> A half-finished paint job on a Kent road has been described as a perfect example of “not my job, mate” culture.

> Gas company SGN has been carrying out works in Dover Road and New Street in Sandwich throughout the summer.

> The network upgrades are now finally complete - but that is more than can be said for the repainting of a 20mph marking near the Malcolm Waite petrol station.

> SGN workers have only put a fresh coat of white on the sections of the road they had to dig up, leaving glaring gaps.

> A spokesman for the gas company says it is “responsible for reinstating the areas we’ve disturbed”.

My company offers 3 days of unjustified sick leave for things like colds or minor health issues that don't really require seeing a doctor.

And sure enough, that guy - always that guy - got sick on Monday, then took a day off on Thursday, and now he's sick again on Friday. Strangely, his company car reports being at a ski resort 200 miles away.

Because you know, when you're bedridden, at least you should have a nice view out the window...

In a sleek, minimalist boardroom at Apple Campus 2, Aka "Apple Park," Apple's top executives, all uniformly dressed in black turtlenecks, are gathered. They're surrounded by the aura of their 'Reality Distortion Field' generator, as designed by and once used to enhance the persuasive power of Apple's co-founder, Steve Jobs. Their task is daunting yet critical: devising a strategy to comply with the EU's Digital Markets Act and Digital Services Act, laws aimed at opening up platforms to competition.

Each executive's calm determination is evident, a hallmark of the Apple ethos. On the giant screen, the complexities of the new laws are displayed. As they discuss, they are not just fueling their minds but also their bodies with unconventional choices - guacamole on toast and Ashwagandha tea, a nod to Apple's culture of thinking differently.

The conversation turns to Apple's response to the EU laws. One executive, channeling the spirit of innovation that led to groundbreaking products like the first mainstream tablet, the Apple Newton, suggests a plan. "Let's make it so convoluted and wrapped in red tape that it's technically open, but practically a labyrinth," they propose, bringing quiet, knowing laughter around the room.

"Perfect," agrees another. "We'll comply, but let's sprinkle in some Apple magic - complex notarization, a maze of moderation rules, and a hefty fee structure. After all, we can't let just anyone into our walled garden, can we?" This strategy, while adhering to the letter of the law, cleverly maintains Apple's control and profitability, key points pointed out by the other executives.

As they finalize their plan, there's a sense of accomplishment. They've managed to navigate the tricky waters of legal compliance while keeping the essence of Apple's exclusivity intact. It's a masterclass in sticking to the letter of the law, while artfully sidestepping its spirit. And thus, Apple's latest act of 'malicious compliance' is born, a decision that, without their 'Reality Distortion Field' would not sit well with customers, legislatures, rivals or critics.

As the Apple team revels in their clever compliance plan, one executive bursts out, "And the best part? We'll only do this in the EU!" The room erupts in laughter as they imagine developers around the world juggling two versions of their apps - one for the EU with all the new Apple mazes, and another for the rest of the world, as straightforward as a one-dimensional line on a three-dimensional Möbius strip inside a four-dimensional tesseract! "Talk about doubling the fun," they chuckle, raising their Ashwagandha teas in a toast to complexity.

One exec quips, "Thank goodness our 'Reality Distortion Field' is at full strength." Just then, a squirrel, a regular denizen of the park's green spaces, bursts through the ventilation. It skitters across the room, causing uproarious chaos. It leaps onto the table, causing a ballyhoo of spilled Ashwagandha tea and flying guacamole toast. The executives, momentarily flustered, watch as the 'Reality Distortion Field' seemingly flickers and thins, disrupted by this unexpected and wild intrusion of nature. The room, once a fortress of strategic planning, is momentarily thrown into a comical disarray.

• https://techcrunch.com/2024/01/25/apple-dma-changes/
• https://www.engadget.com/apples-rivals-arent-happy-about-its-eu-app-store-changes-160032585.html

I apologize if this is too long for this community or if there isn't enough maliciousness to it. This is a true story that happened to me and I have never really talked about it in detail since it happened. Feel free to skip to the TL;DR at the end.

It was nearly 25 years ago now when I joined this new company, it marked my third position since graduating from university. Prior to this role, I had gained experience as a software developer and had even taken on the responsibility of managing a small team comprising six developers and graphic designers. Some of these team members worked remotely part of the time, adding a layer of complexity to our operations. My previous employer had been a much larger corporation, making this transition to a smaller, more agile company feel akin to stepping into a startup environment.

