rSlash - r/Maliciouscompliance I Flashed My D*** At My Landlady!

Episode Date: July 24, 2021

r/Maliciouscompliance In today's episode, OP gets stuck with the landlady from hell. She keeps coming into OP's apartment without any notice and messes with his stuff. She also insults him every chance that she gets, calling him "lazy boy." One time, she brings prospective tenants into OP's apartment while he's asleep, without warning him. OP sleeps in the nude, so he leaps out of bed "at full attention." Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to R-Slash, a podcast where I read the best post from across Reddit. Today's subreddit is R-Slash malicious compliance, where O.P. shows his landlady his rock hard dong. Our next Reddit post is from Sean. So, once upon a time, I was living in a not legal basement apartment of an old Hungarian woman's house. I was poor, the place was cheaper than what was around, so I took it. How bad could it be? The Hungarian lady was horrific. At first she was an okay land lady, but then things started to turn. First, I noticed that things were off when I got home from work.

You ever get that feeling that someone is in your room? That. So I asked her if she'd been in my room and she denied it. So I set up a hidden camera and I asked her if she'd been in my room and she denied it. So I set up a hidden camera and I caught her on camera. I asked her again and she denied it, saying that she would never go into my apartment without telling me. Then I showed her the video and she got mad at me. I worked night shifts and one time she came in during the day when I was asleep in there. I was in bed naked under the sheets. I woke up when she came in and

I asked, can I help you? She said no and left. After that, she would call me lazy boy when she saw me, assuming that I didn't work since it was at night. Things kept getting worse. She would sometimes shut off the water when she thought I was using too much, or when I refused to share my wifi password with their other tenants. Finally, one night I had some friends over for a birthday. There were six of us in total, it was around 11pm and trust me when I say that we weren't being loud at all. We were literally just hanging out, eating cheesecake, talking, and laughing. She came into my apartment and started yelling that I was having a loud party with too many people in the middle of the night. She actually came and grabbed my shirt, telling me that everyone had to leave. Oh hell no, that was it.

So I pushed her off of me and the cops were called. That Monday, she left a really poorly written eviction notice on my door. Seriously, it was handwritten. She told me to be out by Saturday by midnight. Here's the malicious compliance. By 11.59pm that Saturday, I had all my stuff in the U-Haul. My friends and I were just working on backing up the trash and other stuff for the dump when she came in and yelled at me that it was past midnight. No problem. I got up and left. I left a huge

pile of junk in the bedroom and storage room. Easily two pickup trucks worth of junk that I wasn't taking. She actually called my father, who was my emergency contact on my application, to tell me that it cost her 400 bucks to haul it all away and that I owed her money. My dad just blocked her number. The end. Bonus story. She showed the apartment to potential tenants when I was still living there. She didn't tell me. So when she leads two strangers into my apartment in the middle of the day, waking me up, I stood up, fully naked. I was at full staff, too. I told them that I wouldn't rent from her again if it was the last apartment in town. The couple quickly left.

Down in the comments, he says, wait a stand up for yourself. And Opie replies, I'd say that it really boned her plans. All maniac replies, and then you stifter on the trash hall. I love it. Our next Reddit posted from smock. A few years ago, my wife was working under an emergency medical services worker in our local township. She got home from work one night after a long day and posted a picture of herself holding an unopened beer and saying, I needed this. It's important to note that in the picture you could tell the beer was still unopened. A few minutes after she posted her picture, a major storm decided to suddenly roll through. My wife, being the good employee that she was, called her supervisor and asked if he needed help. He said, no, you can't come in, you posted a picture of yourself drinking alcohol. She objected that she never even opened the can, and any idiot could see that, but he wouldn't relent.

He said something about how it could be construed wrong. Fast forward a couple of weeks. It had been a stupidly busy day for her, and when she finally got home, she ran over to the shelf that we had a bottle of whiskey on, literally day for her, and when she finally got home, she ran over to the shelf that we had a bottle of whiskey on, literally tossed me her phone and said, quick, take a picture of me drinking this. The cap was obviously still on the bottle, but she tipped it up like she was drinking it and she posted online as soon as I gave the phone back. Her boss called her 10 minutes later and said, we need you to come back in.

