rSlash - r/Maliciouscompliance US Military Officer VS Dumb Karen

Episode Date: January 26, 2024

0:00 Intro 0:10 Karen 3:33 Weekly haircut 4:56 Comment 5:11 Overtime ban 8:50 Wasted time 11:39 Pork and bacon Visit BetterHelp.com/RSLASH today to get 10% off your first month. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I'm Rob Gronkowski and last year I missed a fan duel kick of Destiny during the Super Bowl I spent the last year reflecting Meditating hanging out in Himalayan salt caves anything to get the image of that hook kick out of my head So when Fan Duel called and asked if I give it another go I jumped at the chance to lace them up for a shot at redemption. What's this? He's going to try again. And this year, I won't miss. The kick of Destiny 2 is here.

This time, you get to pick if Gronk will make it or miss. Make your free pick now in the FanDuel Sportsbook Gap and watch the FanDuel Kick of Destiny live on Super Bowl Sunday. Make every moment more with FanDuel, North America's number one sportsbook. 19 plus and physically located in Ontario. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or the gambling of someone close to you,

please contact Connex Ontario at 866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge, or go to connexontario.ca. Please play responsible. Welcome to r slash malicious compliance, where a stupid Karen gets yelled at by a Colonel of the US military. Our next read it posted from a quiet borderline. So over the past few days, I've become friends with a retired Army officer, Belle. She's been delighting me with stories of her service and she shared this wonderful

story that I think you'll all enjoy. Belle was a young second lieutenant at her first posting. As she put it, my college diploma hadn't even arrived in the mail and I was scared as hell. Fortunately, she got on the NCO's good side and settled in pretty nicely. One afternoon, she was at work when N storms an officer's wife. As she puts it, looking like she was in the mood to cause hell. Belle keeps her head down, trying to stay busy when she hears the dreaded words.

I'm talking to you, soldier! Belle looked up and saw the woman. Let's call her Karen, because why not, standing in front of her? Can I help you, ma'am? Belle asked. Yeah, I'm the wife of Major So-and-So, and I need to speak to Colonel Stone. Do you have an appointment? He's busy. Just go get him.

I'll stand right here until you do. Belle looks around, wondering what the hell she's supposed to do. She didn't want to risk her job because Colonel Stone was known around the base for having a fierce temper. I'll have you knocked down to private if you don't do as I say, Karen Schultz. Now move! Wanting to get away, Belle got up and walked towards the Colonel's office, intending to get away for a long enough copy break that Karen would forget.

When she looked back, she sees Karen as watching her like a hawk, so there goes that plan. Colonel Stone's door was closed, and Belle knocked on the door. Yes, Colonel Stone barked. Sir, it's Second Lieutenant Belle Smith, she said. Come in. Belle opens the door, does the customary salute, and he immediately notices how nervous she is. What is it?

Major So-and-So's wife is here, and she wants to speak to you. Does she have an appointment? She just said to go get you, and she wouldn't leave until you saw her. I see. Did she threaten to knock you down to private? She did. Colonel Stone nodded, and then said in a voice that scared Belle. Cinder in.

Belle salutes and then goes back to Karen. Karen looks absolutely smug. He'll see you now, Belle said. See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Karen said, strolling over to the Colonel's office. It was at this point that a first sergeant named Sanders comes in. He just sits down, and as the office door closes, he counts down in a low voice.

3, 2, 1. What the hell were you thinking? Colonel Stone shouted. For a good five minutes, Colonel Stone tore Karen a new butthole, telling her that she is NOT permitted to wear her husband's rank. And if she tries pulling anything like that ever again, her husband will be busted down to private faster than he could sneeze. Karen left the office like a bat out of hell.

Why does a sheet end quaking? Belle never saw her again, but she and the major got divorced shortly afterwards. According to Belle, he realized what a liability she'd be to his career. So I'm not a military guy, I don't fully understand the rules of the military, but based on my understanding, in some situations, an enlisted service member is responsible for the actions of their partner. Down in the comments, I've never heard this one before. No Order in Chaos says,

Oh yes, thank you for your cervix, ma'am. Our next Reddit post is from Pinkorgasmatron. This is my husband's story from high school. Let's call him Phil. Phil attended a private Catholic school from kindergarten through graduation. He was, and still is, a long-haired hippie. All was well until his senior year when a new nun became principal. She was offended by the boy's long hair.

She was also warned by some of the other teacher nuns not to get into it with him because, no doubt, he will win. Phil and his father meet with the principal and offer a solution of wearing a wig so that he doesn't have to cut his hair. The nun says, no way. What if the other kids decide to do that? The nun insists that he get his hair cut or he'll be expelled. The father says, okay, he'll get his hair cut every week and will provide receipts.

