The Manager Who Requested a Self-Deletion Protocol

My man in IT was simply asked to perform the digital equivalent of taking out the trash—a basic user audit on a tiny, obscure portal. His manager, exhibiting what one commenter perfectly diagnosed as ‘serious seagull tendencies,’ swooped in, squawked about cleanliness, and then presumably flew off to mismanage something else. This is not a complex task. It is, however, a perfect setup for when malicious compliance unlocks an achievement you didn’t even know was in the game.

The request was straightforward: remove anyone who didn’t need access. Our protagonist, operating with the serene focus of a speedrunner executing a known glitch, did exactly that. The user list was pruned. The manager’s account, naturally dormant and thus qualifying as ‘not needing access,’ was among the deleted. The pièce de résistance, the absolute crowning glory as noted by the subreddit, was the follow-up: handing the now-locked-out boss the very form required to request portal access. It’s a move so clean, so brutally literal, it borders on art.

What fascinates me isn’t the act itself, but the baffling aftermath. As a top comment put it, with palpable confusion: ‘How?! You must have the weirdest manager ever.’ Because somehow, against all known laws of managerial physics, they ended up on good terms. This suggests one of two things: either the manager possesses a self-awareness so rare it should be studied, or he was so impressed by the sheer audacity of the power move that he entered a state of respectful shock.

In the end, this isn’t a story of chaos, but of order. A rigid, by-the-book order that deleted a manager’s account and accidentally taught him a lesson. A true precision strike.