This company's strategy was deceptively simple yet incredibly effective - the acquisition of smaller firms within the same industry, followed by their integration into the larger entity, harnessing the combined assets for remarkable success. It was an exciting and dynamic period for the company, and I eagerly embraced the opportunity to contribute to its growth and evolution. Not to mention it doubled my salary.

The company's strategy was working like a charm. Through meticulous consolidation, it rapidly transformed into an industry giant. In what felt like the blink of an eye, they would spread their services like wildfire, establishing a presence in over 30 states. It was an impressive feat, and I was excited to be part of this remarkable journey.

In the early days of this ambitious endeavor, I, along with two other contractors, was among the chosen few brought in to help lay the foundation of what would become a corporate behemoth. At that time, the company was still a fledgling entity, operating in just two states with only a handful of branches. However, they had grand aspirations and the financial backing to turn those dreams into reality. We were like pioneers, setting out to explore uncharted territory.

Our team of three was a diverse and dynamic force within the company. I had worked with each of the other team members before. We were a jack-of-all-trades, responsible for a wide array of tasks that were crucial to the company's growth. We setup and maintained new servers and managed the network infrastructure for the software services we would develop, we developed a website, an e-commerce platform along with an employee extranet and a wide variety of employee focused applications. We also advised in the purchase and setup of off the shelf solutions, we wore many hats.

This multifaceted approach allowed us to adapt swiftly to the evolving needs of the expanding business. We became an integral part of the technological infrastructure, diligently working to ensure that key aspects of the company's operations ran smoothly.

We reported directly to the Chief Information Officer (CIO) himself. He was a visionary, with big dreams for the company's technological future, but the constraints he faced were significant. The CIO had a limited amount of time on his hands, a shortage of office space, and a tight budget. The lion's share of the company's finances was being poured into the relentless acquisition of new branches, each acquisition followed by an intricate process of consolidation.

It was a challenging environment to navigate. Our CIO was juggling numerous responsibilities, but he recognized the pivotal role that technology played in achieving the company's goals.

Our work arrangement was fairly conventional by today's standards and reflected the fast-paced nature and future thinking attitude of the company at that time. We were under what could be described as an "18-month contract," though the term "contract" was somewhat loosely defined. In our line of work, such agreements were standard practice. It wasn't a traditional binding contract with a set end date. Instead, it was an ongoing commitment that either party could terminate at any time without incurring any penalties.

Many would contend that this flexibility was imperative, given the dynamic nature of our industry. Projects often concluded ahead of schedule, priorities could swiftly shift, and unforeseen challenges were a constant presence. Our work arrangement was purposefully designed to be adaptable, affording us the latitude to continue our contributions until either party found it prudent to revisit the terms or choose a different path. In practice, the company's motivation was rooted in their reluctance to be bound by an 18-month contract that mandated full payment, even if circumstances necessitated a change.

Within the fluid framework of our "18-month contract," there were some specific provisions that helped define the parameters of our engagement. Notably, the contract outlined the billing structure for our services, specifying that our work would be billed on an hourly basis, accompanied by a minimum commitment of 37 hours per week.

This minimum guarantee was primarily designed to ensure that the company had a consistent and dedicated resource available, especially when they needed our expertise for crucial tasks and projects. It allowed them to maintain a degree of control over our availability, ensuring that their projects received the attention they required, even during times of high demand or unexpected challenges. While it offered us some financial stability, its primary purpose was to serve the company's best interests in terms of resource availability and project management.

Given that desks in the hallway were a common work arrangement within the company, our contract specified we were hired to operate remotely full-time, with the sole exception being our occasional in-person attendance at essential meetings, particularly those involving stakeholders or the CIO himself.

When we made our occasional appearances at the office, we were expected to don a jacket and tie, a stark contrast to our usual remote work attire. It was as if we were stepping into a different world when we entered those hallowed halls, where formality reigned supreme, even amidst the chaos of desks in the corridors.

The beauty of our contractor status was the flexibility it afforded us in managing our work schedules. We had the autonomy to choose when, during the week, we would dedicate our time to the company's projects. Whether it was the early hours of the morning, the calm of the evening, or even the depths of the night, the choice was ours to make. The only non-negotiable requirement was our availability for scheduled meetings with stakeholders, which were infrequent and occurred during regular business hours.

