My grandmother, Oma, is a woman you do NOT want to cross and performed one of the best instances of malicious compliance in my family.

My Opa — her husband — worked for a well-known US telephone company that pretty much had a monopoly fifty years ago, and Oma was a stay-at-home wife with young kids.

Early in their marriage, Opa would call home several times a day to check up on Oma. He came from an Italian-American family and his mother was very controlling. If he called and she was out to market, he’d keep calling every break until she picked up. He claimed that he just wanted to make sure she was okay. This went on for a few weeks until Oma had enough.

One day, she called his office before he could take a break, and his coworker picked up.

Oma: “Is [Opa] available?”

Coworker: “No, would you like me to get him?”

Oma: “No, but please share this message with him. Let him know that I’m going to the grocery store for an hour, so he needn’t call. Then, I will fix lunch for myself and the kids. I’ll need to give [Daughter] a bath after that, because she’s a messy eater. I’ve been constipated lately, so around two o’clock, I plan on sitting on the pot for a while and taking an enema, so if I don’t answer the phone, that’s why. Have him call if he really needs anything.”

Apparently, Opa came home that evening red-faced and never called home to check up on her again.

I work at an office supply store. I have a man come in and snap at me about wanting a heavy-duty chair mat. Okay, fine. The guy DEMANDS that I roll it up. We don’t usually roll the heavy ones because it’s dang near impossible to do, especially for smaller people. I’m 5’2″ and 120 pounds on a heavy day, and I have a hard time maneuvering heavy stuff, as you might imagine.

So, I tell the guy that we don’t usually roll this type, and he snaps at me again.

Customer: “I just bought one last month and the guy had no problem rolling it!”

Okay, fine. I take the mat over to our print center to get one of the ladies to tape it while I roll it. The man follows me.

Customer: “What’s taking so long?! Last time, they took it in the back and used a machine to roll it! Only took a minute!”

I look right at him.

Me: “Sir, we have nothing like that in the back.”

Customer: “WELL, YOU DID LAST TIME!”

Me: “Okay, sir.”

I rolled his mat up with the points facing out. He smacked himself in the face with it on the way out. I’m not gonna lie; I laughed.

My coworker has been a librarian for going on forty years, and between working at the reference desk, the microfiche room — yes, that long! — and the usual circulation and shelving duties, she has seen it all.

Back in the 1980s, the library was having an issue with a serial flasher. A few times a week, patrons would complain about a man with his penis out standing near them in an aisle or over in the study area, but the librarians couldn’t catch him in the act, and he looked and dressed neutrally enough that no one had been able to give a definite description.

My friend was shelving books near the back of the library, in a section where the shelves were not full, leaving space on each shelf and sometimes a gap between the books on one side and those on the other. As she was walking down an aisle with an armload of books, she looked at a shelf and saw… an erect penis, just lying there. One quick glance showed her that the man was standing on the other side of the bookshelf and had… inserted himself into the gap.

Without missing a beat, she dropped her armload of books on his appendage.

She says he made the most terrible noise, stumbled back and hit his head on the shelf behind him, and just stood there moaning. She ducked around and got a good look at him so she could describe him to the other librarians, then said sweetly:

Librarian: “Oh, I’m sorry, did you leave something on the shelf? I didn’t see anything, but I forgot my glasses today.”

There have been other flashers (always a hazard in libraries), but that one was never seen again, according to her.

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My father used to work for a company that made things like diapers and other such products. As such, they worked with what is known as super-absorbent. This is the stuff that actually absorbs and holds in the liquid. For anyone who has never seen super-absorbent in its raw form, it is basically a white granular powder, kind of like sugar.

One time, well before the increased security from 9/11, my dad’s boss was flying to a business conference. In his suitcase, he had several samples of super-absorbent to show. Unfortunately, while in the terminal, his suitcase was stolen.

If you have ever played with super-absorbent, or even seen what happens to a diaper in a pool, you’ll know that when it comes into contact with liquid: it turns into a gel and expands. It expands quite a bit, actually. So, if it were inside a confined space when that happened, like, say, inside someone’s sinus cavity…

The boss was able to retrieve his briefcase later from the police at the nearby hospital. He never did get his super-absorbent samples back, though.

This story is part of the Editors’ Choice 2021 roundup!

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I’ve been out of work for a few days with the flu. I’m back at work because I got told I’d get written up if I called out again. Thankfully, we’re not busy at all, so it’s not a huge issue. One of our regulars comes in. He’s a super creepy man in his sixties, while I’m a female in my twenties. He comes to my window.

Customer: “Hey, [My Name]. Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?”

Me: “Oh, I was out for a few days. What can we help you with?”

Customer: “Just a deposit, please. You have a slip?”

I hand him a deposit slip. He leans into my window, a few inches from my face, and tries to grab my pen — the same pen I’ve been coughing on all day.

Me: “Hang on. I’ll get you a pen.”

Customer: “But I want yours.”

He grins and winks at me.

Me: “I don’t think you want this one. I’ll grab you a new one.”

Customer: “But I want this one!”

He reaches into my window, grabs my pen, and fills out his deposit slip with a flourish.

Customer: “Ha!”

I decide this is not a battle worth fighting and turn my attention to entering his deposit.

Customer: “No smile today? C’mon, give me a smile.”

I hand him his receipt with a straight face.

Customer: “Why aren’t you smiling?”

I get a tickle in my throat. I turn and cough loudly into my elbow and then face him again with a deadpan expression.

Me: “Because I have the flu, [Customer].”

He dropped my pen like it was hot and ran out the door. I got lectured. Worth it!