File.Karma

, , , , , , , | | Working | July 19, 2019

In the 80s, a friend was a technical programmer for a major oil company, and was given a project to create a program to enable users to visualize 3D data. Due to the primitive nature of hardware and software at that time, she had to use a lot of tricks to get the code to run in a reasonable time. It was a lot of work and a tremendous accomplishment; when she was done, the company had a tool that gave it a significant advantage over their competitors.

Her boss at the time was a man who was a suck-up to upper management, always found within a ten-foot radius of the highest ranking person in any gathering. So, when the determination was made that her program would be demonstrated to our CEO, her boss naturally decided he should be the one to give said demonstration. Unfortunately for him, although he knew in general terms what the program did, he had never used it, and at that time it didn’t have the fancy graphical interfaces that exist today. Even experienced users could have difficulties with it, and he was starting from ground zero and trying to get up to speed in less than two weeks.

Her boss called my friend into his office multiple times every work day for help, and he even phoned her at home to ask questions in the evenings. The latest call was 11:35!

When the big day came, her boss got up in front of the assembled dignitaries and started in. When he tried to access program, he got a few steps in and ran into a problem. My friend gave him instructions from the back of the room but then something else popped up. Eventually, my colleague took over the demo and gave a well-received talk.

She confessed later that due to the nature of the program it had frequent updates, sometimes more than one a day. There had been one that morning, along with a document explaining changes to the name list file used to run the program. Her boss, as she’d known he would, hadn’t read it! So, she got to look good at his expense, he didn’t get to steal credit for her work, and there was nothing really that he could do about it.

Knows The Type All Too Well

, , , , , | | Right | July 10, 2019

(I’m working with my manager, a roughly 40-year-old woman who is really pretty. Things are rather slow, and a tipsy man stumbles up and orders a beer.)

Customer: “Hey, you guys must be really lonely here; it must be so boring.”

Me: “We’re okay; we’re working.”

Customer: “I have a lot of money, you know. I’m really high up at work.”

Me: *hands him his change* “That’s nice.”

Customer: “Like, a lot of money.” *sees my manager* “Oh, hello, you’re just my type.”

Manager: *slams down his beer and stares coldly at him* “I’m everybody’s type.”

(I was too busy laughing to see the man’s reaction, but we didn’t hear from him again.)

Your Full-Baked Attempt At Revenge

, , , | | Right | July 9, 2019

(We have a totally self-entitled regular who seems to think he is our one and only customer. A few days ago, he berated a new employee because she didn’t remember what he usually takes and made a mistake, too, after he started berating her, simply because she was nervous. We all don’t like him, but of course, we still have to be — and are — polite when he orders. I should note that our counter is split; one half is for coffee and snacks, the other half for bread and the like. He lines up at the snack half because he wants his coffee. After a few moments, I see him sigh and head over to me on the other half, because I currently have no customers; he is obviously trying to get served faster. However, I’m currently preparing some stuff that has to go into the oven next and I absolutely hate what this customer is doing, so…)

Me: *still fumbling with my baking trays* “Hi. I’ll be with you in just a moment; I only have to finish this!”

(I deliberately take my time. After I’ve finished the first tray, I “remember” I need to bake something else, too, and put this onto a tray, too. My coworkers instantly realize what I’m doing and pretend to be busy elsewhere. Then, I put everything into the oven, set the timer, and turn to my customer. Meanwhile, he would have already had his coffee if he just hadn’t had to switch sides to save time.)

Me: *fake smile* “I’m sorry that took so long. What can I get you today?”

Customer: *without so much as a hello, please or anything* “A coffee, small. The usual, you know!”

(I know I’d been kind of an a**hole, but after that, I thought he indeed deserved what I did, and all of my coworkers agreed.)

Not Enough Paper To Write Out Those Boos

, , , , , | | Working | July 8, 2019

(A condescending and patronizing coworker of mine has a habit of asking for lots of favors and cajoling people until they give in. He technically outranks me, so I’ve been careful not to get too mouthy with him until today, when he calls just as I am about to leave for the day.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], my office is low on copy paper. Can I borrow a case from you until the next supply order comes in?”

Me: *glad he’s asking for something minor* “Sure, I can spare a case. Just order me an extra one when you do your order.”

Coworker: “Thanks! Hey, can you run that over to me?”

Me: *no longer glad* “Boo.”

Coworker: “Oh, sweetie, please?”

Me: “BOOOOOOO.”

Coworker: “Honey, just walk it over; it’ll just take a minute.”

Me: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Coworker: “C’mon, help me out here.”

Me: “I am helping you out. I’m loaning you paper to make up for the fact that you failed to order enough yet again. I’m not going to go out of my way to make your life easy. Now, you can either come to get the paper yourself, forget about it, or sit on the phone and listen to me ‘boo’ you every time you speak.”

Coworker: “But…”

Me: “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Coworker: “I’ll be right over.”

Less Talkie, More Walkie

, , , , , | | Right | July 7, 2019

My family and I were sitting down to eat at a pretty popular barbecue joint.

In a booth a few feet away was a middle-aged couple talking to a friend of theirs over the walkie-talkie function of the gentleman’s cellphone at max volume.

The rest of the diners and staff were clearly annoyed, but the couple was so engrossed in their conversation they had no idea how ticked off everyone was getting.

Finally, my father got up and sat down right behind them, leaning over the man’s shoulder.

The man said, “Excuse me?”

My dad said, “Sorry, but I just couldn’t quite make out what you guys were saying, but since you wanted us all to hear I just had to come over.”

The couple practically ran out of there while the dining room cheered.

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