rSlash - r/Confessions I Stole an Ancient Egyptian Artifact

Episode Date: January 19, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:07 Itching powder 2:39 Work project 8:08 Observe 10:45 Museum thief 13:02 Comment 13:55 iPad Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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a sports book worth a slam dunk and authorized gaming partner of the NBA that MGM dot com for terms and conditions must be 19 years of age or older to wager Ontario only please play responsibly if you have any questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you please contact Connix Welcome to r slash confessions where OP puts itching powder in his roommate's fleshlight. Our next reddit post is from equivalentcup.

I put itching powder in my roommate's fleshlight. We lived in a small flat with one bedroom. I never used the dishwasher. He turned his fleshlight inside out when he put it in. In the beginning, he would leave it to soak in the bathroom sink. I protested vehemently and as some have suspected here I couldn't afford to move. He would leave it on or beside his bed after use. So I had this thing in my sight whenever I was in our room. He would use it while he thought that I was sleeping

too. He had poor hygiene to begin with. A messy fella. He was coddled at home and his mom cleaned up after him. He'd use it and then just go to sleep without cleaning up. We shared an internet package which would be depleted before the month ended because of his adult content addiction. I tolerated this for about four months because my conflict-avoiding self just couldn't be aggressive enough. Throwing it away would have made things worse for me. As far as he's concerned, it was all his own doing. But the shameless slop-slop-slopping in the middle of the night was unbearable. He even took it with him when he went home on the weekends, and I'm sure that he didn't

wash it until he came back to the flat because he probably wouldn't have been able to hide a cleansing session from his parents. It took about two weeks of this itching powder for his dick to get bad enough that he went to the doctor. But even after the itchy first use, I noticed he was going to the bathroom a lot. He still used it a couple of times more, which must have made it worse. He suspected that I might have used it and given him an STD through it because he wasn't sleeping with anyone. I wasn't either, but he had to ask. He moved out at the end of the semester and I saw him on campus occasionally. Our parents met at church and his mom is a devout Christian. Telling her crossed my mind, but that's an awful move. Well, since she handles

all of his affairs, she found out on her own anyways. I wasn't there when the discovery took place, but I know that she threw it away. She made him see a psychologist and he had to go home every weekend. My quality of life has drastically improved, and his too, so I hear. Anyways, fuck you, Chris! Also OP clarifies that apparently the itching powder caused an infection and he had to get circumcised because of it. I guess you could say he had it coming.

Our next Reddit post is from That's Not My Foot. This is petty, but I don't care. I've worked at a company for two years. In that time, I've gone from an incredible asset to the company to a babysitter. I wish I was joking. This company is owned by several people, but it's managed by a relative to the higher-ups. It's a guy who's never worked for anyone except his mommy who owns the company. This guy is incapable of doing basically anything for himself, someone who will one day take

over the company who currently can't even figure out Bluetooth. Calling him a moron would be a compliment. You think that I'm just being harsh on my boss or exaggerating. I wish. I wish it was just me being dramatic. The last phone call I got from him was him asking me where HE was. No, I'm serious. He was like, OP, I'm driving.

Where am I? He asked me to track his location, find his location, see if I can find a store near him that sells a certain item that he can't remember the name of the store of either or where it is exactly. And then I'm to GPS voice navigate him there using track his phone to tell him when to turn. This is my life. I get 50 phone calls a day from this man.

OP, did you get my email? Yeah, I responded to it and answered your questions. Oh, good. Read it to me. I then read him the email. He's happy. Fast forward two hours and I get a scathing email from him responding to my email.

OP, why did you email me this again when we talked about this on the phone? This wastes my time. I no longer do my regular job. I've been transitioned into this personal assistant role even though I didn't want it at all, to the point that I'm currently searching for a new job.

The company is bleeding money, like someone cut off both its legs. My boss is supposed to be figuring out why, but the guy can't even pour himself a cup of coffee from the machine that we've had for six years. In my day-to-day, I also assist other departments. I have access to various software. I work alongside multiple managers and assist with their projects as well. Based on my observations, I found several problems that are costing us money, either by purchasing, distribution, or just general lack of adequate price adjustments. Some of these problems were serious enough

that I even spoke to a different department's manager, who was impressed and took me to the CEO to ask if I could be moved to their department to help fix some of the problems that I identified. The CEO, by the way, is the boss's mother. I get told that I am absolutely not allowed to transfer, that I'm far too valuable as a personal assistant to be shared with other departments, that my boss will handle and oversee the changes that need to be made. The manager and I were stunned.

