rSlash - r/Maliciouscompliance Moron Calls the Cops Over Weed Delivery

Episode Date: August 2, 2023

0:00 Intro 0:08 Tales of Jeff 5:53 Holiday delivery 11:50 Illegal delivery 17:27 Adult item delivery Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Your business has grown fast, from opening your first location to planning an expansion in no time. And with your business platinum card from American Express, you can access spending power and payment flexibility to fuel your growth. Sarah, the contractor is here with the plans. American Express, don't do business without it. Terms and conditions apply visit mx.ca slash business platinum. Welcome to our slash malicious compliance where we have the epic tales of Jeff the delivery guy. Our next reddit post is from deleted. This little gem of a story comes not from me but from

an older guy that I worked with over last winter break. We'll call them Jeff. Jeff was a delivery guy for the company that we worked at and my job was a holiday helper. Basically, I assisted in delivering the influx of holiday packages. A couple of days into my temporary job, we stopped at a house with a pretty long, steep driveway. I step out of the truck, extending my arms to take the package, but Jeff tells me not to worry about taking the package up to the door. Instead, we leave the package at the foot of the driveway near the mailbox. Not one to question Jeff's orders, I can

apply and leave it there. All the while, Jeff has this huge grin on his face, and he blasts the truck's horn and waits a couple of moments. Then there's movement from the house's front door. It's hard to see, but I can make out this tubby, balding, 40-something guy with a sour look on his face step out of the house. We watch this guy, who we'll call Gabe, begin this long, arduous descent down his driveway, shuffling along at a slow pace. Jeff stays the entire time, grinning like an idiot while Gabe picks up his package, barely

acknowledges us and begins climbing up his driveway. Jeff calls out to him, thank you again for choosing our delivery service, sir. We are proud to ensure your packages arrive safely. I can tell that Jeff's comment really bothers this guy, but Gabe only flicks his off as he leaves. Jeff laughs, cranks up the truck, and we shove off. Completely bewildered, I turned to Jeff and say, what the f was that about? Jeff only laughs again at this, an incredibly high spirit and launches into his explanation. Apparently, the guy we just delivered to has a history of scaring over people that he hires to do work on his explanation. Apparently, the guy we just delivered to has a history of

screering over people that he hires to do work on his home. For example, he had scammed a landscaping company with claims that the grass they'd replaced half of his yard with didn't perfectly match the shade of the other half. By the time Gabe screwed over Jeff, Jeff had already been delivering to Gabe for years, and the guy had never been home. Or he had been home, but he never answered the door. Additionally, the guy's garage was always closed, which is important because when it rains, it's company policy to leave a package just inside the garage door for safekeeping.

So one day, it's drizzling outside, and Jeff delivers a package to Gabe's house. For whatever reason, the garage door was open this time around, so Jeff leans in and plops the package a couple of feet from the credit weather. Then Jeff just goes about his day as normal. About an hour later, Jeff gets a call from his supervisor who's in a massive frenzy. Jeff, what the hell did you do? Did you seriously mess up some guy's garage?

How the hell do you even do that? Jeff, taking a back, does his best to get to the bottom of things with the supervisor? Apparently Gabe had seen Jeff deliver the package to his home, saw Jeff lean down to place the package inside the garage and then tried to claim that Jeff had broken his garage door. In reality, Jeff told me that Gabe's door was already broken,

but the cheap bastard was trying to pin it on someone else. Fortunately, Jeff was able to escape any personal liabilities due to lack of proof. However, our delivery company couldn't completely throw out the claim without engaging in a costly court battle, because they indeed had a delivery man on the premises and no proof in the thing broke. The company weighed the costs and decided on giving Gabe a $600 payout instead of the potential thousands that it would have cost in legal fees. Gabe, the smug douchebag, got his garage repaired for free.

Luckily for Jeff, however, a small loophole in the delivery company's policy allowed him to exact revenge. The loophole was basically this. In the case of delivering two locations where the delivery driver feels that he's at risk or in danger, he does not have to risk his personal well-being by setting foot on that location's property. Instead, the worker is allowed to drop the package off

at the safest and most convenient location nearest to the individual's property. i.e. the mailbox or the foot of the driveway. Learning this, Jeff takes full advantage. The next package gave orders happens to be an expensive piece of electronics and it was marked urgent. Even better, it was raining on the day of delivery. Absolute downpour! Jeff pulls up to your friendly neighborhood douchebag's house and does the same thing that he did with me. Blast his truck horn several times and waits. Then he places the package just in front of the mailbox under a plastic tarp. Apparently, Gabe really needed that package because Jeff's horn draws him down from his home on a slow, slogging descent down his driveway. Gabe is

fuming by the time he reaches the bottom, with Jeff smiling like a professional. Why the F didn't you bring the package up to my mother-epping house? Gabe inquired politely as he grabbed the soggy bottom package. Company policy, sir, Jeff replied. Can't set foot on a customer's property and risk further damages. Gabe's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to sort this out. Gabe is now completely soaked and shivering, so he just said, go to hell. Certainly, sir, what kind of shipment would you like for that?

