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The original was posted on /r/maliciouscompliance by /u/ZacInStl on 2025-06-06 12:25:40+00:00.
So I served 20 years in the Air Force, and this story is from 1996. We were an atypical unit, where our mission was always deployed. Not airframe related at all, but rather, like the Army. We all trained with multiple weapons, we trained in convoy protocols, we set up our equipment and covered it all with camouflage netting, we dug our own foxholes, we pulled out own security, etc., (you get the idea). All of this was as a self supporting unit, all designed to be operated outside any base if need be. We had about 250 people at any given time, and like any unit, not everyone took it seriously. This story happened on the first three days of a deployment to Denmark for a NATO Partnership For Peace Exercise when meant a 2-day convoys from our base. I didn’t participate directly, but I heard firsthand from those who did as it was happening and heard and saw the fallout (which wasn’t severe but it was very satisfying) for myself.
I worked Radar Maintenance, and after all hands went on deck for our equipment setup on a cliff overlooking the North Sea, we split into two 12-hour shifts for the rest of the deployment. I had known A, a Senior Airman, who outranked me, since we were both in Technical School three years prior, and this assignment was our second assignment, and it was nice to have a friend in the new unit, especially since it was my first deployment. We were both on night shift, as was A”s girlfriend (and future wife), K. K wasn’t in our workcenter, but whenever A and K had free time, they were together. We came off shift and hit breakfast, and K was complaining about getting reamed at shift change. Now K’s supervisor was a somewhat crusty Master Sergeant, V., and apparently he expected coffee to be ready by the time he arrived.
Now most of us in the service love coffee… we NEED coffee! The 6 of us working nights in our workcenter went through 1 & 1/2 30 cup percolators a night. Like, if ever read a Jack Reacher book, his coffee preferences was exactly what it was like. The problem was K and the one coworker she had on nights didn’t drink coffee. So they didn’t think of making it, and they also didn’t think they should have to make coffee for someone else when they got zero benefit. So that first breakfast after our night shifts began, they decided they would maliciously comply with MSgt V’s “order” to have coffee ready when he came on shift.
The next night, they intentionally used the amount of coffee for a standard drip pot you’d use at home, despite every workcenter having the same 30-cup percolators. So when shift change happened, the first thing MSgt V said was “You batter have coffee ready!”, and they both nodded and gave a “Yes sir!” and walked out the door, knowing they made the weakest brown water tea that would be considered undrinkable, and it would take another fifteen minutes of anger-induced waiting by MSgt V to have a decent cup of joe, that he’d still have to make himself. Both A and myself were laughing when they relayed this to us at breakfast.
That afternoon at shift change, MSgt V tore into K and her coworker, and she came over to vent to A as soon as V was off shift. Apparently he raged about half of his 12-hour shift, because a couple different people on day shift told K how angry and grumpy V was. Well K told us he yelled loud enough that others came to see if there was a fight once she told V they weren’t coffee drinkers so they didn’t know how to use a percolator. He ended his second reaming with “FIGURE IT OUT!” and stomped off. After venting, and a hug & kiss from A, K said she’d make him “a stronger pot of coffee” with a much different smile than her normal one. It didn’t look sarcastic, but it was twice as big as normal and I realized she was going to enjoy what she was going to do. So she went and filled the percolator basket to the brim with coffee, and turned it on. THIS WAS THE BEGINNING OF A 12 HOUR SHIFT! And as soon as it finished, she unplugged it and took it outside, and took the top off to cool in the chilly North Sea nighttime air. Once it was room temperature, she refilled the basket to the brim, put the lid on, and took it inside to restart the percolator using the coffee that was already in it. She got four cycles in that night, in between her duties (which were minimal, as her system was rather new and much less labor intensive than ours, and we were using our night shift to train us new guys, so we had much less free time).
A and I found ourselves outside at shift change, on purpose. We found a way to make ourselves busy and let the others do the shift briefing. About a minute or two after MSgt V arrived, you could hear the faint shouting from across the dirt road and patch of field that separated our workcenter from the rest of the squadron. Two minutes later K and her coworker walked out with their heads down, and after about 20 paces turned to see if anyone was still watching, then they started laughing hard enough to notice from just their silhouettes in the morning sun rising behind them. k came running to us and I stepped back and let her tell A the story, which her coworker again relayed to me at breakfast. Here it is, still etched in my mind nearly 30 years later.
MSgt V practically kicked in the door to the 580 shelter that functioned as their mobile workcenter. He immediately went to the coffee pot and scowled “This better be stronger than yesterday”. K just replied “It should be” and turned to walk about before being angrily told “Wait!”. She was actually happy that he was already mad. He took a styrofoam cup and poured a dark black cup of coffee that looked like motor oil pouring out of an engine block that was several thousand miles past due for its change. It even had a faint burnt smell. V let out a “What’s this?” and took a sip and turned and sputtered it out of his mouth, out the still open door of the shelter. Well, most of it went out the door, but some dribbled out and hit his uniform shirt and pants. Good thing brown is one of the woodland camouflage colors. He raged for half a minute and stomped back and opened to coffee percolator to see the grounds practically overflowing basket. He raged some more about wasting resources, to ordered them out of his sight before he could do something he’d regret. After they walked out the door he took his cup to toss out the undrinkable coffee, and raged again and the amount of grounds at the bottom. And he still had to wait another fifteen minutes to get a drinkable cup of joe. We were well outside the exercise wire before he could enjoy it.
Well, A and I were back outside as soon the shift briefing ended that afternoon, waiting for K to come share the full fallout. Apparently MSgt V dropped the coffee percolator trying to empty it, and was so made he didn’t speak the rest of his shift until the afternoon shaft change briefing. But he told K and her coworker not to bother making coffee. She said good thing, because she had a fiber laxative she was going to put in the pot if she had to make it one more time. She said it with that same smile she had the first morning that made me decide I didn’t want to get on her bad side. They all made up about it later, and MSgt V even laughed about it during the post-deployment BBQ the night before we packed up to convoy home. K made sure she kept his beer stein full all night though, so it probably helped his mood.