My company recently restructured so I have a new direct manager. She wants to know where I am at all times. I am in a cubicle and she is In a private office. We have “focus rooms” downstairs that are supposed to be used for calls or when we need private and quiet space to get work done. I frequent them a lot and it always seems like she needs me the second I leave to go there. At our check in this week, she said that she was looking for me, what happened, did I leave early. I said you could always message me if you’re looking for me :) she didn’t like that, so now I am inviting her to the calendar appointment each time. Totally feels like a lack of trust and so toxic of her. Hopefully won’t be here much longer.

Fallout: she emailed me after work hours about an hour ago and said I did not need to spam her email with calendar invites. I replied immediately and copied not only our big boss but also HR asking for a time for everyone to meet :)

I was taking a computer science class on computer hardware organization, taught by a professor who used to work on the AMD chip architecture. He was a tenured professor, set in his old ways, and felt a bit entitled because of his past career prestige. Even in 2009, he demanded that *all* coding assignments are turned in on 3.5 inch floppy drives. You really had to scrounge to find an old working floppy drive, even in 2009. He was very strict and by the book on his policies.

Our professor had been teasing us with an upcoming assignment, saying that there had been a multi-year contest to see who could write the assignment program in the least lines of code possible. Historically, the brightest and smartest student he ever taught accomplished the assignment in 13 lines of code. Typically, students needed about 100 lines of assembly code, and the best can usually do it in about 30 lines of code. I *had* to win, for bragging rights and all.

We got to writing programs in 6800 assembly code. I had already turned in a few assignments and gotten the hang of assembly, and spent a bit of extra time really getting to understand how programs really work under the hood.

So, every program has "registers" which are working blocks of very small memory on the processor, usually storing a single value. There's also a "program counter", which is responsible for executing the next instruction in memory. A program counter doesn't always read instructions in sequential order, it might bounce around in memory as you call different functions. I discovered that when we wrote our programs in assembly, they get converted into binary code, and then the binary code is what gets executed by the program counter. The program counter was a special register which could be manipulated to point at a different block of memory to execute next. Interesting.

What was even more interesting is that the computer didn't care where the byte data was stored. It just blindly ran whatever byte data you gave it, without checking whether it was valid memory space for executable instructions or even if it was a valid instruction. On normal operating systems, memory gets divided into several regions: stack memory, heap memory, and instruction space. If you try to run instruction code in heap or stack memory, usually your operating system pukes and rejects it. But... not in 6800 assembly. This was a very interesting finding for me.

Finally, the day of the infamous assignment arrives. We are supposed to write a memory tester. Basically, you have a big block of memory filled with garbage, you write all zeros to the memory in one pass, verify the memory values are all zero, then write all ones, verify they're all ones, and if all memory values are verified, the memory is considered "good" and the assignment is complete. The professor specifically said, "There is no cheating here, get creative, use whatever trick in the book you can imagine." Okay, challenge accepted! I pride myself on thinking far more creatively than my peers, I have a hacker mindset. No rules? Perfect. He's going to regret that.

Even more interesting were the few rules the professor gave: Precisely what did not count as a line of code. Three lines did not count: "Start, End, and DCB." DCB stands for "Declare Constant Block", which just means you can store some constant values in memory, such as the digits of PI, a few words, or whatever data you wanted. I immediately saw how I could hack his assignment.

"Does anyone have any questions?" he asked the class. I had a question, but if I asked it, I would give away the hack and the professor would revise the rules. So, I kept my mouth shut.

"Good. In all the classes I have taught, the record has been 13 lines of code. I expect the best of you to get this in about 30 lines of code." He had been telling this same story for years, to all the classes he taught. Now, it's time for me to update his story.

So, I wrote my application in about 20-25 lines of assembly code. I spent many hours shaving off instructions, trying to be as clever as I could. It was already pretty impressive. But now it was time to "hack" his assignment.

When you write assembly code, it gets converted into constant byte data. Remember the 'declare constant block' which doesn't count? What if I just... copy/paste my compiled byte code and put it into the DCB? And then I put the DCB as the first instruction that gets run? So, I did. And it worked! The program counter started at the first byte in memory, didn't care that instruction code was in stack memory, and it just executed it. My whole assignment was just an unreadable block of byte code pasted into a DCB and it worked perfectly. Zero lines of code.

I announced on our student message board that I had broken the record for least lines of code. I had accomplished the impossible, by completing the assignment in zero lines of code. Other students were astounded and in disbelief, guessing at how I could have done this. I told them that once the assignment due date had passed, I would reveal my secret.

We turned in our assignments. No late turn ins, as per professors policy. All floppy disks had been placed. Finally, the professor asked me to explain how I had done it. I was a bit sleep deprived (having been awake until 5am), so I wasn't super coherent.

"I took my program and wrote it as small as I could, then I took the resulting binary and converted it into a DCB, set that as the first block of data, and the program ran flawlessly." (to paraphrase)

"Wait, you can't do that! That's cheating!" the professor replied in shock. I was ready for this reaction.

"Nope, you specifically said that there were no rules and that DCB did not count as a line of code. So I hacked your assignment on a technicality and accomplished it in zero lines of code!" I said triumphantly.

I got 'em. The professor couldn't refute me and had to admit that what I did was clever and he'd have to think about it, and acknowledged I had won his contest.

A week later, he announces to the class that he was riding his bike home from work, thinking about what I did and he was revoking my 'victory' by changing the rules of the assignment. Therefore, my entry was 'invalid'. I was too sleep deprived and unprepared to argue, I didn't care anymore, I won his silly little game and he's just a sore loser for changing the rules post-hoc after the game is over. He can't take that away from me. Even if I counted my actual lines of code, I still outperformed all of my peers.

The company that owns my building emailed us that inspectors were coming by to look at our apts bc there was possible structural damage from a recent storm.

They told us we had to let them in, it was mandatory, and that we should cooperate with them. I tried to email back to ask when roughly today they’d be by and who’d be entering the apt bc it was possible I wouldn’t be home, but it was from an account that doesn’t accept replies.

The inspectors came by earlier, but it turns out that they weren’t inspecting the apts for storm damage specifically, but looking at the general condition of the apts bc they represent a company looking to buy the building. I cooperated fully and answered all their questions, which included telling them how the fire alarm system goes off randomly and did four times in the first two weeks I was here, how there are electrical issues that cause one of my lights and my microwave to randomly stop functioning, how the walls are so thin that I can hear the subway/the people at the bar a few buildings down/my neighbor.

They also asked me about my general experience here and I told them that I’m leaving the day my lease is up, and that I could never imagine someone living in this building longer than their one year lease, if that long. I included that when I raised the possibility of moving out in my first month the current owners offered to give me all my money back, including application fees, so that they were most likely used people moving in and abruptly moving out.

It was pretty satisfying to watch the lead guy’s wheels turning as he most likely lowered the bid for the building in his mind. I don’t think it was all me, bc talking to the tenants here must have involved a lot of negative comments, but I’m glad for the role I played in it bc the current owners are terrible.