At a loss for words, Gabe just begins slogging back up his driveway, with Jeff giving him a couple friendly honks to send him on his way. Then he continues on with his deliveries. To this day, Jeff loves exacting company policy on this douchebag. Then OP shared another story about Jeff. So one time I was delivering a package up to this guy's house, Kevin. Kevin was just bringing his two huskies back from a walk as I approached. Kevin eyeballed me suspiciously and said, Who the f are you? Me holding a massive package said, I'm a delivery person, I've got a package for you. The f you are, where's Jeff?

I nodded down the road, delivering a package to someone else. Oh, that lazy douchebag, letting the young kids do his dirty work, eh? No, I signed up for this. BS, that bastard's blackmailing you. What's he got on you, huh? Adult videos, nudie mags? No, I'm just delivering packages and getting paid. I set the package down, but Kevin decided that it was his civic duty to escort me back

to the truck. As we went, I had to deliver another package to the house that was next to Kevin. For whatever reason, this house was absolutely riddled with, keep out, and private property signs. All these signs were for a front yard that was perhaps 20 yards long and 10 wide. Nothing special. Just a couple of trees and dead grass. But you would have thought that house had an effing nuclear missile silo with all those

warnings. To make matters weirder, I saw the home's residents. A willowy old lady, peaked through the curtains the entire time that I walked up, delivered the package, and returned to the street. Kevin kept me company the entire way, and I could almost swear that he glared daggers at the old lady. Relief came for me when Jeff finally came back to me. Eventually, Jeff came back to the truck.

The first thing Kevin said to Jeff was, caught another one of your little cock suckers on my property. Don't you train them? Jeff must have realized that I had no clue what was going on because he just laughed good naturally with Kevin and told me to sort the packages in the truck. I did so while Jeff talked with Kevin. When Jeff finally got back to the truck, I immediately said, what the F was that about? Jeff had the decency to look and bear as he scanned a couple of packages and said, he's a character, right? I said, yeah, no kidding.

Jeff pointed at the house with all the warning signs and said, see those signs? Those are because of Kevin too. Jeff explained that, apparently, Kevin and Karen had been living next to each other since before Jeff started working that route. More than two decades, their houses were situated on a corner with their yards pressing up against one another and separated by a wooden wire fence. Kevin and Karen absolutely despised one another, but mostly kept to themselves if they could help it.

A few years back, however, when fall was in full swing, Karen's paranoia began acting up. She regularly thought up ways in which the world was trying to invade her personal life, mostly in the form of packages that Jeff delivered to her that she seemed to have forgot that she ordered. Anytime that Jeff rang the bell, Karen would peek through her blinds and stare at him like he was an alien from a hostile world. Karen decides that the leaves falling from the trees on Kevin Shards are being blown into her yard on purpose. This is a full-on

grievance orchestrated by the combined efforts of a foul mouth lunatic and the forces of nature. This could not stand. So Karen totals over to Kevin's house and promptly choose him out for his devious schemes. She's clutching a handful of dead leaves for good measure and tosses him in his yard as she accuses him of spreading his organic filth all over her precious property. At the end of it, she snidely tells him that she better not find a single leaf of his in her yard or she'd call the cops. Kevin, to his credit, only nods and says it'll make sure that his leaves fall on his property. A week later, Jeff tells me that he's delivering a package and he happens upon a peculiar site. A positively massive pile of leaves is clumped up in the corner of Karen's backyard, almost buckling the fence in because of the weight.

Then he sees Kevin riding at the helm of a heavy duty lawnmower with some kind of bulldozer like attachment on the front end. It's filled to the brim with leaves, which Kevin is promptly lifting above the dividing fence to Karen's property and dumping into the pile. When Jeff asked what the hell he was doing, Kevin only beamed with pride. That crazy old bat wants us to keep our leaves to ourselves. He gestured to the pile that had a massed in her backyard. Well I've been keeping very strict tabs and all those leaves came from her yard, so

I'm giving them back. Chef is floored by this, and rather impressed, so he says, what does she think about that? Kevin laughed and pointed over at Karen's house. We're two beady grey eyes, glared at them through the blinds. Kevin said, she's flipping the F out, but it's her rule, I'm just following orders. Unable to do much else, Chef just gave Kevin the package and told him to expect a visit from the cops at some point. Kevin just smiled. Can't fn wait.

