Unloading Some Beautiful Malicious Compliance

, , , , , | Right | October 12, 2020

A customer parks in the area blocking our fire exit, which is clearly sign-posted. She comes in full of attitude.

Customer: “I want a [complicated coffee order], and hurry.”

Me: “I’d be happy to, ma’am, but first I need you to park your car in a proper parking space. Where it is right now is blocking our fire exit.”

Customer: “Just make my drink. You won’t catch fire in the time it takes you to make it.”

Me: “Ma’am, I am afraid I will need to insist.”

She gasps at the perceived oppression but she goes back to her car and spitefully moves it over. While she does leave the area blocking the fire exit, she pulls up instead into our loading area, which again, is sign-posted. She comes in again.

Me: “Ma’am, I will start making your drink, but please be aware you’re parked in our loading area. That space is next to our storage room doors and is reserved for deliveries.

Customer: “Whatever, just hurry up with my drink.”

I am about to, but with perfect timing I see one of our delivery trucks pull up to the space. It can’t get in because of her car.

Me: “Ma’am, I will continue to make your drink, but please move your car. Our delivery truck is here and they need to—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “Just unload around me.”

Me: “Pardon me, ma’am?”

Customer: “Ugh, just unload around me! I’ve already moved once, I am not moving again!”

In this time my manager has gone out to see what is happening, and then gone to speak to the delivery drivers. He now comes up to me and I explain what the customer has said.

Manager: “She wants us to unload 10,000 paper cups and novelty mugs around her? Fine.”

He instructs me to make the drink a little slower than usual and by the time our customer is strutting out, the truck is blocking her in, and my manager has piled all the delivery boxes around her car, making a little ‘fort.’

I can’t hear, but I can see her screaming and actually stomp her foot, while my manager is telling her (as he later tells me) that he is merely “unloading around her” like she asked us to do.

The louder she screamed the slower my manager took, making sure to stop working and respond to her every time.

For a woman in a hurry and who was too lazy to move, she had to wait forty-five minutes before my boss checked every… single… item on the inventory. Twice.


Share your experience today! Ever witness a perfect piece of karma? Share your story with the NAR community! We all love to read about the deserving getting their comeuppance!

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Just Keep Swimming… Even If You’re Doing It Weird

, , , , , , , , | Working | October 12, 2020

I work in a research lab where we use zebrafish to study genetics. When I joined, the first thing the professor told me was not to name the fish or get attached to them under any circumstances. We don’t kill the fish for our work; we just take tissue samples by clipping a small piece of a fin or the tip of their tail, which will grow back. If a fish gets sick or injured, though, we have to put it down quickly, to avoid it injuring or infecting the rest of the tank, or dying unnoticed and contaminating the water.

As such, when I notice that one of the young male fish we’re raising to restock our tanks is visibly deformed, I know he’s probably going to have to go, so I catch him and put him in a separate container.

Professor: “Any updates?”

Me: “Got some good results on the last sample set I’d like you to look over, and I pulled a fish with a birth defect out of the juvenile tank. I’m afraid we’re probably going to have to put him down.”

Professor: “Let me see.”

He takes the container and studies the deformed fish. The fish looks like someone took his head and his tail and twisted in opposite directions, but he’s still swimming, albeit slowly, and not showing any of the usual signs of distress or injury.

Professor: “Awww, but he’s so cute! Do we really have to put him down?”

Me: “Well, we can’t use him for research, and you’re the one who told me that any injured or sick fish have to go.”

Professor: “Yeah, I know, but he’s swimming pretty well, and I don’t want to put him down unless he’s in distress. I’m going to name him Austin. Keep Austin weird!”

Me: “What should I do with him, then? I don’t want to put him back in with our research fish.”

Professor: “How about putting him in the retirement tank with our older fish? They move pretty slowly anyway, so Austin will be able to keep up, and none of them are used for research anymore.”

Me: “Works for me. Austin gets an early retirement.”

I couldn’t be the one to make the decision, but if the professor okayed it, I was more than happy to move the fish to the retirement tank. Austin can’t move very fast, but he’s still around and has become our unofficial lab mascot. And at least half of our fish have been named.

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That Would Be A Mis-Steak, Part 2

, , , , , , | Right | October 9, 2020

I am having a late dinner by myself after a long day’s work. Next to me, there is a “lady” and her husband; she is giving the waitress h***. It is clearly not deserved; she’s just picky and unreasonable, blaming her for everything — the usual sort of thing we read here. She also sends her steak back — too well done.

When the redo comes back, I say to her:

Me: “I admire you. So strong and so brave.”

She looks at me, trying to figure out how it could be an insult.

Lady: *Suspiciously* “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, you’re brave enough to piss off someone who is totally able to determine what goes into your food — someone who can do things to it you would probably never think of or find out about.”

The waitress nearly loses it. She replies, obviously trying desperately to keep a laugh down, but a quarter-laugh escapes.