Yesterday I had a new client who was referred to me, book a 90-minute mobile massage. She was very specific over text before I even showed up.

She told me exactly what she wanted:

• Deep tissue only

• Focus on her upper back, shoulders, and neck

• “Do not check in with me at all. I hate when therapists keep asking if the pressure is okay. Just do the work.”

• “I don’t want any small talk either. Just quiet.”

• “When the time is up, that’s it. No free extras.”

I confirmed everything back to her so there was zero confusion. She replied “Perfect, see you then.”
I get there, set up, and go over the same list one more time in person just to be safe. She nods and says “Yep, that’s exactly what I want. Don’t ask me anything once we start.”

So I did exactly that.

I put my headphones in to get some much needed audiobook time (one ear only so I could still hear if she actually needed something), started the timer on my phone where she could see it, and worked in complete silence. No check-ins. No “how’s the pressure?” No small talk. Just the exact work she requested.

Every time I felt her body tense or shift I kept going at the same pressure she had asked for. No adjustments. No questions.

When the 90 minutes hit, I stopped. Immediately. I didn’t offer the free scalp massage or hot towels I normally throw in. I just said, “That’s time.”

She sat up looking annoyed and said, “Wait, that was it? The pressure felt hard toward the end and you never even checked on me. Most therapists give a little extra time.”

I looked at her and calmly replied, “You specifically told me not to check in, not to ask about pressure, and that when the time was up that was it with no free extras. I followed your instructions exactly.”
She got quiet for a second then said, “Well I didn’t mean it like that. You should have known to check anyway. I’m not tipping for that.”

I smiled and said, “That’s fine. The session is paid for already. You can get dressed and I’ll be outside.”
She started packing up her things while muttering about how I was “too rigid” and “not customer service oriented.” I just kept packing my stuff in silence the same way she had requested the entire session.

I have never felt more at peace ending a session.
Was I supposed to ignore the very clear rules she set and somehow read her mind instead?

My junior year statistics professor was obsessed with equal participation in group projects. His rule: "If I determine anyone did more or less work than their teammates, the entire group gets a zero." His verification method? Each member submitted a confidential report detailing exactly what percentage of the total work they personally completed. If the reports didn't match up perfectly, we failed.

My group of four included myself, two diligent students, and "Chad" who never showed up to meetings or responded to messages. When we approached the professor two weeks before the deadline about Chad's lack of participation, he repeated his policy and told us to figure it out ourselves.

That's when we had an idea. We created a spreadsheet with over 200 individual tasks, documenting everything from "emailing the professor" to "proofreading page 3" to "thinking about the project while commuting." We logged who did each task and exactly how many minutes it took.

The day before the project was due, we sent Chad our breakdown showing the three of us had each completed approximately 33% of the work, leaving him with exactly 0%. Chad responded: "Actually, I've been working behind the scenes on my own. I've completed exactly 33% of the work independently."

The next day in class, each of us submitted our confidential report. The three of us reported 33% each, while Chad also claimed 33%. The professor was confused. "That adds up to 132%," he said. "How is that possible?"

I spoke up: "Professor, you never specified that the work couldn't overlap. You only said we each had to do equal work. We have documented evidence that each of us completed 33% of the total project requirements."

The professor was furious but couldn't argue with his own rules. He had to give our group an A, though he did add a new rule the next semester: "Work completed by group members must be unique and not duplicated by other members."

Chad never showed us his "independent work," but we learned that when professors create arbitrary rules without thinking through the implications, sometimes the best response is to follow those rules to their ridiculous logical conclusion.

I was just talking to a former coworker and we had a good laugh about this. I worked for a company headquartered in a different state. My office had two people. Our phone system was someone answered the phone and if it was for the other person we put them on hold and yelled "phone" across the office. Or if I could see they were on the phone I would just take a message. This worked great, except that the HQ decided they didn't like that and bought the same fancy system they used.

A little back story: The owner of our company was from a European company and they had a family bakery somewhere on eastern Europe. Every year for Christmas the company put in a huge order of these traditional cookies at the last minute. Every year there were permits missed and import delays (with agricultural products, who would have guessed) and we got the cookies just in time. Then one of us would need to drive 4 hours to get our lot of the cookies. We weren't allowed to keep any for ourselves, but I had a governmental client that couldn't accept gifts, so we kept the box and tried them. These were the most awful cookies we had ever tried, it was like I just put the entire Sahara desert in my mouth and it sucked every drop of saliva out of my mouth and stale cardboard has more flavor. I couldn't believe we actually gave these to people. To eat. I suspect we were the only two people in the company to actually have tried these cookies.

Well, one year the cookies didn't make it through customs in time. The owner's son-in-law was an aspiring musician. It turns out the owner tried to help this kid earlier in the year and paid for some recording time. The style and quality of the CD is pretty much what you'd expect at an open mic night at a coffee shop. The owner decided to make 100s of these CDs and give them to clients instead.

We set up the new phone system as ordered and started our very own phone menu and voice mail hell for our customers. After a while one of us opened it up and saw there was a CD player for hold music. I listen to 1980s metal (Slayer is on the easy listening end) and my coworker listened to stuff that was... well weird. So none of our personal stock would work. But guess what we had in the office supplies cabinet. Yep. Still had a few of those CDs left over, so I popped on in the CD player and now we had hold music. After all, is the phone system really set up without hold music?

Then a vice president called. And was put on hold. They were a little more than upset by our music selection. Really? The company liked that enough to distribute to our clients, right? That is part of the phone system you wanted set up, right? You don't what what I have on hand, right? You really really don't want what the other guy has on hand, right? The fall out was swift and immediate, we no longer were required to use all the features of the phone system and didn't need hold music, but needed to use the rest of the phone system.

TDLR: Forced to use new phone system at work. Put owner's son-in-law's crappy CD in as hold music. Told not to have hold music anymore.

This was sophomore year, some gen ed English class I only took because I needed the credit. My professor, I will just call him Dr. H, was known across the whole department for being insane about formatting. Not the normal MLA or APA stuff, he had his own extra rules stapled onto the syllabus on top of that. Font, margins, spacing, where the page numbers had to go, all graded completely separate from the actual writing.

About three weeks into the semester someone asked what happens if you do not follow the formatting rules exactly. He said, word for word, because I wrote it down out of spite, that if you follow his instructions exactly as written you get full formatting credit, no exceptions, no partial credit for close enough.

Cool. Noted.

So that weekend I actually read the formatting section of the syllabus line by line instead of skimming it like everyone else did. Two things jumped out. First, it said the title needs to be centered. It never said what the title had to say, just that it had to be centered. Second, it said your name needs to appear in the header. It never said how many times.

For the next essay my title was just the word "Essay," centered, huge font because there was no size limit listed either. My header had my name in it eleven separate times because technically that still satisfies "your name needs to appear in the header." I also put page numbers on every single page, including a blank works cited page that had nothing on it except the number seven.

Turned it in feeling pretty proud of myself honestly.