Will that suffice? The nun agrees. Cue malicious compliance. Phil's dad takes him to the beauty shop and says, Cut as little as humanly possible off of his hair. The hairdresser says, Why not just have me provide a receipt and not cut it? Well, that wouldn't fly, because they decided to be totally honest about the whole thing. And so, every week, Phil got a haircut and a receipt.

The hairdresser proceeds to do a haircut every week. Just a trim, mind you, and provides a receipt. The nun has no recourse. Phil graduates with longer and healthier hair than he started the year with. Down in the comments, Alexa Boyhouty says, This is like a joke I saw on TV. Santa was asked, Why aren't you using our company razor that we paid you to endorse? You still have a full beard? Santa responds

You didn't say where I had to shave. Our next read it posts is from their Shelby Wings This is an old story from back when I used to work in the opticians department of a major supermarket chain I was a part-timer working nine hours per week 3 p.m. To 9 p.m. On Saturdays and 1 p.m. To 4 p.m. On Sundays 3pm to 9pm on Saturdays and 1pm to 4pm on Sundays. Part of my job was to close down the department on both days because none of the managers liked being around after closing time. The department closed at 9pm on Saturdays, but it was often about 9.20 that I actually left.

Closing down a department takes time, mostly because you can't do it when customers are browsing. Unsurprisingly, I consistently worked more hours than I was supposed to. All store employees were on the clock, and for some reason, the store recorded us down to the second. You were paid an hourly rate to within a few seconds of how long you were clocked in for. My manager, Val, called a meeting at 3pm on Saturday, which coincidentally was the time that I was scheduled to start work. The thrust of the meeting was that, some people, she said, looking directly at me

down the length of her not-inconsiderable nose, were claiming more than their allotted hours, and that this must stop. Henceforth, all over time must be approved in writing. This was entirely her decision. To be clear, other departments didn't have this problem. Fast forward to about 8.45pm. Val and I were the only employees left in the department. She started to gather up her things to go, like she always did. I started the process of putting our more expensive frames into their night display cases where they could be safely locked away when the department was closed.

What on earth are you doing, OP? I'm locking up. I have to make sure I don't go over my hours today. This department has to be open until 9pm. It's in this store handbook. You can't lock up right now. My boss will be furious. I said, yeah, but you know from experience that it takes a good 10 minutes to lock up.

Actually, I was being generous. More like 20 minutes. I'm not allowed to be on. Actually, I was being generous. More like 20 minutes. I'm not allowed to be on the premises after I clock out, so I have to start clocking up now, otherwise I'll be disciplined. I reached for the loudspeaker and said, Good evening, would Mrs. Locke please come to the optical department? Mrs. Locke to the optical department. Thank you. This was our store's code word for security, bringing the keys. We're locking up. Val goes white as a sheet.

The first cracks in her caked on makeup began to show. I could see the look on her snooty face as a very large penny began to drop. She yelled, wait here while leaving the apartment with a purposeful stride. By the time she'd returned, I'd explained to the security guard what was happening. He agreed to play along. We start slowly locking down the spectacle frames. Val, with sweat starting to show on her brow, wordlessly handed me a hastily scribbled note authorizing 30 minutes of overtime. I showed it to the security guard, who nodded. Val left without a word, looking really flustered,

just as a customer walked in. My friend from security unlocked the frames again and I went to serve the customer. The following day, Val's usual snooty demeanor had changed. She didn't look contrite, but there were definitely a few cracks in her expression. She took me to one side and, without preamble, handed me a new rota and launched into what was clearly a well-rehearsed speech. OP, I have approved your request to extend your hours to 10 hours a week. I now expect you to work from 3pm until 9.30pm on Saturdays and from 1 until 4.30pm on Sundays. I trust that this will not be a problem. Oh, that's fine.

Thank you, Val. And henceforth, if you should happen to work slightly over your hours, don't be overly concerned about it. Our next Reddit post is from MotorMania. When I was younger, around a decade ago, I used to love two things, cars and roads. Still to this day, I love cars, but the way that I loved roads was through maps. My favorite activity when I was bored was to go on the Maps app and look at the highways that surrounded my area. My oldest sister at the time was the only sibling of mine who had a license.

One summer day, she was bored and decided to take me and her boyfriend to an amusement park that was an hour and a half away from home. The story begins on our way back. Our father needed the car at the car dealership because it was scheduled to have routine maintenance done the next morning. My father sent my sister the address of the dealership and requested that she drop the car off, and he would go and pick us up at the dealer. Now that the context is out of the way, here's where my sister made a mistake. She typed in the address and clicked on the nearest place with that road listed. The issue is that the nearest place with that road was a town going an hour in the opposite direction.

