People Share Their Big, Juicy Revenge Stories

The juicier, the better. That goes for steaks, burgers, lamb chops, chicken breasts, meatballs, and even… revenge stories? Yes, revenge stories – that’s right!

What I think makes revenge juicy isn’t just the extent of the revenge and what the revenge entails but the entire plot itself. I’m a sucker for stories with surprise, twist endings, especially when the receiver of the revenge has no idea what’s coming for them. Those are truly the best reads.

Now, if you’re on the hunt for some juicy revenge narratives, you’ll get some below. Employees get fired, prized pets get stolen, bullies get bullied back, and so much more goes on. Let’s just say you’ll be left pretty satisfied. I’m certain of it!

12. Think You Can Rob Your Ex-Partner? He’ll Get Even Quickly

“Ok, for reference, I was a young teen around 14 or 15 years at the time. My father had a rough time with women and always seemed to have bad luck with them, until he started dating an old high school friend that we’ll just call Susan.

She was a cool woman. I was glad my dad found love in his life again; he deserved it.

Susan was kind to me and even had 2 kids of her own, one younger and one older than me, but they didn’t come around often. My dad dated her off and on for over a year, thinking he was super lucky.

But soon we started having problems that escalated until the breaking point. I’ll start from the beginning, and you’ll see that I’m not lying when I say that Susan is an EVIL woman.

Susan is a struggling drug addict that my dad knew about and had tried to help her through it, but she was always fighting him about it and had moments of pure rage.

I hate when people yelled and fought with each other. I’m kinda emotional and I start getting weepy. I don’t know why.

Anyway, my dad had a bad accident when he was hunting behind our woods behind our house. He was coming down, and halfway down, he fell and perfectly, landing one of his legs on a rock that COMPLETELY shattered his kneecap. He had to have surgery and go on heavy pain medication to keep him comfortable.

3 weeks and he came home but needed crutches for months and still had some heavy pain meds. Enter Susan who was hardly around the hospital during my dad’s entire stay. She would end up sneaking my dad’s pills when he was asleep and just abuse them all the time. My dad ended up hiding them from her. That was the moment things went downhill.

First, she tried to convince me to STEAL my dad’s meds so she could take them, saying that “if 2 or 3 go missing, he won’t know.” I was appalled at what I was hearing.

I refused and I thought her behavior was out of line, but my dad still believed she was a good person.

Next, I have to admit that I suffer from low self-esteem and emotional anxiety from time to time. It was awhile after the pill issue that Susan came and was trying to convince me to run away from my dad because he didn’t care about me anymore.

I was in a bad time in my life and she succeeded in making me do just that.

I did come back afterward when I was found on the road by police. She was turning me and my dad against each other and got us literally yelling at each other.

But we resolved this and after some reflection, we both realized that for all the major problems we have had to happen, Susan was the instigator. My dad promised she’d be gone soon. And wouldn’t ya know it? Dad found out she was actually cheating on him.

He walked in on her and her ex when he went to her place to break up. It made his choice a lot easier. Susan was gone. We finally had our lives back… Or so we thought.

One day, I came home from school and went into our house to find that it was completely trashed. I was shocked and confused and didn’t know what was going on. My dog was acting normal and happy to see me but everything was wrecked.

I looked around and saw my Xbox 360 and Wii were stolen along with most of my games. My dad’s room was also in tatters, so I decided to call my dad to ask what was going on. A family friend actually showed up during this and looked around too.

My dad rushed home and was absolutely furious when he went inside. Our friend left and Dad checked around and noticed that only his pills were stolen from his room.

We knew instantly that it was Susan. Our dog was acting normal because she knew Susan and was used to her. That’s how she didn’t get mauled by our dog and was able to rob us.

Instantly, my dad began to figure out what to do. I suggested that we call the police, but my dad refused. He called dibs. Being ex-military, even with a bad leg, made him a dangerous man to f*ck over.

He found out that her ex, a Russian dude who’s a wannabe gangster, helped rob us.

My dad acted as swiftly as possible, and to be honest, I was scared. I thought he’d literally kill the both of them. It took 4 days for my dad to find out where they were staying. They moved in together at his house.

My dad told me to stay home and drove over there at night with a baseball bat and his favorite pocket knife. Around midnight, he came back and I saw stuff in the back of our car.