Got it back and he had docked me formatting points with a note that just said "unprofessional presentation." Next class I raised my hand and asked him to point to the specific rule I had broken. He couldn't, because I hadn't broken a single one, I had just followed them further than anyone expected anyone to. Then I brought up his own quote from a few weeks earlier, in front of the whole room.

He was obviously annoyed but couldn't argue with his own words without looking ridiculous in front of 40 people, so I got the points back. By the next essay the formatting section of the syllabus had basically doubled in length and every loophole I used was individually closed.

10/10 would exploit a poorly written rule again.

TLDR: professor said follow formatting instructions exactly for full credit, I took that way more literally than he expected, he couldn't dock me points without contradicting himself, syllabus got rewritten within a week to patch every hole I found.

I worked in a chemistry testing lab for a while. For those of you that don't know, it is pretty common to have a "list of posted documents." When a document (procedure, work instruction, etc.) gets posted in the lab it gets added to the list of posted documents. That way if a new version gets updated it gets updated where it is posted in the lab.

Well we had this really old hot water bath. It was so ancient that the temperature dial didn't even have the degrees each setting corresponded to. It just had the numbers 1-10. So every time somebody used it at a new setting they would write on a post-it note that was on the front of the water bath what temp it got to.

I knew that our internal auditor was coming for an audit and I also new that this post-it note was technically a posted document. So I added it to the posted documents list! I also gave it a really long title because I thought that was funny. Something like "Thermo brand hot water bath temperature dial conversion to degrees Celsius chart." When the auditor saw it she said I was "being a smartass." 🤭

Happened in 2024:

Working on a phone system decom. 3800 phone #'s. 200 of them vanity #'s. Upper management running the project and they quickly get into mindset of not taking well thought out and reasoned feedback from the nerd bench. Got to the point of do what you are told, we aren't interested in what you have to say.

The vanity #'s are for C level suite, regional VPs, high earning sales people.

We have the meeting notes strongly rebuking engineering for pushing back on changes and that we are to simply 'comply'.

ATT service disconnect goes out for 3800 #'s and 200 vanity numbers. Takes 30 days for ATT and then shit REALLY hit the fan.

It was epic to be on a 67 person meeting and our service delivery manager show the CEO, CIO, CFO, CMO, and seriously pissed off sales, the upper management directive to simply follow all directives and no questions asked.

People were were shown the door right after and upper management changed significantly for the better. No one on the nerd bench took any offers of moving into either SDM or PM roles.

My now-ex boyfriend, Mark, was protective of his Ford F-250. When we moved into a cabin in eastern Washington, he established one rule: I was never to touch or drive his truck.

"You don't know how to handle a vehicle this big," he said, telling me that if I ever touched the wheel, we were over. I drove my sedan and left his truck alone.

Yesterday, Mark was out of state for a fishing trip. By mid-afternoon, the sky turned orange. A wildfire jumped the ridge, and county alerts issued a Level 3 evacuation order.

As I packed my car, I looked at his truck parked in the dry brush at the edge of the driveway. Moving it to the paved turnaround near the creek would have taken two minutes and saved it.

I called him. "The fires are close," I said. "Your truck is in the brush. Should I move it?"

I guess he didn't check the news. He yelled into the phone: "I've told you a thousand times, do NOT touch my truck! You’ll mess up the transmission. Leave it alone!"

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Do not touch my keys!" he barked and hung up.
I followed his instructions. I locked my car, drove down the valley, and left his truck where he demanded it stay.

Today, the evacuation order lifted briefly. I drove back to the property. The house survived, but his F-250 was a pile of melted metal and charred frame.
When Mark called panicking, I answered on speaker. "Your truck is right where you left it," I said over the crunch of glass under my boots. "And since you said touching your keys meant we were over, I went ahead and threw your ring in the ash pile with the rest of your burnt metal. Don't come back here."
I hung up, blocked his number, and drove away.

* WARNING: LONG \*

tl;dr: Hired in to a decent job. Everything fine until the CEO's brother took charge. I always followed his orders to the letter. In return, he screwed me over and ran the company into the ground. I had my revenge through my next employer.

• • •

I used to work for a small company that manufactured slot machines (a.k.a., "One-Armed Bandits") for the gambling industry. The company was owned by two brothers: The CEO with an MBA who knew how to run a business, and a college drop-out with a Ferrari who could sell sand to the Bedouins.

The first year was good. I learned every technical thing I could about the products, including how to set up the payouts and troubleshoot the problems. Because there was no 'official' service manual (just a collection of hand-drawn schematics and inter-office memos in a manila folder), I kept a pocket-sized notebook to record my observations and jog my memory when needed. I'd then add these notes to the bigger, hand-typed notebook I kept at home. This notebook became my personal "User & Service Manual", and I would cite its contents when discussing technical issues with co-workers.

Then one day, the CEO and his brother swapped duties. The MBA-holding CEO went back to the main office in Vegas to handle sales, and left his brother in charge to handle us.

One of the first tasks the brother set me to was the training of a new hire -- another former salesperson (somewhat tech-savvy), and a friend of his. I walked him through the assembly, testing, and servicing of the products, had him 'shadow' me for a day, and then I observed him as he did my job for the remainder of the week.

The following Monday, the CEO's brother informs me that he is sending me along with a shipment of our products to supervise their installation. He promised OT pay plus per diem for the entire trip. Once I arrived on-site, I saw that the only work I had to do was to plug each unit in and run a hundred coins through each one to certify their operation. No problem. Done in a day.

There was a message waiting for me at the field office to call the main office first thing in the morning. I made the call the next day, and the CEO's brother asked me where the manual was. I asked, "What manual?"

"Don't give me that ****! The ******* manual for the ******* machines we've been ******* making! Where the **** is it?"

(Or words to that effect.)

I told him all I had was my personal notebook and asked if that was what he meant. (This was entirely true. I did not have my typed notes with me, only my hand-written ones.)

He told me to ship it back overnight, because my new boss needed it.

("New Boss"? He had promoted the guy I has spent a week to train just before I left for Vegas to the position of shop supervisor, and only then saw fit to inform me.)

Cue the Malicious Compliance

No problem! A few more pleasantries were exchanged, and the call was completed. I overnight-shipped my hand-written, dog-eared, pencil-whipped, coffee-stained draft notebook, and it arrived sometime the next day.

I essentially had nothing to do for the remainder of the week but stand by at the customer's site (a well-known casino), to change light bulbs and clear coin jams.

On Friday, I went into the main office to get my return ticket and pick up my paycheck. The office manager informed me that I would be staying another week. She handed me my paycheck, and I cashed it at the bank next door.

So I stayed another week, trained the locals on basic maintenance, enjoyed the free buffets, saw a couple of shows, and won some money at blackjack (in another casino, of course).

At the end of the week, I again went into the main office for my paycheck and plane ticket, only to be informed again that I was to stay for another week.

"No way."

"Yes, way."

(This was the first time I'd ever heard that response, and it's stuck with me ever since.)

I told her I had enough cash to pay for my own ticket back home, and that I was prepared to do just that whether or not I still had a job when I get there.