Turns out, Mommy wants to step away from the company and wants my boss to run it. And the boss just needs more projects to work on to get a better understanding of how to run the company. My boss gets called in, told that I identified several issues and that my boss needs to get them resolved. My boss gets mad at mommy telling her that he doesn't have time to do that. Mommy says that she understands that he's a very busy boy. Again, I'm not joking. My boss later calls me into his office and tells ME to fix all these issues, but that I'm to give him all my notes, tell him how I fixed it, and HE will present it to the board.

My boss then left for the day and called me later to ask what kind of mustard was the mustard he liked the most on his deli sandwiches. Then he proceeded to lecture me on mustard because the answer I gave him was obviously not the right kind of mustard and that I need to pay more attention to little things like that. I hung up my phone, picked up all my notes on this bleeding money situation and shredded them. Whoops, sorry. I'm too much of an idiot to handle doing any type of investigation work into our financial records for the past five years. I'm certainly too much of an idiot to notice that your profit margins went from 32% to

less than 18% on the majority of the products that we manufacture. All while giving our distributors more than a 46% discount so they can keep coming back for more. Here's hoping that my boss can figure that out, especially considering the layoffs we keep happening. Excuse me while I make a note of what kind of mustard he prefers on his Montreal Smoked Meat Sandwich, which is a much more important use of my time. Because in the words of my boss, maybe one day you'll be capable, like me, if you keep working at it.

I hope I get fired. Then OP posted an update, which basically just says that he hasn't moved jobs and he's still suffering and it's not really much of an update except we have this funny phone call. OP it's raining. Yeah it is. Did you get more rain at your house than at my house? I don't know.

Well don't you measure your rain? No. You should then you'll know how much rain there was. Do you measure your rain? No? You should! Then you'll know how much rain there was. Do you measure your rain? Oh no. We just water the garden when it gets dry. So why'd you ask?

Well, if you told me how much rain you got by measurement, I could guess at how much rain I got and I could see who got more rain. But now I can't, so whatever. Anything else, boss? No, that's it. I'll be at work soon. Our next Reddit post is from Paris Hilton. I'm a 32 year old woman, and I'll never forget the time that two grown women were introduced to our class as observers for the week, and that they'll be in the back watching

a teacher teach for a few days. The teacher said, in order for them to do their job properly, please just ignore them. Act like they're not here. They sat silently in the back taking notes on their respective clipboards for an hour or so each day. On that Friday, my teacher kept me back during recess, telling me the two women went to chat and asked me some questions. I was then placed in a chair directly facing them with my teacher and her aide standing off to the side a few steps behind the duo. Something was up. They then proceeded to tell me, delicately, why they're here. They go on to explain that my teacher knows that I'm a good student and so my recent failing test grades don't make sense. They then show examples of me spelling the same words or doing the same

math accurately on previous tests and assignments, yet completely wrong with recent ones. They asked me, have you been failing these tests on purpose? This was the first time I experienced that heart beating out of my chest type feeling. For one, it was true. I was faking it. On top of that, they seemed very serious, scary serious, especially to my 8 year old self. I shamefully admitted that yes, I had been.

And when they asked why, well, that answer led to my first authoritative scolding on memory. Simply put, I did it because I was jealous of the kids who seemingly got to have a second recess. There was a group of 20 or so students across the second grade classrooms who got pulled out each week for roughly half the day. One day I saw them playing outside from my classroom. They appeared to be having so much fun and I wanted in on that fun.

So I asked one of them how they got put in that group and was told, Because I'm bad at spelling and math. Ugh, my two strongest subjects. What am I ever to do? Dumb myself down, of course. To become one of them, I had to act like them, think like them, and test like them. After our little interview session, my failed adolescent attempt at manipulation, or whatever you want to call it, was never discussed again.