Our primary point of contact within the company was the CIO, who held the reins of authority and decision-making. Most of the time, we found ourselves in direct communication with this visionary leader. Occasionally, at their discretion, we would delve into meetings with other stakeholders, seeking to understand the nuances of their roles and explore opportunities for task automation. However, these encounters were relatively rare compared to our interactions with the CIO.

Our meetings with the CIO were monthly, and early on bi-monthly. In these sessions, the CIO would lay out their vision, presenting their ideas and concepts. They valued our input, creating a collaborative atmosphere where ideas flowed freely. Once the objectives were clear, we would embark on our mission to bring their vision to life. Remarkably, the CIO proved to be a fantastic leader, appreciative of our efforts, and mostly satisfied with the results we delivered. We maintained a fluid line of communication, keeping them updated via email as needed, ensuring that their directives were executed to the best of our abilities.

As the 11th month of our contract unfolded, a significant shift occurred within the company's hierarchy. In a meeting attended by both the CIO and the newly hired Chief Technology Officer (CTO), the announcement was made that our team would now report directly to the CTO.

What made this transition all the more noteworthy was the unique context that surrounded it. The CTO was none other than the son of the CIO, a relatively young and inexperienced individual in the world of corporate technology. It was a scenario that raised eyebrows and prompted curiosity within the company. Any one of my team's members would have been a good choice for the position as we all had more overall experience than the newly hired CTO and more knowledge of the company itself.

As the weeks passed, our team diligently continued to tackle the tasks outlined in our previous meetings with the CIO. The to-do list was long but not endless, we quickly whittled away at the backlog of work that kept us occupied and head down for several weeks. However, during this time, there was a noticeable absence of communication from the newly appointed CTO. No new requests came in, no questions, no feedback, nothing.

Growing concerned about the lack of interaction, we decided to compile a detailed report summarizing our accomplishments over the past month or so. In an effort to maintain transparency and keep the lines of communication open, we sent this report to the CTO, with the CIO copied on the correspondence.

The response we received, though, was unexpected. The CTO promptly replied, directing us to channel all future communications exclusively through them and explicitly instructing us not to copy the CIO on any further correspondence. This shift in communication protocol raised questions and heightened our curiosity but is was written off to the CIO being overwhelmed and the CTO wanting to take charge and be responsible.

Soon after, we were summoned to a meeting with the CTO, a meeting that promised to shed light on this abrupt change in dynamics.

As we walked into the meeting with the CTO, we anticipated a familiar atmosphere where brainstorming sessions and collaborative problem-solving were the norm. In the past, under the guidance of the CIO, these meetings had been dynamic exchanges of ideas. The CIO would present their needs, and we would engage in spirited discussions, pitching various solutions until a well-defined plan emerged. It was an approach that had served us well.

However, this meeting with the CTO took an entirely different turn. Instead of the expected brainstorming session, we were met with a stern and unexpected reprimand. The CTO expressed their dissatisfaction with our actions, specifically, our work on projects that had not received their explicit authorization (projects we had been assigned by the CIO). They emphasized that from that point forward, we were to cease all independent work unless directly instructed by them.

What struck us as particularly noteworthy was the CTO's intention to scrutinize our ongoing projects and decide for themselves what work should be undertaken. It was a stark departure from the previous collaborative approach, leaving us with a sense of unease and uncertainty about the direction in which our work was heading. We left the meeting with nothing to work on which was a first for us.

In the wake of the abrupt change in our work dynamics, we found ourselves in a state of limbo. While we continued to dutifully perform our regular maintenance tasks, these were few and far between, there was no new development or enhancements to the existing infrastructure. A month passed in this manner, and we remained in a state of uncertainty.

We anticipated that the CTO would soon reach out to us, either to initiate a productive dialogue or possibly even to inform us that our services were no longer required. However, as the days turned into weeks, we received no communication from the CTO. Our attempts to reach out via email and voice messages went unanswered, leaving us in a puzzling state of silence.

During this period of radio silence, a suspicion began to take root within our team. We wondered if the CTO was aware that we were under contract and being paid regardless of the volume of work we were assigned. It was a revelation that hinted at a potential miscommunication or misunderstanding on their part, and it added yet another layer of complexity to our evolving professional relationship.

As the weeks passed, and with no response from the CTO in sight, the situation grew increasingly uncertain. During this period, changes were afoot within our team. One of our fellow contractors made the decision to embark on a new full-time job opportunity, while the other contractor juggled multiple contracts alongside ours.

