People Recount The Amusing Moment They Had Their Revenge
17. Complain About My Dog Food? Okay, Now They're Eating Raw
“So, I (26) live with my parents (67, 52), elderly grandfather (94), three sisters (22, 22, and 20), and younger brother (15). As well as my three dogs, two cats and two rabbits (as well as other pets who are in enclosures).
I’m my grandfather’s carer, which is the only reason I live with my parents as they didn’t want me to take him too far. All seven of my pets are very well trained to live with him.
My sisters used to live together, but have moved back for whatever reason, so now I and my grandfather are sharing a room (which he does not like, but oh well).
One thing that’s become obvious, is that my sister is so annoyed about my dogs and cats. They bought vegan dog food for me to switch over to. I sent it back. Anyway, they keep complaining.
My parents said they’re my pets, and I could do whatever.
Well, my grandfather hates it. Every day he has to listen to them complain. His dementia is setting in, but he remembers most stuff (mainly me and Baxton, my elderly cat who sits with him constantly). He’s very protective of Bax, and he will throw his slippers at them if they complain.
A couple of weeks ago, he went, ‘Feed them dogs a live chicken.
Then see how they’ll like it!’
They have also tried taking the animal’s food and binning it. I usually stop them, but it really annoyed me because then my animals are getting improper portions.
Well, I took his suggestion, sort of. I wanted to switch my dogs over to raw food anyway, so I decided to do my younger cat also. (Bax has no teeth left so he has to eat the sloppy stuff lol).
I bought a bunch of meat and vegetables, as well as vitamins, and mashed them together. I keep some portions in my section of the freezer, and some in the fridge. They’ve been eating raw for about a week and a half.
It was very obvious and just happened to be mixing the mince just as they were eating their lunch. One of them threw up. Oh well.
My sisters are going ballistic. Straight up gagging every time they come downstairs.
My parents are fine because I’ve told them this diet is healthier for the animals. My grandfather thinks it’s hilarious. He’s asked me to buy chicken legs for him to have so he can give one to the dogs whenever my sisters walk in the room. I might, but I don’t want my babies getting chunky.”
16. Entitled Teacher's Kid Gets Absolutely Wrecked
“Karen Jr was a pretty decent student who made equally decent grades. Certainly, nothing to scoff at. However, she didn’t take any particularly hard classes, and it seemed as if she was merely skating by in high school, waiting for the greater things in life. She was also a mythic jerk; she was wealthy and often flaunted it. She looked down on kids who didn’t have as much as she did, and was a classic case of ‘spoiled jerk’ syndrome.
She also had a habit of sending her mom on anyone who dared to rub her the wrong way. Let’s talk about her; Her mom worked at the school as a math teacher and was very chummy with most of the other teachers, as well as the administration of both the school and the local county board. She was also a jerk. She would intentionally fail high-achieving students who might make her precious daughter look worse in the long run.
We’ll call this teacher Karen.
As for myself, I was a senior in high school at this time of all of this, class of 2019. I am currently a college sophomore. In high school, I was one of the top students in the class. My undergraduate studies have been entirely paid for by academic scholarships, and I was one of a handful who was poised to be valedictorians for our class.
Of course, this title didn’t mean much to me. I worked hard for my scholarship, not for some silly title. I’m saying this now not to brag, but because it’s important to the story later.
It’s also important to note that this story takes place in the thick of college admission season. Seniors were scrambling to write essays, get important documents together, and raise standardized test scores before it was all said and done.
I (mostly) only ever had a class with Karen Jr when I was taking courses required to graduate. These weren’t hard classes at all and certainly were not weighted. Typically, my other classes would be AP or Dual-Credit courses to academically challenge myself and to raise my GPA for scholarships. I rarely had a class with Karen Jr in any of these courses, and the class size was so small for AP’s at my school that if she had been, we would have been in the same class for sure.
This was very odd, as she struck me as capable to handle the course load.
That’s when the trouble began.
You see, Karen Jr, like many other folks at this time, had also been trying to raise her test scores for college admissions. She claimed that she had anxiety, and as a result, she got some special accommodations whenever it was time to take tests, both for classes and standardized.
However, she was notoriously extroverted in class discussions and never struck me as the nervous type. I have dealt with a generalized anxiety disorder for years, and I wasn’t buying it. I also didn’t wanna use this as a cop-out to get special privileges. But if that’s what the psychologist’s note said, I didn’t have an issue with it. For regular class tests, this meant that she got to leave the room and take her tests somewhere else.
She typically went to the library, where she could take it in a more isolated setting.
There was a rare situation where we did share a class: AP US Government. The teacher was also great friends with Karen. At my high school, it was known as one of the easier AP classes, due to the heavy focus on vocabulary and the lack of challenging concepts. We had tests in there on a two-week basis, after covering the material in the textbook.
I would study hard for each and every test, and I always ended up with low-A’s. This was fine in my book since the other assignments would keep my grade above 95 marks. As per usual, Karen Jr would leave class every two weeks to take the test. That was all well and good until she got a 100% on Every. Single. Test.
She’s a capable student, but she’s certainly no genius.
She would also flaunt to her friends how she never studies for any of her tests because she just ‘gets’ it. This continued for the first little bit of the course.
Until, one test day, the library was closed down after some water damage had been uncovered after a pretty bad storm. She couldn’t take the test in the library as usual and had to take it with the rest of us.
She seemed hesitant, but the teacher insisted that there was nowhere else suitable in the school for test-taking. And so, she took the test.
And gloriously bombed it.
I don’t know exactly what she got, but she had shed a few tears as soon as she saw her grade. She claimed that it had been misgraded by the ScanTron, and insisted that it was re-scored. She got the same score.
I assumed that it was due to her anxiety, and I felt bad for her. That sympathy went away in an instant, when, during class, she whispered to one of her friends that she’d always go to her mom’s classroom instead of the library to take her tests (I always had a skill for eavesdropping, since I was a relatively unassuming person who didn’t say much in class).
I didn’t know what this meant for sure, but I assume her mom (Karen) had looked up the answers for it. That explained immediately why she had gotten perfect scores on the previous tests, and why she had bombed this one.
However, her scheme didn’t affect me one bit, so I ignored it and kept doing my own thing.
Then, the situation escalated a slight bit. See, her ‘anxiety’ also allowed her some special privileges for taking standardized college placement exams, like the ACT and SAT.
One of my friends had a sister who genuinely had a learning disability and absolutely needed the extra time. She was incredibly sweet. We’ll call the sister Destiny.
Destiny explained to me that when you present to the ACT testing facility with accommodations, you had two options. You could either take each of the four ACT sections (5 sections, if you took it with writing) on separate days under normal time constraints or, take all of the sections on the same day with DOUBLE the time on each section.
Destiny also explained that all test takers with accommodations took the exam on the same day, different than normal test-takers so that they could ensure that each student’s needs could be met. Destiny mentioned how Karen Jr. got a special room to take her tests in, not unlike her regular tests. That’s all well and good, she thought. Except, when Destiny finished her exams, she noticed that Karen Jr hadn’t finished with the rest of the students.
She assumed this meant that Karen Jr had opted for the extended time option.
Until, on Karen Jr’s social media, she posted about how she was ‘ready for day 2’ of ACT testing. Sure enough, she had taken it over the course of several days.
All of this meant that, somehow, Karen Jr had taken the ACT with BOTH accommodation options. I was never sure how this was possible, but in retrospect, it was probably her mom.
Karen Jr got a spectacular score on her exam, something like a 32 or 33.
Again, this didn’t particularly bother me; her test scores didn’t affect me one bit. I decided to take the information with a laugh and move on with my life.
This is when things went from annoying to personal.
You see, several students, including myself, were in the running to be our class’s valedictorian. I didn’t care too much, since the distinction wouldn’t have really helped me pay for the college I was planning on attending.
It was quite a shock to learn that Karen Jr, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was going to be our valedictorian for that year. To me, and many others, this seemed impossible; she hadn’t taken nearly as many weighted classes as many of us, and was a good student at best. Also, Karen Jr’s best friend was lined up to be salutatorian (2nd in class rank).
She was also a pretty mediocre student. So how did they BOTH manage to get a higher GPA than us? We had been taking AP’s since freshman year.
The answer came to me as I was eating lunch one day. One of my friends, we’ll call him Aaron, had been making up a calculus test in Karen’s (Karen Jr’s mom) room. While he was there, he had overheard some seriously juicy information.
Karen was looking at the student transcripts of high-ranking students (including myself) and had arranged for Karen Jr’s schedule to inflate her GPA so much that it passed my own, and the GPA of other hard-working students. This included taking some online classes from a local college, which I was never permitted to take. This is because the classes were so specific that the credits didn’t transfer.
We’re talking about a college class about proper walking/exercising techniques here. Easy.
What’s more concerning is that these student transcripts contained VERY sensitive information that included, but was not limited to: the last four digits of social security, home addresses, phone numbers, medical history, approved medication, and academic records of all kinds. Why they’d openly whisper about this stuff with another student in the room was beyond me.
