharging her. I kept denying to just glue it back together, but then she started threatening me by saying she would get the cops involved. Knowing that I was right in this situation and hadn't done anything wrong, I insisted that she go ahead and call the cops. 

A few minutes later, 2 young police officers showed up, they heard her side and my side of the story and quickly deemed that she was the one being unreasonable. 

They asked the lady if she understood the safety concern, she said yes and was let go, but not without signing a statement declining crucial safety repairs. I will never forget the smugness on her face with the most “hah told you” expression ever. 

Despite multiple warnings, the lady decided to rush to her meeting in her car, believing she could make it in time. However, as she sped down the road, the faulty tie rod finally gave way, causing her to lose control of the vehicle. Fortunately, she escaped with minor injuries, but her car was impounded, and she was fined for reckless driving. 


Yesterday, I decided to treat my kids to dinner at an international chain restaurant. We were super excited, especially because the kid’s meal came with ice cream. The only thing is, you have to serve the ice cream yourself, at the ice cream station.

So I went to fill it up, three bowls—one tooty-fruity, one choco chip, and one cookie cream with sprinkles. But there were no bowls by the stand. So I asked the employee behind the counter for three kid’s meal ice cream bowls. 

Now this guy might’ve been new because he looked at the stack of bowls of different sizes behind him and gave me a look of confusion, as if I was supposed to know which size to give.

He asked me to wait a moment, and went to who seemed like the manager of the place. "Hey boss, what do we put the kids' ice cream in?"

Without missing a beat, the boss replied, "A freaking bowl, what do you think?"

We chuckled nervously. "Yes, but what size?" the employee replied.

With a hint of impatience, the boss said, "JUST GIVE HIM A FRICKIN’ BOWL."

The employee, clearly amused by the situation, handed me three of the largest bowls they had, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sorry about that, sir. I think these will do," he said, practically giggling. 

My kids were thrilled with their oversized ice cream bowls, and we had a good laugh about it. As we were halfway through our ice creams, the manager walked by, and was kind of stunned at the three jumbo sized bowls at our table. 

He was clearly shocked and just stood by our table in disbelief for a second, probably realizing what had happened. The employee and I shared a glance, knowing what we knew. And I decided that I was definitely taking the kids back there again!


A few years back, I found myself on a long flight from LA to Singapore. Now, I'm a tall guy, standing at about 6 '3, and let me tell you, squeezing into those economy seats is not a joke. 

On most flights, my knees are practically kissing the seat in front of me. Usually, it's not a big deal, especially when the person in the front sees just how crammed I am.

But, oh boy, not this time. The guy in front of me was determined to recline his seat, even though my legs were in the way. He turned around and asked if I could move. I told him, "I wish I could, but my legs won't budge. I'll try to shift a bit, but don't expect a whole lot of space."

I shrugged and mouthed a sincere “sorry!”

He didn't take it well. Instead of understanding, he decided to push back on his seat as hard as he could. I just found his behavior so childish, but he just could not recline all the way because I really was just that crammed up!

Frustrated, he called a flight attendant, demanding a new seat. The attendant,  without entertaining this irrational man, told him there were no available seats.

Still unsatisfied, the man demanded to speak to the pilot. The attendant said that it’s not possible for the pilots to get involved in such situations, but she will ask the chief of crew to handle this.

The chief came in asking the guy what was the issue, and after hearing him and also looking at my situation, asked, “Sir, would you like a seat in the business class?” It was initially unclear who the chief was talking to. “Finally”, the man in front of me said. But here's the kicker: he wasn't talking to the man; he was talking to me!

Walking past the fuming guy, I settled into my new business class seat, complete with free drinks. Safe to say, that drink tasted better with a side of karma served!


I work in an office where before every holiday season we have this crazy 8-week period where we’re swamped with work and have to put in 12-14 hour days. To make things a bit easier, the company reimburses us for dinner, up to $13 per meal. All we have to do is submit a claim with our receipts at the end of the busy season.

Now, the food options around my work aren’t the best, so most days, I brought my dinner from home. However, some days I just didn’t have the energy to bring a full home-cooked meal. So, during those 8 weeks, I ended up buying maybe 10 meals through the span of 8 weeks.

Here’s the kicker: three of those meals cost me $13.50 each, going 50 cents over the limit a total of three times. I thought, “No biggie, right?” My manager agreed and said I could include the overage on my expense claim. So, I did, and he even signed off on it.