A month of uncertainty stretched into two months, our emails to the CTO asking about what we should be working on going mostly unanswered until the CTO finally summoned us for a meeting. The atmosphere was tense as we gathered, unsure of what awaited us. In that meeting, the CTO confronted us with a question that took us by surprise: why had we been billing the company when we hadn't been instructed to work on anything?

To clarify, it is essential to note that the billing process was not within our control; it was handled by a third-party company, mostly automated based on the terms of our contract. The only thing we needed to report was any time over 37 hours. With transparency and professionalism, we explained that our contract stipulated a minimum number of billable hours that the company was obligated to pay, regardless of the volume of work assigned. We emphasized that we had diligently reached out, repeatedly asked for tasks, and attempted to maintain communication with the CTO, all while keeping the CIO informed until instructed otherwise.

Our impression was that the CTO's inquiry was grounded in a lack of understanding of the contract and a desire to cut costs and make a favorable impression by appearing to save money. It was a situation fraught with tension, as the CTO was forced to grapple with the implications of their actions, on their own reputation, as well as the company's perception of their competence. Honestly there wasn't much the CTO could do but move forward, either end the contract or give us work and keep us engaged. Or at least that is what we thought.

Exiting that meeting with the CTO, we carried with us a new set of instructions. We were tasked with tackling minor projects, small-scale endeavors that were either already in progress, initially suggested by the CIO, or recommended by us to the CTO as potential areas of focus. These tasks were relatively modest in scope and could be completed within a week or two.

While these assignments did provide some temporary work, they were far from the substantial and engaging assignments we had grown accustomed to before the CIO/CTO transition. The atmosphere was rife with uncertainty as we wondered about the long-term prospects of our contract and, honestly, how much longer it would last.

For me, the time had come to contemplate my own professional future. The job market was showing early signs of turbulence, and it seemed like a prudent moment to explore the possibility of securing a permanent position with greater stability. The uncertain nature of our role within the company, coupled with the desire for more predictability in my career, pushed me towards the idea of seeking full-time employment.

As I embarked on a new full-time job I was eager to embrace the new challenges it brought. I should point out that my new full-time employer knew that I had a side contract job that would probably be coming to a conclusion in a few months. So, despite the new full time position, the commitment to my contract with the company remained unwavering... for all of us... even if the company wasn't requiring anything of us.

Even as we diversified our professional pursuits, we continued to honor our contract and diligently performed the duties outlined by the CTO (i.e. don't work on ANYTHING unless instructed to). Our sense of professionalism and commitment to our obligations remained steadfast, ensuring that we upheld our end of the agreement.

This period was characterized by a delicate balancing act as we navigated the demands of multiple roles, but it was a testament to our dedication to both our contractual obligations and our individual career aspirations.

Another month elapsed, and within our team, a growing sense of bewilderment prevailed. We found ourselves pondering a simple yet perplexing question: why did the CTO not either assign us meaningful work or conclude the contract altogether? We no longer depended on the contract for our livelihoods, and yet, we were not inclined to voluntarily relinquish a well-paying job that, curiously, required very little of our active involvement.

The unexpected moment of truth arrived as each of us received an individual summons to a meeting, accompanied by both the HR department and the CTO. In those intimate meetings, the message was finally revealed – our contract with the company was slated to conclude in just a few weeks at the end of the month. However, the twist in the tale came in the form of an unexpected offer.

To our surprise, the company extended an invitation for each of us to join their ranks as full-time employees. While the prospect of job security with the company held undeniable allure, the terms of this offer were not without their caveats. The compensation package on the table was a stark contrast to what we had been earning under our contract – a significant reduction in pay. Moreover, it came with the requirement of daily attendance at the office, a change that would not only add considerable commute time but also entail a longer journey than my current full-time job.

The dress code was another notable shift – from business casual to the more formal attire of a jacket and tie. As I weighed the offer, it became evident that the convenience and lifestyle afforded by my existing job, combined with the substantial reduction in income and the shift towards a more rigid dress code, tilted the scales in favor of my current full-time employer.

My immediate but polite decline of the offer left the CTO somewhat surprised and was not what they expected. They reiterated that the contract would be ending and it was a good offer. I countered and said I would consider the offer if they could match my current salary. They could not and we parted ways.