I didn’t want to take this information at face value, so I looked up the list of faculty that had permission to access student transcript information in the first place (only a handful of teachers could do this). Wouldn’t you believe that Karen’s name was most certainly on the list?
I also ran the numbers myself; It was totally possible to arrange a schedule of nonsense classes that would exceed everyone else’s GPA.
The same had been done to Karen Jr’s best friend’s schedule, just not to the same extent.
I was livid. That was MY personal information, which, if leaked, could cause some serious privacy issues. Part of my SSN was on there, for Christ’s sake.
So I decided that I wasn’t gonna take this anymore. I looked up the regulations and codes regarding the share of a student transcript without consent, and WOO BOY.
All of that is under FERPA law. And if you don’t know anything about FERPA, just know that they don’t mess around in the slightest.
The state penalties alone for sharing student documents with a third party without consent, either from the parent (if the student is under 18) or the student itself, was a hefty fine, possible termination, and further federal penalties. We’re talking about possible jail time if the information shared led to consequences for the student whose information was shared.
All I needed was proof. Along with Aaron’s testimony, I wanted irrevocable proof that Karen and Karen Jr were doing shady things.
So I hatched a plan.
I was in the show choir, and so I had access to some decent recording equipment, including some single-use audio recorders. These were used by judges during competitions to give quick feedback on the show, and also for student auditions. They were small, discrete, and silent.
They also had a neat feature where you could set a timer on the thing to tell it to start recording after so much time had passed. I set the timer so that the recorder would start during lunch.
Before school one day, I went up to Karen’s room to glance briefly and see if she was in there.
She was not, and her room was not locked.
Her classroom was on the second floor, so the stairwell door downstairs alone was locked at night. However, they unlock these doors before school so that janitors could do spot-cleaning before normal class hours.
I taped one of these recorders under her chair, set the timer for around lunchtime and her planning period (they were back-to-back), and waited. I went back at the end of the day (I had choir practice) and retrieved the recorder before the downstairs doors were locked (they left them unlocked for extra-curricular activities because freshman and sophomore lockers were upstairs).
I got home and began playing the tape.
Bingo. I had my irrefutable evidence. It was all there; conversations about Karen viewing student transcripts and disclosing that information with a third party: Karen Jr.
Now, I had another problem. You see, Karen was extremely friendly with the administration, so I had to find someone who I knew would take me seriously and would cooperate while keeping my identity a secret.
Fortunately, my counselor (we were each assigned one based on our last name) was a real stand-up guy, and I knew he’d come in clutch.
I went with Aaron to his office, and I took my laptop with the audio file backed up onto it. We presented our case.
You see, to file a FERPA violation report, you needed the administration of the organization (this included my counselor) to go on record saying that the complaint was legitimate and that further investigation was warranted.
The complaint was also anonymous. He gave me his sweet, sweet approval on the form. I filed the complaint and waited.
The fallout was glorious. The school’s administration was forced to do an objective audit on ALL of Karen’s activity at the school, where they confirmed that all of this bull had been taking place. Karen Jr’s valedictorian status and her friend’s salutatorian were sacked, and some other (more deserving) kid was presented with the honor.
I myself was awarded salutatorian, although this didn’t matter to me too much. The school was fined by FERPA for breach of policy, and Karen might get fired. I never found out; I graduated before all of that took place.
But it doesn’t end there. During the audit, they also found evidence that Karen Jr had been coming to her mom’s room during regular tests and copying down answers from the internet, and she faced severe disciplinary action for that.
That certainly wouldn’t look good on her record; we’re talking in-school suspension due to multiple documented violations.
The icing on the cake was when they discovered the foolishness regarding her ACT accommodations. Turns out, her mom HAD been pulling the string behind the scenes to get her accommodations for that ‘anxiety’ we talked about earlier. The ACT company takes plagiarism VERY seriously, and so they voided her pristine standardized testing score, which had landed her a full scholarship to her university of choice.
The same ended up happening with some of her SAT and AP scores as well for reasons that I never personally discovered. Karen Jr lost ALL of her scholarships from the university and ended up attending an in-state college which took the few scores that were not voided (and also weren’t fraudulent). Those scores probably weren’t NEAR as good as her voided ones.
All of this news was absolutely BUZZING around the school, and Karen Jr was disgraced. I did my part in my graduation ceremony a few months later, and all was well.”
15. Tyrannical School Principal Tries Installing Noise Monitor In School Cafeteria
“When I was in sixth grade (elementary school in Southern CA) we had an AWFUL principal. Let’s call him: Mr. Sir. To give you an idea of why I thought he was awful: he mandated a rule that when we were at recess, we could not be in groups larger than 3 people because of ‘gangs’. This is elementary school, people. The proctors enforced this and would blow a whistle at your group if your group was larger than 3 people.
(I and my friends usually rotated having someone walk away from the group, then rejoin when the proctor wasn’t looking). This is just one example of why I hated this principal.
Apparently, Mr. Sir thought that all of us kids were too loud at lunchtime in the cafeteria. His office was near the cafeteria which was outdoors but had roof coverings over all the tables. So one day he has this ‘noise monitor’ installed in the cafeteria that looked like a stoplight (if you look up ‘Yacker Tracker’ on google, it looked kinda like that).
If it was ‘too loud’ in the cafeteria the stoplight would be red, and if it was an ‘acceptable’ noise level, it would be green. If it was really loud, the stoplight would flash red. The stoplight had been installed for a little while (maybe a week or two, can’t remember) but pretty much all us kids would ignore it and it would constantly be on red during our lunch period.
The stoplight was mounted upon a wall that was too far for any of us kids to reach.
One day Mr. Sir comes out of his office with a bullhorn and yells at all of us kids that we are being too loud. The stoplight had been red that whole lunch period so far. He said, ‘You all have to be silent for one whole minute!!!’ The cafeteria goes silent.
I’m watching the stoplight. It is flashing red. Goes to solid red. Goes to yellow. Green. Then off. Then… IT CRASHES TO THE FLOOR. The whole entire cafeteria ERUPTS with laughter and Mr. Sir sourly walks back to his office. The stoplight monitor was removed and never spoken of again.
I have no idea how or why the stoplight crashed to the floor, but I like to think it was just karma getting back at Mr. Sir.”
14. Watch Me Get Into My Dream University
“A fair few years ago now, I was in an abusive relationship.
I won’t go into the gory details of that ‘relationship’ (there are unfortunately plenty), just the tiny fraction that is important to this story: he would constantly try to act as if I was stupid.
No one should try to talk down to you or make you feel that way, but I guess it’s important to note that at the time I was getting straight As so looking back on it now it’s laughable and doesn’t bother me.
At the time I was deciding where to apply to university and had my heart set on an extremely high ranking university (I’m not going to name it because I don’t want him to know this is me on the off chance that he reads this post, but it ranks in the top 1% worldwide). He told me that I shouldn’t bother applying because I was ‘too stupid to get in,’ and they’d ‘laugh at my application.’
Anyone who’s been in a similar situation knows how badly people like this try to weasel their way into your head to control you, and it nearly worked.
I nearly didn’t apply. I finally wrestled with this situation and I won – ignored him and sent off my application.
A little while before results day I managed to get out of that relationship. As I was deleting him off of everything, I decided to keep him added on Snapchat as the idea for my petty revenge popped into my head. I didn’t post anything on there, and neither did he, and this was years before snap maps so there was no harm in keeping him added for a little longer.
Results day rolled around and I got into my dream university!
I got myself dolled up and went to celebrate with my friends, posting a picture on my Snapchat story with a huge smile and my news.
He checked it within the first few minutes, then I deleted him from there too.
Sometimes living a better life is the best revenge, and sometimes hate is the best motivator.”
13. Got All Of The Scammer's Site Listings Removed
“Ok so for the past while I’ve been looking for a good trailer or something of the like so my parents and sister can use it for vacations. Recently I was on a buy and sell site that rhymes with ‘Get-Go’ and looking for a trailer or RV there. I found one that was listed at just over a grand. It was beautiful for being 30 years old.
And low miles too.
But the seller refused any contact through the site and only by an email that was put into a caption on the RV’s picture. So I contacted the seller and she told me the RV was her husband’s. And that he died of a heart attack recently. And that the RV just brings back too many memories. So she wanted it gone. I offered to pay in cash.
But she wanted the sale to go through eBay, and that the RV would be delivered. (Red flag number one!) Then she wanted payment in eBay cards only. And even told me where to get them. (Red flag number two!) Then it turns out the RV was not local like it was listed and was apparently 150 miles away when I googled the city it was really in.
(Red flag number three) Ding ding ding! We have a scammer!
I still wanted the RV. So I played along and offered to drive out with my father to buy it. I said that unless I could do a test drive before getting the title in hand and pay with cash, I would not buy it. Surprise surprise I got no reply. So I just went back to browsing Get-Go.
I then found a trailer that was in incredible shape and listed at $1200. But it had a similar caption on it as the RV pic did. I also had found a similar older post of another RV with a similar caption. All 3 email addresses were completely different. But they all had a female name in each of them. Like one could be Nancy and another Grace.