Karen did end up calling the cops, but just as Jeff suspected, there was little they could do. Kevin did get a warning for being a public nuisance, but he hadn't been doing anything illegal and Karen did have to explain why he was doing that in the first place. That didn't stop Karen from going out and buying a bunch of keep-out and private property signs. If anything, it just increased her paranoia.

And Kevin… well, Kevin was all too happy to let any and all of the world's leaves fall into his yard. He didn't really care. He just wanted to show Karen that he'd heard her loud and clear, leaving no room for error. After hearing this story, I began to understand why Kevin had been so abrasive with me at the beginning. He just didn't really have a filter. Metrolinx and Crosslinx are reminding everyone to be careful as Eglinton Cross-town LRT train testing is in progress. Please be alert, as trains can pass at any time on the tracks. Remember to follow all traffic signals. Be careful along our tracks

and only make left turns where it's safe to do so. Be alert, be aware and stay safe. Tis the season for making memories with family and friends. So celebrate with Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. It's a tradition truly worth sharing. The festive special only at SWISH.LA. Visit SWISH.LA.ca for contest details while supplies last. Then OP post another story. Jeff once told me a story about a peculiar delivery that he'd always make once every two weeks on the dots. Each time it was a sizable

box wrapped up in layers upon layers of duct tape and super heavy. Even stranger, the customer, a big overweight dude who dressed in a tank top in jean shorts who will call Bob would be waiting for the package in person. It was like clockwork and and Jeff, of course, was curious. But given the regulation regarding the tampering of mail, he made no inquiries. Plenty of customers got weird stuff delivered to their homes. He'd seen everything from adult toys to hideous art pieces to sketchy foreign products, so there was no reason to question this guy. One day, he gets the guy's shipment a day late. On this particular day, it also happens to be drizzling a bit. For Jeff, everything's routine at this point, so he simply

thinks that Bob doesn't want to wait for the package out in the rain. Jeff places the package as far under the recession of the front door as possible to keep it dry. Keep in mind that this is a pretty big box, so it's still a bit exposed to the elements. Unfortunately for Jeff, this guy isn't terribly happy with his decision. The next day, Jeff pulls by the house with a delivery for next door, and he finds an overweight, tank top-wearing bob fuming at him. The duct tape package is slung under one arm, sagging slightly at the edges, and as Bob got closer, it gave off a distinctly pungent odor. An odor that Jeff immediately recognizes as weed.

This explains everything about Bob's compulsive need to accept the packages in person. But Bob isn't there to trade friendly words with Jeff. Instead, he's shaking angrily, with rivulets of sweat staining his tank top and glistening off his receding hairline This effing package is ruined man. The f is wrong with you. Look at it Bob holds it out to Jeff who sees the damp patches There's also a strong weed smell fogging up the air, but Bob doesn't seem to notice. I am sorry Jeff apologized. I tried to leave it out of the rain and you weren't there to receive it. The package came a day-epping late man. Bob seems to think that Jeff controls when the packages are sent. Every two-epping weeks, man, like clockwork, you're going to replace this?

Replace it. Jeff is slowly thinking through this and begins to formulate a plan. Oh yes, well you see sir, I can't take it back myself because it's your property now. But if you want, you can make a formal complaint down at our local hub. At this point, Jeff is expecting Bob to back off, what with the illegal cargo and all. But to Jeff's surprise, Bob just nods and says, VINE, I effing will! Bob's saunters away with the smugness of a customer believing they've beaten the establishment, and Jeff is left stunned, unable to believe what just happened. So Jeff makes several calls. One to the local hub, another to his supervisor, and another to the local police.

Bob is about to be destroyed by customer service. Jeff explained to me that when it comes to mail, the laws of privacy and ownership can be tricky. If Bob had one brain cell to spare, he would throw the package out, sever any ties with his weed source and lay low for a while. But Jeff knows that Bob is a moron. So Jeff is called back to the local hub where his supervisor and several cops are now waiting. They all explain to Jeff that they have to hear Bob verbally recognize the packages his own property.

