“Random” Pandemonium

Many years ago, I worked for an outdoor activity centre/playland in the retail department. Throughout the park, there were many different shops that we manned, and I absolutely loved working there despite it being hard work for little pay.

One day, I had a run-in with a manager who seriously berated me in front of the entire team along with others from different departments. I was advised by a manager from a different team to make a formal complaint, which I did. Others came out with similar complaints and the manager in question was advised to find employment elsewhere but not sacked. Now, unbeknownst to me, I triggered the chain of events that would lead to me leaving the company.

There were a few rules in place that were designed to prevent theft, including that no more than £10 in personal money was to be allowed on the shop floor, which was to be checked before your shift. Anything over this must be declared to management and left in your locker, and all staff had to agree to random locker/pocket searches.

In the two years that I’d worked there, I had never been picked for a random search. There were several hundred employees, so the odds were incredibly slim. As soon as our disgraced manager left, I suddenly found myself picked at random for a search. This involved turning out my pockets, removing my shoes/socks, and then being escorted to the locker room to empty the contents. Nothing was found, so I was sent back to the shop floor. The following week, I was again picked at “random” for a search, which again turned up nothing.

Rumours soon started making the rounds that I had upset my department’s remaining management team after instigating the action against my former manager, and they were going to force me out using any means necessary. I realised that I needed to act, so I started job hunting and then began my malicious compliance. I started taking a backpack to work filled with £20 in pennies. Every morning, I declared the amount in my locker as required and, sure enough, after a couple of days, I was once again selected for my weekly “random” search. I got paid to watch a security guard and supervisor count 2,000 pennies. As expected, I passed said search, and off I went. This happened a second time with now £30 in pennies, and I decided to up my game.

At the start of the following week, I patiently awaited my “random” search with glee, knowing what awaited them. The day soon arrived, and off I was marched to the lockers, ready for their treat. I lifted out my backpack and passed it to the security guard and supervisor, who dove straight in without any gloves.

Oh, how they retched as they discovered what was in there. I had several pairs of my period-soaked pants waiting in there, especially for them. They were gingerly laid on the floor beside my bag as they counted my bag of pennies. The smell from the pants was unreal; they’d been festering in there for days in anticipation. Once again, the search revealed nothing, and off to work I went.

After that, I was not picked for another search again. I left after a couple more weeks for a new job. Keeping in touch with some people, I discovered that a new rule was introduced that tried dictating what you could and couldn’t take to work with you. This soon led to a mass walkout of staff, and after a year, the place shut down due to unrelated matters.