He told me that my consoles were sold, and he couldn’t have gotten them back.

I asked what happened and he sat me down. He had gone down and found that both of them were there that night and he honked his horn real loud and they came out. Susan didn’t recognize the car in time, and her ex, let’s call him Tim, got scared to death as my dad got out, bat in hand.

Now, this dude was supposed to be a bada** gangster that would beat anyone down.

And my dad was only just recovered enough to not need crutches anymore. So in favor of odds, you’d expect Timmy to be itchin’ to fight, knowing he’d win.

But he caved in. My dad had a reputation of being the guy who’ll beat down anyone who f*cks with our family. He has beaten a few people around town that has hurt our friends or family. Tim apparently got on his knees and begged for his life.

And that he’d do anything.

And my dad, being the saint he is, told him to strip and give him all his clothes. Tim couldn’t tear them off fast enough! Susan was about to go onto the house (presumably to call the police) when my dad told her not to move, or he’d beat Tim to death. He grabbed the clothes and told them to NEVER come near our house again. OR ELSE. He also assured them that he’d be back.

I was shocked. But glad my dad didn’t kill anyone. He told me that I wasn’t going to school tomorrow because I was coming with him to Susan’s house. So the next day at noon, we show up and go with Tim immediately to his bedroom. My dad told me to get the big cardboard box he loaded up yesterday.

We went in and he told Susan that he was taking their DVD collection. He went over and told me to take them all.

Which I did, albeit reluctantly. I was a bit uncomfortable with the situation but was in awe of how bada** my dad was being.

He yelled for Tim, and that dude ran right in like a dog and sat down on the couch. My dad told him he had a week to get out of our town. If he didn’t, he’d have a bad time. Tim agreed profusely. And my dad and I walked out.

But before we left, my dad stopped and turned to Tim and told him to strip again and give him his clothes.

I watched slack-jawed as Tim hurriedly pulled his clothes off and gave them to my dad. We eventually went home.

They never called the cops. Too afraid I guess. Of the authorities or of my dad – I don’t know which. But we haven’t heard from them since. Good riddance.” ElibronMystic

11. Think You Can Talk To Me However You Want? Lose Staff And Big Contracts

“I was a rink rat growing up. Friday night, Saturday morning and night, along with Sunday morning and night I was there.

Hell, I didn’t even leave between the morning and night sessions. I even went Tuesday nights as well! I was serious too. I dove deep into speed skating and not trying to toot my own horn but I was pretty good and well known.

Anyway, I’d been going to this specific skating rink for years and knew EVERYONE. One day, It was right before I started 7th grade, the owner came up to me and asked me to go out onto the rink floor and tell some kids to slow down.

I did and came back and he asked me how would I like to make $7.50 an hour to which I responded, “Do I also get in for free?” He laughed and said of course. BOOM! The first job and I wanted to be there anyway so it was the biggest win-win of all time for me.

To say I loved it was an understatement and I did everything besides work the snack bar. DJ, skate counters, floor guard, janitor, hype man… you name it and I did it.

It was some of the greatest times of my life. So much fun and the owner was super awesome. Also, we were paid under the table so getting an envelope full of cash every week just felt like a bonus for having fun. To me it wasn’t a job, it was pure fun. It also helped that all my friends were regulars as well.

A few years go by and the owner sold to another guy who we will call Tim.

Tim could be an absolute nightmare to work for. He changed the entire dynamic of the place and everyone felt it. Now, this skating rink was POPULAR and extremely old. Lots of people all over the city knew of it. My mom and aunt skated there when they were kids if that tells you anything.

Someway or another the new owner set up and juicy deal that had the rink started making a sh*tload of money! On Saturday night from 7-11, it was skating per usual but from 11-2ish/3ish, it was a club.

A local hip hop station came in there with local label Swishahouse and turned the place upside down for those few hours. Every week and the place was POPPIN. There must have been over 2k people in there on average and at $20 per person it adds up quick plus the snack bar would NEVER stop turning out food and drink. We were making stupid money. Bonus! We also found some good stuff when cleaning up as well.

Money, knives, weed, jewelry… It was awesome.

So Tim has it made but sometimes he would fly off the handle for little things. All of us weren’t sure what his deal was but he would explode out of nowhere and start talking all kinds of nonsense. I’d started to have enough because we all had worked there for many years WITHOUT ISSUE. One night he went too far..

