How Petty Revenge at CompUSA Turned Corporate Chaos Into Sweet, Sweet Justice
Remember CompUSA? If you were a tech head (or just needed a printer) in the late '90s and early 2000s, it was the neon-lit, labyrinthine Mecca of all things PC. But behind those endless aisles of Linksys routers and shrink-wrapped games, retail drama brewed hotter than a Pentium 4 CPU on a summer day. One Redditor, u/EvilAlchemist, recently shared a tale so packed with pettiness, corporate misfires, and manager-on-manager revenge that it could only have come from the wild west of big box electronics retail.
This is the story of how a Front End Manager—armed with a sharp wit, a filing cabinet, and a stack of “Tim Bucks”—turned the tables on a meddling operations manager, exposed a store’s Achilles' heel, and left the corporate suits (and the villainous Jeff) picking up the pieces—literally.
The Upsell Showdown: When Corporate Mandates Meet Reality
Every retail vet knows the soul-crushing ritual: “Would you like to add a replacement plan? How about our store credit card? Training classes? In-home installation? Or maybe—just maybe—AOL for 1000 free hours?” In mid-2000s CompUSA, the push for upsells was relentless. As u/EvilAlchemist describes, the corporate higher-ups (especially Operations Manager Jeff) demanded every cashier parrot the full menu of add-ons on every sale—regardless of relevance or customer sanity.
OP tried a little common sense, telling his staff to focus on what actually matched the customer’s purchase. But, as is tradition, logic fell on deaf ears. Jeff and the sales manager turned the monthly meeting into a finger-pointing fest, blaming OP for numbers that were, in reality, already above target in most areas (just not the ones management cared about). Even Tech Manager Mike—OP’s best friend and predecessor—backed him up. No dice.
So, OP went scorched-earth: every cashier began pitching every upsell, every time, no matter what. “Replacement plans, store credit cards, training classes, in-home installs, AOL signups—you name it, we offered it,” OP recalled. The result? Checkout lines slowed to a crawl, sales staff were stuck babysitting $2,000 laptops in line, and the store ground to a halt. After a week, management was begging for mercy. One commenter, u/CoderJoe1, summed it up: “Tag, Jeff's it!”—the perfect line for when your own bad idea boomerangs back.
Tim Bucks Bonanza: Turning Incentives Into a Personal Loot Crate
Months later, the store manager (Tim, of course) decided to “motivate” staff by introducing a new currency: “Tim Bucks”—store credit notes with his face on them, signed personally to prevent counterfeiting. (Because who wouldn’t want to forge fake Tim faces for a free mousepad?) Now, on top of regular commissions, employees racked up Tim Bucks for each successful upsell: $10 for AOL signups, \(5–\)20 for replacement plans, $10 for credit cards. For a savvy register jockey, it was a licensing deal to print money.
OP, already a sales ace, went into overdrive. After a month, he’d banked $1,500 in store credit—enough for a “killer gaming setup for the time.” But when he redeemed it all in one glorious shopping spree, Jeff went full Security Karen, accusing OP of stealing thousands in merchandise. Corporate security swooped in, and for a moment, it looked grim.
But this isn’t amateur hour. OP calmly produced a meticulously organized purchase folder, with every “Tim Buck” and receipt attached. Twenty minutes later, the suits confirmed everything was legit. As u/Just_Aioli_1233 pointed out, “$1500 is a lot, and concerning if it’s employee theft. But what was the cost in having multiple outside persons come in? Plus the time of the on-site managers? Plus the expense of the meal, when weighed against the alleged theft?” The answer: probably way more than $1,500.
The Petty Coup de Grâce: When Policy Bites Back
You’d think vindication would be enough. But no—Jeff, still stinging, barred OP from joining the “corporate lunch” (even though he wasn’t on the clock yet). Rage meter: MAX.
As the managers gathered by the exit, OP made his move. In full view of corporate security and the management team, he scooped up an armful of top-selling PC games—World of Warcraft, Doom 3, Half-Life—and hurled them through the security sensors. The alarms? Silent. OP turned to the stunned suits and, with perfect deadpan, delivered: “PC Games over $50 are required to have anti-theft tags on them. I don’t think any of those do….”
Mic dropped, games scattered, and Jeff left to scramble while the rest went to lunch. As u/CoderJoe1 cheekily put it: “Tag, Jeff’s it!” Corporate spent the next several days auditing security tags, uncovering more holes in Jeff’s oversight than Swiss cheese. Poetic justice: served.
Retail War Stories: The Community Remembers
The comments under this saga are a goldmine of nostalgia, camaraderie, and corporate facepalms. Many, like u/jp06202019, recalled the absurdity of CompUSA’s sales culture: “So much idiotic corporate bullshit. People always wanting a ‘linksy’ router as they stand in front of 24' worth of them.” Others, like u/thejonjohn, shared tales of managers gaming the system for bonuses—faking clearance sales, hiding laptops, and even “hosting” store parties with party funds spent on booze (illegal) and penny-stocked merchandise (also illegal).
There’s also a thread of solidarity: OP’s experience with documentation saving his bacon was echoed by u/Fromanderson, who recounted a boss stealing his ideas—until the paper trail shut him down (though, in true corporate fashion, “I got ‘laid off’ a week later”).
And, of course, there’s the nostalgia: u/cchaven1965 reminisced about building their first PC from CompUSA parts, and u/thedarkonekc summed it up: “I really miss CompUSA. I could walk in and get what I wanted to build a PC.”
Conclusion: Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.
In the end, u/EvilAlchemist’s story isn’t just about petty revenge—it’s about standing up to bad management with brains, receipts, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. It’s a love letter to everyone who’s ever worked retail, been scapegoated by clueless bosses, and dreamed of dropping a truth bomb in the middle of a corporate meeting.
Ever had a manager try to throw you under the bus? Did you ever pull off a petty coup worthy of retail legend? Share your tales in the comments—because if there’s one thing the CompUSA saga proves, it’s that the best revenge is meticulously documented, perfectly timed, and, above all, hilariously petty.
Original Reddit Post: Fun Story from CompUSA