That kind of thing.
But at the time I wasn’t sure if it was a scammer again, or if this was just how people did business on that site. So I contacted the email about the trailer. And then I got an almost identical sob story from a woman claiming the trailer was her husband’s. And that he died of a heart attack. And that the trailer was actually 150 miles away in the opposite direction of the RV I’d wanted to buy first.
And that she wanted to go through eBay for the purchase.
I was done at that point. I contacted the scammer back and linked the first email I got about the RV with the same sob story and asked them if they thought I was a fool. And that if the purchase was done how they wanted it, I could never get the money back if the RV or trailer was never delivered since the title was to be delivered separately.
I then reported all three listings with the email captions on Get-Go. Hours later the listing for the trailer disappeared completely. I then repeatedly reported the listing for the RV each following day until it was gone too.
Ever since I’ve seen nothing more of the scammer. But I doubt they’re going to stop. But I got a little bit of revenge on them by getting their false listings removed.”
12. Threaten And Harass Me? I'll Get You Shunned By Your Church
“My entitled aunt is not a very nice person and she actively goes out of her way to make other people miserable. In the past month or so, my entitled aunt (let’s just call her Karen for the sake of the story) got in touch with me after a good (and peaceful) few years without talking to me or any of my family. Though it was only to demand that I drive her and my entitled cousin (we’ll call her Regina, like the girl from Mean Girls) to a church thing that one of the church members was holding.
I’m still not entirely sure what the meeting was for but my best guess is that it was to sort out the donated food for the food bank/delivery thing that the church wanted to set up. Karen, however, didn’t care about the food bank as it required helping others but was instead interested in me driving them there so they could discuss with Pastor Smith (not his real name) about getting Regina baptized.
I declined, considering Karen lives around an hour or more away from me. Also, she’s not a nice person and I just didn’t want to be around her. This led her to harass me, post absolutely horrific social media posts about me (I don’t even want to repeat half the things they said in those posts), she called/messaged me paragraphs filled with vile homophobic and transphobic slurs (and a ton of grammar mistakes).
For some context, I am a gay drag queen (currently living with my significant other) and Karen absolutely HATES me for it. She often tries to use religion to justify her hatred of me but she has actively admitted in the past that she does not believe in God’s existence. Nothing against religious people, if you’re religious then go on and live your best life honey, but Karen only seems to be religious when it benefits her.
A couple of weeks ago, the harassment finally got to me. I broke down in tears and had my first full-on panic attack in almost a year. The situation had caused my significant other (Andy, not his real name) and I to start arguing. Not a lot but we’d have days where he’d get sick of me just letting her talk to me like that and would practically beg me to do something to put an end to this.
When I’m in drag I tend to be a lot more outgoing, confident, and mean and would have no issue shutting Karen and her Satan-spawn down but out of drag, I am a completely different person, much timider and not fond of confrontation.
After a while of Andy calming me down and just cuddling/crying for a little while, I finally decided to do something about this. But calling the police to give her a warning/restraining order (whilst necessary at this point) did not seem like a big enough punishment for her.
So, I started planning.
I decided to gather as much evidence as I could. I decided to screenshot the messages and social media posts and put them in a nice little folder to send her church. I also sent a message to one of the ladies in her church with some screenshots of some of the transphobic stuff she’d said/posted. See Karen has two profiles, one for pretending that she’s the perfect Christian mom and the other was specifically for spreading hate (not very Christian-like).
She had posted a bunch of vile things about how ‘(transphobic slurs) should be wiped out’ which I think we call all agree is pretty awful. That’s also a more tame part of one of her posts, they are practically borderline on death threats but I’m not even going to repeat them here. The reason for sending these to a lady in Karen’s church? The lady’s daughter came out a few months ago as a transwoman.
Karen acts all friendly with the lady’s daughter though because she’s been on a few (almost free) holidays with this lady. The lady was generous enough to pay for Karen and Regina to go on holiday with her and her family after Karen made out that she felt ‘guilty’ for not being able to afford to take Regina on holiday. That’s nonsense, honey, Karen is a benefit con, she gets (or got, but that’s for another paragraph) over 250 bucks a week from Regina’s dad in child support, and my dad (cough)jerk(cough) would help her buy groceries and pay bills for her.
She had more money than most people that work do. I have nothing against people on benefits btw, everyone needs help sometimes.
Anyways, sorry for rambling, I sent these screenshots to the lady from Karen’s church and she was not happy, to say the least. I sent a message saying that this was the kind of stuff Karen believed and that I was concerned for her daughter’s safety due to the sheer severity of some of the insults and posts.
She thanked me for the information and said she was going to have a word with some of the other church members. I was genuinely worried that this lady’s daughter could get hurt though so I kinda killed two birds with one stone. From what the lady told me (and the angry messages from Karen and Regina) the two of them are no longer welcome on the holiday that the lady’s family was planning for after this.
No free holiday? Shame.
Her church has not been a fan of her behavior. Apparently, she had not been showing up to any church events unless it benefited her. She did not want to help with soup kitchens or food banks but she’d show up if they were giving away free stuff. Pastor Smith actually reached out to me to apologize on my aunt’s behalf for all the trouble she’s caused us.
The church is very relaxed about LGBT issues and just believes in spreading love and helping those in need which I can totally get behind. I’m not sure whether she had an argument with the members of her church but the lady I messaged did tell me that she told a few of the members to ‘shut up’ so I don’t think she was happy. She isn’t welcome in the church whilst she acts like this though they have told her that she will be welcomed back with open arms after she finds a healthy way to deal with all her hate.
The church did not feel good about asking her to leave apparently but she was reportedly rude to other members of the church and made them uncomfortable so they didn’t have a choice. They actually recommended a few therapists for Karen and maybe Regina to talk to and deal with their anger which I thought was a nice gesture and I seriously hope they do see a therapist.
Anyway, the lady I contacted actually got in contact with Regina’s dad about everything that happened. He. Was. Livid. Now, Regina’s dad is an absolutely lovely man. He cares about his daughter so much and it makes me kinda angry that she doesn’t appreciate him. I’d kill to have a dad that cared about me. She freaked out with him when she was 15 because he got her the ‘wrong’ iPhone.
He was paying so much for child support (I call it child support but it’s really just to help Regina out since she doesn’t have a job and is, like, almost 20!) He had also been helping with bills and food etc. as Karen was making out that she couldn’t afford anything. This man. No. This SAINT, even paid for these two to go on holiday (Karen told him she paid for the free holidays they went on with this lady) when they actually just wasted it on the most materialistic stuff.
I honestly felt really bad for the guy. He has a well-paid job but that’s beside the point, he still pays for these two to do nothing and supports his new wife and their 12-year-old boy.
You can imagine my surprise when I found out that he’d actually reported her for being a benefits con. I’m not sure how it’s going as of right now. I hope her benefits get stopped and both of them have to get a job. There is no reason either of them can’t work, they just ‘don’t want to deal with people.’
Yeah, girl. I hope reality hits you like a ton of bricks.
I also did contact the police and have been advised, due to the severity of some of the threats, to file a restraining order. Which I plan on doing.”
11. Bite My Partner? Good Luck Getting Out Of This Rental Contract
“A few months back in autumn of 2019 I was in dire need of a flat, as my then-fiancé had broken up with me and canceled our rental contract. I moved in with 2 flatmates in October, as they seemed nice enough when I first met them. They were a nightmare to live with though.
Alik was from Russia and Gedeminas from Lithauania. (We lived in Germany.
Also, those are not their real names.) Alik spoke almost no English and Gedeminas no German, so they talked Russian to each other even when I was in the room, which made me feel rather excluded. Alik once woke me up at night and was so mad at me when I told him I’m officially in bed, he didn’t talk to me until I moved out months later.
But this story is about Gedeminas.
As my therapist had suggested finding some friends, I chatted to some people on Reddit and got to know someone who would soon become my significant other. In January, he came to visit me in the shared flat. He LOVES cooking and is very good at it. He would often invite our flatmates to eat and only asked for a little contribution to the raw ingredients.
Gedeminas wouldn’t pay the 2-3€ he asked, but we didn’t mind as it was rather insignificant and more symbolic, as to not make them feel indebted to us.
Now at one such meal, when my significant other served dessert (mousse au Chocolat), Gedeminas didn’t finish it for some reason. My significant other said no problem, I’ll finish it for you. Gedeminas refused to give it to him, as he wanted to throw it in the trash.
My significant other laughed and told him it’s really no problem, he’d just use his own spoon and stretched his hand out to grab it. Gedeminas reached for his wrist and pulled it towards him, and a little quarrel ensued over the table (they sat across from each other), and in the process, Gedeminas bit down hard on my significant other’s arm to get him to leave his mousse alone.
I screamed at Gedeminas, and he eventually stopped. I was furious and could never really let go of my grudge even when my significant other told me it didn’t really bother him.
Now, 2 months later in March of 2020, I moved out. Our rental contract had a special clause that said that we had to rent the flat for at least 3 years, and if we wanted to move out earlier, we had to provide a new tenant.