I don’t like being called outside of my name. It’s a respect thing.

My own mother didn’t do it and he for sure wasn’t. For context, I was in 10th grade now. One night he was in some kinda mood and for whatever reason was taking it out on everyone. I don’t remember the exact situation, but he started freaking out on me at about 11:30 PM. Now, Slim Thug and Paul Wall were in the building that night so the place was extra packed. Waaaay more than usual (I’m sure we were breaking all kinds of fire marshal rules lol).

He went ballistic and called me every name in the book while I just stood there with rage building up in me. I’d had enough. For years this place ran flawlessly and everyone loved us so he really didn’t have a good reason to treat us in the manner he did. My plan was formed. I immediately gather everyone else that was working and we all decided that enough was enough. It was time for a lesson.

I assembled the entire crew and well all quit on the spot. ALL OF US. That meant nobody to serve food, clean, help the Swishahouse people, or just carry out general things that needed to be done when 2-3k people were in the building. He was stunned, his tone changed and he became very sweet. We weren’t having it.

As an additional f*ck you, I called the other two people that were off and they showed up to quit as well.

Tim had already reached out so he assumed they were showing up to work. Nope. We left him with zero workers on the absolute busiest of busy nights and boy did it implode. He couldn’t find anyone to work so the place went to absolute sh*t that night. The on-duty officer told him he needed to figure something out or he was going to close it down without workers. Well… he didn’t. It closed down that night and apparently without staff it got nasty.

People started having s*x, smoking, trashing the place, and all kinds of stuff. Shortly after the radio station and label took their business elsewhere and not long afterward the place closed down. He lost his entire investment. This was very bittersweet for me because I loved the place but he ran it into the ground. The building is still standing and I would LOVE to bring it back to its former glory but my pockets are deep enough yet.

Maybe one day.

Anyways, we all went to Denny’s to celebrate afterward.” JawShoeWaah

Another User Comments:

“All of these doubters have obviously never been to a skating rink in Houston. It’s been a couple of years since I dusted off the old quads but take it from a retired roller derby ref: everything this man claim is more than plausible, including his getting everyone to quit at once. I spent the better part of my 20s in roller rinks all over Houston and east Texas.

Rink crews are crazy tight-knit, especially if they’re local enough to live on the same block. Rinks also have a knack for hiring underaged high schoolers, paying under the table, and having off-duty cops that look the other way for all of that do security.

OP, thanks for the story. I’ve had to deal with some dumba** rink owners and managers in my day. I can’t wait for the ‘rona to get over with so I can get my Riedells out again.” Mogul126

10. All They Had To Do Was Pull Out The Employee Handbook

“I used to work in an office, what kind of work isn’t particularly important to the story so just picture a basic office job.

Every January, HR would send an email to all employees with the employee handbook. This included job descriptions, office policies, etc.

Every year since the PDF handbook had been established it would be named with the year following it to establish it was different than the original and all other years.

Any changes would have updated next to the section in the table of contents so you could see what had changed from the previous year and familiarize yourself with anything new.

Now with that background, we will introduce Karen. Karen had been with the company a pretty long time (about 10 years I believe). She was fine at her job. Just fine. She would get things done, but not without making everyone else miserable in the process. She would ask questions that had already been answered, and basically just waste everyone’s time for fun.

She was just plain nasty to people and tried as hard as she could to make everyone stay far away from her.

The worst thing about her was she always seemed to be looking for a fight or looking for a reason to complain. She had threatened lawsuits a few times over any small thing, but would always just get over it and drop it bc she knew no laws had been broken and it would never go anywhere. She’d comment on how she should sue basically every business she ever went to because she could live off the settlement and retire early.

Over the smallest issues, you can imagine. She did her job and we never had a valid reason to fire her, especially knowing how lawsuit-happy she was, so she stayed. Karen’s job description (as per the handbook) called for a bachelor’s degree. Karen did not have a bachelor’s degree but had been hired prior to that being a requirement so she was grandfathered in. One day, a position above hers became open. A guy who we will call Terry had recently completed his master’s degree after taking night classes for a few years, and since an internal promotion is typically better than an outside hire, he was chosen for the promotion.