She gets onto a road that I'll call State Route 100. This intersects with Interstate 1, which we were supposed to get onto. When she passes the highway, the following interaction ensues. I said, you were supposed to make that right. That's not what the map says. Five minutes later, I say again, we're hitting in the wrong direction. This does not go home. Maybe it's an alternate route that's faster? I don't think a road going in the opposite direction is faster. Listen, I'm going to

focus on what the map says, not on you. Just stop already. And with that, I followed her instructions. After all, why would I complain about going on a road that I'd never been on before? From what I remember after that, we stopped for gas about a half hour later. My sister was still convinced we were going in the right direction, but why should I correct her? She's listening to the map after all. We hit an expressway, and my sister was convinced that we made it home and she was pleased for herself.

That was until an overhead sign said, Town B Regional Airport, one mile. At this point, my sister realized her mistake. She starts freaking out saying, I didn't know this road went here, I was following the map. OP, why didn't you tell me we were going the wrong way? I was scared of her getting mad at me, so I just said, after you told me to stop, I just stopped paying attention to where you were going. She eventually pulled into a gas station and saw where she had set her GPS to go to.

After correcting her mistake, we hid in the opposite direction, although the car ride was rather silent. We eventually see signs for the amusement park that we started at because she had to turn left at the road that I originally told her to turn at. And that's how I turned a drive that was supposed to be an hour and a half into a 3 and a half hour journey. Years have passed since this happened, and I told my father who thought that it was hysterical. Our next Reddit post is from Deleted.

I'm a salesperson, and I control the media of a boutique that's part of a restaurant and it's a small place, so sometimes I just wander around when the boutique is empty and I get mistaken as a server. We get super busy sometimes, so I do help out the servers. One day, this Karen walks in with her friend and before she sits, she starts flicking her fingers at servers and yelling for someone to serve her. It was a hectic day because it was a public holiday. Actually, it was the Prophet Muhammad's birthday. So, I got two menus and I

greeted them waiting for their drink orders. Karen just spits her and her friends' drink order at me. I felt like I needed to wash my face afterwards. Then, she asked about some of the dishes. This was during brunch time. She asked which dishes have pork and I point them out, but I also offer to remove any of the bacon from the dishes. Karen looks at me like I'm the stupidest thing on earth, saying, I asked about pork, not bacon, you stupid, uneducated white girl. Now is my turn to look at her, like WTF. I then looked at Karen's friend who just had this defeated look on her face.

I explained to her that bacon comes from pigs and that it's essentially a form of pork, so therefore it's not allowed for her. I know this because I've had my Muslim cousins whine to me about not having bacon. She started getting pretty upset at me and yelled, I know more about my religion than you, you stupid white girl! F off and get my bacon! At this point, I pretty much give up. It's getting busy and the commotion is turning hits to our table.

I can't afford to lose this job, so I comply. Especially with the Karen's request for extra bacon. I tell the cooks and servers who are watching the whole ordeal, and also we're trying to stifle our laughter and groans behind the counter. I serve Karen and her friend their food. Karen ordered our Oriental Breakfast, which has everything and was topped with heaps of bacon scattered across the plate. Karen looked very happy.

And her friend had the same, but without any bacon, and was looking apologetically at me the whole time. I was ready to leave it be and go serve another table when Karen started telling me off saying that I didn't listen to her about how to do her bacon. To be clear, she didn't even tell me how she wanted her bacon. And she said that I should really take feedback from customers like her and post it on her Facebook so that people would know what we're really like. I was honestly pissed off at the Karen, and I didn't want to yell because I knew that I'd get fired,

so I did the next best thing. I agreed with her, saying, yes, we should take your thoughts into consideration on our Facebook page. So, since I'm the social media person for both the boutique and the restaurant, I asked if I could take a photo of her eating lunch and post her feedback as an official post on our page. She looked over the moon at this suggestion and readily agreed to it. The friend just excused herself and moved away from the photo. I don't know if the friend knew what I was thinking or what. Anyways, I take Karen's photo, add her comments, and get her Facebook tag so she's tagged in the photo.

However, when I was getting ready to post it, I added the caption, On Prophet Muhammad's birthday, this lovely customer came in and ordered our oriental breakfast with extra bacon. We pride ourselves on giving the customers exactly what they tell us they want. Needless to say, the comments of shock and horror on the post by her family and friends and all the pork she ate were endless. And I eventually got a message from her to take it down,

saying that she didn't want it up anymore, for personal reasons. 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.