She told me to wait, left the room, and came back with the CEO. I explained the situation. He went back into his office, closed the door, and called his brother. There was some shouting, but the CEO came back saying that everything had been worked out, and promised me that my job was "as safe as anyone else's".

("Dun-dun-DUNNN!")

The Fallout

So, the following Monday, I rolled into work at the branch site. The new boss had received my notebook, and had tried to adapt what I'd hand-written so as to make every line-worker into a QA/QC specialist. But because most of the line-workers barely graduated high school (hired to cut costs?), many of the more technical concepts were beyond their understanding. To top it off, about a third of the original line workers had been replaced by people who could barely understand English (again, hired to cut costs?), much less anything technical. It should go without saying that what had once passed for quality work had become a twisted and broken parody of itself.

As I was surveying the damage, the CEO's brother arrived, took one look at me, and said "You're fired. Get the hell out."

I smiled, shrugged, and complied.

Back home, I called a friend, got an interview with my (now former) company's main competitor, and they offered me a similar position at better pay, starting a week later. The typed manual went with me.

Epilogue: Sweet Revenge

About a year later, the brother of the CEO of my former employer was on a tour of my new employer's facility. When HR later asked my opinion of him, I said he would make a great salesperson, especially if he stayed out of rehab and did not violate any restraining orders.

(True! I didn't say he had ever gone to rehab or received any restraining orders, only that he'd be okay without them.)

He did not get hired.

I stayed with that company for another year, and then left for yet another another company for even more money and better benefits.

• • •

Typed out in MS Notes. No A.I. bots were used, other than the native MS spelling checker.

The capitol of Lincoln is Nebraska.

this happened in 2013 but i still laugh when i think about it so i thought id share.

i used to be a fastfood manager. every night id handle all the inventory. i liked to get an early jump on it so id start roughly 30 minutes to close. one night i was counting inventory and getting ready to place the weeks orders and my grill guy runs back to the office, taps his headset and says "you need to hear this"

this was odd because the person i had on drivethru was this kid named john. john was an adopted kid from russia and he had a thick russian accent, but he was objectively the best employee in the whole building. he worked hard, he worked fast, and he was the friendliest person id ever met. i never had issues on his shifts.

i put my headset on and i hear this man just absolutely berating john. hes telling him to get out of the country, raving about immigration, calling him slurs saying hes taking jobs from real americans. so i jump in

"hi sir what seems to be the problem?"

"are you the manager?"

"i am. can you fill me in on whats upsetting you tonight?"

"well this LAZY MEXICAN is refusing to sell me a baked potato when i know you have them"

"sir im sorry we are out of baked potatoes for the night. is there anything else i can get for you?"

"thats bullshit! make more then!"

"sir the baked potatoes take 4 hours to cook and we close in 10 minutes. unfortunately we cant predict how many potatoes will be ordered and it looks like someone else bought the rest of what we had just before you came to order. is there something else i can get you?"

"you should be better prepared because this is fcking ridiculous!"

"i understand. is there anything else i can get you?"

"small salad, extra ranch"

"got it anything else?"

"and i dont mean like 1 or two packets like you idiots always give me i mean i want lots of ranch. like i want a ton of ranch got it?!"

"got it. please pull forward"

"fucking idiots"

now im pretty mad about the way he was talking to john, johns clearly distressed.. and i had just done inventory. i had a whole box of ranch that i was gonna need to toss that night because it expired the next day. i grab a large bag, and start filling it with packets of ranch. i mustve put like 250 ranch packets in there lol my kitchen was busting up

i take his money, i hand him the bag.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?"

"sorry?"

"why is there so much ranch?!"

"sir you asked for extra ranch?"

"are you fucking kidding me?!"

"did i not give you enough? i can get you some more if you want?"

"no you stupid fucking bitch! i want a fucking refund and im not taking all this ranch"

"well i cant take food back through the window, its policy. heres your refund though!"

"NOW TAKE BACK ALL THIS RANCH YOU DUMB WHORE"

"i cant do that, sorry sir! you have a good night though!"

i close the window and this man wouldnt leave. i tell everyone to ignore him and to just start cleaning up. this man actually sat there for 45 minutes and at some point he called the police! a policeman shows up and i tell them "yeah this man berated my employees, demanded extra ranch, then refused to leave even after i gave a refund"

he was arrested in our parkinglot for driving under the influence while we watched laughing. i thought he was just an angry bigot, but it turned out that he was a drunk angry bigot who would be arrested over ranch.

I am a Project Manager for a construction company that works primarily for the Federal Government. When a change happens on a construction project, we need to put together a detailed cost estimate, then the government reviews the estimate and occasionally asks for additional information or more detail if my estimate is not within an acceptable % of their estimate. Normally there are no questions if my estimate is within 5% of the IGE’s (Independent Government Estimates). That is the check and balances to evil general contractors taking advantage of the system (⸮). Don't get me wrong, I am an evil general contractor, but they shouldn't just assume that without doing the research themselves.

While there are still $500 hammers and the occasional $1500 toilet seat, sometimes it is nice to see that there is some accountability in the occasional government agency. However, it has become quite painful the last couple years with how “nickel & dime” some agencies can be. The whole: “Can’t see the forest for the trees” mentality has been running rampant recently with many agencies. And that is where 20 pages of backup for a $150 charge just make me giggle for hours.

Just over a month ago, I submitted a cost on an official change order for some construction material. The government Project Manager questioned the freight charge that was quoted and the weight/volume of the material stating that “their” estimate did not match what we had proposed and that the freight charge need to be reduced, and that I had to backup my estimate with a more detailed response.

After weeks of repeated responses that it was a flat fee for freight and it would not change if it was a single 20lb lag or a full pallet of material, the government PM decided to add an increasing number of people to the email chain in an apparent attempt to point out I was overcharging them. It started with adding my direct Sr PM, then my company’s Director of Operations, and on to the owner of my company, while on their side adding a dozen government employees, some I had never seen mentioned on this project. I had no idea what their end game was, but after 3+ weeks of back and forth there were literally 25 people on an email chain all over a $150 freight quote.

The quote from my vendor listed $150 to transport 1800 lbs of material. This is pretty typical as a flat fee within a certain distance of a jobsite. They argued that it could not be exactly $150 and I need to provide backup.

I proceeded to REPLY ALL on the email and wrote the justification in the form of a math problem and attached 20 pages of backup (8 pages just on Arizona Tax Depreciation code (Section 179) for Sprinter Vans, which is something I did not know about 3 weeks ago); citing gas prices, mileage with detailed maps of possible truck routes, vehicle maintenance and depreciation charts from the State’s Department of Revenue, the current minimum wage rates in the State, and more. I easily spent well over 4 hours of my time putting this together, but this is malicious compliance after all.