Fast forward a few days after I submitted my report, and I got an email from the Head Office saying they rejected my claim because of that pesky $1.50 overage. They wanted me to resubmit the claim without it. I was baffled—I mean, my manager was okay with it, right?

I explained to them that my manager had signed off on it and had no issues. But they wouldn’t budge. Their email basically ended with a “read the company policy next time” note.

I took their advice to heart and dove right into the policy. If they wanna be petty, I wasn't going to back down either. And get this, not only did the company policy state the $13 maximum for purchased meals, but it also mentioned a $10 per diem for meals brought from home. I never knew that I qualified for having my home cooked meals reimbursed!

You can imagine my delight when they removed the $1.50 overage and added an additional $300 for the 30 meals I brought from home.

Lesson learned: always, always read the fine print, folks!


I work in a store where our policy of breaking large bills for customers has caused some unintended consequences. Despite the clear sign indicating our limited ability to break big bills, many customers still expect us to accommodate them.

When the corporation responded to our depleted tills by instructing us to carry more $20s and $10s, we decided to have a little fun with their request. Instead of stocking up on larger bills, we went to the bank and exchanged our money for an abundance of $5s and $1s.

The next time a customer came in with a $100 bill for a small purchase, we gave them their change in $5s, counting out each bill with exaggerated enthusiasm. It didn't take long for them to realize that we were out of $20s and $10s due to customers paying with larger bills.

Some customers caught on quickly, while others needed a more direct explanation. But eventually, the message of our bill breaking limitations finally got through, and our situation improved. It was a small victory, but it made our days at the shop a little more entertaining.


I quit my job... for about 15 minutes. Working for a medical transport company with Medicaid rules was like navigating a maze of regulations. One such rule stood out - assisting patients inside their homes was forbidden. INSIDE THEIR HOMES.

There was this elderly lady, her quaint home posed a challenge. A small foyer led to three steps up to the main floor.  She also had a back door entrance which consisted of two and a half flights of flimsy steps to a bedroom upstairs. Keep in mind, she was wheelchair-bound.

Logically, one would use the front door to avoid the hassle of going up many stairs. But Medicaid insisted on the back stairs, leaving her to navigate the rest.

Ignoring the policy, we headed for the front door entrance. An unexpected inspector caught us in the act. We told him how difficult it would be to go through the back, but he didn’t seem to care.  

However, I wasn’t going to back down on pleading my case. We unloaded the elderly lady onto the sidewalk, and I declared my resignation over the radio. I then happily escorted her in through the front door. Moments later, once we were done, I returned, within 15 minutes and requested my job back.

My boss, to his credit, understood why I did what I did. He took me back, noting the 15-minute gap in my employment records to stay compliant. It was a small victory, but it felt good to stand up for what I believed was right, even if just for a few minutes.


I used to manage a large national chain restaurant, and one day, I was asked to oversee a location in a city about an hour away. They put me up in a hotel, and everything seemed fine until the first weekend when I discovered a major problem.

The GM had forgotten to order any change (small bills/rolls of coins) for the safe, and to make matters worse, the local branch of our bank was closing soon. Knowing that time was tight, I quickly grabbed $800 and drove to the bank.

When I got there, I waited in line and then asked the teller to make change ($400 in $5 bills, $300 in $1 bills, and $100 in assorted rolled coins). To my surprise, she told me that the bank didn't make any changes at all. I was taken aback but didn't give up.

I went back to my car, grabbed my personal checkbook, and returned to the bank. This time, I told the teller that I wanted to close my account since the bank was no longer customer service-oriented. She seemed unimpressed but processed my request.


Oh man, let me tell you about the time I worked as a 911 dispatcher. I once got a call from a woman who was complaining about a black man just walking down the street. Can you believe it? She was upset just because he was black and walking down the street, doing nothing wrong.

Now, here's the kicker. We had this policy that we had to dispatch an officer whenever someone requested it, no matter how ridiculous the reason. So, guess what I did? I sent the only black officer we had on duty to respond to the call. It was a bit out of his area, but I figured it was worth it.

When the officer arrived, the woman went absolutely nuts. She called again, screaming that there was now a black man knocking on her door. I couldn't help but chuckle a bit when I told her, "Yes, this is the police officer you requested."

But she wasn't having it. She refused to open the door and was throwing a huge fit on the phone. And guess what? SHe just had to settle and take her complaint back. It was worth every minute of my time, just to sit back and watch the change of events.