Because Jeff's simply smelling the weed is only enough for calls to investigate and not to fully prosecute. An hour goes by as the officers, Jeff, and his supervisor wait in the back of the hub for Bob to show up. Sure enough, Bob does. Bob saunters into the store with his package under one sweat stained arm as he approaches the counter to logic complaint. The lady working the register plays it like a pro. She's been briefed to act normally and listens as Bob loudly explains that his package was ruined and he wants a refund. The lady entertains him, pretending to fill out a complaint form, and then calls a supervisor

to request that Jeff come in to confirm that he did indeed deliver that package. They wait another 20 minutes or so before Jeff comes in, pretending to be bewildered as he engages in conversation with Bob. You ruined my effing package, Bob says. I didn't, sir. Jeff, again, explains the process of leaving the package in the safest place that he could. Jeff says, but if you like, we can do our best to replace the contents or match them for their worth. Would you mind telling us what's in the box? Bob tenses visibly as if he's holding a separate hit. The rusty gears of his brain grind into motion as he ponders the potential issues of such

a disclosure. If it, he grumbles, and F you! With that, Bob takes the package and begins marching back out the door. At this point, the cops have their evidence and make themselves known almost impossibly fast. Before Bob can take a step, he slammed against a wall, cuffed at the wrists, and his precious box swatted to the ground to reveal bundles of tightly packed and vacuum sealed weed trickling out of the side. Jeff watches as Bob curses and resists, feigning innocence. It's a dream come true for Jeff, as he watches a terrible customer get a bit of justice

for making Jeff a glorified drug mule for who knows how long. And then, Opie posts another story about Jeff. So continuing to regale you in the delightfully lyrid tales of Jeff the delivery man, I had to make him tell me about one of the things he mentioned in the weed story, the adult toys. Namely, how on the hell had he known that it was even a sex toy? Surely the companies who make these things are discrete with their packaging? Well, they are, but that doesn't stop their logos and names from being shown on the

manifest or the package itself. Many adult stories have unique or suggestive names on them. The Lions Den, leather palace, penetrative properties. Jeff explained to me that honestly, it wasn't terribly difficult to tell when an adult toy was making the loops through the delivery chain. And there was nothing wrong with them either. Absolutely nothing. He said, I have no issue with what people want to put in their butthole, but when that person

becomes a butthole, then he had to follow company policy. In this particular case, one of the more adventurous individuals he delivered to absolutely chewed Jeff out for a product that had arrived damaged in the mail. It was an entirely understandable complaint with a customer who will call Valentine, going on a steaming, cursing rampage at the clerk working at the local hub for damaging her seven-inch multi-speed soft-cented silicone vibrator complete with lifelike testicles. Apparently, the order was a bit fragile and the gentleman in charge of packaging this gadget hadn't insulated in enough with cushioning. Jeff was in the vicinity of the woman's wrath when she angrily barked at the poor teller working the hub's till.

Valentine's Dildo, which she waved around like an undercompensating lightsaber, had snapped at the base due to improper packaging. At this point, Valentine was actually in the right because the toy had been damaged in root, so Jeff and the worker at the till direct Valentine to fill out the appropriate forms for damaged properties, which the lady went about doing in a fuming rage. Jeff told me that he was pretty sympathetic to her in spite of her ramblings, due to the sheer courage it must have taken to logic and plane about something like that. Let alone wield it in public.

But alas, Valentine would go on to do something that would forever banish her to the netherworld that is the utmost customer care of the XYZ delivery company. As Valentine was ready to leave, she turned back to the till worker and pointed her dildo vengefully at her. Make sure it's package right next time, or I'll shove this thing down your throat. Then, Valentine left. The air filled with the promise that her next order would receive the best of our services. All Jeff had to do was wait. Wait until the next package Valentine ordered came through the hub and passed through his hands as he loaded it onto the truck. He'd received both written and verbal consensus from the customer to ensure that her package was cared for.

So when Valentine's next package finally came, Jeff initiated his kill with kindness plan. The new order was from the same company as the last. Same product too. A seven inch multi-speed, soft, scented silicone vibrator complete with lifelike testicles. How did Jeff know this? Well, it was improperly packaged yet again.

It was his civic duty to ensure the product got repackaged to avoid further damages. To ensure the utmost care, Jeff wrapped up the flesh saber tight in several bundles of newspaper, followed by some plastic sheets. He was extremely meticulous in ensuring the product retained its natural shape, with the shaft, head, and scrotum practically highlighted by his wrapping. Then, as a loving touch of apology from our company, Jeff tied a big red bow around the head to express the company's deepest sympathies. Later that day, he delivered the package to her home.

Much to his alarm, however, the package couldn't fit in the mailbox because it was filled with junk mail. So, he simply set the newspaper dildo on top of the mailbox, illuminated by its beautiful red bow, and continued on with this day. He received no complaints after that. That was our slash malicious compliance, and if you liked this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.