We're short staff tonight," she said. Sorry boss, I can't. I've been drinking. Check online." He tried to object that the cap was still on and she said, but the last time that I posted a picture like this, you wouldn't let me come in because you said that it would set the wrong precedent. I wouldn't want to do that to you.

Our next reddit post is from 1973. I used to own a wing joint, nothing fancy, but a good selection of wing flavors and beer. Inavitably, we would have people come in and order suicide wings. I like super spicy foods, so these were really hot. About 5-10% of those people would always joke, these aren't that hot, can't you do better? One of my best regulars, Adina's who fancycied himself a gardener, decided to help us out and planted a ghost pepper bush. At the time, this was the hottest pepper in the world, and he would bring us some of his

peppers. Also, he would intentionally under water the bush so that his peppers would be as hot as they could possibly be. When he would bring us the peppers, I would grind them up, seeds and all into a nice paste, which I would then combine with our suicide sauce. I would then set that sauce aside for when our spicy wing connoisseurs would show up and complain about the suicide sauce not being hot enough. When customers would ask for my spiciest wing, I would serve them one deathhead wing. I felt like that was a fitting name. I would make them wear gloves to eat it to prevent capsaicin burns on their skin. I would specifically warn them about

the heat they were about to get into trying to just wait to be able to eat this culinary monstrosity. Every single time we got through this warning, the customer would view this as some kind of insult to their manhood, and they absolutely couldn't be stopped from eating this wing. So they ate it. The fun thing about capsaicin oil is that it can often take a few seconds to kick in. Usually just enough time for the person to scarf down the wing and start to smugly tell us how it wasn't that hot. And then the heat would begin, and once it started, it was relentless.

The wing was free, but the cup of milk after was 20 bucks. I never had a single person ask for a second wing. Down in the comments, we have this story from Kermudgeon. This isn't exactly a hot wing story, but I thought that it would fit in here. When I was in college, a friend of mine got a job working at a farm where, among other things, they were growing some pretty hot peppers. One morning he was tasked to pick some of the peppers. The person he worked for warned him that once you start picking these peppers, don't rub

your nose and face until you've washed your hands. My friend was very careful not to rub his nose or face while he was picking the peppers. At lunch time, he went to a nearby office so he could eat his lunch. Because he'd been out in the hot sun, picking peppers, he first went to the minz room to relieve himself with some of the water he'd been drinking all morning. No one told him that he should also wash his hands thoroughly before he urinated. He ended up having to explain to HR

why the office receptionist heard him shrieking. And when she went into the minz room in a panic, thinking that he'd heard himself, his pants were down, and he had his Mr. happy in the sink frantically trying to wash it off. Then, we have another similar story from Cool Nessmek, my family owned a restaurant, and our wings were a really big deal. We made wingsauce differently than every other place. We had mild sauce, hot sauce, and that was it.

Our hot sauce would probably just qualify as a medium hot at most other places, because we would just crush up some red pepper flakes and coat the wing with them, and then put the sauce on for those who wanted it extra spicy. Well, in walks a regular customer who always complains that the wings aren't spicy enough to the point that he would tease my dad for the baby spice wings. Well, I'd recently gotten a bottle of mad dog pure Sason to use for our chili, just to add a little heat and not affect the flavor. This stuff only required a couple of drops to kick up the heat for a five gallon batch of chili. So the customer asks, are you gonna make my wings spicy this time? So my dad went all out on the crushed pepper sauce and then put two drops

of this Mad Dog on each wing. I'm pretty sure the wings took on a bluish color until everything mixed together and then he sent them out. Now it's important to note that this was a to go order. About 20 minutes later, I get a call from this guy who sounds like he's in serious pain asking for my dad. I put my dad on the phone and it turns out that it was the same customer. The wings were so spicy that he wouldn't know what was in them and if he should call

