I drive a concrete truck. We deliver ready-mix concrete throughout a fairly large area. Keep in mind that concrete has a shelf life of ninety minutes once water mixes with the cement. This is very important on “spec jobs”.

Our company uses a routing and tracking system I will call the Terrible System. If there is a good route or less than good route, it chooses the worst route of all routes possible. After working with it for a short time, this was noted. During training, new drivers are told to use it for the final part of the route only. The problem is that every time one doesn’t follow a route, an alert is sent to management. Early in using Terrible System, managers found a way to turn off these alerts.

A new manager starts. After a year, he brings up in meetings that drivers are not following Terrible System’s routing. Multiple times we tell him that it gives us the worst and longest routes. He doesn’t listen.

After six months, [New Manager] states that drivers will be written up if we continue to not follow Terrible System routing. Drivers don’t listen. A few days after this pronouncement, a fellow driver is written up. This is talked about.

Cue malicious compliance! The next day, on my second load, I have to take a load to a location I’ve had before. It is fifteen miles east of the plant and then a ten-mile leg north. Following that route takes about forty-five minutes or less. We have been going to this job site for three months now and know that Terrible System gives a much longer route. I am the first truck of four and note on the radio that we need to follow the Terrible System route as directed. Off I go!

The route it takes me is southeast thirteen miles and then north on an interstate highway thirty-five miles, including a chicken coop (a weigh station — trucks are chronically overweight for interstate). Then, it takes me east through a large metro area for twenty miles, followed by the last leg south for about fifteen miles. It takes 125 minutes for me (Terrible System gave an estimated travel time of 140 minutes, so I did well).

I arrive, and I’m timed out. I’m rejected, and that costs the company $1,000 for the concrete, not to mention the twenty gallons of fuel I burned. The second and third trucks are the same. The fourth truck is stopped at the chicken coop and the company has a $500 fine.

The customer is pissed and calls [New Manager] screaming! [New Manager] asks to talk to me.

Me: “We followed [Terrible System]’s routing as directed; you can check that easily.”

The next day, a sign was posted in the break room stating that drivers are to use professional discretion in choosing the best and most expeditious routes to jobs.

My husband used to work putting up wallpaper in large, rich-people houses. He’s very direct. When he works, he tends to hyper-focus on the job, and he doesn’t really understand social cues.

His boss, the owner of the company, is an older, fairly friendly guy, but he’s as conservative as the average person in this state. One day, he comes up to my husband with a weird expression.

Boss: *In a low whisper* “[Husband]! [Husband]! Our client… The owner of this house… He’s married!”

Husband: *Pauses* “Okay.”

Boss: “No, you don’t understand. He’s married… to another man!”

Husband: *Genuinely confused* “What does that have to do with the wallpaper?”

Boss: “Nothing, but our client is, well… It’s weird!”

Husband: *Pauses again* “I agree, the wallpaper is a strange choice, but it’s what they wanted.”

Boss: “No, they’re two men living and being married here. In this house! How can they even afford a place like this?”

Husband: “I’m sorry, what does that have to do with the wallpaper?”

Boss: “ARGH! Never mind!”

The boss grumbled to himself as he walked away. My husband didn’t work with him for long after that.

As supply chains become more and more broken, we are experiencing more problems with deliveries and orders, as you would expect. What I find surprising is how companies that used to be really great are now less than optimal. One of our major suppliers has been particularly troublesome.

I sent an email to this supplier to place a “special order” for items not normally carried that would have to be shipped in from overseas. We were given a week during which we could expect the delivery, during which the package did not come. An email was sent to find out a new ETA.

Supplier: “The package was shipped, but the courier got lost and didn’t call anyone.”

Still? Is he out in the woods burning the product somewhere to keep warm? Or does somebody know where the courier — and our package — is now?

A flurry of emails followed.

Me: “Okay, so do we have a new ETA?”

Supplier: “He got lost with the truck.”

Me: “Right. So, does that mean the truck is gone forever? Should we just order this again? Or is the original package going to show up at some point?”

The supplier responded with a copy of our invoice for the product that was lost.

It wasn’t until Accounts Receivable was contacted and told that this (very expensive) invoice wouldn’t be paid — and why — that someone decided it was probably important that we still got our product.

I’m working at a summer camp. The campers are in a woodworking and crafting class.

Instructor: “All right, let’s meet the tools.”

He picks up a hammer.

Instructor: “Hammer. It hits things.”

He picks up a plane.

Instructor: “Plane. It makes things flat.”

He picks up an awl.

Instructor: “An awl. It makes holes. Note that I said, ‘An awl,’ and not just, ‘Awl.’ Every summer, someone tells the campers to get an awl, and they go get all the tools. Don’t be that camper.”

After the campers start working on their projects, the instructor sees a camper putting lots of tools in a bucket.

Instructor: “Hold on, [Camper]. What are you doing with all those tools?”

Camper: “Dunno. I asked [Counselor] what I needed for the next step, and she told me to go get them all.”

Instructor: “Were you listening carefully in the beginning?”

Camper: “Yeah, why?”

I worked road construction as a flag man (human stop sign) for a while back in high school. As a flagger, I had no control over when I could let cars go; I simply waited for a pilot car and then flipped my sign, so any anger directed at me was misplaced.

One time, a lady got out of her car to b**** at me for being held up for a few minutes. After she got done cussing me out for a good couple of minutes, she decided that she didn’t want to wait anymore and blew past me.

About fifty yards down the road, she was forced onto the fresh tar (spraying tar on the side of her car and ruining the paint) by an oncoming gravel truck. The foreman saw this and blocked her in with her truck — they take this very seriously; people could be killed — and waited for a cop to show up, who promptly wrote her a $500 ticket. Sweet, sweet justice.