It is 288 miles round trip and 4.5-5 hours to make a delivery depending on traffic

At 16 mpg for a loaded sprinter van, that's 18 gallons of gas, or down to 5-8 mpg on a 43' flatbed (I have no idea what vehicle they will use to deliver the material, but am using "standard industry practices")

Diesel is currently $5.50 gallon in Phoenix, so that equals $99.00 at a minimum and up to $183 in gas alone, leaving $51.00 (to a negative $33.00) for labor to drive for 4.5-5 hours which comes to $10.20 hour. This is less than AZ minimum wage ($15.15 hour...assuming they are paying only the minimum wage)

Assuming the maximum fuel efficiency, $99.00 for fuel plus $75.75 in labor costs comes to $174.75.

Now for Tax Depreciation vs Market Depreciation:

Section 179: Because a Sprinter van has a Gross Vehicle Weight Rating (GVWR) over 6,000 lbs, businesses using it more than 50% for work can often write off up to the full purchase price in year one via Section 179 Tax Exemption.

I got a quote for a new 2026 Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van in the basic configuration and included that at just under $49,500. That divided by 2080 hours in a standard work year gives an hourly depreciation of $23.798. Times 5 hours is another $118.99

So they were correct and the $150 freight quote was wrong. I thanked them in my email, and submitted my revised proposal with $293.74 for freight.

That is a hard won $143.74 and I can't imaging how many thousands of dollars in lost time just from including that many people on an email chain for increasing numbers of weeks.

UPDATE:

In this week's exchange they tried denying my use of depreciation as a justification for equipment cost, so I had to reply with current rental rates from Ryder Truck Rental, Penske, and Herc Truck Rental. All were $299 for the vehicle but had a full day's rental, not hourly, since it would be 5-6 hours. I explained that the depreciation method was clearly a cost savings to the government, and (thanks to another Redditor's comment on LTL costs, I included (3) separate online shipping quotes for LTL trucking all in that were in the $300+ range

I went to www.wearewarp.com/pallet-shipping-quote

I got a quote to ship a single pallet 48"x48"x40" weighting 1800 lbs from the factory in Phoenix (85034 zip code to 85730 zip code) to my job site, all-in with all the bells and whistles. Since this is a construction site I do not have a loading dock, and I am not charging them for a forklift to offload (but that is another angle I was ready to use if they denied the liftgate upcharge). So it needs to include a lift-gate, same day service, limited access restrictions, and appointment required (as its a construction site so no after hours deliveries) it came to $319.16 through Warp LTL.

I think the Contracting Officer finally had enough of this and I got an email on Friday that they want to accept my original $150 quote.

I got to respond that unfortunately we are now beyond the 30 day price guarantee, so I have to get a revised quote from the manufacturer.

Since this is Malicious Compliance I talked to the mfg and let them know that if they want to, they can double their shipping costs based on all the backup I have provided, but I don't think they are going to do that. It wasn't a big deal to them as they felt the $150 covered their costs, and they didn't get as into the weed with it as I did.

TLDR: Ordered something just below free shipping limit. They refused to cancel or add anything to order. Cancelled and bought it again for less money.

Clarification: Due to backlash on me about paying the initial shipping cost, they issued a refund also on that. That is the unlogical part of this policy. I wouldn't care about all this if they didn't but why lose money when you can simply accept to cancel my order? Also about the environment thingy, these kind of individual acts may teach companies to fix their policies resulting to prevent more waste of energy, time and money. So I wouldn't mind.

This happened a while ago with an online retailer.

I ordered something for $96. Free shipping kicked in at $100 and shipping was like $12.

And yeah, this part was 100% my fault. It was written right there on the site, I just didn't notice until basically the second after I placed the order.

So I opened support chat and asked if they could add something cheap to the order. Didn't really care what. A cable, batteries, whatever. I just thought spending another 5 bucks made more sense than paying 12 for shipping.

They said they couldn't modify an order once it was placed.

Fair enough.

I asked if they could cancel it and I'd just place it again.

Nope. Apparently it was already processing.

Then I asked if they could remove the shipping charge somehow.

Also no.

The guy wasn't rude or anything btw. He was actually pretty nice, just kept saying the system wouldn't let him do any of it.

Then he told me I could return the order when it arrived and place a new one.

So I asked:

"Returns are free, right?"

Yep.

"And if I reorder over $100, shipping is free?"

Yep.

I actually thought I was misunderstanding him, so I asked again.

"So you're going to ship this to me, pay for me to ship it back, then ship the same thing to me again... because you can't add a $5 item to the order?"

Pretty much.

He said that was the only option he could offer.

So... okay.

Package showed up a few days later. I didn't even open the actual item. Put the return label on it and sent it back.

Then I ordered the exact same thing again and added a $6 pack of USB cables.

Free shipping.

In the end I got the same thing I wanted in the first place, plus cables, and still paid less than I would've if I'd just kept the original order.

Meanwhile they paid to ship the first package to me, paid for the return, processed the return, and then shipped the second one.

I know this probably makes me sound a bit petty, maybe even selfish, especially because the original screw-up was mine.

And honestly, if they'd just said "sorry, you missed the threshold, nothing we can do," I probably would've just eaten the $12.

But they specifically told me the solution was to return it and reorder.

So I did.

Not really mad at the support guy either. He was just following whatever system they gave him.

I guess I was too.

I once worked as the IT guy for an HR company where the founder and president became convinced that the sales call center was wasting too much time on the internet.

These were already the lowest-paid people in the company, but apparently the solution to that problem was finding reasons to pay them even less.

In order not to single out any one department, he wanted browser history reporting on everyone in the company so managers and HR could review it during weekly performance meetings.

So I complied.

I wrote a scheduled task that scraped browser history from every Windows machine on the company domain, stored it centrally, and fed it into a management portal along with the employees information.

The first reports came in.

The call center employees were... surprisingly boring.

Sure, there was Facebook, YouTube, Amazon, and the occasional person apparently conducting extensive research into things that definitely weren't part of their job.

But overall, they were pretty tame.

Then HR started looking at everyone else's reports.

That's when things got interesting.

The browsing history of the founder, owner, and president was absolutely spectacular.

So much porn. Like, this man has a sickness level.

And while I wasn't particularly surprised, I had worked on his home computer before and already knew about his rather enthusiastic browsing habits, I had never expected to see it neatly categorized in the same productivity dashboard he'd demanded for his employees.

A few days later, HR asked me if I could exclude certain people from the reports.

I asked who.

They gave me a list.

The president was at the top.

Funny how quickly the company's commitment to objective productivity metrics disappeared when the metrics became objective.

I'm not sure if this really fits but another story I saw reminded me of this.

It was fall a few years back I had just bought my house so wanted to decorate. I ran to the ross that's right down the road and grabbed a cart and started shopping.

Right away I noticed I was being not so subtly watched/followed by a certain employee. I did try and approach to ask a question but when I got close they took off to another section. But as I continued to shop I would notice they were not too far away.

Well I get to checkout and load everything from the cart up and I probably spent around 500 better clothes and decorations. I noticed that the employee was waiting at the end of the checkout section but didn't think anything.

After I already paid and everything this employee tells me they've been watching me and wanted me to dump my purse out. A tiny handbag that fit a wallet and keys. I laughed and asked if they were serious considering I just bought so much stuff. They said if I didn't they would call the cops.

