rSlash - r/Idontworkherelady They Thought I Worked Here... I Accidentally Murdered Them

Episode Date: November 1, 2020

r/Idontworkherelady Every once in a while, you come across a truly insane story on Reddit that leaves you wondering if it could possibly be true. Today, we've got one of those stories. OP encounters two absolutely disgusting people at a gas station and intentionally sabotages their car. They later end up in a fatal car crash, which means that OP might have inadvertently killed them. If you like this episode, follow my podcast for more daily Reddit content! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Why do I love getting my last minute gifts at shoppers drug mark? Well, lots of stores, many open late, great selection of gifts, and let's not forget the PC optimum points. I get gifts for them and points for me. And so can you. Go to shoppers, exclusions apply. Welcome to R-slash, a podcast where I read the best post from across Reddit. Today's subreddit is R-slash I don't work here, lady, where OP accidentally murder someone. Our next Reddit post is from Luriel Carrey. About 14 years ago I was working at my local Walmart. I was put in charge of watching the self-checkout on a slow day.

I will admit that back then I was inexperienced with people and lazy, but my few months there had taught me a lot about how nasty people can get. This nice mom comes rushing to the self-checkout with a sick kid in her cart. The kid doesn't look well, and I hear him saying as they come up, I don't feel good, mom. I want to go home." The nice mom clearly understands that her kid has become sicker since they came in and is trying to rush to get him home. She's trying to soothe him while simultaneously fumbling with groceries and bare essentials like soup and boxes of tissues. I know, sweetie, I'm sorry, mommy's going as fast as she can. Well, along comes this rich guy. He has on what has to be the most expensive jacket I've ever seen. Full business, gold watch, tie, pricey shoes, perfect haircut, fit, carrying a lot of coffee. Everything about him

makes me glad this is a self-checkout because my track record with Rich Folk treating me bad here is almost 100%. He begins checking out directly across from the nice mom and the sick kid with his back basing them. Suddenly, the sick kid starts to squirm and look around wildly. Mom, mom, mom, I need the restroom! The nice mom looks up from the checkout and sees that the sick kid is not going to make it through her checkout. She practically flies around the cart, picks him up, and he projectile vomit to cross the self-checkout

all over the rich guy's expensive jackets. My jaw drops! This can't be real! As I begin to react, I'm watching the rich guy. He drops his coffee and is stunned for a moment when something that I wasn't ready for happens. He turns around, quickly removing his jacket, dumps it on the floor, and walks quickly over to nice mom and sick kid, kneeling because they're now on the ground. Nice mom is comforting her child with her eyes practically begging for mercy at this point.

The rich guy says, is he okay? I walk up with towels already on the radio for cleanup in Handem 1. The rich guy uses the towel to help clean up the nice mom. He might have the stomach flu, I just need to pick up some things to take care of him. I'm so sorry. It's okay, let's get him cleaned up. The nice mom seems to finally see the man and how he's dressed for the first time and what happened to him.

Oh my god, do you work here? The rich guy, while wiping Vom and off of her back while I start cleaning the floor says, no ma'am, just a dad myself. I hate to see a kid not feeling well. The nice mom was so embarrassed that she didn't really speak again other than Amiga, thank you as we finished cleaning up and the rich guy helped her finish checking out personally. so embarrassed that she didn't really speak again other than Amiga, thank you. As we finish cleaning up and the rich guy helped her finish checking out personally. I helped him put his clearly ruined jacket and a garbage bag to take home and he checked out as well. I asked if there

was anything else I could do for him and the rich guy politely declines and left the store. I'll never forget how that man reacted that day. For all of his obvious wealth, he was his last priority at that moment, even as a victim himself. He didn't complain about the mess or that he might get the kid's flu or his ruined jacket, nothing. And he certainly did more to help than me, the actual employee. I took this lesson to heart for all future interactions with people, and it's made a tremendous difference when I became a father myself.

Thanks for reading. Our next read it posts is from usual grave. I'm neither sure if this is the place to post this, nor if I should do so in general, but I just can't keep this ending anymore. I truly hope that I won't get recognized in any way, but at this point, I find it unlikely enough to be willing to share this story here. And if it does come back to bite me, then, well, maybe it should. This happened in the early 1990s. The relevant historical background to this is that Poland hasn't really left the Communist bloc just yet. The first free elections happened in 1989, but the process of escaping Russian influence took a while, and at the time of the story, the police weren't necessarily used to doing their job properly. One such poorly handled case was the abuse of my next-door neighbor's daughter.