Terry had been at the company for about 4.5 years and was well-liked and great at his job, the new job required a master’s degree in its job description, and him being a recent grad it was a perfect fit and everyone was happy for him.
Everyone but Karen. Since she was constantly looking for something to sue about, she took it as a direct insult that she had not been considered for this promotion that she was not at all qualified for.

She immediately cried discrimination and told our boss her lawyer would be in touch.

We were all perplexed since it was very clear that this position required a master’s degree and given that she didn’t even have a bachelor’s degree there is no way she could have been hired for the role.

What we soon realized, was that Karen had saved the original company handbook named ‘company handbook’ and had not bothered to open or save any new editions that were sent in the following 8 years.

She just assumed no changes had been made and that it was just sent every year to ensure all employees had it.

If she has bothered to open the file, she would have seen the sections that say updated in the table of contents.
Since Karen cried lawsuit a lot, no one expected much of this since it was ridiculous to claim. But Sure enough, Karen gives her resignation letter via email and it is scathing, about how she can’t bear to work in such a discriminatory environment that would only promote men.

When any higher-ups try to speak to her about this and clear up the confusion, she basically tells them to f*ck off and to ‘read the d*mn email, I don’t owe any more of an explanation’.

She basically goes full Karen. Not long after, a letter comes in from her lawyer asking for a settlement to avoid a discrimination case. What Karen hadn’t realized was that our boss’s sister in law owned a law firm. She didn’t really take on clients herself anymore and mostly just managed the other lawyers of her firm, she was basically semi-retired.

What this meant was she had plenty of time to review any letters from Karen’s lawyer and advise us.
Since Karen didn’t bother to read any of the updated handbooks, she was unaware that this position had required a master’s degree for many years now (I believe about 6 years).

She supplied her lawyer with the original company handbook from 9 years ago, and he used that as a reference in his settlement demand. This was when we realized she hadn’t read any new handbooks in years.

Since Karen rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, Boss’s sister in law decided to personally take on the case. Every letter Karen’s lawyer sent, she sent back one 3 times in length. Some of it wouldn’t even really say anything, just wordiness, but it would certainly take Karen’s lawyer awhile to read it, and he did not come cheap.

After several of these letters, they realize no settlement is going to happen, they want to take it to court.

It’s a pretty cut and dry case. Boss’s sister in law shows evidence that Karen has received all updates via email. After the change was made and the handbook sent out, HR even sent an email to Karen specifically letting her know that she was grandfathered in and doesn’t need to worry, to which Karen replied ‘okay, thank you!’, confirming receipt of it. The best part was when Boss’s SIL said that they couldn’t break company rules to give Karen a job she was totally unqualified for while neglecting another employee who went above and beyond to get his master’s degree to advance, as that would be unfair to all other employees.

Karen now had a huge (seriously, HUGE) bill from her lawyer for all of these letters and filing the case, etc., no job, no one she could list as a positive recommendation, and no degree. In the time she had been at the company, it had become an industry standard to require a bachelor’s degree, so she was effectively shut out of her career. It would also be hard to explain how you worked somewhere for a decade and don’t have a letter of recommendation from anyone there.

If she had only read her d*mn emails.” theycallmejaws

9. Gold Digging Partners Don’t Belong In This Hotel

“I worked as a front desk agent in a large luxury hotel chain for some years. One particular hotel I worked at was located really close to the downtown area and so we got a large number of young, very wealthy, business people who loved to party. I usually worked the 2nd & 3rd shifts which meant I got to see loads of drunken hookups, breakups, cheating, hookers, and more.

This particular one though…this is one I will never forget.

I was working at the desk when a group of young, well-dressed men comes walking in. They’ve all clearly been drinking, but aren’t so drunk that they can’t walk right and hold a conversation.

One of them comes up to me and tells me that while he and his friends were at the bar, a woman was hitting on him, and even though he told her no multiple times she wouldn’t stop.

So he and his friends left and it wasn’t until they got in the Uber that he realized he didn’t have his room key anymore. He thinks she took it and he’s concerned that she may come up to his room, he asked that I deactivate his keys and if she does come up to the hotel to not let her in.

When he was telling me all of this, it didn’t sit right with me. He and his friends were all grinning about it and snickering amongst one another.

Then he gave a clear description of her, without being asked. Told me height, body shape, hair color, and style, the kind of dress she was wearing. All while saying it in a mocking tone.