So, I am not exactly who you'd call a cheap person. I believe in appreciating the service of others, especially when it comes to tipping. But my company seemed to have a different opinion when they saw I tipped 20% for a $15 lunch.

They told me it was too much, but come on, I just took up a good chunk of my server's time. Leaving $3 seemed fair to me.

It's not like I'm breaking the bank here, especially since my company gives me $75 a day for food, which I never max out anyway. But you know what? That's about to change.

Today, instead of my usual salad or sandwich, I went all out and got myself a lobster grilled cheese. And you bet I upgraded my fries to the duck fat ones. Let's see them try to save that 5% on the rest of my meals while I'm on the road.


Let me tell you about the time I worked at a Subway with no managers, just a couple of us on minimum wage. This one customer was giving me grief over something—I can't even remember what it was. She demanded to speak to the manager, and since there wasn't one, I decided to promote myself on the spot.

With a straight face, I told her, "Manager speaking, how can I help you?" Well, that didn't sit well with her. She realized she wasn't going to get a different answer from me and asked for a phone number to call.

Now, the owner had warned us never to give out his cell number, so I gave her the store number instead. She had this smug look, thinking about the trouble she'd cause me. But as she smirked, the phone behind me started ringing.

I'll never forget the look on her face as I picked up the phone, met her gaze, and asked, "How may I help you?" She didn't say a word and just stormed out. It was a priceless moment.


So, I remember a few years ago, my dad was attending a several-day course to earn some additional qualifications for his job. The final day was going to be the ultimate test, a multiple-choice exam to be precise.

On test day, as everyone settled into place, the teacher laid down the law: "I will NOT tolerate any cheating. You all have ONE strike, but that's IT! If I catch you a second time, you will be immediately expelled, and your score will be invalidated."

The teacher's old-school strictness, treating professionals like school kids, didn't sit well with my dad. But he played along.

The test went smoothly for my dad until he reached the last question, which he wasn't sure about. But hey, he had that free strike, right?

So, like a boss, he called out to the class, "What's the answer to question 14?" Without missing a beat, a fellow participant yelled back the answer. My dad quickly filled in the last question, handed in his test, and calmly left the room.

Afterwards, the teacher approached my dad with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. Perhaps he changed his policy or softened his approach, but the incident surely left a mark.


Alright, so I used to work at this call center for an electricity retailer, and let me tell you, it was something else. The place was highly unionized, but management had this crazy policy where they'd dock your pay by the minute if you were late. I mean, come on, a minute or two late and they'd start cutting into your paycheck! It was such a stingy move.

The union found out about this little trick and boy, were they mad. They demanded to see everyone's log-on and log-off times, and that's when things got interesting.

Turns out, most of us would stay back after our shifts to finish up calls and clear the queue. Sometimes we'd be stuck there for 15-20 minutes, but usually just a few minutes. And guess what? Management never factored that in.

The union made management recalculate everyone's pay based on actual clock-on and clock-off times. They also reminded them about penalty rates for staying past the end of the shift. And get this! It turned out that pretty much everyone had spent more time wrapping up calls than they had been late clocking on.

So, in the end, each of us got paid for those lost wages, at overtime rates no less. It cost the company a fortune, and let me tell you, they never docked anyone's pay for being late again.


A few years back, I was in a job that felt like a dead end, with a boss who rarely appreciated the hard work we put in. One morning, I arrived a little late, thinking it wasn't a big deal since I had worked late the night before. Like late late at night.

As I collected my tasks for the day, I couldn't help but let out a big “UGHH”. It was going to be another long, long day, I thought to myself. My boss, seizing the opportunity, scolded and started yelling at me in front of my colleagues, for being late and complaining about the work, announcing that I was fired. I found his behavior super unprofessional and petty.

Instead of pleading for my job, I decided to call his bluff. I handed in my work materials and walked out, confident I could find another job in no time.

However, my boss quickly realized he didn't have anyone else who could do what I did, especially with the current labor market challenges. He called me back, claiming he had meant to say I was "FiHired" rather than fired. It was the most ridiculous excuse EVER! But well, at least I still had my job along with a $2/hour raise, proving that sometimes standing up for yourself can lead to unexpected rewards.


Last summer, I landed this awesome gig selling ice cream on my hometown beach. It was the best job ever. People were cool, I got to soak up some sun, and hey, I even got paid! Plus, the best part? We could snack on the ice cream during our breaks.

One day, this dad and his kid came up to my stand. Dad orders a cone with two scoops for himself and one scoop for the kid. But the kid, he's not having it. He wants two scoops too.