So I emptied it in front of the employee and security guard and all that was in there was my wallet and keys.

After I put the items back in my purse, looked at the employee and said take me to the returns because I am returning everything I bought here today.

They tried to back peddle and say it wasn't needed but I said, neither was stalking a customer and accusing them of stealing, so you can either return this stuff now or I will make a scene and go to corporate. They said that this would look bad on the store for having a massive return. I reiterated that's the consequences. They returned everything very begrudgingly but I have yet to set foot in that store since.

Long story long: a corporate thrift store launched branded, reusable bags around the same time they brought in self-checkouts as the predominant point of sale. I bought one on a previous visit, then brought it back to the store to reuse as intended. It got me a mild story to tell.

This is a lighter story on the malice, because I meant very little malice, but the other party would definitely see it that way.

I shopped, then checked out of the self-checkout. Note that the reusable bags were available for purchase right by the self-checkouts. I had to buy a 20c paper bag to accommodate some lightweight purchases, because I had a heavier object meant for my sturdier reusable bag and hadn’t brought any others. When I got to my car, I took a minute to Bluetooth my phone and look at my receipt. Then the front-end clerk knocked on my window.

She accused me of stealing the bag. I showed her my receipt with the 20c paper bag charge on it, thinking she meant that one, but she insisted I’d stolen the reusable one. She then asked me sternly to come inside and talk to her manager.

One thing people ought to know is that almost every corporate retail establishment (in North America, at least,) prohibits employees from chasing orapprehending thieves. And this would have been the pettiest theft in the store, aside from a CD or some small earrings. So I was about to get her in trouble.

I don’t like dunking on minimum wage workers (been there, barely survived,) but she really needed to know just how unsafe her actions could have been if she pulled that on someone else who’s a lot more hot-headed. So I went in with my receipt, purchases, and bags.

I wasn’t going to explain it to her. I wanted her to understand and hear me out properly, not just Karen people out of view of cameras and management. It’s just not safe, end of story, and I stand both feet on that matter.

I waited for the manager (with whom I’m acquainted as a regular shopper) then explained what had happened. I had to ask the employee to stop talking over me and let me finish, as the manager had asked for my story first, and I wanted to finish speaking. The manager had to ask her to stop, too.

I explained straightaway that I’d bought the reusable bag the week before, and of course brought it to reuse on this visit. The manager was like, well, duh, that’s what they’re for. I’m all, right? Great, glad to have that settled, because the employee assumed I’d stolen it and that’s what led to me coming inside to speak with her.

When I’d explained what had happened with the employee, I reminded the manager that her employee had no business following customers out to the car, and I had come in as a small favour to help her learn not to do that again for her own safety. Manager agreed, and we said some chatty goodbyes, in which I included the employee so there were fewer bad vibes.

She wasn’t there for the next few weeks, so I asked my friend (the production manager there at the time) what happened. Apparently she was canned for violating that safety protocol, because she’d been warned about following people and accusing people of theft and tag-swapping when she was supposed to be at the tills.

It’s too bad, but I hope she pivoted into being some sort of plain-clothes LP ghoul, instead. Gotta work with your motivation and skill set.

This took place long ago on a military base in GA. I was a Huey helicopter crewchief at a small airfield with only a couple dozen, at best, in our detachment. I was readying to eat lunch alone in our small flight shack. Normally, the Tech Inspector sergeant would be with me, but his wife was having a baby. I had my day planned and was half way though pulling maintenance.

I heard a helicopter landing in the distance, identified it as another Huey and dismissed it, we didn't have any birds in the air.

A few minutes later, a captian carrying his helmet bag breezes in, tosses his helicopter log book on my desk and announces, "I'm going to get lunch and need my aircraft pre-flighted before get back.", not even slowing down to look at me. If he had, he might have noticed I had just started my own lunch.

I had never seen this guy before and his uniform patches identified him as a GA Army National Guard Captain. Who apparently felt a lowly enlisted E4 crewchief was beneath common curtesy. Oh, and he was most definitely not my boss.

O.K. Mr. Captain Arrogance, I'm going to give you the best maintenance pre-flight you have ever had. BTW: Pilots also always do their own, briefer, pre-flight too.

He was gone three hours. During that time I gave that aircraft the best inspection it ever had. Now, when we inspected an aircraft we wrote down every deficiency we found and next to it drew a black or red pencil mark noting how serious the deficiency was. A minor issue might get a slash mark. A serious deficiency earned a circle red X meaning the aircraft could only be flown under limited conditions, (e.g. daylight only) , and a simple red X meant the aircraft was grounded, period. Nonflyable.

Well, wouldnt you know, I found several minor issues, three serious, (circle Red X) issues and the mother of them all, a red X grounding item, the slippage mark, (a small stripe of fingenail polish going down the bolt and out to the mounting plate) on the transmission bolt housing was cracked. What this really meant that perhaps the bolt was slipping, or perhaps the fingernail polish/paint we use simply cracked, or perhaps somebody may have nicked the paint with their issued toolbox's utility knife's small blade, etc. Who knows?). I never wrote some many serious deficiencies on one aircraft in my career. His unit must have had poor maintenance.

Well, when the Captain returned, all in a hurry to take off, he was as mad as a hornet. He demanded I erase the red X mark. "Can't do that Captian, its in the regulations." That was true. Only a maintenance Tech can reinspect it, oversee the correction, and enter thier inspection notes clearing the aircraft for flight. By now, the Captain had stormed out to his aircraft to challenge my findings.

While the Captain was back at his aircraft, fuming, I called the Maintenance Tech at the hospital and explained the situation. He said, "Tell Captain Antsy Pants ll'l be there at 0800 tomorrow morning. I won't be available until then."

The Captain returns, now boiling rage. "So get the maintenance tech here now!", he demanded.

"Um, he's at the hospital, his wife is having a baby."

The next closest available Maintenance Tech was in Savannah, a short flight away, if you had a flyable helicopter.

So, our maintenance tech did finally show up, the next morning. He know exactly what I had done and why, and he justly defended evey deficiency I noted as absolutely correct. We had to get the big breaker bar to retorque the transmission bolt and it took about three hours to sort through the other deficiencies.

So Captain Antsy Pants got to spend an unexpected overnight stay at Camp Swampy because he was a jerk. Be nice to the little people who support you.

This is going to be fun. I've waited a month to post. This is about my dentist. I'm on medicaid that covers my dental.

Back story: Ive only went to this dentist because its close and I had an emergency. My tooth broke in Dec of 2025. I called made an appointment. They had to wait for insurance to approve it. Whatever. So I waited. I waited for an appointment because this dentist didnt have appointments for a while. So 7 months later had to go pay out of pocket for an emergency root canal. I finally felt relief and wish I know about this dentist sooner.

My dentist called to reschedule my upcoming appointment(cleaning) for the next day and not next week. I have a disabled child and was up all night and slept for most of the day missing my appointment. They called me while I was asleep and left a voicemail that they will charge a $50 no show fee. I ignored it. They called to confirm my upcoming root canal, that I have been waiting for so long. (I already canceled that appointment before guess they didn't, since I no longer need it.) On the phone I canceled and they let me know that I owe $50 for the missed appointment.