Now, this could have easily been because he thought the whole thing was ridiculous or was too drunk to take it seriously, but it really didn’t sound right to me. Either way, I did as I was trained in that situation. I pulled up his reservation, deactivated the keys as requested, made him a new set when he showed me his ID, and even offered to move him to a new room if that would make him feel more comfortable.

He and his buddies all laughed a little at that and he declined, took the keys and they went to their room.

About an hour or so later, the woman he described showed up. Now, by this point, my relief for the night had also shown up and was sitting at the front desk while I was in the back office counting down my cash drawer. I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the woman.

Just as I’m walking out of the back office with my bag and about to leave, I see my coworker buzz the doors open and the woman comes rushing in, cuts through the lobby and down the hall to the elevators. She was barefoot, holding her heels in her hands, and knew exactly where she was going.

I rushed up to him and told him what the man from before had told me about her. My coworker looked at me confused.

He then pointed to the screen that had the reservation pulled up and told me that when the woman arrived, she went to use the room keys and they didn’t work. So he asked for her room number and last name, she gave both and her name is on the reservation. I looked at the reservation and down in the notes, there was a woman’s name listed. The man from before was listed as the primary, but her name was listed as secondary with his consent to be in the room.

I was confused, I thought maybe she wasn’t the same woman he was talking about. But, to be on the safe side I called the man in his room and told him the situation and that we allowed a woman, fitting that description he gave, to enter the building because she confirmed her name was on the room. He laughed, said he forgot her name was on the room, and asked that I remove it. I was now super confused, I asked to make sure:

Me: “Sir…just to be clear, the woman you met at the bar tonight was with you at check-in hours ago and was allowed keys then, but now she is not?”

Him: (laughs to all his friends in the room) “Awww….guys I confused the poor girl.” (gets back on the phone with me) “Yeah sweetheart, she’s banned from the room.

Don’t worry about the other details, just take her name off.”

Me: “…I see. Then, if she isn’t going to be on the room anymore, would you like us to call the police and have her removed from the property?”

Him: “Hahaha…woah! That’s too far there. Don’t worry, she’ll get the hint soon enough.”

We ended the call there and I got really suspicious of this. I told my coworker to not do anything and that I was going to stick around for a bit to see if anything happened.

A short time later the woman came off the elevator, pouring tears, sobbing while on the phone with someone. She sat down in our lobby and my coworker and I tried to look busy while eavesdropping hard on her phone call.

She was sobbing on the phone to her mom and sister. From what she told them, she was invited out to spend the week with her new man meeting all of his old college buddies. This being their first-night they all met up for dinner and drinks.

After a bit, she went to the restroom and when she came back she caught her guy hitting on another woman. His friends all bet that he wouldn’t do it. When she confronted him p*ssed off, he called her a bunch of names and humiliated her in front of his friends and the entire bar. All of his friends joined in on mocking her and he threw in her face that she was “nothing without him” and dumped her right there.

He and his friends then took an Uber back and left her stranded at the bar with no money and no way back. She then had to use her phone’s GPS and walk back to the hotel from the bar, barefoot (she had heels, and walking 2 miles in those was not going to cut it). She was asking her mom and sister for help as he wouldn’t let her in the room to get her luggage or her wallet.

My heart broke. I felt horrible. I helped this guy treat this poor woman like crap and now he and all his friends were up there laughing at her while she’s sitting in our lobby sobbing and with nothing. I went over to our snacks area in the lobby, grabbed her a bottled water, and brought it to her. I told her that I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation and was very sorry for her situation and asked if she would like us to help.

I informed her that if he was keeping her from getting to her things, we could call the police and have them force him to hand over her things so she could leave if she’d like. Or if she wanted to let her mom or sister pay for a room we’d be happy to give her a very low rate in a room far from him.

She thanked me, took the water, and tried to calm down and talk to me about what all was happening and what her options were.

Eventually, we decided on her staying in the hotel for the night and figuring out the rest in the morning. As we make it to the desk, she asks me to try and run her credit card to see if it has enough on it for another room. I ask her what she means by “another room” and she tells me that she’s actually paying for the room he’s in. That his name is on the room because he booked it, but it’s her card paying for everything.