When I moved in, I thought this would be no problem, as the rent was relatively cheap and there is a famous university in our city so there are always students looking for a shared flat. But as you all know, the whole situation happened and it got significantly harder to get someone to move in. In February, Gedeminas had visited his parents in Lithuania, and due to the ongoing crisis, he didn’t come back to the shared flat and looked to get out of the contract.
He thought that it was a normal german rental contract where you can terminate it with 3 months’ notice (remember; he didn’t speak german so he probably didn’t understand everything in the contract that he signed). I sent him translations of the contract and told him he had to find a new tenant to take his place.
Finding new tenants is hard with everything going on. Finding a new tenant without being able to show them the flat though, because you are in an entirely different country…
That might be considered close to impossible.
I finally found 2 people that were willing to move in June, and they would start renting in July. Now, I COULD have told my landlord that Gedeminas could ‘use’ one of the new tenants to get out of the contract, and given his situation, I probably would have, had he not bitten my significant other. I decided to be petty and keep them aaaaaaaall to myself. Now he gets to pay 250€ a month until either he can find someone to move in there or until November of 2021. It’s admittedly petty, but sometimes karma needs a little help…”
10. Betray Your Wife? I'll Make You Feel Guilty
“My marriage fell apart 8 years ago. I can’t say there weren’t already problems before this, but this was the real beginning of the end. She was working at a retail big box store. She started working there in the late summer/early fall time and would get off work, then run home or to the gym afterward. When mid/late fall came around, and it got colder, I would usually pick her up but if I was occupied at work she would run home or to the gym.
She only worked there for 3 months.
Not long after she began working there, one of her managers began talking to her often. As he got to know her, he began to make weird and inappropriate comments. She would come home telling me stuff like, ‘Today he told me that he loves that I don’t wear make-up and am all-natural. Apparently his wife cakes on the make-up.’
I wasn’t happy, and she assured me that she would just ignore it.
That didn’t work well, as he began complimenting her on how beautiful she was. He would constantly denigrate his wife while making compliments about her. She told me she thought it was funny, and I had absolutely no reason to distrust her. Things like this had happened before, and she would react the same way. Apparently, this wasn’t the same.
One night I had just gotten home from work not long after she got home from her after-work workout.
She told me she had to tell me something. Turns out that since I was at work, and she was supposed to go to the gym from her work (which is like a mile walk), she had begun walking when said jerk manager caught her in the parking lot and offered her a ride. Not wanting to be rude to her boss, she accepted. This was a mistake.
When they got to the gym, he asked her to talk for a minute, and she did. He once again talked to her about her beauty and how she was special, blah blah. Then he leaned in and kissed her. She automatically said no, and pushed him away (according to her) and he apologized saying he was just really attracted to her, and that HIS WIFE WAS PREGNANT, and couldn’t/wouldn’t sleep with him.
My wife said she understood but that she was married and wouldn’t betray me (LIES!). They parted ways and she went to the gym and told me later that night. I WAS ANGRY.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go all crazy drama and storm into the store. I was useless, and couldn’t do much about it. I forgave my wife as she hadn’t really done anything wrong, and seemed to genuinely hate that it happened, though she did admit it was exciting to have someone do that.
I should have seen that as a huge red flag, but I didn’t. We had generally been very honest to each other when we felt attracted to other people.
2 weeks later, despite glowing reviews, and being the best worker in her department, she’s laid off. They claim she was ‘temporary’ but she had been told the opposite. This happened on Christmas Eve. I still to this day think he did it because she wouldn’t sleep with him, but I digress.
I was out of town picking up a friend when she got fired, so I didn’t hear about it until later that night. Later, when she was finally being honest with me, right before we split, she told me the truth. Apparently, he had offered her a ride home again that night, and she accepted. He ‘attempted’ to kiss her again, and she let him, as she was feeling vulnerable and bad about her job, and wanting to feel the excitement.
That eventually led to her going behind my back multiple times in the next few months as she wanted that feeling you get when things are new. The worst is that the friend I was picking up, was one of my best friends ever… or so I thought. They ended up sleeping together on New Year’s Eve, and she got pregnant with his kid. She ended up having a miscarriage within a couple of months.
Anyway, as my marriage is ending a few months later, I find out about Christmas Eve and how her boss had kissed her again. This is where my lame revenge comes in. I began researching this jerk.
I found out as much as I possibly can about this guy. I learn his whole name and that opens up a lot of doors including the fact that he was on a Green Card, as well as where he lived.
I also found out his wife’s name, and that they had 2 kids with a 3rd on the way as well as their names. I knew a LOT about him. I had a whole dossier on this lying jerk. All of it from publicly available resources. I am not the most creative guy, but I put my game plan into action.
One day, I went to his work when I knew he was supposed to be getting off.
I noticed him in a check-out lane and watched to make sure he was actually buying something, and not still on duty. He wasn’t. So I saddled up behind him, tapped on his shoulder.
Me: Hey man.
Jerk: Yeah? Oh hey.
Me: Hey, are you (Jerk’s name) that lives at 1234 Idiot Lane?
Jerk, looking slightly concerned: Uh…yeah?
Me: You’re married to (Jerk’s wife’s name) right?
Jerk, a bit more concerned but not really: Yeah, that’s me, who are you?
Me: I just want you to know, that your wife is a very nice lady.
We had a nice discussion.
Jerk, looking relaxed if not annoyed: Oh yeah? Thanks?
Me: No problem… Hey, maybe you should treat her better. (drops voice ominously) In fact, if I ever hear of you two-timing her again, I’m going to tell her everything you’ve been up to.
Jerk, with a mildly panicked expression: What? No, I never did that!
Me: Really? Not according to (my ex-wife’s name). She had a lot to say about YOU.
Jerk: shocked expression: No I… I would never… (continues to stammer)
Me: Keep it in your pants, man, or your wife will know the truth.
So I walk off as I watch him panic. It was mildly satisfying watching the fear in his eyes. Pretty lame revenge I know, but it was kind of satisfying. It got even better.
Fast forward a couple of years and I have met my new wife, and we are at the school doing registration in the cafeteria with my step-kids.
Guess who comes and sits down next to us without having ANY idea who we are? Jerk, his wife, 2 kids, and a baby. I notice him, he doesn’t notice me. I think to myself, ‘Hmm how can I use this to needle him’ and think quickly.
He had gotten up to go get something. Seeing this, I scoot myself down a bit, tap on his wife’s shoulder and say Hi, and begin a conversation about school.
They were moving their kids into our school district. We have a very nice talk about it, and our families. She has absolutely no idea who I am. We’ve never met. She thinks I’m just a friendly guy as I describe the things that our district has to offer. Jerk comes back to see me talking to his wife, takes a minute to recognize me, and goes white as a sheet.
His wife then introduces us as if I’ve known her for years, but as his hands are full, I don’t shake them, and he stammers out a ‘nice to meet you.’ I beg off the conversation and continue with our paperwork. Eventually, we get up to leave. As we do so, I look over to see him staring at me as his wife is filling out paperwork.
I give him a big thumbs up, a wink, and a grin and keep walking.
That last thing was 6 years ago. I’ve seen him multiple times at school events and the store since. I wink at him every time I see him and he scurries off like the rat he is. He avoids me like the plague. That’s good though because I’ve heard something awesome recently.
You see, my brother-in-law used to work with him as well, and I told him an abridged version of this story recently leaving out the details of their interactions (basically said dude hit on my wife and kissed her and so I did X, Y, and Z). He said ‘Oh him? I hate that guy. He super hit on my mom, and they ended up hooking up.
She didn’t know he was married and when she found out, he told her it wasn’t a big deal BECAUSE HIS WIFE WAS PREGNANT.’
That was not a detail I had included in the story I told him. The problem is, I don’t know if she is actually pregnant (she was when it happened to me) so now I’m stuck. Do I fulfill my promise? Do I move on as I have for the rest of my life and not interfere with his family? I’m not a young, immature kid anymore. I’m a dad, with a family of my own (which makes me hate him more. Screw that guy for doing that to his family) so I don’t know if I should tell her. Right now, I’m going to leave it, but that may not stay that way.”
9. He Didn't Lie About Writing A Note
“It was my mum and dad’s anniversary recently – he passed around 10 years ago. I would be lying if I said that we had a good relationship, and we have never seen eye to eye on much – but at the end of the day he was still my dad, and from the many, many posts I’ve read I realize that maybe I didn’t have things quite so bad.
Anyway, the reason I mention this back story is that we were reminiscing about him, and some of the stuff he would get up to. When he was younger, he liked to think of himself as what we’d term in Scotland as a ‘hard man’. He wouldn’t go looking for trouble, but he would quickly end any trouble that would find him. And that was often – back in his early twenties, the culture here was often that guys would go out drinking and have fun with their friends, and come back home to their wives, who might or might not make them spend the night in the garden depending on how generous they are feeling.