A few days after their full-time employment offer, I received an unexpected phone call that carried a different proposition. The company expressed a desire to extend our contract for another three months, albeit at roughly half the hours of the original contract but at the same pay rate. This revised arrangement came with the assurance that we would continue to receive payment based on the new minimum agreed-upon amount.

While all three of us accepted this offer, the subsequent months unfolded in a peculiar manner. We never received a request to return to the office, nor were any meetings scheduled. Crucially, no significant new work was assigned to us, and the need to train replacements was never raised. It was a period marked by inertia, a stark contrast to the dynamic and productive months we had experienced in the first year of the contract.

As the three-month extension reached its conclusion, the company communicated that our contract had come to an end. They conveyed their decision not to renew it, along with a request for us to return any company equipment we had in our possession.

The culmination of this journey left me with mixed feelings – a sense of closure, tempered by the lingering question of what might have been, had circumstances played out differently.

The enigma surrounding the CTO's decisions remained a perplexing puzzle, one that left us with more questions than answers. Initially, it seemed that their reluctance to utilize our services might have been driven by a desire to cut costs. However, when it became evident that the savings they anticipated were not materializing, nothing changed.

One possibility that crossed our minds was the notion that the CTO might have brought in their own team to replace us. Yet, this theory was never substantiated by any requests for us to train others, or mysterious admin accounts being set up in systems we maintained. Also the fact that the company extended full-time employment offers to each of us seemed contradictory to the idea of replacing us.

Another hypothesis was that the CTO might not have been actively engaged in their role, potentially explaining the dearth of work assignments. The true motivations behind the CTO's actions remained shrouded in uncertainty, leaving us to speculate about the enigmatic circumstances that defined our tenure with the company.

Indeed, the twists and turns of this job presented valuable lessons that extended far beyond the realm of technical expertise. It was an education in the intricacies of human interaction and effective leadership.

First and foremost, it underscored the importance of treating people with respect and consideration. The dynamics between team members and leadership can profoundly impact morale and productivity. The experience taught me the significance of fostering a positive work environment, where individuals feel valued and supported.

Furthermore, it emphasized the necessity of active engagement and communication with one's team while still giving them the space they need to blossom. Staying attuned to the needs and concerns of team members is instrumental in ensuring their happiness and in optimizing their performance. It's a delicate balancing act that requires both empathy and effective management skills. I would even go on to offer one of the contractors I hired a full time position just to have them turn it down due to a salary expectation mismatch which I could empathize with.

TL;DR: As contractors we set our own hours and worked remotely. After a year of successfully working for the CIO my teams new CTO took over and told us not to work on anything without their approval. We got paid regardless of the amount of work assigned to us. We neglected to point this out to the CTO. We went months without being assigned any real work and eventually each team member was working a second job while still honoring the contract and being paid.

So it was my first job was a server at a very popular 24 hour breakfast diner/chain. 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 she’d like an omelette. We have a list of pre-built omelettes, or you can 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 one of the signature omelettes, what would you like inside of yours?” I ask

“Nothing, just a regular omelette.” She replies with a huff

I pause for a second because this order does occur, but not often. Some people like their eggs scrambled and cooked, then rolled up. “So you’d like an omelette with nothing inside?”

“YES! A plain omelette!” She snaps, now irritated that I’ve questioned her several times.

Cue malicious compliance.

So I enter the order, a 5-egg omelette with no fillings and no toppings. A few minutes later it comes out, and she is appalled. “What is THIS?!”

"Your plain omelette," I reply...

“But where is the cheese, or the ham or the onions?!” She is irate.

“Ma’am, you ordered an omelette with nothing inside...”

She gets cocky and says, “An omelette is 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 deadpan and inform her “Actually, ma’am, omelette is French for scrambled eggs that are fried and 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 omelette with a large picture in the middle of the page.

Then tells her she has to re-order her meal and wait a second time.

She didn’t leave a tip.

TL;DR: A customer ordered a "regular omelette" and got annoyed when I asked questions about fillings or toppings. So, I put in the order for a 5-egg plain omelette. She was so irritated and complained to the manager who backed me up. She had to order again and didn't leave a tip.

[reposted from reddit]

cross-posted from: https://rabbitea.rs/post/280182

I think this is appropriate here!

