rSlash - r/Maliciouscompliance Rude Customer DEMANDS a Well-Done Pizza

Episode Date: May 20, 2022

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Welcome to our Slash Milicious Compliance, where a rude customer orders a pizza extra extra extra well done. Our next reddit post is from Epic Normalcy. I work at a small mom and pot pizza place in a small town. Where are the only non-gas station pizza place in town, so Friday nights get busy. Anyways, my boss is cooking and I'm waitressing. Basically, the cook cooks and the waitress does everything else. It would be nice to have more than just the two of us, but we manage, and the people of our town expected and respected after all these years. It's busy. I've got several tables, and the phone has been ringing off the hook with to-go orders.

I've got piles of dishes. Someone is constantly at the register, and food is constantly ready to go out. My customers are being great! Everyone is smiling and laughing, and not worried that things are taking a bit longer than a Tuesday night. I was busy, but not stressed yet. Then this guy calls. It was some guy from out of town. There was a high school game going on, so we had a few out of towners that night. He orders a large thin crust pizza with pepperoni.

For context, our thin crust pizzas are very thin. About as thin as a cracker crust, but it's not as crispy as a cracker. He wants it well done. Can do. He wants us to put it in the oven for an extra five minutes. I say okay with zero intention of doing that. We have a break oven, so our thin crust pizza is going the oven for like three to four minutes

or four and a half minutes for well done. That's total. This guy wants an extra five minutes on top of that. He wants a 16-inch charcoal hockey puck. I assume he thinks he knows what he's talking about, and I just write well done on the ticket. We do our thing, and his pizza looks beautiful. He comes to pick it up, and before paying, he opens the box to inspect his pizza. This is normal, and I'm not worried. But he says, I asked for my pizza well done. This is how we make our pizza's well done. Any more than this and your pizza will burn.

I'm not paying for this and I'm not eating this. I want a new one and I wanted how I ordered. Put it in for five more minutes. At this point, my boss taps me on my shoulder and tells me to take over the cooking while he handles the customer. Our kitchen is adjacent to the register counter. so I'm literally making pizza five feet away from this interaction, so I get to hear the whole thing.

My boss tries to tell the guy how long we usually cook the pizzas, what's gonna happen to his pizza, etc. but the customer is having none of it. He wants his pizza cook the normal time, plus an additional 5 minutes. After a few minutes, I can tell my boss has had enough of this guy. My boss says, are you sure you don't just want this pizza, meaning the one that we'd already made him? The guy says no, so my boss brings out the pizza to one of our regular customers and just gave it to him.

My boss comes back to the guy and tells him that if he wants his pizza could for nine minutes, then he has to pay first. The guy seems satisfied and pays. I hop back to wait for you seeing and boss takes over cooking and making this guy's pizza. It goes into the oven looking beautiful. The boss sets the timer for nine minutes and makes sure to show the guy the timer. He just smiles and chuckles a little. I'm busing tables checking people out and answering the phone while we wait on this guy's pizza. The timer goes off for the pizza. The guy comes over to the counter.

It's my job to cut the pizza as soon as Boss Man puts it in the box. My boss lifts this solid black, hard charcoal hockey puck out of the oven and sets it in the box. My boss lifts this solid black hard charcoal hockey puck out of the oven and sets it in the box. You can barely tell that it's a pizza anymore. I attempt to cut it, but it's so overcooked that it more or less just cracks and crumbles. My bag is to the guy, so I can't see his face, but I can imagine. I... I closed the box, turned, and handed to him with a smile on my face. Enjoy your pizza, sir! The guy stutters a bit.

Uh, I can't eat that! My boss says, we made your pizza to order. If you want a new pizza, you'll have to order a new one and pay for that. The guy has this completely broken look on his face. I was actually almost looking forward to a blow up. He left his pizza on the counter and left. This is why I love my boss. OP, when your boss said that he had to pay for the pizza first before he did it, I knew

exactly where the story was going, and still, it delivered. Our next red-appost is from ancient educator. This pains me to write, tears are rolling down this old teacher's face, which is a rarity. I've had a fairly rough teaching career. Of my 16 years working as a teacher, I've spent the last 5 years working at this school. I've been able to work at this school for so long for a number of reasons. I'm an amazing algebra teacher. I know when to shut up.

I care about my students. And I have a great relationship with my principal. He gets my quirkiness. And he knows that I'm a great teacher. So he doesn't have to micromanage me like he does others. He's an amazing hands-off principle to me I finally hit my Groove in education when my principal Dr. J got his doctorate and is now moving onward and upward Well shoot anyways Dr. J is doing his farewell tour while introducing us all to the new principal

We'll call him Kevin during the tour Dr. J tells Kevin about me, how I'm the hardest working, smartest teacher they have, how I have a great relationship with my students, and how they stop by the school to see me years later. He also mentions during this conversation that I have a second job working fast food. Principal Kevin instantly winces at this. Principal Kevin mutter something under his breath, which confirmed every fear I had about the new boss. Having a second job won't cut it with me, so you better fix that pronto. I despise this person so much in such a short time that despite my second job being minimum wage, I decided I would press the biggest most important malicious compliance button of my life and just see how it went. Pronto means soon, so that afternoon I put in my notice that I wouldn't be coming back.