I'll spare you the details. Just know that the worst thing that you can imagine happening to a young girl in such a scenario did in fact happen many, many times. They were horrible, horrible people, and I hated them with all of my being. I can't stress that enough. Onto the story. A couple of years later, after I had moved away, I was visiting my family, and I hated them with all of my being. I can't stress that enough. Onto the story. A couple of years later, after I'd moved away, I was visiting my family, and since it was a little early,

I stopped at a gas station I once worked at to chat with my old pals and wait for the sun to get a little higher. We were sitting in a little nook behind the counter and low and behold, who would come in if not the aforementioned neighbors. The husband pointed at something and went back to feel their car. The wife approached the counter, noticed me, and snarked. You're back here. I guess your studies didn't go that well. I said, well, actually, yes,

you're whatever, how much did it go for? And when my colleague begins to answer the wife says, I'm asking him. I didn't come here to work. I'm just visiting. Stop lying to me, you're just ashamed that you've failed in life. Now, come and inflate our tires. Now, unlike you, we don't have all day to sit and chat. I was so pissed. I legitimately hated them already, but this encounter, after so much time of being away from them, just completely took me off balance. I told my friend it's okay, I'll just do it. So I went with her. I inflated one side correctly. I over inflated the other side

so much that I thought the tire was going to explode into my face then and there. They weren't even paying attention to me. The second I was done, and before I could even realize what I'd just done, they took off. They crashed a few kilometers down the road. They both died. I've never heard of any investigation reaching the police station. Wow, that story took a dark turn fast. Oh my god, what is this story? Oh, Pete, that's an insane story, and I don't think it fits and I don't work here, lady. It's more like a cross between malicious compliance and nuclear revenge.

And based on the type of people they were, maybe throwing a dash of R-slash just as served. Our next reddit post is from Carol Smith. So I'm a youth worker, and I care for young people between 13 and 18 years old who are an out-of-home care for various reasons. But most of the time they've been removed from abusive parents. I have a specific client I work with a lot who's verbally aggressive and has a lot of anxiety around school. This particular day was our third or fourth day at a new school and she asked me if I could walk her to her classroom because she was feeling anxious. This is something I do for a lot of clients to also make sure they're actually going to class. It's never been an issue.

I'd been to this particular school many times with another client. So I'm walking her to her class and she's walking really fast ahead of me with her head down when a teacher stops me. Now I'm a 30 year old woman and I was wearing jeans, a black shirt with a biggy small space on it and a pair of bands so I can understand that my outfit's huge younger. But I find that if I dress cool, I have better success building relationships with the clients as they see me as more of an older sister rather than dressing in my normal clothes and coming across maternal.

So the teacher says in an incredibly loud, condescending voice. Why aren't you in uniform? I tried to quietly say, I don't go to the school so that the other students don't hear me because obviously my client doesn't want a broadcast that she's in care and had a carer walker to class. But the teacher isn't having any of it.

She didn't listen to what I was saying at all. She starts lecturing me in the most horrible voice, literally wagging her finger and saying, this school has standards and year making us look sloppy. I'm giving you an out-of-uniform slip and you'll be getting detention too. I'm really annoyed by this point, but also in shock because I'm 30. How the hell can she be mistaken for a school kid? I have a forehead wrinkle in the beginnings of Crow's Feed. How is this possible? Fandul Casino's exclusive live dealer studio has your chance at the number one feeling.

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Real magic. I very firmly say there's no need to speak to me that way. I don't go to the school. And of course she doesn't let it go. She gets louder and says, if you don't go to the school, you need to leave. We don't allow other school children on our property. My client, who's been standing there getting more and more agitated, decides to set her straight and at the top of her lung screams, she doesn't go here, you don't be grunt, she's my carer!

The teacher turns bright red and every student is looking at us now. The teacher turns bright red and every student is looking at us now. The teacher mumbles something about visitors needing to sign in. I told her I had and we kept walking. My client was so embarrassed, but her little outburst instantly made her popular with the other students because as she told me later, that teacher is absolutely horrible to everyone. My client was spoken to by her teacher about appropriate language at school but wasn't punished. So not exactly, I don't work here lady, but more of a, I don't go here lady. If I know anything about high schoolers, then that teacher has permanently earned the new

nickname of Dopey Grunt. And down in the comments, we have a similar story from I'm a little French press. This reminds me of the time I went to my daughter's school to speak to the principal, and he told me I needed to stand when he spoke to me because he had mistaken me for a student. I was already pissed about why I was there, and if you I'm a parent came spewing out of my Brooklyn mouth. He told me I looked really young to justify his postulating. I told him he should make sure he knows who he's talking to,

effing butthole. And then beneath that, cloth diaper addict says, that's up there with the time my mother made the assistant principal of my high school cry. And then when someone asked cloth diaper addicts for their story, they wrote this. She called me a liar in front of my mom. I'm honest to a fault and will carefully parse answers

to exactly the question as asked rather than intended. My high school had a closed campus for lunch and sucky food. I had a car that I drove. I left when Out and Got lunch and came back for no other reason than I wanted to eat something not available on campus. As I walked in with my food, the assistant principal asked if I was just getting in. Obviously I was because she had just seen me park so I told her I was. She went and checked my attendance, then saw that I had been to classes. She called me and my mother to the office. I guess she thought she had the smoking gun. I'd left without school permission and came back. She told me I lied to her.

I told her I most certainly didn't lie to her. She literally saw me just arrive. As soon as she snapped, that's not what I meant and you know it. The assistant principal took a breath to let out some vitriol and my mother cut her off and demanded to know exactly what that woman had asked me. That was when my mother lit her up. The assistant principal's inability to ask the right questions in a direct manner was her own stupidity. Not my dishonesty. The assistant principal just kept harping about the rules.