This intrigued me. I asked why she was paying for the room if it was in his name. She told me that she’s the one with a job, not him. That he hasn’t been able to find a job in his field since graduating from college and is essentially living off of his parents’ money. But just after they started dating, his parents cut him off, so he’s been living off of her money. That’s why she was so upset and confused by how he had been acting all night, he was sweet and doing everything for her back home, but since he met up with his friends he did a 180 and hasn’t been the same guy the entire time.

I wanted to tell her that it was obvious he was using her for the money and that he would probably blame his friends for all of this and try to get back with her later on. But I doubted she would have listened to me or cared for a complete stranger to butt in on her personal life like that. So instead, I offered up a sweet piece of revenge.

I informed her that, considering she’s the one paying for the room, if she can confirm that it is her card on file with some sort of photo ID and verify the last 4 digits of the card number (That’s honestly all this hotel company required) then she could, if she wanted to, kick him out of the room and keep it all to herself.

But, considering how poorly her night has been, if she were indeed able to prove she is the one paying for the room, then I’d be more than happy to provide for her the biggest luxury upgrade we offered at our property. The largest suite we had, with full hotel amenity access, I’d even have my coworker fish out a bottle of champagne and some fresh strawberries for her to have sent to her room. All free of charge.

She was taken aback by the offer and was very sincerely tempted, she looked like she was about to say no. Then I told her that since she would be upgrading her room, that would require moving her things from that room and into her new one. Which mean the room that she is currently listed in would need to be vacated immediately, if anyone were to remain in the room after we have demanded it be vacated, we are required to have them escorted off the property or they pay for the room.

Their choice.

She then thought about it, pulled up her card’s banking app, and showed me the screen. It had a photo of her, her full name, the card’s full number, and the hold from our hotel for the room. She asked if that worked. It was good enough for me.

I quickly upgraded her, moved everything over in the system, and before I could say a word to my coworker he was already grabbing a set of master keys, a bell cart and was asking her what her luggage looked like since he would be the one retrieving it for her to deliver to her room.

He didn’t want her to have to deal with her ex again. She smiled and told him which ones were hers and that she hadn’t unpacked yet.

My coworker runs down to the elevators and up to fetch her things. While I make her a new set of keys and send her off to her new room. Once she’s on the elevator, my phone at the desk starts ringing. It’s the ex-partner and he’s very angry about why my coworker has entered the room and is taking her things.

I calmly explain that I cannot give out the private information of any of our guests and that if he would like to remain in his room he will need to pay for it as there is no longer a method of payment for his room.

He. Blew. Up.

He’s making a ton of demands and at the same time yelling at my coworker to stop what he’s doing, but it’s obvious from the way he’s yelling at him that my coworker isn’t listening to him.

I can even hear the guy’s friends telling him to chill out and just pay for the room.

I then explain that we will give him a courtesy 10 mins to make a decision. At which point, if he doesn’t have payment ready then he must vacate the building or we will be forced to call the authorities and have him evicted. He continues to yell at me. He screams, swears, threatens, and yells for a solid minute before taking a breath.

I then tell him he has 9 mins remaining and asks if he has come to a decision yet. He hangs up on me.

9 minutes later I call the room and he doesn’t answer. I call again, no answer. I call a third time, he picks up, then immediately hangs up. I call the police and tell them what’s going on and they said they’re on their way.

The officers arrive, I tell them what’s going on, we go up to the room together and the man and his friends are all white as ghosts when they see the cops.

The cops explain to the ex-partner and his friends that they’re being evicted. The ex-bf starts trying to talk to me but the cops stop him and tell him to only talk to them (I told him about his attitude on the phone before). The friends are all offering to pay for the room at this point and the cops look to me and ask if that would be acceptable. I smile very sweetly and say “no” and the cops nod and start rushing all of the guys to grab their things and leave the room.

The ex-bf is the last one out the door carrying his 2 bags and complaining that he isn’t even given a luggage cart and has to carry his own things. His friends all look p*ssed at him.

I go with the officers to escort all of them out of the building and run into my coworker in the lobby. He waits until they’re all outside in the parking lot to tell me that the woman is in her new room, loves it, and said no to the champagne, she just wanted to sleep.