In addition to his twenties and thirties filled with drinking, he was a heavy smoker as well. My parents had me late (there is a 10-year gap between me and my next oldest sibling), so I think that was perhaps why my dad didn’t really bond with me as well as my brothers. This story takes place when I was around 17. I’ve told it to my family many times, and it always gets a laugh.
By this time, my dad was not very well at all. He struggled to walk and had a multitude of health issues mostly due to his substance consumption and smoking. That didn’t deter him in these habits, and most nights he’d stay up after my mum went to bed, continuing to smoke and drink. By the time I was 17, I mostly just spent nights in my room, keeping my head under the radar.
Both of my older brothers had moved out of the house by this time. My dad had mostly stopped giving me a hard time by this age, and most of our nighttime interactions would be if I went past him to the kitchen to get a drink.
One thing around this time that we both had in common was that we HATED the neighbor living upstairs. He was rude, and we often heard him shouting at his family.
My dad could be a jerk, but he was never usually that bad. We tolerated it because it was mostly worse in the small hours of the morning – my mum would be asleep, my dad would be wasted, and I’d probably be playing my PC with headphones on. I and my Dad had both noticed it, but we didn’t care enough to do anything about it.
One day he inexplicably bought a puppy. I only ever caught glimpses of the puppy, but it usually seemed happy enough. The only problem with the puppy was that every time he left it alone (which was a LOT). It would not. Stop. Barking. Day or night, if we heard him leave, or saw him get in his car, the puppy would go absolutely nuts. The worst part for me was that the puppy would go to his front door, which was near the window to my bedroom.
That meant it was mostly me who heard it barking. My dad would hear it whenever he got up to go to the toilet, and I heard him grumble angrily to himself ‘goddamn dog’. It was unusual for us to have a common issue.
On one particular night, the dog was going at it as per usual. My dad and I happened to cross paths during a late-night visit to the bathroom.
While waiting outside for my dad to finish, he shouted out to me from behind the closed door.
‘I’m going to put a note through his door.’ I laughed a bit – my dad was wasted again, and the idea of him doing that was funny – because at best, my dad was able to shuffle the length of the living room before getting out of breath.
When he came out of the bathroom, he shuffled past me and went back into the living room. I didn’t think anything of it and used the bathroom, then went back to my room.
Maybe about 20 minutes later, I’m playing the PlayStation, sitting by the window in my room. I see something out of the corner of my eye, and look – it’s my dad, in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, shuffling along the back of our house in his slippers, heading towards the upstairs door to the neighbor’s house.
I was really nervous – if the neighbors turned up and things got physical, my dad could have been seriously hurt. I scrambled for my shoes and ran through the house to the back door, and along the back of the house to catch him. When I turned the corner, he was already on his way back down the stairs. I quietly shouted to him ‘What did you do?’ He simply said, ‘I posted a note through his door.’ I went to go help him back in and noticed that he was holding something.
I asked him what it was, and took it out of his hand – it was an empty tube of super glue.
Preempting my question, my dad said ‘I put it in his lock.’ In the UK, many locks are really small and narrow – superglue would ruin the lock and mean it needed replacing. I couldn’t help but laugh, but then I said to him – ‘He’ll come knocking on our door first needing help.’ (This was before mobile phones were prominent).
My dad literally did not give a damn and shuffled off to bed. I went to bed too – but sure enough, the door went a few hours later, around 3 AM. I woke up, and opened my door – my dad had already gotten to the front door before me and opened it. I settled for listening to the conversation from my room door.
Neighbor: You’re not going to believe this, but some jerk has put superglue in my lock.
Is there any chance I can use your phone?
Dad: You’re joking? Of course, come on in.
The neighbor flicks through the yellow pages for a locksmith, and eventually phones one. All this time my dad is genuinely trying to act helpful and friendly while being said jerk who superglued the lock. When they’re done, my dad shuts the door and laughs. I peek my head out of my bedroom door and laugh as well.
But then I have a horrible moment of realization – ‘the locksmith is going to have to drill and hammer his door to get it open!’ He shrugged and said he didn’t care.
20 minutes later I’m lying in bed, unable to sleep due to the hammering and drilling. I definitely was not destined to get any sleep that night! My dad was definitely in the wrong, but I will take the image of him shuffling along the back of our house to my grave.
Our family still has a good laugh about it to this day. My dad and I were definitely not besties, but this is absolutely one of my favorite memories of him.
Oh, he did apparently post a note, but he took what he wrote on it to his grave. I’d love to know what he had written. The puppy continued to do its thing, but we would always have the night of the superglue in the lock to console us.”
8. This Is Why You Should Never Hire Friends
“This takes place in late 2018/early 2019 and they worked for 5 years prior here. Helped get a friend I had known for a period of time hired where I work. They had some previous experience in roughly the same field and seemed competent. Over the course of the five years they worked with me, they kept demanding better pay, etc trying to justify it by claiming because they were a year older than me, they were entitled to even or slightly better pay than me.
Whatever okay… figure it’s just them being stupid.
They put in their two weeks several times over their last two years working here trying to use it to leverage higher pay… Over the course of the last couple of years, I take a promotion to head of the department and obviously have to take on more responsibility, etc.
I’m now this person’s direct manager and am forced to watch their work quality decline as they seem to think since I am their friend, they can get away with doing nothing or doing it poorly.
Unfortunately for me, I have some integrity and the jobs we do if done improperly can lead to catastrophic engine failure, loss of life, etc.
I spend the next four months having sit-downs with this person about their quality of work, their attitude towards others, and even toward myself after they become hostile toward me. They earn 5 major write-ups and the only reason they aren’t fired is that the company owner has been footing this person’s bad financial habits (kept borrowing cash from the facility when they crashed their cars…
yes several of these. Or they couldn’t afford their community college courses) and there was constant joking from them that if we ever fired them, they would just sue for harassment because they were trying to transition (this was common knowledge at the shop since they literally told everyone and it was the first thing they talked about every day.)
Skip ahead another few months and they finally give another 2 weeks’ notice.
Between HR, the company president, and myself, we decide we will not allow them to rescind this one as they have in the past. They are not worth the headache anymore. We start doing all the employee departure procedures and removing any personal effects from the facility pc etc.
Find a 2-page long time-stamped rant personally attacking myself, my family, other facility staff, and more. Remember I said it was time-stamped? Written during work hours, specifically, a morning they were found to have not performed their duties.
Decide to print a copy for me, HR, and the president to keep on file. President and HR decide the day this person leaves, we hand them a copy and bar them from ever entering our facility or associated offices again. The day comes, they start begging to keep their job because supposedly the other offer fell through.
Nope… the plant manager, president, HR all tell them to hit the road.
Tries begging me as a last effort. I just smile and say ‘No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by holding you back anymore.’ Get an odd look. President comes over, hands them the letter, and tells them to leave, never return, never call here again, etc.
Two days later, they post on social media about how much of a jerk I am for firing them and not helping them out, how I am a useless friend, how my brother and I are transphobic, and whatever else.
Ends up with a wonderful stream of mutual friends treating me like a jerk, etc.
In retaliation, I take screens shots of old convos of them ragging on a lot of our mutuals, the derogatory names they used to describe a lot of people, even how this person had treated someone like a literal sick animal because that person had asked them out once and instead of saying they weren’t interested, acted like this person just would never leave them alone, how sickening it was and the whole nine yards.
Do a massive name and shame post dump of all of this on social media where they can see and are tagged. The cherry on top? That wonderful letter they wrote bashing everyone at our facility and personal attacks on my family and me who all the mutuals know since we used to always offer car help to people and I and the offender shared the same birthday so we used to have joint parties to celebrate.
So… am I a jerk? And yea, I still have all the screenshots, the letter and to this day, the social media post still sits on my profile for any soul to find.”
7. Just Some Plain Karma And Good Justice
“A long, long time ago and not far down the street from here, my friends and I were cruising up and down the main thoroughfare of our city as teenagers who have just gotten their first cars tend to do. This is the main drag through the heart of our city and it’s where everyone would race on Friday and Saturday nights, kill time cruising before a movie, just hang out and be seen.
We’re driving along on a beautiful Friday afternoon when from the back seat, I spot a horde of teenage boys in a parking lot waiting for traffic to clear so they can race. They’ve parked their cars like they’re for sale, every door open, hoods up, underflow shining, speakers blasting. And like half of these guys have their shirts off. Being a red-blooded teenage girl, I shout ‘Oh my god, Kirsten, look!’ But Kirsten was driving the car.
To this day, we both try to take the blame for this because I should not have shouted for her to look and she should not have turned around to look.
So of course we rear-ended the car in front of us at about 15mph. Not bad at all! We got out, Kirsten and Sarah called their moms from the parking lot, and I called the police while checking on the people in the other car.
The passenger jumped out and pointed at me, tells me to stay away, then went to the payphone (yes, this happened that long ago) at the fast-food joint we were in front of. I peeked into the car to ask the driver if they’re okay. She was leaned all the way back in her seat, she would look at me, but she said she couldn’t feel her arms.