My mother shrugged, said I had her permission to leave, and that was that. The angrier the assistant principal got, the less asked my mother gave. When the assistant principal said that I unequivocally could not leave, regardless of my mother's views, my mother flew into a rage of her own. Who did that woman think she was? My mother turned to me and said explicitly that I'm forbidden to stay on campus during lunch. She was writing me a note to leave every single day and I had better take advantage of it.

She then turned to the assistant principal and told her that her feelings on the matter are irrelevant. Her inability to communicate showed that she was stupid and should feel bad, etc. Not a single four-letter word was used, but my mother's feelings were clear. The assistant principles authority had no power over me. Period. The assistant principal cried. My mother stormed out, vindicated. All because the assistant principal questioned my integrity. If she had focused on my rule-breaking, I would have been the one in trouble. In the end, that assistant principal would turn and walk away if she saw me in the hallways and literally never said another word beyond stink-eye. Probably

because the principal warned her about my mother and has run ends with her over a decade ago from one of my older sisters. It really seems like some people become teachers because they want to help the next generation grow into beautiful and well-educated people. And it really seems like some people become teachers just because they want to be able to boss around young people. Our next reddit post is from McAllisor. I wasn't sure where this Karen story belonged, but I decided to post it here in honor of its hero who most definitely doesn't work here anymore. So, for context, this story involves me, a nice lady, a Karen, a Karen's husband, and a guy who used to work there. We'll call that guy Adam, but he's actually my hero. Also, I'm obviously a trans guy which didn't

help. I work at a large hardware stores and appliance associate. We wear orange aprons, I'll let you figure out where that is. Now I don't usually work in flooring, but the regular flooring guy was on break, so after the nice lady asked me to get something down from the overhead floor, I headed over there to help. Seeing Karen and Adam standing at the carpet cutting machine, but not together, I tell them how come help them as soon as I'm done with the nice lady. After about two minutes, I returned to the carpet cutting machine to find Karen gone, leaving

me to talk Adam through what would be best for him to get for his project. Just as I'm getting ready to roll out the carpet that we decided on, Karen comes stomping back. There you are. Adam says, it's alright man, take care of her first, I'm not in any rush. How can I help you, ma'am? I need 60 feet of AstroTurb, how epic hard is that? I start rolling out her carpet.

You should have just done that to begin with. Are you stupid or something? All of you people are lazy good for nothing R words. Ma'am, there's no reason to talk to him like that. He's just doing his job. Not epic fast enough. Not like it's any of your business. You need to stay out of our conversation.

Look, he's just trying to do his job and you're actually like a B-word. A verbal smackdown ensues until my manager will call our Debbie, walks over to intervene. Is there a problem? I was just having a conversation with O.P. and then this guy started being rude. You need to handle it. Ma'am, he doesn't work here. I don't know what you want me to tell you. My manager proceeds to try to talk this woman down while I roll and cut her carpet. By the time I had her carpet ready, her husband had arrived with the cart to load it up.

Then, thinking everything was over, my manager walks away and I turn to Adam to get him his carpet. That's when I realized that Karen had been telling her husband what happened. The husband storms over to Adam and says, Did you call my wife a B word? I said she was acting like a B word. There's no reason to talk to associates the way she did. You need to learn some effing respect. You can't talk to customers like that. I am a customer, which means I can say the things that everyone

else is thinking, but can't say. Then the husband tried to fight Adam before my manager came back and escorted the couple to the front. I came to find out that Adam used to work there and loved the opportunity to tell customers everything he'd never been able to when he worked there. I've never been so satisfied. Our next reddit post is from PepperConshabar. A few years ago, our house phone number was very close to a local bank. The only difference was that the last two digits were inverted. R is ended with 45 and there's 54.

So it was common for us to get wrong numbers for that branch. One lazy weekday morning I'd slept in a bit too late. Then I chilled out scrolling through Facebook and my robe and consumed one too many cups of coffee while I procrastinated the laundry. The phone ring and I answered it as people do. Hello? This is how you answer the phone, hello?

Usually, may I ask who's calling? This is such and such. I'm returning a call from the Chase Bank, and I think that you're very unprofessional and rude. I chuckle. I'm not a professional. I'm a housewife. I don't want to hear your excuses. I want to speak to your supervisor. As I said, sir, I'm not a professional. I'm a housewife and you got the wrong number. I think that we need to restart this conversation. The old man starts cursing and I keep laughing. Once again, I believe that you got the wrong number, sir. This isn't a bank. This is a private residence. I'm in my living room. I'm a housewife

and not a professional. And I hope that you have a really fantastic day. I am so sorry. Thank you for your kindness and your courtesy. Not a problem, sir. Misunderstanding's happened. Once again, I hope that you have a pleasant day. You too, and thank you. It really surprises me how hard it is for people to realize their error. Once they lock in, they can't let it go. It's nice that this guy owned up to his mistake, but that's still no way to talk to a service worker. This guy sounds like a douchebag. That was our slash I don't work here, lady, and if you like this content, then be sure

to follow my podcast because I've put on new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.