rSlash - r/Maliciouscompliance How I Traumatized My Teacher!

Episode Date: March 16, 2020

r/Maliciouscompliance The teacher in today's video thinks that students shouldn't be allowed to use lip balm, for some reason. Lady, what on earth is wrong with lip balm? After the teacher confiscates a young girl's lip balm, the student decides to get malicious compliance by traumatizing the teacher with a horrifying bloody smile that drips all over desk! If you like this video and want to see more, hit that subscribe button! Watch on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EftC2_cBkqY Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Bet on the NFL with Bandual, official sports put partner of the NFL. Download the app today to see why we're in North America's number one sports book. 19-plus and physically located in Ontario, gambling problem call 1866-531-2600 to visit connectsentario.ca Welcome to our slash malicious compliance, where OP maliciously shows his butthole to a security guard. About 15 years ago when I was in my last year of college, I was working at a pay by the hour daycare.

Although this was just a typical college job for me, I still did my best and made sure to show up on time, work the station I was supposed to work, and do my best at whatever task I was supposed to do. Imagine my surprise when I got a call on my day off, asking where I was and why I wasn't coming in. Well, I explained to them, it's my day off, I don't work today. That's when I was informed that my name was on the schedule and this would be treated

as a no-call no-show. That means a disciplinary write-up. The rest of the night was spent worrying about not going to work and wondering how I messed up so badly. I come into work on my next shift where the manager and assistant manager proceeded to give me the write up. They condescendingly showed me this schedule like they're going to show me how to read it. When I notice that the person who normally works the shift I missed had their name crossed out and my name put in their place. I pointed this out to them and they explained that on the morning that I missed my afternoon shift,

the original person called out and I was slated to replace her. They didn't call me to let me know or I would have happily come in for the extra cash. Naturally, I was a bit hesitant to sign a write-up because they changed my shift and didn't tell me. At this information, the manager simply said, it's your responsibility to know your work schedule. Even if you change it the day of and don't call me, I could see the wheels turning in their head when they double down and said, yes, you're an adult, this is the real world, and you're expected to know when you're scheduled to work. You should have called to double check your schedule. So malicious compliance time.

There were three main shifts of this daycare, morning, afternoon, and evening. I called before every single shift of every single day. I called on days that I was supposed to work, on days that I wasn't. After all, as a responsible adult, it was my responsibility to make sure my schedule didn't change, right? Hi, this is OP, I'm just calling to double check if I'm on the schedule for the next shift. My copy says my next schedule is blank. It didn't take long, although longer than I thought it should, for them to call me again

to the office and tell me that they would call me from now on should the schedule change. Sometimes I wonder what happened to them until I remember that I don't give enough. Then OP posts an update with his quitting story. So as one of the only mails that worked at the daycare, I often got assigned to do the sucky jobs, namely the kitchen and taking out the trash. The normal policy was that you rotated stations during the week. So one day you would work the placecape, the next day you would work the video game station, the next day toddlers, etc. etc.

The manager would tell me that a female employee had to be present with a male employee to make sure no one gets accused of anything. So I would be put into the kitchen, the only station that seemed to not apply, where I was loaned to make meals and take out the garbage whenever it needed taking out. This came with the added insult that the kitchen was only open until 8 p.m. so after I was done, I was the first to be sent home. This sucks when you need the hours and the money. Her excuse being that, we can't have a male alone with the kids on the floor unless a female employee is also there. And we don't have enough scheduled. Now everyone knew that this was a BS reason

because this was not company policy and this rule only seemed to be in place when this particular manager was working. As I mentioned in my original post, this was during my last year of college and wouldn't you know it, I was getting real job offers. I accepted my job in May 2006 to work for a software firm making more money per paycheck than I wasn't about two months working this part-time job. So I walked in happier than I'd ever been. I nailed my job interview, got offered a position with a letter of intent, didn't even know that was a thing, and I felt like a real big boy. Many of the employees knew I was interviewing, and as soon as I walked in, they looked at me to see how it went. The look on my face said it all and I immediately started getting hugs and handshakes and congrats.