Waitress: “Oh, don’t worry, madam; there’s nothing in your food you need to be concerned about.”

The woman looks at her steak for a long time while the waitress goes to go look after other people, looks at me, looks at the steak, gets up, and walks out. She can’t get out without paying, though.

The waitress comes back and smiles.

Waitress: “Say, since she’s paid, how would you like a free steak? I can cancel your main. I promise there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Free steak night!

Related:
That Would Be A Mis-Steak

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She Shuri Knows What She’s Talking About

, , , , , , | Right | October 9, 2020

I am six feet tall in flats, and I’m also a very deep-skinned black woman. I’m used to people looking twice at me. I’m also used to the area I live in being… not very friendly. I’ve been stopped in my own driveway by the police, asking what I was doing in my own yard. I’ve learned for the most part to let it roll off my back, but it means I’m in a constant state of readiness.

I’m in line at the shop with a basket full of things, and the young woman in front of me has the most GORGEOUS baby propped up on her shoulder who is staring at me and grinning. I LOVE children, so I’m pulling funny faces and smiling at the tiny one, trying to ignore the fact that the four- or five-year-old girl with her is staring at me with her mouth open. The mother looks behind her and sees that I am playing with the baby and smiles at me, seeming rather friendly. She glances down and sees her daughter staring.

Woman: “[Daughter], don’t stare at people; it’s rude!”

The little girl closes her mouth and looks at the floor, mumbling something. I crouch down so I can hear her better.

Me: “Did you ask me something, sweetheart?”

Little Girl: *Suddenly adorably shy* “I was just wondering if maybe you’re from Wakanda. You look like Shuri.” 

Of all the things small kids have said to me in stores, that was definitely the cutest. I do, in fact, have long braids, and I even had a Black Panther T-shirt on. Naturally, I joined her in a Wakanda salute. Wakanda forever!

Related:
Silence, Oppressor!

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You Could Have Had Some, And Now You Have None

, , , , , , | Legal | October 9, 2020

I have booked and paid for a room at a small, local motel two months early for an event I’m attending. Shortly after I book my room, I find out that another, bigger, event has been scheduled for the area the same weekend I’ll be there. Naturally, the room rates for the hotel rise because of the bigger event, but I don’t think anything of it because I’ve already paid for my room.

When I arrive at the motel to check in, the owner is running the front counter.

Owner: “Hello, welcome to [Motel]! How can I help you?”

Me: “I have a reservation for [My Name].”

Owner: “Okay, great! Are you here for [Other Event that I’m not going to]?”

Me: “Nope, I’m here for [My Event].”

Owner: “Oh, yes! So, it looks like that’ll be $110 per night for three nights, for a total of $330.”

Me: “Um… no, my reservation should be paid for already.”

Owner: *Starting to turn rude* “Oh. Well, it doesn’t show that it is paid for, so you’ll have to pay now.”

Me: “I have the receipt from my reservation right here.”

I show him the printed receipt.

Owner: “Hmm. Well, there must have been an error with whatever site you booked through. We have not received payment for your reservation, so you need to pay now.”

Me: “I booked my room directly through your own website. I didn’t use any third-party service.”

Owner: “I see. I’ll tell you what. This ‘receipt’ you have—” *literally does air quotes* “—claims that you paid $80 per night. Our rate right now is $110 per night because of [Other Event]. For you, I will let you pay only the difference of $30 per night.”

Me: “No. When I booked my room, the rate was $80 per night. I have proof right here with this receipt that I paid that $80 per night. You cannot change the rate after I pay the original price. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

Owner: “No, no, hotels do it all the time. What you paid when you book the room is only a deposit. You have to pay the rate for the nights you actually stay.”

Me: “Please cancel my reservation and refund my money. I am not staying here tonight.”

Owner: “I cannot refund money that I have not received.”

Me: “Give me five minutes to call my bank. I’ll have them find the transaction record to prove that I paid.”

Owner: “Fine. Call your bank.”

I walked out to the parking lot and called my bank. Not surprisingly, the representative was able to find the transaction using the information I gave them from my receipt. I told the representative what was going on, and he advised that my best option was not to keep pointlessly demanding a refund but to walk away from the motel completely and have my bank dispute the transaction with the motel’s bank.

Fortunately, I had enough money in my account to walk into another hotel that still had vacant rooms. When I told the employee at the new hotel what had happened at the first motel, she called her manager up to the desk. After hearing my story himself, the manager asked to see my receipt from the first motel, and then told the front-desk employee to give me the same $80-per-night rate that I had paid for the first motel instead of their advertised rate of $130 per night for those nights! He said I was the fifth person to walk in that night after fighting the first motel over the same thing I went through, and they were happy to make the price adjustment because it meant they could fill more rooms.

Four days after my phone call to my bank, the money from the first motel was back in my account. My event went great, and I’m definitely planning on going back next year and staying at the second hotel.

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