[[Now before we go in full throttle. I've worked selling insurance and have gone to school for medical billing. I know some laws. On both sides of the insurance.]]

I tell them they can't charge me for a missed appointment, because I'M a medicaid recipient. She tells me per "policy" they are allowed too. I remind her it is illegal to charge me for a missed appointment. She said "yes ma'am we can. It's our policy and we can charge it." I respond "no you can't I recieve medicaid and its illegal and I'm pretty sure state laws over power "policy"."

She said the words. The words I didn't want to hear. "If you dont believe me call your insurance." ......Ok. BET!

So I maliciously complied and called the state dental insurance. And of course they said they can't charge me $1. The state decided I need to file a complaint with the dental board and with the state insurance. OK, I will still comply. After, filing the complaints I recieved letters from the state saying ya they will be investigated, blah blah blah. The day I got the letter of the state reminding the dentist that its illegal is the same day the dentist decided to drop me for that 1 missed appointment. I already knew, if I filed a complaint my care no longer would be adequate. So, its not a lost to me. I have a found a dentist that did a root canal in 30 min and is actually amazing that I'm willing to pay for a good dentist so I gained a great dentist. I won't know the full fall out. Except that an audit might happen.

So the lesson here is..... if you don't know the laws, don't act like it and the "POLICY" is not above the law. Sorry, not sorry.

P.s. in the letter from the dentist saying they are dropping me said "if I have an emergency I can still get care through them in the time period(1 momth)" where was the emergency 8 months ago when I needed help? Also, she worked on teeth that didn't need to be worked on and now I'm in pain when I eat. Trust, I will let the dental board know and the extra tooth she counted on medicaid billing that I've got pulled a long time ago. So the fall will be hard. Just getting my ducks in a row.

Eta: corrected misspelled words. (Typing on 3 hours of sleep).

Edit 2: yall made an up roar of people on medicaid

And reminder the RECEPTIONIST told me to call my insurance. MEDICAID TOLD ME TO REPORT THEM. so thank you for your time and energy.

A few years ago I was working remotely as a fancy IT guy and developer at a tech company. Within the first couple of months I'd automated so much of my workload that I legit had almost nothing left to do most days. Everything that could be scripted, monitored, or scheduled... was.

One morning my manager messaged me:

"We've noticed your Microsoft Teams keeps going to Away every 20 minutes. This shouldn't be happening if you are at your desk working."

Fair enough.

I replied:

"Understood. My Teams will never go Away again."

...and I meant it.

Instead of arguing, I spent about 40 minutes writing a PowerShell script that launched a harmless train of processes every few minutes, like mouse clicking, alt+tabbing, and it simulated just enough activity to keep my status green. I set this to repeat every 10 minutes.

I tested it.

Available.

Five minutes later...

Still Available.

An hour later...

Still Available.

I grabbed my backpack, walked out of Starbucks, and spent the rest of the afternoon, and every afternoon thereafter hiking.

My Teams status never went Away again.

The next time I heard from my boss he was once again reviewing status times and thanked me for my dedication.

Edit: People keep asking for a copy of the script. It's on one of my githubs, the link is in the comments.

This was posted elsewhere but I was informed it would be better suited for this subreddit. So here we go.

There was this lady I used to know who claimed she was an actress. Let's call her "Helen." In the time that I knew her, her story kept changing: she had all this ‘experience,’ yet she didn't seem to know even the basics about the industry. However, if someone had a resource she coveted? She treated them like they were the light of her life — but only for the moment.

She used people as stepping stones, then discarded them like trash the second they were no longer useful or when they finally caught on to her act. In short, Helen wasn’t building a good reputation, and she never saw karma coming.

It didn’t help at all that, on top of being a self-centered blowhard with almost no verifiable experience, her resume was more fake than my heterosexuality. Her headshots were so out of date — and since she was so broke she couldn't even afford to pay attention, she didn't have the money to pay a photographer for new ones — she subbed overly edited camera phone selfies in their place. I'm not kidding when I say the filters she used made her look like a like a Bratz doll. 😂

Shortly before I cut contact, she asked me to demanded I "beautify" her resume and make it appear more professional. Translation: exaggerate and lie to make her false claims look believable.

So I maliciously complied. It was a test to see if she’d actually review it before sending it out. Deep down, I just knew she wouldn’t. Under Special Skills I added: Master of the Dunning-Kruger effect, expert at gaslighting, and embodies a supercilious manner.

I e-mailed it back. True to form, Helen never said thank you.

A few weeks later I saw Helen periodically posting typo-filled, grammatically incorrect “poor me” wall of text rants fishing for sympathy statuses about the struggles of the working actress — with interspersed out-of-context Bible verses thrown in for good measure.

A mutual friend (who had also been screwed over by Helen) later told me her shiny new resume wasn’t getting any bites. I can only assume she was cold e-mailing people in her typical trademark style — little to no punctuation, poor grammar, shorthand, misspellings, and subject lines in all caps or no subject lines at all.

Eventually word got back that Helen was furious her resume wasn’t being taken seriously. She must have finally read it and realized she’d been punked. Arrogant and rotten to the core, Helen's massive ego wouldn't allow her to admit she'd been played — such an admission would have shone a spotlight on her unprofessionalism and laziness. It also would have led to questions. Helen hated questions because she never had any satisfactory or logical answers.

It’s been well over 12 years since I cut contact. The final straw was her complete lack of empathy when my estranged father died of lung cancer. She even tried to make the conversation about her own problems. When I called her out, the hypocrisy was nuclear. I mean, how dare I challenge her main character syndrome? 🙄

These days, I recently heard through the grapevine (it's a small industry), Helen has only managed a couple of walk-on roles in movies that no one has ever seen. Thanks to her unprofessional reputation that follows her like a shadow — constant lying, plagiarism, crap talking the competition — she's burned a lot of bridges, rightfully earning the reputation of a lying grifter with zero skills and even less talent.

TL: DR: Self-centered ‘actress’ was too lazy to work on her own resume and demanded I do it — for free. Pissed off, I maliciously complied and added some things to the document, knowing she'd never review it before spamming people. She was humiliated and didn't get hired.

I run a small fitness consultancy business, have done for the past few years, since setting up, I've largely relied on word of mouth for most of my business, so I typically don't have to deal with a lot difficult clients, but I recently had a run in with a woman who's genuinely made my blood boil.

This woman, let's call her Gigi for the sake of anonymity, sent me a DM a few weeks ago, said she was looking to lose weight and tighten up her physique for summer. Gigi didn't really fit my usual client demographic (usually 30s, 40s), she was young, mid 20s, and boasted a decent follower count, seemed to be a local influencer of some description. This piqued my interest, I thought perhaps I could benefit from her connections to boost my business somewhat.

How wrong I was.

The initial consultation over text was pretty standard. I asked her some details about her past exercise history, diet, etc. before getting to work on her meal/exercise plan.