Then the manager, let's call our Karen because why not, asked to see me to discuss my exit plan. I told her that I would be giving two weeks notice from today, handed her my letter and went out to look at the schedule. I noticed that I was, yet again, placed in the kitchen. I didn't care though, because I was just so freaking happy to be leaving. That happiness faded, however, when I began to walk back and see that it had not been properly cleaned from the previous shift. So,

I walked back to Karen's office and asked her why the previous employee didn't clean. She told me that they were above ratio, and so the employee had to come out to work the floor. The employee was still there, so I suggested that she go in the kitchen, clean her mess, and I would take over. I also said that this would be my 6th day in a row to work the kitchen, so I shouldn't be in there in the first place. Naturally, she stated that since you're now scheduled in the kitchen, it would be inappropriate to. I cut her off. The problem with staffing your entire floor with mostly college kids is that when finals week happens, they all quit. They quit so they can study, then they go home for the summer. The current employee roster included me, like two other students and a small handful of full-time

employees. In other words, not enough staff. With that in mind, I told her that there would be no way I would be working the kitchen today, or ever again. In fact, I would be choosing which station I wanted to work every day that I come in. And if she doesn't like it, I can just not come in at all. She called my bluff, so I picked up my jacket, put my shoes back on, we worked in socks, and made it to the door before she realized that without me here, she would be paying some serious overtime, while having to turn away customers due to ratio laws. I spent the next two weeks working the video game station and the play scape.

I said goodbye to everyone on my last day, and never looked back. OP, it's interesting that you said that she called your bluff because you weren't bluffing. You basically showed her a royal straight flush and she's like, no, I think you're bluffing. Lady, you want me to discuss my exit plan? My exit plan is walk out the front door. You're flying to meet with a new supplier to keep your business growing.

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Be careful along our tracks, and only make left turns where it's safe to do so. Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. Our next Reddit post is from G-Shaw. I'm currently 31 weeks pregnant, and I work as a water filtration operator. Every four weeks, mainly other operators rotate onto the maintenance shift where we work under this particular supervisor. We'll call him Randy. Randy likes to think that he has more control than he does, and honestly, the plant supervisor just lets him think that. About a month or so ago, I was working with him, and he told

me to pick up a 45-pound empty nitrogen cylinder. I politely reminded him that I was pregnant and shouldn't be doing that. Twitch he responded that since I didn't have light duty paperwork, it shouldn't be a problem. I sucked it up and lifted the cylinder and carried it to the destination and received a pulled muscle in the process. The next day, I informed the plant supervisor and a work injury report was filed. When my statement was taken, the verbiage I used that was corroborated by another co-worker that was present caused raining to get in trouble because he knew I was pregnant and essentially caused the injury to happen. They took me to a nurse to make sure that my baby was fine and that I was okay and was not expecting any complications from the injury.

I wasn't other than being in pain if I moved too much. They sent me back on my way and the plant supervisor put me on desk duty for the day. Randy was livid of course because he lost some of his manpower on the maintenance team. He made a fuss about me not having light duty paperwork saying that if I didn't have it then I should be capable of doing the work that is needed around the plant. I was capable. I just used common sense. Prior to this incident, I did my job to the fullest within the limitations of my

body, which wasn't that much. I rested when I needed to, didn't live more than my body would allow, and most importantly, I was the only female out of seven employees, so my other co-workers were more than willing to help me if I asked, which wasn't that often. So the plant supervisor called me into his office and requested that I go get my light duty paper from the doctor ASAP. That's the only way he could protect me from getting further hurt at work. I told him I understood and made the call to the doctor's office and picked it up that afternoon. I got the paperwork that was supposed to keep Randy quiet and it restricted me as such. No stooping more than 2 times an hour.

No climbing ladders or poles at all. No climbing more than 3 fights of stairs of shift. No lifting more than 25 pounds. No standing more than 30 minutes out of each hour. And limited contact with chemicals. These orders of course make it very difficult for me to do my job fully as it basically limits me to either desk work or general cleaning. Now I know this is BS because I can definitely stoop more than two times an hour.

I may be out of breath coming back up, but I can do it. And the climbing more than three flights of stairs is ridiculous because that means I can't do all of my rounds. Someone else has to do the last set for me because you climb a set of stairs every time. Under normal circumstances, I would be more than happy to have been their rules here or there to make everyone's lives easier. But honestly, since he's the one who b****** and moaned for me to get this paperwork, I plan to make full use of it. So far since I've received the paperwork, I keep a checklist of all the things I can't do and feel it like a bingo card. If I fill all the things

off to the office I go because that means I can't do any more physical work on the shift. And he has a bad habit of tossing a lot of work my way in the beginning of my shifts. Our next Reddit post is from Punchology. This is my sister story, but it's too good to not share. This was back when she was in second grade, and this girl was the perfect child. I wish I was kidding, but no. You know that one kid with the halo in a sweet smile, the manners to make a parent proud and cutesy little voice? Yep, that's her. But she does have a mean streak when you push her. You

would think that all the teachers loved her, right? Nope, not her second grade teacher. This woman was hellfire personified and she, for some reason, hated my little sister. More often than not, my little sister came out of that classroom trying to hold back tears. Two more very important things about my sister. She's always had lips that would get so chapped they would bleed and she always carries around Carmax with her. So one day, she's sitting in class with Hill's favorite teacher

when she pulls out her little tub of Carmex and the teacher immediately starts screeching at her to see her after class. End of class, and the teacher tells her that she must keep the Carmex with a school's office because it says medicated. And back in the day, you had to be literally dying just for the office to give you your things.