Dad tries to explain that the scoops are huge and one is enough. I jump in, trying to help out, even offering to make the scoop extra big. But nope, kid's not having it. He starts throwing a fit, almost crying, demanding two scoops.

Dad, probably not wanting to deal with a meltdown, gives in and says fine, the kid can have two scoops. But then he lays down the law: if the kid can't finish the ice cream, no TV for the rest of the vacation.

Now, I'm not one to pass up a chance to teach a lesson. I scoop up one of the biggest scoops I've ever scooped, plop it on the cone. The kid's eyes go wide. I scoop up an even bigger scoop, add it to the first one.

I hand over this towering ice cream cone, and you can see the kid realizing he's in trouble. Dad, surprisingly chill about the whole thing, even gives me a tip, which hardly ever happens.

All in all, it was a pretty good day at the beach.


A few years back, my buddy Talon found himself in a peculiar situation involving his late father's ashes. See, Talon's dad had passed away about five years ago, and they had him cremated, so Talon had his father's urn at home.

Now, there was this teacher, Mr. McJerk (not his real name, but it fits), who for some reason was upset with Talon. Maybe Talon forgot to turn in an assignment or something trivial like that. But Mr. McJerk, being the stubborn person he was, demanded to meet Talon's father.

Despite Talon's attempts to explain that his father had passed away, Mr. McJerk wouldn't believe him.

So, the next day, Talon decided to prove his point. He brought his dad's urn to school and, with a mix of frustration and humor, placed it right on Mr. McJerk's desk. "You wanted to meet my dad," Talon said, "so here he is."


I work as an emergency dispatcher and 911 operator, and one night, a call came in about a pickup truck parked at a tire store, and there was a mysterious man loading tires into the back. Deputies responded, confirming a theft, and asked me to call the owner to see if he wanted to file a report.

When I called, the owner was clearly annoyed at being woken up at 1:30 in the morning. But after I explained the situation, his tone softened, and he seemed grateful. However, as soon as I mentioned who I was, he snapped, "YOU DON'T CALL ME AT THIS TIME OF THE MORNING!" and hung up. It was clear he didn't care much about the theft after all.

I informed the deputies, who were surprised by his reaction. A few days later, I learned that the owner had filed a report for the stolen tires but complained that we should have contacted him when the theft occurred.

The complaint made its way to my supervisor, who forwarded the notes and a recording of the 45-second phone call back up the chain. To sum it up for you, the owner was basically told where he could shove his complaint. 


A few years ago, my dad, one of the three partners in a medium-sized company, attended a drinking party with his team. It wasn't an official company event, but more of a casual get-together. The bar was serving appetizers, and when my dad requested it without ice (he just can't stand ice diluting his drink), the landlord behind the bar insisted that ice was mandatory.

Despite his dislike for ice, my dad accepted the drink, removed the ice, and placed it on the drain rack under the beer taps. The owner of the bar, unhappy with this, ordered my dad to leave.

My dad, somewhat expecting this reaction, asked the owner to repeat himself. Once again, he was told to leave. Without making a fuss, my dad said, "Alright," and began to exit.

To everyone's surprise, his entire team began to follow him out. The owner, taken aback, protested, saying they didn't all have to leave, only my dad had to.

One of my dad's colleagues spoke up, saying, "Sorry, mate. He's the big boss. Where he goes, we all go."

So, they left and went to another bar. They had made a reservation at the first bar, but they hadn't put down a deposit or purchased any drinks yet. Since the aperitifs were complimentary, the landlord didn't even earn anything from their visit.

It was a small act of solidarity, but it spoke volumes about the respect and loyalty my dad's team had for him.


Let me give you a bit of background before we jump in - I've been studying abroad in India for the last two weeks. Just a day before I flew out, I must've eaten something that didn't sit well with me because I got hit with the infamous "Delhi Belly."

Now, I'm the type who likes to plan ahead, so I made sure to book aisle seats for all my flights, knowing full well I'd probably be making multiple trips to the bathroom.

As I made my way to my seat, I noticed that an older woman had taken it for herself. I pointed at the number above, but instead of moving to her middle seat, she got up and motioned for me to sit in it.

At that moment, I thought about explaining my situation, but I decided to just let my actions do the talking instead.

As soon as the seat belt sign went off after takeoff, I got up to make my first visit to the restroom. She had actually fallen asleep at this point, so I had to gently wake her up so she could move (she wasn’t too thrilled about it).