My parents never questioned me about it. To this day, I don't know what they were told or if they were told anything at all. My peers never knew about it and I never told a soul. Those women scared the living daylights out of me. Yep, kids are dumb. I remember in second grade I asked my mom for weighted boots because Goku wore weighted boots and if I wore weighted boots like Goku then I'd be strong like Goku. Makes sense, right? Our next reddit post is from Hannah Lucy. When I was around 7 or 8 years old, I went on a school trip to a museum that had an ancient Egypt exhibit.

The museum staff allowed the class to look at some old relics, passing them around in a circle. I remember looking at this little green-blue colored figurine of a goddess with a hippo head. I really liked it, so without a second thought, I put it in my pocket and took it home with me. I sat at home playing with it, not really understanding the gravity of what I'd done. Then we had a big assembly at school. The museum were looking for this figure, as it wasn't a replica, but an actual ancient Egyptian artifact. I remember playing scenarios

in my head of how I could give it back without getting caught, but I couldn't see a way out of it. The museum became angrier, the assemblies grew more pressing, letters went home to all parents and parents were called in of naughty children who could have possibly done it. Finally, everyone calmed down and they realized they weren't getting it back. I got away with it. The problem is I'm now 31 and I still have the figurine. I can't throw it away, it's thousands of years old.

I can't give it back because I could be in unbelievable trouble. If I give it back now, it would look strange that it's turned up after all this time in the same town by someone who went to the same school. I've never told anyone about this figurine. No one else has ever seen it. I have no idea what I'll ever do with it. But that's my confession. Museum thief of an ancient artifact at seven years old. Then in an update, OP says that he did the right thing by returning the figurine to the museum anonymously. So I picked up a really

important detail. OP says, the museum were looking for this figurine. And that's interesting because the museum were is something that British people would say Americans would say the museum was. And that's kind of funny because the British Museum is notorious for having stolen a bunch of artifacts from other countries and then refusing to give them back to the home country. So, I mean, I'm not really advocating for this necessarily, but maybe stealing from the English Museum could be considered fair? You know, if the English stole this stuff from Egypt, do they really have a right to keep them in the first place? Down in the comments, we have this story from Marley Ghost.

When I was in 10th grade, a state trooper came to our class to give us the drug talk. He passed around two joints so that we could look at them and smell them, presumably so that we would be able to recognize weed. It would be a funny story if only one of the joints came back to the front of the class, but that's not what happened. Three came back. The state trooper was not pleased, and we got to sit there for an hour while he and the principal demanded that we write out the culprit. Nope. Oh, I know what that kid did.

The kid with the joint probably assumed that one of the other, you know, snot-nosed little kids would have stolen the joint, in which case only one joint would have come back. So he's like, oh no, they're going to search all the kids. So I've got to turn in my joint joint, in which case only one joint would have come back so he's like, oh no, they're gonna search all the kids so I've got to turn in my joint too just in case we get searched. Which is actually surprisingly quick thinking for a 10th grader. Our next reddit post is from Jal. My high school didn't allow phones or tablets to be on your person throughout the school day. Instead, they made us hand our devices in every morning and picked them up at the end of the school day. They provided us with these white cushioned envelope bags to protect them, but really

they did nothing. Anyway one morning I was rushing to catch the bus and on the way out of my bedroom I decided to throw my iPad on my bed. But it bounced off, landing face down on the slate tiles. I knew straight away that it smashed from the sound. I stood there cursing myself until I had an idea. I grabbed my phone bag, put the broken iPad and shattered glass in it and took it to school. I handed it in acting nonchalant about it and when it came time to pick

it up in the afternoon, I put my best shocked sad face on as I opened the bag. I went to the nearest teacher and told her that I found my iPad broken. She took me to the office and eventually to the principal. At first she seemed suspicious about the entire thing, but when my dad, a 25 year army veteran, came to pick me up, he gave her and the entire admin staff a spray. The school originally agreed to pay for it to be repaired, but when that couldn't be done, the school agreed to buy a replacement model. But the thing is, that iPad was a second generation model and it was 2014, so I ended up getting a brand new model instead.

I never admitted this to anyone in school out of fear that it would eventually lead to the principal finding out. Also OP clarifies that the teacher didn't pay for this, the school did. That was r slash confessions and if you liked this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new reddit podcast episodes every single day.