> ‘I am a self-expressive person and I feel very confident with pink hair so I came up with a solution to keep the job and my hair’

It's a 3 months long malicious compliance but it was the first time I didn't cave in front of a bullying team of managers:

My last job became very toxic with managers insulting employees and telling me to do stuff that was neither ethical nor legal. It was not a matter of life and death, but I could have been sued for trying to destroy the company if I had followed their orders. For a lot of reasons, I decided to give my resignation letter and, since I'm in France, I had to work 3 additional months for them while they were finding someone to replace me.

I also asked for some WFH since I could do everything remotely but they forbid it to get some revenge. They told me that WFH was not a part of my contract, and that's when I read my contract again with some interesting details...

• My job was well specified in the contract.
• I was salaried (and not "hourly") which means that I didn't have specific hours to work.

Since I changed my position in the company without changing the contract (and without a raise), I was free to do almost nothing or at least refuse what they asked. They couldn't fire me because they were waiting for a savior that never came. And without specific hours, I worked from 10 AM to 11 AM in the morning, and from 3 PM to 4 PM in the afternoon after a well deserved lunch break. I sat on a chair doing nothing for 2 hours every day. I was still fixing non-responsive servers because the other employees were not guilty, but nothing more. No one was happy but they shut up because they were freaking out while trying to find a replacement who came during the last week I was there.

My manager told me to train the new guy but, once again, it was not in my contract, and this guy knew nothing about what the job was (even if I had dutifully documented absolutely everything). For example, he was a junior who only dabbled with Windows servers, and we only used Linux servers. They were fucked and they knew it.

On the last day, I went home without saying goodbye. Some employees wondered where I left since I helped them a lot. I saw my old manager a month later, and I thanked him my for the massive raise that I got at my new job. It felt good to tell him that I now earned more than him.

Thanks for reading my rant!

[reposted from reddit - I am not OP]

I work at a store that sells kitchen appliances and other kitchen related stuff, normally when we’re supposed to leave or go on break we’re supposed to tell our manager, I was helping a long line at cash register and had already been there for 8 hours and assumed they had someone to cover me, I wasn’t allowed to use the walkies to ask to be covered to go home, so I quickly found my manager and told her my shift was done.

She got really prissy at me and said, “Could you really not stay a few more minutes?” I tried to tell her, “I thought you had someone to cover me I can stay if you want.” She then replied, “No no just go, but next time you need to wait for a manager to let you go home.”

record scratch

This was never a rule, I asked other people who’ve worked there for years and they agreed that it wasn’t a rule.

I worked again a few days later and the store was empty, my shift was over and was about to ask to go home then I remember what my manager told me.

Cue malicious compliance.

I continued to wander the store and slightly fix shelves, making sure I was near my manager.

After about 2 and a half hours she said, “You’re still here, why haven’t you gone home?” I replied, “You said I need to wait to be told to go home.” My manager looked at me as though she was mentally kicking herself. “Just go,” she said.

I clocked out and got paid an extra $30 for doing literally nothing.

TL;DR: My manager got so annoyed when I told her my shift was done that she said I had to wait for a manager to dismiss me after my shift. Well, the next time I worked I waited around for 2 and a half hours doing nothing waiting to get dismissed. When my manager noticed, she told me to go and that's how I got paid an extra 2 hours for doing nothing.

In 2000, I wrote a Linux device driver that "decrypted" the output of a certain device, and my company, which hosted open-source projects, agreed to host it.

The "encryption" was only a XOR, but that was enough for the maker of said device to sue my company under 17 U.S.C. § 1201 for hundreds of millions in damages.

The story got a lot of press back then because it highlighted how stupid the then-new DMCA was, and also because there was a David open-source enthusiasts vs. Goliath heartless corporation flavor to it.

Our lawyer decided to pick up the fight to generate free publicity for our fledgling company. For discovery, the maker of the device requested "a copy of any and all potentially infringing source code". They weren't specific and they didn't specify the medium.

So we printed the entire Linux kernel source code including my driver in 5-pt font and sent them the boxes of printouts. Legally they had been served, so there was nothing they could do about it.

More details: https://www.thepinknews.com/2023/07/26/miss-italy-trans-men-trans-women-ban/

The managers offices have windows that look out onto the main floor, I'm a training officer and sometime supervisor so although I look in the windows before I go in I'm generally "read in" on anything going on so If the doors closed I dont pay it much mind unless the boss is having a closed door with a staff member.

I went to walk in the door and got it half open before the facility manager bodily slams it closed. He looks out the window and sees its me, and says "Learn to knock!" gives me some paperwork to chase up.