So I’m like oh god ‘hey dispatch, send an ambulance, too, this lady says she can’t feel her arms,’ and then I start freaking out. Did we just paralyze some poor woman because we’re dumb hormonal girls?! Oh god, we just ruined somebody’s life! I’m asking the driver if there’s anything I can do, I think I actually asked if I could make her more comfortable.
I was panicked and just repeating to the dispatcher at that point: ‘don’t worry, the ambulance will be here soon.’ And then she turned her head towards me and asked who hit her. I was confused, asked her what she meant. She wanted to know which one of us was driving. But I didn’t want to tell her for some reason? I was just like ‘no don’t worry about that, you’ll be fine’ and she wasn’t having it.
She got annoyed and started screaming at me to tell her who was driving. So I just screamed back that she was crazy and I wasn’t going to tell her anything! And then the dispatcher says, ‘Miss, please just back away from the vehicle.’
Swear to god that dispatcher was psychic or something because I ducked out of the car right as the driver swung her meaty fist at my head.
And then it was ON. She ripped off her seatbelt (Ho ho! Not paralyzed after all!) and launched out of the car, running around the rear end to come at me. So I ran screaming around the front end. Straight out of a cartoon, she turned around and ran around the other side of the car, making me turn around to run the opposite way, back and forth around the front and back of the car until she committed to a side and I just ran the other way to the parking lot.
Kirsten was hitting on the door of the fast-food joint, but an employee was holding the door closed and shaking her head. (I will never forget that poor woman’s face.) Sarah was on the phone crying. I could hear the sirens in the distance and dispatch was entirely too calm asking me to explain the problem. On the 911 recording, you can just hear me panting ‘oh god oh god oh god oh god’ with every exhale.
You guys, this woman was short, stout, and she ran like a juiced-up bull. She was so fast! I could FEEL her catching up to me, so I pivoted to the side and she whooshed past me. And she continued right towards Sarah, clothes-lined her as she ran by, and headed to Kirsten, who at this point had seen the writing on the wall and was running away.
But there wasn’t really anywhere to go except the entrance of the drive-thru. So Kirsten and the enraged driver disappeared around the back of the building. I was picking Sarah up off the ground when an ambulance, fire truck, and two police cruisers pulled up. EMT popped out first and we ran at him screaming nonsense about a crazy lady and the drive-thru.
And then Kirsten came flying around the far corner of the building with Beast Mode right on her heels.
I’ve never seen somebody stop so fast. She came out around the corner, saw all the emergency responders, stopped, and dropped like a felled tree before pretending to shake uncontrollably. This lady tried to pull a fake seizure RIGHT in front of the EMTs and police. Her friend (the passenger), who had been on the payphone this whole time, dropped down next to her and started wailing that somebody needed to do something and help her and arrest us.
Really coming hard with the dramatics. So the EMTs loaded her up and they went off to the hospital while the three of us gave our statements to the police. And we assumed that was the end, insurance was supposed to deal with anything else, right?
First, the driver tried to sue all three of us and the insurance company. Pain, suffering, medical bills, loss of income, the whole works.
She claimed that after rear-ending her, I dragged her out of her car and Kirsten was actually chasing her through the drive-thru. The 911 recording disproved her claim of being pulled from the vehicle and CCTV footage from the fast-food restaurant showed her as the pursuer. The suit was eventually dismissed and she had to pay our lawyer’s fees. This really sucked for her because Sarah’s lawyer got photos of her frolicking at a music festival when she was supposedly suffering from whiplash, double knee injuries, and constant dizziness.
Boom, that’s insurance fraud. She spent a year in jail and paid a hefty fine. And we assumed that was the end.
But no. A few months after she was released, we all began to find dead animals left on our front porches, in our mailboxes, in the swimming pool, hung over the side mirror of the car, etc. Definitely, some unusual places to find dead animals.
The phone calls started: hang-ups, faxes, random screaming. Kirsten swore she saw a car following her between school and the coffee house. Sarah thought she saw a similar car in her neighborhood a few times. We all knew who was doing it, but the cops couldn’t really do anything without proof. Our parents were angry because this was the dawn of the digital era and we all had cell phones, but a crazy driver lady was blowing up the landline and it was harassing our parents more than us.
And the dead animals were terrifying our siblings. So Kirsten’s mom bought a guard dog and the next time somebody dropped a dead raccoon in their petunias, Duke was gonna give them what for.
So everyone in Kirsten’s house was sitting back enjoying a little TV one night when a noise was heard in the bushes right before a dead squirrel was hurled through the open window.
And Duke leaped right out the window and tackled crazy driver lady in the god damn petunias! She had dressed in all black, ski mask, gloves, and everything. Literally the uniform of the nefarious. Kirsten said Duke had her WHOLE shoulder in his big mouth and was pinning her down while they called the police. She was hauled off to jail while the cops search her car, found it down the road.
They found substances, stolen credit cards, pills, a knife, trash bags, and cleaning supplies. To get her to plea to a whole slew of lesser charges, the prosecutor threatened to pursue kidnapping charges even though it was a real stretch. She ended up being sentenced to 5 years, served 3. Thankfully none of us have heard from her since.
But it took over a decade for her to pay us off. The crazy thing is, she’s loaded! She just refused to make payments, so the court started taking it out of her tax returns and depositing it on debit cards they gave us.”
6. Call Me Unprofessional? Look For A New Job
“I work as a Product Designer/Technical Architect for a company that builds software products that are well in demand for data analysis and sorts and there is this application I was fortunate to design and develop for my company. Recently, like everyone, I am working remotely but also have cut down lots of responsibilities as I don’t feel 100 percent after my chemo, and sometimes my meds make me cranky.
I receive a WhatsApp message on my personal number from an unknown number asking that they need urgent help regarding ProductX. Definitely responding to that. Decided to message them back and asked them what was wrong.
The first response was ‘Why did I not pick up their calls?’
I don’t pick up calls on my personal number unless they are saved in my contacts (even then, selectively) as most calls are to ask how am I doing.
Also, here is an (unpopular?) opinion, just because we live in an era where communication is possible 24×7 doesn’t mean I am supposed to be available 24×7.
I did not want to dwell on that, so I asked what was wrong with the product.
That’s when the number calls me on WhatsApp and I had to pick up as I had engaged in a conversation. Instead of getting directly to the topic, she tells me she’s been trying to reach me on my personal cell for some time now and that I should behave more professionally and should try and solve the issues of the clients as fast, especially during these trying times.
Except for her tone, what she said was correct. So, I had no issues there. Every service provider should try their best to help their client to the best of their abilities, agreed, Madam.
Then she goes on to explain the issue, which is mostly a time reset or a configuration level issue that you have to do from the product dashboard. Easy-peasy, but still not something that I need to be involved in.
This requires them to raise a support ticket and one of our support engineers should take this up.
But the audacity in her voice made me feel that she was someone really important and maybe going above and beyond to help her would be good for our company! Boy, oh boy!
In the next 15 minutes of the conversation, I realized that I was talking to an idiot who can’t differentiate between a pen and a pencil.
She kept entering the wrong stuff everywhere and messed it up even further. Well, I have encountered higher officials who suck at some tech but are brilliant in some other scope, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt, and I guess I really wanted to be in the good books of such a high-ranking official. Thus I asked her to have a call via Zoom and that would let me connect to her PC via screen sharing and I would also be able to access her system remotely and fix her machine.
Her response was, ‘Sorry, I don’t want to get in a video call with you!’
(me in my head: Pfft! What again? Did you call me on my personal number to fix your configuration issue and this? But sure, her choice.)
Me: ‘Okay Madam, in that case, you can call up our support desk at the toll-free number, raise a ticket and they’d solve this for you.’ (They mostly have Remote Desktop access)
Client: ‘That’s very unprofessional of you.
I’ll have you reported and fired. I’ll also make sure that we use a better product going forward.’
So, I go again, ask her to get me the Remote Desktop ID, which she gives me, I access her session and now I realize that she’s an Associate (as shown in her user group for our product) – which means she’s the leaf node and pleasing her gives me nothing.
Now, I get cranky. I have no intention of helping this woman.
While I was explaining the fix earlier on, this idiot had made random changes and made things a little tricky for the configurations as we have no idea what exactly it was before. (we do, but not really straightforward from the UI). So, I told her everything is lost and she’ll have to raise a support ticket.
Now she starts hurling abuses at me. She says she’ll fire me today and asked for my name. (Woman has my personal number but doesn’t have my name, really, man?)
I love clients, so I always record every call with them. I hang up saying that she’s an idiot and should learn how to read and follow instructions properly.
A while later, I get a call from someone in my team saying that the CompanyA priority 1 ticket has come saying one of their major reports isn’t getting generated.
Well, guess what? One of the config changes she made deleted a major report of the company. (Who trusts idiots with the major stuff, man?)
And today is Friday, so my support staff is only going to find the root cause of the error and then notify them of what happened. They’d only be fixing it the next business day.
Apparently, the employee had messed up majorly and then called me seeking help.