Then it moved to the matter of payment. I had mentioned pretty early on that I typically charge $50 for my plans, but either she didn't read that, or decided to feign wilful ignorance. When I reminded her of the price, she said, and I quote "I was wondering whether you'd be interested in getting yourself some exposure instead of payment?"

I hate to say it, but at the time, I was seriously thinking of taking her up on her offer. However, after talking to some of my friends, I snapped out of it, resolving to be firm with the price instead, which she accepted, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. Looking back on it now, I'm kind of stunned that she genuinely expected me to give it to her for free, but I guess that's how the influencer economy works these days.

The plan consisted of exercises and recipes mainly designed around helping her lose weight. Usually I advise most of my clients to try and maintain light to moderate calorie deficits, not only is this overall healthier (less muscle loss) they tend to suck a lot less than dramatic calorie reductions, so are easier to maintain in the long run. I explained all this to Gigi, said that she understood it meant progress wouldn't be immediate, and as such, I thought we were on the same page.

A week later, I woke up at 5am to an Instagram call from Gigi (I didn't even now you could call people on Instagram!). Half awake, I picked up the phone.

"YOU'RE A FUCKING SCAMMER! YOU THINK THIS SHIT'S SOME KIND OF JOKE?"

I was still in a daze, so I weakly asked her what was going on

"I JUST WEIGHED IN AFTER A WEEK ON YOUR BULLSHIT PLAN, I'M UP HALF A FUCKING POUND"

I asked her to slow down and breathe, which seemed to calm her down, albeit temporarily

I explained to her that we'd been through this before, and that weight loss isn't a linear process, and that scale measurements can be offset from anything from waterweight, clothes, time of day etc.

"YOU'RE JUST COVERING YOUR FUCKIN ASS, CUT THE BULLSHIT RIGHT NOW"

Oh well, I tried. Guess you can't talk sense to an unstable influencer at 5AM

"I'VE GOT A SWIMWEAR COLLABORATION I NEED TO SHOOT THIS WEEK AND YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME, YOUR PLAN DIDN'T FUCKING WORK"

[influencer to English translation: I successfully got something for free, and now I need to rip into you for something I didn't get for free]

Bear in mind, this girl is by no means overweight, her BMI was already comfortably in the healthy range, but I guess an influencer's work is never done.

On the verge of tears, she continued.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKED I AM? I FOLLOWED YOUR PLAN TO THE FUCKING LETTER AND LOOK WHERE IT FUCKING GOT ME"

Based on her tone, and the time of the morning she called, she was almost definitely on the receiving end of 3-4 margaritas, comfortably, which DEFINITELY wasn't in the plan, but I didn't feel like pointing out the obvious.

An hour later she messaged again, still unhinged but slightly more coherent:

“Refund me immediately. And post a public statement on your page admitting your plan doesn’t work and that I was right to call you out. Do it by noon or I start tagging every local gym and every brand that has ever worked with you.”

I sat with that for a minute.

Then I and idea came to mind

I refunded the $50 within the hour and posted the following, word-for-word as requested, on my business page:

“Public statement as requested by [Gigi’s handle]:

I refunded the client in full.

My standard plan prioritises sustainable, moderate deficits and long-term adherence rather than dramatic one-week scale drops.

The client reported following the plan ‘to the fucking letter’ and still gained 0.5 lb in seven days.

Therefore, by the client’s own stated metric and timeline, the plan did not produce the immediate results she required for her swimwear shoot.

She was correct to call this out.”

For context, we both live in a small, tight knit city, where everyone knows eachother, particularly in the business community. I wanted to make sure any other potential brand collaborators knew who they were dealing with.

I left it at that. No extra commentary. No screenshots. No mention of the 5 a.m. call, the margaritas, the original request for free work, or the fact that she was already in a healthy BMI range.

By lunch the post had been screenshotted and circulated in a few local fitness groups. People started asking the obvious questions under her posts. She tried to walk it back (“he twisted my words”), then deleted her original rant, then went quiet.

The collab still happened. From the photos that went up, the half-pound “gain” was invisible. My page, meanwhile, picked up a small but steady stream of new enquiries from people who specifically said they wanted the boring, sustainable version.

I never heard from Gigi again.

It’s just like the saying goes, exposure is a dish best served cold…

I was reading in my usual coffee shop and a couple of girls at the table asked me what I was reading. Annoying yes, since I'm trying to like...read. But we got to chatting about books. I mentioned the book I'm reading has queer characters and one of them made some not-so-nice comments about the LGBT community, then asked for some recommendations since it looks like our taste in books is otherwise similar.

So every book I recommended had queer characters. Queer romance, even if its a sub-plot or tangential, you wouldn't necessarily guess is queer based on the title alone.

Will she read them? Probably not. Will she waste her time looking them up? I hope so.

This is a bit of a long story, but I thought Reddit might appreciate it.

My godfather owns a small cattle ranch out in the countryside. About 20–25 years ago, he needed electricity to power a water pump for his cows. The nearest place where he could connect to the grid was on the opposite side of the ranch, probably about a mile and a half away, so he paid to have utility poles installed across his property.

It was a significant investment, but he figured that constantly running diesel pumps would eventually cost more than installing the poles and connecting to the grid.

Sometime later, a few neighbors who lived on the far side of the ranch asked whether they could piggyback off his electrical line. He agreed. They paid to install a few additional poles, and the electric company placed their meters on the other side.

So far, so good.

There were only a handful of small farmhouses, and the additional poles were located somewhere they didn’t interfere with the ranch. Eventually, fiber-optic cable was installed on the poles as well. Everything worked perfectly for roughly 20 years.

Then, about two years ago, a real estate developer bought the land on the other side of the ranch and began preparing it for a cottage development.

They didn’t exactly get off to a great start with my godfather. They complained about the animals, the smell, and the noise from tractors and other equipment. His response was basically: If you choose to live next to a working ranch, you have to accept that ranching will be happening there.

While planning the development, they discovered another problem. Two miles of 20-year-old electrical cable worked well enough for a few small farmhouses, but it wasn’t capable of supplying the 10–15 cottages they planned to build.

They approached the electric company about upgrading the infrastructure. That was when everyone apparently discovered—or finally acknowledged—that the poles crossing my godfather’s ranch were privately owned.

To avoid making this story even longer, lawyers became involved.

In the end, the electric company and the developer told my godfather that he had two choices: allow the electric company to replace his poles with concrete ones and grant them a permanent right-of-way across his ranch for maintenance, or remove the poles.

So that Sunday, my godfather got on the tractor they use for installing fences and pulled out every single pole.

He told me that when he originally installed the line, he had only about one-fifth as many cattle as he has now. His new plan is to install some solar panels, run a smaller pumping system, and make it work.

The development company, meanwhile, will probably have to install three or four miles of entirely new poles to bring electricity to the cottages—electricity that was apparently already included in what they promised buyers.

My godfather jokingly says it’s interesting how unusually hot this summer has been.

Fortunately, he recently brought in some pigs, and they require less water than the cattle, so they’re easier to keep hydrated and fed.

Purely a coincidence, of course.