No joke, I'm asthmatic, and it took almost dying on the office floor for them to hand my inhaler over, but that's another story. My sister tries to explain that without her carmix, her lips will bleed, but the woman doesn't care. Well, hell have no fury like a sweet baby scorned. The very next morning, she doesn't use any carmex in the morning. Doesn't use any for the ride to school, doesn't use it before she hands a little tub of carmex over to the office lady, who looks at her very confused, but just doesn't give a flip, and she heads off to class. She does her best to keep calm when she starts to feel her lips get chapped, keeping her

lips as drawn in and neutral as she can. She spends most of the day with her head down and not speaking until finally the teacher calls on her to answer a math question. Now, I should probably warn everyone this might get a little graphic. Sister lifts her head up, looks the woman right in the eyes and smiles as wide as she can. Tears are rolling down her cheeks as she can feel her lips splitting open so badly that they're not just bleeding a little. The blood is rolling down her chin, mixing with her tears down her neck and onto the collar of her shirt. This woman screams so loudly that us third graders across the hall could hear it. She ended

up ripping her lips so badly that they had to page little 3rd grade me to call my mom to pick her up, and she had to stay home for a couple of days to recover. When she came back, however, not only did the teacher personally hand her Carmex over, she'd bought her a few more tubs of the stuff, just in case she ever ran out and never bothered her again. I don't know if it was a coincidence that last year was the last year she taught, but a little part of me likes to think that she met her match in my little sister. Then, we have a similar story from pancreatic potter down in the comments. In the late 90s, I was a junior in high school and my family moved from one state to another.

In the process of doing so, a lot of household things had to be moved out of storage. The amount of dust it had accumulated was enough to cause me to have multiple sneezing fits. To the point where, by the time we got everything unpacked in the news state, I had blown a blood vessel in each nostril of my nose. After copious nose bleeds, I go to the doctor and get them fixed by chemical cauterization. A friend told me that she overheard our English teacher telling other students that I had to be making up the whole thing or was grossly exaggerating the truth, when I had to miss a class one or two times. Well, a day or two after the cotterization I was in class, not English, and started sneezing and the damn broke. I head up to the office

to call home so I can go back to the doctor. I'm sitting there trying to start to bleeding while I wait, and guess who walks right past me? My English teacher was waltzing through and literally did a double take when she saw me. Probably because in a desperate move to prevent recreating the elevator scene from the shining, I had used my own shirt until an alternative was acquired. I looked like a deranged murderer. Part of me really wanted to say, you should see the other guy, but instead opted for the dejected waif look to really nail home the shame. It must have worked because she actually apologized and never brought it up again. Our next post is from Stuff Things and Stuff. My coworker, an absolute hero,

maliciously complied at security on one of our subcontractor jobs. The customer was a manufacturer for high-end electronic components. Security was tied as a small 4-foot-by-six-foot box could contain $250,000 worth of microchips. Our team was installing equipment in their facility for one week. A security checkpoint had to be passed every trip in or out of the building. Mr. Security Guard, who we'll call Chad, decided my co-workers Steve was more suspicious than the other four texts. So every trip in or out not only was Steve made to dump the

entire content of his backpack out on the table and go through it, Chad required Steve to show him the last five pictures taken on his phone to prove he was in stealing secrets. This is all fine except Chad lets everyone else through without any sort of inspection. Steve is trying to stay positive but obviously this is eating away at him. Steve tries to be overly positive and also a bit snarky with comments like, thank you Paul Blart for keeping America's safe, which busts up the rest of our crew. Then Steve has the idea that we'll free him the rest of the week.

Wednesday comes along, Steve is overly scrutinized on our way in as usual. As we head to security at lunch, Steve says he has to go to the bathroom. He comes back out a few minutes later, absolutely giddy. Chad blart, mall cop, stops us on our way out and asks Steve to see his camera roll. Steve gladly hands the phone over. Chad is greeted by some very peculiarly angled shots of Steve's butthole. What the f? Chad throws the phone down on the table. Oh, sorry, I thought I had a hemorrhoid and wanted to see how bad it was. Is everything okay with my pictures? Is the facility safe?

Chad never checks Steve's materials again. Good on you, Steve. That was our Slashmolish's Compliance, and if you like this video, then please let me know by hitting that like button because it really helps my channel. And if you like this video, then please let me know by hitting that like button because it really helps my channel.