I didn’t get to see her before she left town the next day, but the ex-bf did try calling our hotel to complain a number of times and even tried leaving some bad reviews of us online and lied through all of it. I hope she doesn’t have to ever deal with him again.” Anonymous_Annie5523

8. Always Be Nice To Anyone You Think About Hiring

Or, just be nice to people in general.

“This is a bit of a long story about the value of being professional and nice no matter the position you are in.

My wife and I moved to our current city back in 2013. The standards for my wife’s job here are different from the standard back home. She has an Associate’s degree and most employees wanted a Bachelor’s degree. However, nothing could stop her and she kept putting in applications.

One day one of the employers she had sent applications to called her back. However, it was not to tell her she had gotten the job. Instead, it was the manager telling her how unprofessional it was of her to put in for positions that were “obviously above her.

In fact, I’m going to delete your email from our system please don’t apply any more it’s just a waste of our time. I’ll send you a letter since you just can’t seem to follow directions in my emails.” My wife after she got over her initial shock asked the manager for her name. “I don’t see why it matters but Tulip.” My wife said thank you and continued her job hunt. Sure enough, she got the letter in the mail asking her not to apply anymore citing an inability to follow clear directions.

My wife held onto this letter. I told her to throw it away but she insisted on keeping it.

Eventually, my wife landed a job at one of the biggest employers in the city. Not only that but this employer was the main supply of business to the employer that was so rude to my wife.

Well, my wife is an extremely precocious and hard working person and eventually got her Bachelor’s and then became the manager over her crew.

One of the manager’s responsibilities was to decide who to send business to.

My wife told her boss about the letter and what happened and used that as justification that if this is how a business treats potential hires then they really shouldn’t be trusted with their business. Her boss honestly probably did not care very much and just let my wife do what she does. (Honestly, my wife is kind of a bada** and it wouldn’t surprise me if her boss just gave her whatever it took to keep her happy.)

Wouldn’t you know it the rude employer business went way, way down.

In fact, my wife would only give them business if they were the last ones who could be called.

This led to the most awesome meeting my wife has had this year. You see to improve relations, the crappy employer set up a meeting with my wife and my wife’s boss and the sh*tty businesses top management. They needed this meeting to “show how much value they could add.”

The day of the meeting comes and everyone introduces themselves.

Finally, Mrs. Tulip says she is the manager and how nice it was to meet everyone.

That’s when my wife said, “Excuse me I just want to be certain. Are you Mrs. Tulip?”
Tulip: “Yes that’s me.”
My wife: “Oh excellent. I am so happy to finally meet you in person.”

Thinking she had an In with my wife Mrs. Tulip was over the moon. My wife let them carry on and tell her all about how much value they could add to the business and how they could really help out my wife’s employer.

This is when my wife says, “Well thank you but unfortunately I feel that we can’t really give business to an employer who we feel has some ethical issues that need to be addressed.”

Big boss from bad employers: “Excuse me we were not made aware of any ethical issues what are you talking about?”

That’s when my wife brought out the letter that was signed by Mrs. Tulip. My wife then tells them that if they treat potential hires this way then it was an ethics issue for my wife and it would be very hard for my wife to give them business.

Since she had concerns about the welfare of the business she couldn’t approve any more goes to bad business than absolutely necessary.

Mrs. Tulip turned white and you could hear a pin drop on the other side of the table. My wife thanked them for their time but apologized and went back to her work.

We don’t know if anything ever happened to Mrs. Tulip but that business has since downsized and has gotten a reputation for being a poor choice to send business.

Throughout my wife’s organization.” randomstudman

7. Assault Me On The Job? This Store Is Going Down

Not even the higher-ups could save themselves.

“I used to work at a very well-known pizza chain restaurant. If Scooby doo could say it, it would be called Rominos.

I first started out there as just a cashier and would just do the normal stuff, running the register and placing orders. I eventually learned how to make pizzas. Over time the store manager wanted to promote me to shift runner.

For those who don’t know what that is, it’s a step below assistant manager. So when I was promoted, I’d be in charge of running the shift and delegate roles for the shift, and tell employees when they could leave.

While I was working there, there was a guy who started there that had worked there before. When he was there before, he was an assistant manager. He left one day during a busy evening when the store was slammed with orders and customers.

He apparently got too stressed out and couldn’t handle it anymore. So two years later he comes back, but now as a delivery driver. When he first started for the second time, I didn’t know who he was and I had never met him before that. He seemed nice…. at first.