Twenty minutes later, I had to go again.

After a total of four trips to the restroom, and with still 1.5 hours to go before landing, she was starting to get visibly irritated. Finally, after my fifth and final defecation, she offered to swap seats.

To top it all off, I didn't even need to get up again until we landed.


Okay, so I am a pizza delivery boy and I am good at what I do, so while most customers are pleasant, there are a few who just love to test me..

This one time, a customer specified 5:30 PM as the delivery time. I left the store at 5:20 PM, but unexpected traffic delayed me, and I arrived at 5:34 PM.

The customer exploded with anger, insisting that if she ordered for a specific time, it must arrive exactly then, not a minute sooner or later. No tip, of course.

The next week, she ordered again for 5:30 PM. This time, with extra help, I managed to get the order out earlier and even took a break to eat. I delivered her food precisely at 5:30 PM, but she didn't acknowledge me, too engrossed in her phone. No tip, yet again.

This routine continued, and I began to savor the brief moments of peace while eating, despite the lack of tips. One day, feeling mischievous, I decided to park right outside her driveway and enjoy my lunch before ringing the doorbell at exactly 5:30 PM.

When she opened the door, she screamed- “HAVE YOU BEEN OUT THERE WITH MY PIZZA ALL THIS WHILE?” Oh so she noticed. I calmly explained that since she wanted her order at 5:30, I didn't want to bring it too early. Surprise surprise, no tip, but the satisfaction was sooo worth it.


Years ago, I worked as a furniture delivery driver. My helper and I had a fantastic working relationship, but our warehouse manager was a bit of a stickler for the rules, always serious and seemingly allergic to fun.

He introduced a new policy called the "Two Hour Window" for deliveries, where he would schedule our route and call customers to let them know when we'd arrive, giving them a two-hour timeframe.

The first day of this new policy, we were so efficient that we often arrived earlier than expected. I started calling ahead to ask if we could come early, and customers loved it. But instead of praise, we were reprimanded by our boss for breaking the rules by coming early.

Despite this, we kept up our hard work and efficiency. When we finished deliveries early, we'd take a break for an hour or two. Living in New Jersey, there was always something to do, so we visited arcades, museums, and even the beach. And since we were technically on the clock, it was all paid time.

We didn't want to get in trouble for breaking the rules, but sometimes, you just have to bend them a little to keep things running smoothly.


So, I remember the time when my roommate's sister, let's call her Sarah, had some interesting rules about language. She was what you might call a stickler for religious purity, and she didn't allow her kids to say common phrases like "oh my God," "oh my gosh/goodness," "awesome," "good," or "great."

According to her, only God could be described in such “holy” terms.

Now I thought, why not have some fun with this? One day, my roommate and I went to Sarah's house to drop off something, and I made it my mission to use the most elaborate and obscure words I could think of for the most ordinary things.

Instead of saying "good," I'd say "venerated." Instead of "great," I'd say "sublime." And instead of "awesome," I'd say "sacrosanct." You get the idea.

And well, let's just say it was a bit awkward. Sarah would give me these half-smiles, clearly trying to be polite but also clearly having no idea what I was talking about. Can't wait to visit Sarah again!


So, I remember the time when my employer decided to go digital with our records, transitioning from paper-based files. It was a massive project, and there were three immediate problems staring us in the face. First, our company didn't want a generic system; they wanted a custom, unique one.

Second, it had to be done cost-effectively, with net savings from Year 1. And lastly, the guy leading the charge (let's call him Genius) always thought he was the smartest person in the room, even though, trust me, he wasn't.

One of my colleagues took on the project with one condition: she wanted the next July off for her wedding and honeymoon. She was putting in the hard work, and the project was actually moving forward. Part of her job was managing passwords, which couldn't be written down anywhere because, according to Genius, it was 'bad practice.' She kept reminding Genius about her upcoming wedding, but he kept assuring her it would be fine, without ever signing off the paperwork.

Fast forward to mid-May, and the project was way behind schedule. This was mainly because Genius had convinced management that it could all be done in-house at minimal cost. But he kept changing the design every time he came across a new article on IT.

Then, just six weeks before her wedding, my friend was told that her leave was canceled. The project took priority, and she was expected to reschedule her wedding and honeymoon. Genius couldn't comprehend why this might be an issue. So, she continued doing her job, updating passwords as required, never recording them anywhere as per the rules... and on the last day of June, she resigned without notice.