Poisey Controller go to the hospital. We told him if he drinks milk and has ice cream it should dissipate, but he'll be feeling it for a bit. One good thing to come of this though is that he never asked for extra spicy wings again. Also, if he thought this burned going in, just wait until it comes out. Interestingly, milk and ice cream also works for that end of your body, too. So, beneath that, I'm going to read a comment from Forever Ambergree. I'd like an ice cream, please. What flavor? Doesn't matter. It's for my ass. Our next reddit posted from SDBierGuy. This happened when I was 16 years old and just

got my driver's license. My parents had me run to the store to pick up some groceries. I stopped by my friend's house on the way back home for maybe 5 minutes to show on my license and that I was out driving alone. It was a really fun moment in my life for a 16 year old. My stepmom, Mary Ann, freaked out. We did not give you permission to drive the bills house. We told you to go to the store and that is all. I told Mary and my dad that they let me drive to another friend's house the day before,

so I didn't think it was a big deal. They became unreasonable and set up an unbending role that led to my malicious compliance. You are not allowed to drive anywhere that we don't give you explicit permission for you to drive. Period. End of sentence. Just because you were allowed to do it previously doesn't ever give you permission to do it another time. Ever. Fast forward three days later. My 13 year old step sister has been a jerk to me all day and I'm sick of her BS. She goes quiet for about 30 minutes and then comes out all sticky sweet. Hey OP, it's time to take me to ballet.

I've been taking my steps to start a ballet three days a week since I got my license. It's basically one of my chores. But I see my opportunity to say, screw you to all three of them at once. Sorry Tina, but I'm not allowed to take you to ballet. The parents didn't tell me to take you, and I don't want to get in trouble. She screams, she cries, she begs, she threatens. She calls her mom and leaves a message. She calls my dad and leaves a message.

I'm not sure if I'm brave enough to hang on to the bitter end and actually go through with it. I'm shaking, but I know that I've got them dead to rights. There's no call back from the parents, and the clock goes on past the start of her class. My stepmom comes home and Tina runs to meet her. Tina, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be at ballet. I hear Tina tell her version of the story, leaving out how bratty she'd been. They go back and forth. Mary Ann comes pounding down the hall and yells, just wait until your father gets home.

I had to stifle a laugh because I never really believe that people actually said that. An hour later, Dad comes home and the two of them go running out to meet him and tell him how horrible I was. I wait in my room for the hammer to fall. About 10 minutes later, my Dad comes down the hall. Brian, would you please come out here and talk to us? I came out and my Dad said, well, Brian, you did it. What do you mean, dad? You got us all, and there's absolutely nothing that we can do about it. Okay, let's make

this reasonable for everyone. And they did. They agreed that they were over the top. They recognize that Tina isn't always very nice to me, and they spoke to her about that. I was allowed to have reasonable freedom if I was driving somewhere since I had good grades and had never been in trouble. I walked down the hall to my room, my back to my parents, with the world's biggest grin on my face. Our next reddit post is from Weasel Cannon. So my first job was a server at a very popular 24 hour breakfast diner. We had lots of colorful customers. One morning I'm serving a woman sitting by herself. I ask her what I can get her and she says that she'd like an omelette. We have a list of pre-built omelettes so you can just build your own.

So I ask her how she'd like her omelette. Just a regular omelette, please, she tells me. Okay, so you don't want any of our signature omelettes? What would you like inside of yours, I ask? Nothing, just a regular omelet she replies with a hoof. I pause for a second because this order does occur, but not often. Some people like the eggs scrambled and cooked,

then rolled up. So you'd like an omelet with nothing inside? Yes, a plain omelet. She snapped at me, now irritated that I questioned her order several times. So I entered the order, a five-big omelette with no fillings and no toppings. A few minutes later the food comes out, and she's appalled. What is this? Your plain omelette, I reply.

But where's the cheese, or the ham, or the onions? Ma'am, you ordered an omelette nothing inside. She gets cocky and says, an omelette's eggs rolled up with ham, cheese, and onions. Everything else is extra. You should know this working at a breakfast place. I look at her deadpainted and form her. Actually ma'am, omelette is french for scrambled eggs that are fried and then rolled or folded. Everything else is extra.

I'm busy, so I walk off and help other colorful customers. Meanwhile she flags down a manager to complain, who confirms what I told her, and points out that in the menu there is very specifically a ham, cheese, and onion omelet with a large picture in the middle of the page. Then the manager tells her that she has to reorder her meal and wait a second time. She did not leave a tip. I wouldn't worry about it OP. She sounds like the type of customer who wouldn't have left a tip anyways.

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