You know the feeling when someone gives you impossible instructions?

In this story, a train conductor conducted himself with dignity and aplomb when he was asked to cut corners.

Let’s chugga-chugga choo choo our way to this story…

Some malicious railroad compliance.

Train Driver Here, somewhere in Europe. I recently remembered a case of malicious compliance I was involved in years ago.

During a typical early shift, we were usually driven from our depot to the train yard by a van.

This yard was rather large, stretching for kilometers with countless tracks.

Safety is a top priority.

Every day, each and every train set and locomotive goes through a thorough inspection, with safety systems and brakes being extensively tested.

And we take these tests very seriously—if the excrement were to hit the fan, we would be in the front row quite literally.

That day, one of the final tests failed.

I couldn’t resolve the issue myself, and the helpdesk didn’t see an immediate solution either. So, I called dispatch for instructions.

Thankfully, there was a solution.

Meanwhile, we were about 20 minutes away from the time I was supposed to leave.

I would leave the yard empty, without passengers, to drive to my departure station.

“Hello, train 1234 here. I’m experiencing technical issues and cannot depart from the yard.”

“OK, fine. We have a spare on track L7. You can take that one.”

Sounds like there’s going to be quite a delay.

So, I started walking there.

L7 was about a 15-minute walk away from where I was standing.

When I arrived there, 5 minutes before the intended departure time, I saw that this train hadn’t been used for several days.

The brakes, doors, and pantographs of a train all operate on air pressure.

Since this train had been stationary for so long, the air reservoirs were completely empty. It would take at least 10 minutes just to start the preparation process, which itself would take at least another 20 minutes.

There was another directive.

Just as I put the train into service and the compressors were running to fill the reservoirs, I got another call from dispatch…

“Hello, train 1234 driver here.”

“Dispatch here. Are you ready to depart?”

“No, I need at least another 30 minutes.”

“If you can’t depart within the next 10 minutes, it won’t be necessary anymore.”

“You do realize I just told you I need at least 30 minutes?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, understood.”

He wasn’t about to cut corners.

It wasn’t uncommon for dispatch to try to pressure drivers like this, trying to get them to cut corners and depart as quickly as possible.

After all, there was still some buffer time at the departure station, so it wasn’t a very big deal if we had to leave somewhat later than intended.

This tactic sometimes worked on young, inexperienced drivers—but not on the seasoned drivers like me.

That day, I had just had enough of being rushed through mandatory safety tests.

He followed orders.

So, I shut everything down, applied the parking brakes, slung my backpack over my shoulder and began the long walk back to the depot.

The instructions were clear.

10 minutes, otherwise it wasn’t needed anymore.

The Fallout… Half an hour later, I got another call, once again, dispatch.

Ring, ring. Who’s there? Malicious compliance.

“Driver 1234 here.”

“Driver 1234, here dispatch. Is there a problem? Your signal is open, but your train isn’t moving.”

“Uh, no… I’m walking back to the depot on foot.”

“But you told me you needed 30 minutes to prepare the train!”

“And you told me that if I couldn’t depart within 10 minutes, it wouldn’t be necessary anymore.”

“You know full well that’s not what I meant!”

He had a great comeback.

“I’m expected to follow instructions, not read minds.”

A few days later, my direct supervisor—a veteran who always stood up for his men—called me into his office.

“Gnor, what was the problem yesterday?” he asked with a big wink.

“I honestly don’t understand it myself… I was told that if I couldn’t depart within 10 minutes, it wouldn’t be necessary anymore. I needed at least 30 minutes, so I drew my own conclusions.”

Big wink in return.

Gnor couldn’t ignore exact instructions…

“Dispatch says you-”

“Since all calls are recorded, we can easily find out what dispatch told me.”

Long story short? I never heard anything about it again.

For the next few weeks, dispatch was noticeably more cautious when trying to rush me and my colleagues.

But of course, it didn’t take long before they fell back into their old habits…

Old habits die hard, as they say. At least this train driver got in a good laugh.

What do the comments on Reddit say about this?

This person says toot toot!

Someone else shares an anecdote.

Another comment thinks there should be no rush, EVER.

One poster has a cautionary tale.

And this person relates.

This train driver wouldn’t be derailed by pressure from dispatch.

If you liked that story, check out this post about an oblivious CEO who tells a web developer to “act his wage”… and it results in 30% of the workforce being laid off.