While she was on her honeymoon, she received a frantic call from Genius demanding all the passwords. "Sorry, I don’t work there anymore," she calmly replied before hanging up.

And that's why, even a decade later, our company still has a few hundred electronic case files we can't access.


Working the cash register doesn't usually offer many chances for malicious compliance but well, here’s one!

So I remember this one day, a customer approached the counter and casually tossed a round battery onto the surface. "Hey! Do you guys sell this battery?" I checked the size and confirmed that we indeed stocked exactly 2032 batteries of the same kind.

"Great, can you grab one for me?" I headed over to the battery display, picked one out, and returned to the register.

Just as I was about to step back, the customer chimed in: "Actually, I need four of those!"

I went back to the display, but this time, instead of grabbing a four-pack, I picked out three more single batteries. Returning to the counter, I placed all four singles in front of the customer. Although the total cost was about double what a four-pack would have been, you can't really put a price on saving ten extra steps during a shopping trip.


So, there's a bit of drama unfolding at home. My younger brother was helping Dad with his computer, but like always, things got heated, and my brother decided he'd had enough and stormed off. Dad, feeling a bit spiteful, told him to turn off everything in his room. 

Fair enough, I guess, if he won't fix Dad's computer, he can't use his own. 

But here's the twist—Dad forgot that the router is in my brother's room. It's been a good ten minutes, and Dad's still in the study, probably wondering why his laptop isn't connecting to the internet. My brother? Well…


I'm back home for spring break, and on a Saturday night, after we finished watching a movie, I turned on the shower, ready to relax, when suddenly it sounded like the KGB was about to storm the bathroom door.

Expecting my dad to burst in for some reason, I opened the door, only to find my teenage sister screaming at me, demanding to use the bathroom.

Surprised, I stepped out, letting her use it, and I could still hear her rant on and on about it. “Ugh, great to be back home!” I grunted to myself.

She came out and continued yelling about how I should have informed her before taking a shower, then stormed into her room and slammed the door shut.

Ignoring her, I took my shower and went to bed around 1 am, keeping my college sleep schedule. The next night, as I was getting ready for bed around midnight, I remembered her high school routine and decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Before showering, I knocked on her door and loudly announced that I would be taking a shower. The look of annoyance on her face was priceless, but she got the message loud and clear.


So my tyrant of a boss has since been fired, which adds a satisfying twist to this tale. During his tenure, he was the epitome of a Grade-A jerk.

His favorite pastime? Reminding everyone who was boss. He'd assign absurd tasks and shut down any questions by asserting his dominance. Threats of termination for the slightest hint of "disobedience" were his go-to.

One day, he called a meeting about the dress code, alleging some employees weren't tucking in their shirts. Feeling secure with my neatly tucked shirt, polished shoes, and well-gelled hair, I thought I was in the clear.

Boy was I wrong!

Approaching me, he waved the dress code, pointing out my light gray undershirt, apparently a violation of the rule mandating white or navy blue undershirts.

I was incredulous. Upon checking the rulebook myself, I discovered that if an undershirt was worn, it must be white or blue. The key word: "if."

The following day, I arrived without an undershirt, with the top two buttons of my shirt undone. And, by the way, I'm a rather hairy guy. I fluffed up my chest hair, channeling serious Italian mobster vibes.

During the meeting, I positioned myself directly across from him, leaning forward strategically. He appeared visibly uneasy, and later, I observed him frantically scouring the rulebook.

He must not have found anything, because the matter was never mentioned again.


I was in the process of purchasing a car from a small used car dealership. The dealer and I had agreed on a price and a meeting day. However, on the morning of our scheduled meeting, the dealer sold the car without informing me, no courtesy call or text.

Disappointed by this experience, I left an honest review about my terrible experience with the dealership. A few days later, I received a call from the dealer, threatening me with a lawsuit, claiming my review was slanderous. He went on to mention that others who had left one-star reviews were sued for slander and had to pay court fees and remove their reviews.

He proposed that if I edited my review, all would be well, and he wouldn't take legal action against me.


So, I compiled and edited my review, adding a note that he had threatened me over the phone with a lawsuit because of my negative review, and that my review was entirely truthful based on my experiences.

And just to spite him more, immediately after editing the review, I texted him, saying, "Hey, I've edited the review as you requested. I hope there are no hard feelings." Ironically, it seemed he hadn't read my edit before responding with, "Thanks, man. I appreciate it. No hard feelings!"