Here are 5 posts from the far corners of Reddit, where pettiness reigns supreme:
Last night I come home and walk into the kitchen where my mother-in-law and wife are standing with an an enormous bag of small carrot-shaped, white root vegetables. Exhausted from a long day, I absent-mindedly ask, 'are those *white* carrots?', the existence of radishes, temporarily eluding my consciousness.
My MIL and wife, in enthusiastic unison chime in that, yes, they are indeed carrots. 'Go ahead and try one', my MIL encourages, with an overzealousness that brings me to my senses: no. NO, these are not carrots. Game on, mama, game on. I will eat this raw root vegetable and get you to as well!
I rinse one off and snack into it as my wife and MIL attempt to stifle their giggles. I feign confusion at their reaction: 'what are y'all laughing about?' My wife laughs, 'whats it taste like?'
'A carrot,' I say, 'maybe a little less sweet.'
'You're lying,' my MIL shoots back. 'The lady who gave them to me said they're radishes.'
My face betrays nothing. I have crunched the pungent, peppery taste and melded it into an earnest mask of enjoyment. The sporadic laughter from my wife and MIL has ceased.
'Well, I don't know *who* said that, but this definitely *tastes* like a carrot. Maybe I just got the one carrot mixed in with the radishes?' I grab another, rinse it, and go to chomp town. Mid-chew I double-down, 'nope, these are definitely carrots.'
My MIL, exasperated that either I am a master of deception or that she in-fact, *did* get the wrong bag of veggies, rinses one off, takes a massive bite, and immediately spits it back out. It is now I who am laughing. But not a tepid giggle. An uproarious guffaw of triumph. I have won. Now to get the taste of radish out of my mouth.
So last December I went out to a large mall that gets pretty busy this time of year due to the Christmas shoppers. I got lucky that a lady with her kids was just leaving as I pulled up outside the store I needed, and I went inside to get shopping.
An hour or two later, I headed back out to my car and started loading the many items into the trunk/boot and back seat.
It should be noted that last year I tore my rotator cuff in my left shoulder, so by December I was able to lift the bags and boxes, but I was still recovering so it was a slow task.
Anyway, I'm just about finished when I hear a car horn behind me. I turn around to see an irate, entitled woman in a Range Rover beckoning me over. She winds her window down and says 'could you go any slower?! Some of us have places to be!'
'Sure!' I say, then comply to her request to the letter. Can I go slower? Why yes of course I can!
The last three bags took about as long as the rest of the shopping combined, then I spent a good five minutes rearranging the stuff in my trunk - I wouldn't want to make it all roll around!
As soon as she'd driven off, and swiftly got in my car and reversed, all too happily to let the next, much more polite lady take my place.
I was working as the person who cleans the theater after the movie ended. Usually by the time credits are halfway through and the lights are on, we start cleaning since most people are already gone. You usually get one or two stragglers grabbing their stuff but never more than 3-4 people. We clean. Move on to next theater. Work as usual.
Apparently someone complained that us starting to clean while they were still in the theater made them feel “rushed” so they “almost tripped” leaving the theater.
So now we’re not allowed to be visible in the viewing room until everyone leaves.
We can wait by the stairs just out of view but enough to see if the room is clear. This usually was never a problem and people stayed visible anyway just to not be in the hallway as guests tried to leave.
Well, this one manager didn’t like how we weren’t listening to her directions. We were told to not step foot in until everyone left or we’ll be written up.
Well ok. More traffic for people to leave trying to squeeze past us while we have cleaning supplies and block a lane in the hallway. Nothing big.
Until one day, the best possible outcome: someone fell asleep during the movie. Well, as directed by our manager, we stood there for the next 30 minutes watching the guy toss and turn in his sleep. People from the next movie started to form a line. Manager saw it and came in and asked us what’s taking so long.
“We can’t clean. There’s someone still here”.
The policy was changed a week later.
I had my phone number for a while now, long enough that all the olds had it memorized as mynumber. So I really didn't want to change it for any reason. But one day, almost like a switch, I started getting calls from people looking to reserve a table at The Cheesecake Factory. Way too many to be a practical joke by my friends, something else had to be going on.
It turned out that the new location of the cheesecake factory was assigned the number (555) 555-1223.
Problem was my number was (555) 555-1123.
IT WAS MADDENING! I went from one wrong number a month to ten to twenty misdials a day! Even worse about half of them would hang up, hit redial, and boomerang right back to be! (And now they were mad at me, because.... Reasons?)
Finally one day I snapped. Instead of politely telling people that I was not the cheesecake factory, I said yes to everything.
'Jane, table for five at eight? Yes ma'am! You want to know what the wait time is? Well sir the dining room is empty right now! You need a table for ten in ten minutes and you know the owner? Well yes sir we can accommodate you!'
The location is still open, but they changed their phone number not too long after that.
When I was in my early twenties, I worked at a supermarket. I had been up all night, swinging between burning hot and freezing cold so I was obviously feverish, and I had been throwing up 'at both ends' shall we say. So I called up the manager. Let's call the manager Steve.
Me: Hey Steve, sorry, I can't come in. I'm sick.
Steve: With what?
Me: I don't know. I think it might be the flu. I've been up all night being sick, and I have a fever.
Steve: Don't be stupid. If you had the flu you'd be completely knocked out. I need you in. Come in or you're fired.
Me: I can't. I just told you I can't stop vomiting. I passed out.
Steve: (growling angrily) Either come in or bring a doctors note, or you're fired!
In the UK, you are legally allowed to self-certify for 5 days. I knew this, but I was terrified. This was during the recession. I couldn't afford to lose my job. So I got myself dressed. Almost passed out trying to do so. Then trudged to the doctors some 25 minutes walk away.
I get in to see the doctor and she is furious at me for coming in. You're not supposed to come to the doctors when you have a cold or flue, and of course I knew I should be able to self certify. She told me as such, saying I shouldn't be here and should have stayed at home.
I then explained what had happened with Steve and how he had threatened to fire me over this and I couldn't afford to lose my job - I was struggling as it was. My doctor turned her anger towards my manager. She asked if I got sick pay from the company, and I said yes.
'He wants a sick note does he,' the doctor says. 'Okay. I'll give him a sick note.
Now, my manager just wanted a note confirming I was sick, but instead my doctor wrote something along the lines of this:
'[OP] has come to the surgery because [Steve] has insisted she come in, in spite of the fact that this is illegal and all employees are allowed to self certify. Due to being forced to make this unnecessary and highly dangerous trip when the patient is ill, has a fever of 39°C, and almost passed out in the waiting room, I am signing [my name] off for two full weeks to recover.
Had [OP] been allowed to self certify as is the law, they might only have needed a few days, but due to straining themselves, they now require two full weeks. They are not to be permitted to work until 2 weeks later.'
I went to my place of work, I handed Steve the note. He looked worried and tried to say 'I wasn't being serious about firing you.' Well gee, when you angrily growled it on the phone it sure sounded like it...
Steve had a disciplinary hearing where he was given a severe reprimand and a warning. I felt better after a few days, and enjoyed my two weeks off, fully paid, and enjoyed the nice weather we had. Meanwhile, Steve was forced to work overtime because we were short-staffed.