Hey, he only wants me to have one job, right? Well, voila! That's French for Check this shit out. I started job hunting immediately, and I already have two interviews set up for tomorrow. Our next red-apposis from Hippo Singularity. Concrete mixers are big, ungainly things. Trying to maneuver them around a crowded job site is like trying to play miniature golf with a tennis ball. The biggest problem is, of course, other people, specifically other people's cars. Nobody's gonna lug 50 pounds of tools any further than they have to.

So, if there's an open space near where they want to be, they park there. Never mind that it's right next to a sidewalk or driveway that a crew is obviously prepping for concrete. It only makes things worse when it's done by people who should know better and who do it intentionally. So we're pumping grout walls in the late afternoon, which already has me in a bit of a mood. Grout jobs tend to be very slow. Each cinder block has two empty cells, and the crew pumps the grout into these cells, filling them all the way up to the top of the wall. Grout really is just a term for a weak concrete mix that is pumped super wet. It has to be that wet to make it all the way to the bottom of the wall. Otherwise, it sticks to the side of the center blocks or it gets caught up in the steel reinforcements.

There's a lot of stopping and starting as well as a lot of moving the pump. All of this takes time, time during which that concrete stiffens up. As we move to a new street, we find a line of cars parked all along the side of the street that we're working on. Just far enough to take up as much space as possible without leaving enough room to get the pump in there. Turns out it's another concrete crew setting up to do patios. No problem, we're all concrete guys here and they know how it is. We asked them to move, but the fact that I'm writing this post tells you what their response was.

It turns out they were waiting for their own pump and mixer to show up, and they intentionally blocked the street because they don't want us to be in their way. Their crew chief tells us that we can wait for them to finish and move on, or we could just work around them. It's pretty obvious he expects us to wait. Waiting is, of course, going to make that concrete stiffen up, and it'll rack up standby charges for the customer. But trying to work around their cars is going to mean blocking the street and rolling up the hose every time we have to move. Working around their cars would slow us down so much, and depending on when their pump shows up, it might not even save us any time at all. Still, Todd the Pumper rolls his pump right up next to the lead car and feeds his hose

out around it. At the best of times, a concrete pump farts and sputters like a nervous Chihuahua, flinging small globs of concrete out of the hopper. If the driver isn't paying attention and accidentally lets a concrete level get too low, the pump sucks in air. Feeding a concrete pump air is like feeding a hip a potom is a laxative. It is not pretty and it gets everywhere.

We've probably had to move that pump twice as many times as we normally would. But it ensured that every single one of their cars got to spend some quality time next to the hopper. We finished the job and were washing out the pump when the crew chief, whose own concrete and pump still hasn't shown up yet, storms over to complain about all the concrete splatter on their cars. I point out that we told them we would be pumping there and we asked them to move, but they refused. At this point, he sees that I have a truck wash bucket strapped to my water tank and demands that I let him

use it to clean off his car. I tell him that's a terrible idea, as in smoking lounge on the Hindenburg levels of terrible. The stuff we use is designed to dissolve dried concrete, so it'll probably damage his car. The concrete is fresh enough that he can probably just rinse it off with water, but he isn't having it. He tells me to stop lying. He says that if it doesn't damage my truck, then it won't hurt his car. Besides, he's done this before, and he knows what he's doing. Now, keeping a concrete mixer clean is a downright sycophian task. No matter how hard you try, shoots overflow, pumps splatter, and plants huff cement powder all over your truck.

There's a variety of chemicals used to clean off concrete, and most of the modern mixes are relatively safe. Our concrete plants provide a phosphorus acid mix to any driver who needs it, so it's quite common for there to be a bucket of it stashed somewhere on the truck. Of course, part of what makes these chemicals safer also makes them somewhat less effective. That's why some of us bring in our own cleaning products to fortify the company mix. These are not the friendly chemicals that will just leave you with a mild chemical burn. My bucket of fun dips down to the good old days of let it gasoline, asbestos and red dye number two. Still, I warned him, and he assured me that he knew what

he was doing. Besides, he's intentionally being a jerk, and he expected my sub to pay standby for his convenience. I let him have the buckets. I have expected him to stop when he pulled the lid off. The witches brew in the bucket smells like Walter White's bathtub. Somehow the fact that his nose hairs aren't curling up like a spider and a flame doesn't seem to phase him. Brush goes in the bucket, brush comes out the bucket.

Brush slams on the hood of his car with a wet slap. I can only watch in mute horror as the man proceeds to not just clear off the concrete, but bathe his entire hood in hydrochloric acid, rubbing it in to get out all of those nasty water spots. It's like watching an orphan unwittingly skin his favorite puppy. None of us stick around long enough to see the final result. But it's already apparent that he has grubbed off the clear code and is in the process of etching brush marks in the paint.

I don't want to be anywhere near this guy when the hood dries out. I let him keep the bucket. Okay, so I know next to nothing about the world of concrete, I do know that if a chemical is strong enough to dissolve rock, dissolve stone, then it's probably going to do a number on my car, so I don't know what this guy was thinking. That was our slash malicious compliance, and if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day. to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.