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The original was posted on /r/maliciouscompliance by /u/wollysquelch on 2025-07-04 22:16:12+00:00.
I used to work in an office of about twenty-five people. The majority of us were under 40 and the atmosphere reflected that. The work was challenging and emotionally draining, but very rewarding (except financially). The way we coped was through banter, sarcasm, and the occasional well-intentioned collegial insult. There were also three older colleagues in the team, all over sixty. Two of them fit in very well. They weren't so much work parents, more like the work auntie and uncle. They gave as good as they got, laughed at the same things we did, and never seemed fazed by the tone of the office.
The third was our office manager. He was kind, thoughtful, and genuinely cared about the team, but he didn’t quite share our sense of humour. Swearing made him wince, and he had no time for the darker jokes that got the rest of us through the day. He liked things to be a bit more... civilised. Still, he was well liked and deeply respected. He had a quiet authority about him—the sort that didn’t need raising his voice. When he disapproved, he didn’t scold. He just gave you that look. The one that said, “I’m not angry, just disappointed... and maybe a little tired of your nonsense.” On the rare occasion I heard him swear, it was both mild and muted, often under their breath and closely followed by an apology.
One week, I was late to a team meeting. About fifteen minutes late, because an unexpected work emergency had needed addressing. When I arrived, I apologised to the group and said, “Sorry I’m late—got caught up in some bullshit that wouldn’t untangle itself.” A few people laughed. A few others looked around awkwardly. I noticed the manager glance up from his notes. He cleared his throat and explained that, just before I arrived, he’d introduced a new policy: a swear jar. Anyone caught swearing in the office in his presence would owe £2 to the jar. The money would go to a local charity we sometimes worked with.
I didn’t think it was entirely fair. I hadn’t been there when the rule was announced, but I decided against protesting. Besides, the charity did good work, and I was happy to support them. I took out my wallet, pulled out a £5 note, and handed it to the manager.
“Here’s a five,” I said. “Keep the fucking change.”