(I am guessing, based on the timelines from the log) and you know what I did… I just sent in a mail stating what happened, and how I was expecting a little more professional behavior from the employees of a respected firm like theirs, and how unprofessional it is to call a personal number and expect stuff to be done on the fly when certain protocols exist, with voice recording, and WhatsApp chat.
I made sure that I did not mention her name anywhere in the email, but I did not bother to black out her number in the WhatsApp chat screenshot.
Someone is now looking for a new job.
My personal number was given away by someone from my own company (Et tu, Brute!). The guy who gave it away was a friend/shadow of this particular person. That will be dealt with separately and might not make it to another pro revenge story.
Apparently, the guy was trying to help the client out as she had deleted something important and when a client asked who could discretely help her to fix it he said my name and gave out my number.
But very clever of my guy though.
‘Hey, do you know someone who can fix this?’
‘Yes, I do,’ and brings in the guy who built it. Nice move.
He’ll deal with the HR separately.
Also, the client did not mention any of this, had she actually been completely truthful I am sure we would have dealt it differently and helped her fix it, as it stills falls as our responsibility at the end of the day.”
5. Shamed A Grabby Old Man, Drank Urine In The Process
“A few years back, I (20 F) had just moved in with my significant other and another couple who are friends of ours (housemates 1 + 2).
One day, I was home alone and decided to go for a jog. On my way back, I saw an elderly man struggling with a few too many shopping bags. He looked to be in his late 80s and had a thick Italian accent, his name was Arthur.
I stopped my jog and offered my assistance, recognizing Arthur as my neighbor from around the corner. He happily accepted and we walked back to his house, me carrying the bulk of his food shopping.
Here’s where my trusting nature got the best of me. Looking back now, I realize that I lacked the street smarts to even consider that Arthur would want to harm me.
I carried his bags to the kitchen and unloaded them onto the bench.
The whole time, Arthur had been telling me about his family, gushing over his grandchildren. He then insisted on showing me all his family photos – I listened, as I have always cherished the stories of the elders.
Suddenly, Arthur began steering me towards his bedroom and attempted to grab me from behind. Naturally, I freaked out and told him I was leaving. He blocked my exit and demanded multiple times that I kiss him before he let me go.
I did so, ran back to my home, and locked the door.
I kept thinking about how disappointed Arthur’s family would be by his actions.
I anonymously reported Arthur to crime stoppers and waited hours for my housemates to return. When they did, I ran into their arms, crying. Initially, Dan and Lucas saw red. They wanted to go to Arthur’s house and threaten him. I managed to calm them down and we began planning our revenge.
We went to the supermarket and purchased a few bottles of booze. We guzzled our drinks and put the bottles aside.
We planned to have Lucas and Dan urinate in the empty bottles and tip the contents under Arthur’s front door. Adrienne and I were to destroy his treasured garden and attach a sign to Arthur’s fence.
The sign was made from an old pizza box and read: ‘ARTHUR.
WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID. YOU INVITED MY GIRL INTO YOUR HOUSE AND ABUSED HER. IF YOU EVER COME NEAR HER OR ANY YOUNG WOMAN AGAIN, WE WILL CALL THE POLICE.’
The garden was trashed, the urine tipped under the door and the sign attached. Throughout the following day, I noticed that Arthur hadn’t looked outside until mid-afternoon (unfortunately for him, it meant the sign was displayed for the better portion of the day).
I hoped Arthur would be too ashamed to stay in the area and would move house. Instead, he stayed. It took years before I could sit near an elderly man without feeling anxious.
I maintain that vigilante justice is never the answer, but my emotions were running high and I have to admit, it felt good to see our neighbors gathered around that sign. However, having to see Arthur every day at the tram stop wasn’t so great.
One last thought to add – I believe at one point we mixed up a bottle of urine with a bottle of booze. I’m not exactly sure how it happened but it was suddenly vile to drink, but we didn’t comprehend until days later. Every one of us believes that our household tasted urine that night. For those who would call me the jerk, take pleasure in this mistake.”
4. The Day I "Won" The Lottery
“My wife and I like to play harmless pranks on each other, things like swapping all the photos in photo frames, or playing around with clocks, etc., etc. All mild stuff. Once I convinced her she had won the lottery with the old ‘record-last-weeks-lottery-and-play-it-back-having-bought-the-‘winning’-ticket’ prank. After the initial excitement, and before she tried to contact anyone, I revealed the prank and she didn’t take it well.
In fact, she got quite upset. It took a few hours before we both could have a good laugh about it. Or so I thought.
Anyway, a few years later I was serving at sea as an officer onboard a warship. We were deployed and had been for several months at this point. The routine was fairly dull, but the Ship’s Company were keeping themselves entertained for the most part.
The ship’s Chaplain (also known as ‘the Bish’) had commandeered the internal radio broadcast system and set up a schedule where members of the ship’s company could DJ for a bit, or have a discussion, host quizzes, etc., etc. The Bish’s favorite bit was his ‘messages from the home segment’ where he would read messages sent to the ship from the families back home. As you can imagine, the majority would be insipid stuff like ‘Hey Smithy, I and the kids miss you so much, can’t wait for you to get home xxxxx’.
Families would email the message, and the Bish would read it out, exactly as written.
Anyway, on this fateful day, I was on watch in the ops room. For those who don’t know, the operations room (CIC in US parlance) is quiet and busy and everyone is focused, especially in an operational environment, which is what we were in. After being in there for a few hours, I needed a leg stretch and a drink, so I let the team know that I was popping out for two minutes and headed into the wardroom to grab a cold can of diet soda and come straight back.
As I opened the door and stepped in, a massive cheer erupted! There were about 10 other officers in the wardroom, all cheering and looking at me.
‘Ummm, what’s going on guys?’
‘Didn’t you hear the Bish on the ship’s radio?’
‘No, I was in the Ops Room on watch, like you lot should be.’
‘Go see him, now, NOW!’
‘You have an important message, you’re going to want to hear it!’
So I left the wardroom, aware that around half a dozen of the other officers were following me, and made my way to the compartment the Bish did his broadcasts in.
As I walked through the ship, one sailor yelled out ‘Nice one, sir!’ and another ‘How much, how much?!’ I was very, very confused.
I stepped into the compartment and the Bish was mid-flow reading someone’s message. As soon as he finished he looked at me, a huge smile breaking across his face.
‘Here he is, the man of the moment! What have you got to say, OP?’
‘About what Bish, I have no idea what’s going on?’
‘So you didn’t hear your message? Shall I read it again, listeners?’
I realized that he was still broadcasting throughout the ship; a muffled ‘YEAH!!!’ could be heard.
He did a little fake cough, and proceeded to read the message:
‘Dear OP, I’ll get straight to the point, we have won a life-changing amount of cash on the lottery. Please call me as soon as possible! Lots of love, Snugglepuss, the Sausage Monkeys, Blockhead and Pest-Cat.’
I was utterly confused. The message would’ve been sent to the Bish around a week ago, and my wife had made no mention of it in the daily emails/phone calls I’d had with her.
It was also odd that she’d signed off using our silly little family nicknames (Snugglepuss = wife, Sausage Monkeys = kids, Blockhead = dog, Pest-Cat = well, the cat). This was not normal for her on any level; something was off.
The excitement in the compartment was electric; everyone was slapping me on the back and shaking my hand.
I managed to leave, saying something like ‘there’s a phone call I need to make’ and retreated to my cabin.
On the way there I bumped into the XO (second in command), who enthusiastically shook my hand.
‘How much, how much? You lucky, lucky jerk!’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her yet.’
‘Call her! I need to know if we have to put ‘special measures’ in place.’
A little worried about what that would mean (turns out the navy has procedures for sailors who come into a lot of dough unexpectedly in order to protect them; who knew?) I dashed away.
‘Ummm, ok. I’ll let you know.’
Finally, in my cabin, I check my watch for the time back home and called my wife.
‘Hey you, apparently we’ve won a life-changing amount of cash…’
A muffled giggle.
‘It’s a prank, isn’t it?’
‘YES! We won £10! Got you!!!’
‘Not really, I knew the message was odd as soon as I heard it.’
‘OP, you don’t understand, the prank is just beginning. You’ll see!’
And, at that moment, I understood the genius of what my wife had done.
I was due to stay on board this ship for another 2 months. She had just told the entire ship’s company that I was a lottery winner.
It started reasonably enough. Pretty much everyone wanted to congratulate me, shake my hand and talk about what I was going to do with the cash. I would try denying that I’d won anything, and then I’d get an ‘of course you haven’t (wink), (wink)’, or in at least one case, getting outright hostile with me for ‘trying to lie.’
After a couple of days of congratulations came the beggars.
From slips of paper under my cabin door to people onboard I barely knew taking me to one side, telling me their life story, and asking to either borrow or take cash from me. Any attempts to convince them I hadn’t won a lot were met with either ‘I understand, I wouldn’t hand out cash either’ or were just plain nasty.
As much as I tried to tell everyone I hadn’t won the lottery, it took a lot to convince some people. Even two months later, in my last week on board, I was still being asked what I was going to do with the cash and whether it was enough to leave the Navy and retire.