3 minutes later I come back with paperwork, he is sitting there back to the window... with his coffee. I made eye contact with the other supervisors and went full cheshire cat. I waited till he lifted his cup and I closed fist pounded on that door like I had a fucking warrant.

He came about 3 inches out of his chair and wore the whole cup.

Not my own story, but my original retelling of a public one.

Back in the summer of 2017, Devon (in the UK) was suffering from a heat wave. The boys suffered the unbearable heat in trousers. Girls were luckier - skirts were part of the school uniform.

One boy, Ryan, asked his teacher for an exception due to the heat, but was told that all clothes worn must be a part of the approved school uniform, without exception. Another boy who asked was given a sarcastic reply: "Well, you can wear a skirt if you like."

Cue malicious compliance.

The next day, Ryan came to school in his uniform. Every item he wore was on the approved list - including his official school skirt.

Pretty soon, nearly all the lads were wearing skirts.

A few days later, after the worst of the heat wave was over, the headteacher announced that shorts would be allowed as part of the official school uniform starting the next school year.

TL;DR: School won't allow boys to wear shorts in extreme summer heat because it's not on the approved uniform list but sarcastically points out that they can wear skirts. Boys wear said skirts. School gives in and adds shorts to the list.

Original articles:

https://www.theguardian.com/education/2017/jun/22/teenage-boys-wear-skirts-to-school-protest-no-shorts-uniform-policy

https://www.theguardian.com/education/2017/jun/23/exeter-schools-uniform-resolve-melts-after-boys-skirt-protest

[REPOST]

There are a handful of rules to saluting in the American military. The when, why, and how is drilled into you from boot camp until the day you leave. Even the order in which the salutes are rendered have meaning. When it comes to vehicles there are helpful insignia and stickers to indicate if its an officer such as a colored sticker located on the front windshield.

My base was small enough where it was everyone's job at some point to do sentry duty at the front gate which had housing for military families. Sentry duty was pretty basic, you'd stop every vehicle, check IDs and then wave them through. If they were an officer you'd see it coming with those colored stickers and after verifying the identity of the officer, you'd salute and send them on their way.

One day while on duty I approached a vehicle with an officer's sticker and there was only the officer's wife driving in the vehicle. I returned her ID, wished her a nice day and waved her through. Pausing with a stern look, "Where's my salute?"

Now, Karen here was wife to a higher ranking officer and has clearly has fallen under the impression people are saluting her somewhere along the way. Some of the junior enlisted might've even been saluting her as they're more prone to f*ck ups.

I politely replied, "Ma'am salutes are only rendered to commissioned officers." Angrily pointing her fingers at the front of her windshield towards her husband's officer sticker, "I have a sticker and you need to salute the sticker." Curtly I continued, "I'm afraid that sticker is not an officer either."

Frustrated she pulled through and left my post. My cover guy and I watched her drive down the street and pull right into the administrative building with the top brass and huffed into the building as quickly as her body would take her. We exchange a look between us with wry smiles knowing exactly where this is probably going.

Later that day, we get a new official base-wide mandate. From here forward all enlisted will salute vehicle stickers of officers regardless of who's in the vehicle. Rodger that.

Cue malicious compliance.

It's worth noting that when you salute an officer as enlisted, you do it first, and you hold that salute until you are saluted in return and they lower theirs. Only then do you lower your salute. It signals that you're saluting them, and they're replying.

Additionally, when saluting a group of officers, you generally direct your salute and greeting to the highest-ranking individual. Now as far as I know this stupid sticker salute order has no accommodation for how a 2004 Toyota Camry fits into the officers pecking order. Additionally if the car is unoccupied, it's not like that sticker is removed.

After that order came through we all began saluting stickers. Personally, I'd direct my salute to the sticker. I would also prioritize sticker salutes over officers. Let me tell you, walking through parking lots was a blast as I saluted empty cars on my way to where ever. More and more people saw me doing it, and more and more people started doing it.

Not long after the order was publicly rescinded, which hilariously had the balancing effect of never rendering a salute to anyone but a clearly known officer cementing Karen never getting her unearned salutes.

TL;DR: Civilian wife demanded to be saluted because her husband was an officer, used her clout to get a rule enlisted ordering us to salute vehicle stickers. We all followed orders and saluted vehicle stickers, prioritized them over officers, and even empty vehicles in parking lots until the rule was rescinded, ensuring the civilian wife never got her salutes.