Even now, years later, I receive the odd text from someone who heard about my ‘win’ asking for cash.”
3. Trip My Baby Brother Into The Pool? Have Fun Sleeping In The Pool House
“So I (17m) and my younger brothers (15, 14 + 3) live with our grandparents, our mom passed away when the baby was born, dad six months before. Anyway, due to everything a lot of families have moved in with us (we live in a pretty large house and they’re all freeloaders).
My grandparents will never turn them away, so whatever. My youngest brother is my responsibility mostly, which like I’m fine with, my grandparents did all their parenting.
I got a job so my grandparents usually watch him for a few hours.
I was at work and get a frantic call from my 14 y/o brothers. Uncle jerk head (purposefully) tripped baby over and he fell in the deep end of the pool, and everyone stood laughing. Luckily my other brother dragged him out, but he was spluttering and I needed to get home quick.
My shift manager is amazing and let me leave, had to rush the baby to the hospital and we were there for a few hours. It was dangerous and terrifying.
So after he was asleep, I snuck downstairs. He’s substance-dependent and was knocked out cold. I basically dragged him out to the pool house. It was about two in the morning, and no one besides me and baby wakes up before like, ten.
So he was in there for a while. Anyway, I leave him on the floor. I will admit I was slightly hoping for him to roll over into the pool.
Locked the door and went to bed. I left the key in the door (something I never do because of anxiety) so I wouldn’t be the first suspect.
Eventually, my aunt (his wife) slams into our room, screaming about trying to murder him.
I’m like, ‘Really, woman?’
We’re all called down, yadda yadda. Now my nan points out that it obviously wasn’t me because the key was still in the door. They immediately go to blame my brothers, but I pointed out that they were in bed by nine because I tucked them in (yes, even the older two. Losing both your parents in six months does that to you).
They’ve been arguing all day. Who put him out there? It obviously wasn’t any of us. I’m not really sure how they skipped over questioning me so quickly, after all, I lock up every night. I was the only person genuinely angry at his actions.
He’s pretty sick, with a nasty cold. He’s been trapped in his room, and baby is really wary of him now so that’s actually pretty good.
Either way, I’m taking the boys to McDonald’s for dinner. This wasn’t the most climatic, but it sure felt good to me.”
2. You're Not Getting Away With My Motorcycle
“Well, this happened about 3 weeks ago. My motorcycle is a Bashan bar (for those who don’t know it’s a Chinese dual-sport motorcycle).
I start Monday morning off blurry-eyed and half-conscious to go to work. I leave my bike on the front porch because I never expected anyone to steal the damn thing. Anyway, I trudge through Monday and get home at about 5 pm, as I pull up I notice something odd.
My porch seems awfully barren for some reason and it hits me like a truck.
My wife greets me at the door and I asked her ‘honey where is my bike?’ as the color drains from her face she says ‘oh please no.’ Not wanting to believe it I check my shed thinking I just forgot I put it back there. Ta-dah, no bike there either. I immediately call the fuzz to file a report.
Our chief rolls up and gets my info, pics of the bike, van, etc. (At the time I had a security camera system but hadn’t installed it yet). After he leaves, I feel defeated and go and sit in my house and stew on in for a few minutes. I have a neighbor across the way from me that has a bike on his porch too.
Not wanting him to go through the same thing as me, I casually walk over and lay down what happened.
As we talk he points to a camera in the corner of his carport that points at my house. He says give me a bit and I’ll hunt down the footage of the thief snatching your bike. Feeling a bit relieved the there may be footage of this porch pirate grabbing my bike, I go home, he comes and gives me the footage a bit later.
In my desperation, I post on social media a reward for anyone that gets my two wheels of fun back to me (knowing my local Arkansas police dept I would never see the thing again). I go to bed feeling sick about the whole situation.
I crawl into work the next day and messenger pings my phone to life with a new message. Lo and behold a guy gets a hold of me and sends me pics of the guy trying to trade my bike for his (he turned him down).
We talk for a minute and I thank him for the info.
A few minutes later a brilliant idea pops into my head. Cue sneak mode, I message the guy back and ask if he would be willing to work with me on setting up a time for his ‘friend that was wanting a cheap bike’ to buy said bike from the thief. Guy says ‘sure I’m down with that.’ They go back and forth and the thief agrees to a meet and greet with Guy’s friend ‘Adam.’
Thief isn’t the smartest cookie in the bunch and sends me the wrong text app number and I never hear from him.
No text, call, nothing, about 6 hours passes and I message Guy back and tell him Thief never responded. Guy messages thief back and says, ‘Adam’ messaged you and he said you never said anything.
The thief asks for ‘Adam’s’ number, he calls. I pick up the phone calmly and collected but know I’ll end up breaking down quickly with rage if I don’t get in and out.
Thief says he has had it for about 2 months, I agree to buy the bike and meet in a big public place at 12 the next day. Feeling like I’m gonna nail him I call and tell my boss what was going on and get the day off for the next day.
The next day rolls around, I call my dad to borrow his truck so I can meet the guy in a vehicle he has never seen (considering he looked at my truck and my wife’s car).
I make it to town and call the local police and ask them to send a cruiser and tell them the situation. The cop takes my info and gives me his number and hides behind a building and tells me to text him when he pulls up.
The waiting game starts and I’m nervous, feeling like I could have spooked him at any time during our interaction on the phone.
I wait for an hour at the parking lot I’m at and the cop says he can’t stay there any longer. I message the cop and thank him for his time.
I have my wife message some of her old friends from back in the day to see if they can get a bead on him. She gets a hit from one of her friends saying Thief came to them and asked them to help him sell the bike (Thief had another stolen bike with a pic and showed a shed with some background I recognized).
Her friend says he may have the bike stashed at Thief’s dad’s house and I drive back to my hometown.
I proceed to skim my hometown in the sketchier part of town but come up with nothing. I’m to the point of giving up but decide one last push for anything. I pull up the thief’s social media profile (he has about 3) and manage to find out who his dad is and he uses messenger.
I don’t want his dad tipping off the thief but I’m out of options. But I relent and call the thief’s father on messenger and he picks up. I tell him everything and he is super nice, I tell him I’m not mad or spiteful but I just want my property back from his son. He agrees and apologized profusely, he tells me he will call him and tell him to give it up (I didn’t believe for a second thief would do that).
I go home and wait.
About an hour later I receive a message from the thief’s dad asking me for my number for his son to call me. About 5 minutes later I received a call from a thief, I am in utter disbelief. He gives me a sob story, to which I just keep saying OK where is my bike? He sends me the text of the address of where he left the bike.
I pack back up and head back to town and call the town pd again and they have two cruisers meet me and escort me to the location.
When I say I’m nervous in this part of town that is an understatement. We get the bike and my wife tells me she can physically see my stress leave my body. We load the bike up and head back home.
But the story isn’t finished, this whole time I had been keeping my hometown PD informed on everything. Chief calls me and asks ‘do you want to press charges, my suggestion is don’t let him have any slack.’ Heck yes, I do. I head to the PD and sign an affidavit against the thief for theft by receiving and criminal mischief. (I have messages Guy screenshot of him trying to trade/sell the bike) I sign the papers and get home to do damage control.
The thief ripped apart the ignition to get it started, and took a screwdriver to the gas cap. Annoyed but happy the bike is back with me I lock the bike up and order new parts and forget about him. About a week later I get the urge to check local records and see if they have picked him up. Boy did they, added a felony to his rap sheet and I burst into laughter seeing his mug shot.”
1. My Revenge Was Getting Taller
“They say living well is the best revenge. In my case, it was getting taller. I have a sister who’s over two years older than me. And when we were little kids she was always bigger and stronger than me. And she never let me forget it whenever she used her size to her advantage. I was small for my age as a kid, so I was a prime target to be picked on.
But around the time I was 13, I started to have the last laugh. I was getting taller. And before long we were the same height. And she did NOT like it. In fact, she downright denied that we were the same height.
The following year I entered high school and was nearly two inches over her. Then at some point, she went out of her way to wear some boots she’d gotten that added over 3 inches to her height.
And as we left for school she danced around me like a fairy and said ‘Ha-haaa! I’m taller than you-ooo!’ And I told her ‘Not really…’ and she just dismissed me and kept on strutting all the way to the school bus stop.
But during my Freshman school year, I grew six inches in nine months. So before long, even those boots didn’t give her enough height to stand even with me.
And one morning I pointed it out while she was wearing them, and she bitterly told me to shut up. Not too long after she stopped wearing heels that gave her such a high rise because they just did not help anymore. But she was still in denial over who was bigger. Once I needed her help to crawl into a place under the porch to clean up a mess, and she refused and stated she was too big to fit.
I told her she was not since I could fit. But she again stated that she was ‘Too Big’ and just closed her window, leaving me to do it alone.
Eventually my sister’s ‘Bigger than you!’ complex faded away. She ended up maxing out at about five foot four inches tall. I hit five foot eleven inches tall. So in the end I won by seven inches.”