After a few days, he kept trying to be the person in charge. I had to put him in his place a few times when I was running the shift.

Now I wasn’t on the best of terms with the store manager. We had a few blowouts here and there, mostly from him breathing down my neck when we were really busy. I snapped at him and told him to back off and let me do my d*mn job. So when I went to him to tell him about the delivery driver (we’ll call him Brad) was trying to act as a manager he didn’t seem to really care.

Alright, whatever. I was talking to the one assistant manager that I was friends with (we’ll call him Chad). I had told him the deal and he told me to just tell him off.

The next shift I worked with Brad, he again tried acting as the manager, I told him he isn’t an assistant manager anymore and he’s a driver and needs to stop as I’m the one that’s in charge of the shift. He huffed and walked away from me.

Everything was fine for a while…

Well, one day I was sitting in the office taking care of a few things on the computer, and in comes Brad. He starts talking to me about an order and just messing around with me. As I’m finishing up on the computer, he kneels down making it look like he’s picking something up off the floor so I don’t pay him any mind. The next thing I know, he’s jabbing a finger into my breast.

I froze unsure of what to do. A million things ran through my mind in a split second.

Now before I continue on, I should note, this isn’t the first time to happen to me in my life. When I was in high school, a guy thought it would be funny/cool to grab my breast as hard as he could one day we were on the bus. In the end, I beat the living hell out of him.

It took a few people to keep from doing some real damage. He then got expelled from the school. A year or two later, I had moved and a similar situation happened on the bus again, this time I didn’t get a chance to do anything because the school bus pulled up to his stop and he ran off the bus. Got him suspended from school and his parents apologized to me along with making him apologize as well.

There are some other issues, but you get the point.

So anyway, he jabbed my breast hard and I froze. All those times I had that happen to me flashed through my mind. I got up and I went out back slamming the door hard. I was pacing back and forth for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think… I was shaking from being utterly p*ssed off and from a feeling I couldn’t recognize.

Now, this is the kicker, he comes out acting like nothing happened and telling me how I need to keep the back door locked because that’s how the place got robbed before, 4 years ago by the old store manager’s son… Well the conversation went a little like this…

Me: I don’t give a f*ck! Leave me the f*ck alone and go the f*ck back inside!

Brad: Don’t yell at me and curse at me!

Me: Dude, you really do not want to f*ck with me right now! Go the f*ck back inside NOW! I am not going to f*cking say it again!

Brad: And what are you going to do if I don’t?

So before I can say another word, Chad comes out because he hears me yelling at Brad.

When he sees how red my face is, he gets Brad back inside and then comes to check on me. At this point, I’m sitting in my car crying and shaking because I was so mad and so upset. I explained to him what happens. I lived with my mom at the time and he told me to call her, so I did. I told her what happened and she told me to call the store manager and tell him that something needs to be done about Brad.

So I call the store manager and this is the conversation:

Me: Hey, so I wanted to let you know that Brad was very inappropriate and sexually assaulted me. (Blah blah blah, you know the story).

Store manager: Oh my god, you guys seriously act like children. You all need to grow up.

Me: What!? Are you being serious right now? I need to grow up? Dude one of your MALE employees assaulted me!!

Store manager: Whatever, I’ll take care of it.

Bye.

So when he said he would take care of it, he meant, “I’m gonna smack him on the hand and tell him that’s not nice and send him home for the night.”

Okay fine, I take it a step further and call the district manager. He doesn’t answer, so I left a voicemail telling him that I needed to discuss something with him in regards to Brad and that if I didn’t receive a phone call back, I was going to press charges on Brad.

Never got a callback.

So, I take it another step further… I decide to file a police report. Got my statement written up and had a court date set. Now mind you, the day he got arrested, we were all working: myself, Chad, Brad, and Store Manager, plus a bunch of others. When the cop that I had given my statement to came in and arrested him, the look on Brad’s face was amazing and the look on the Store Manager’s face was priceless too.

Store manager kept asking the cop why he was arresting Brad and the cop said that he wasn’t at liberty to tell him and that if Brad would like to say, then he could tell him.

Well, B was released a couple of hours later, and turns out THE DISTRICT MANAGER BAILED HIM OUT!!!!! I was livid. So Brad came back to the store and told Store Manager what happened and why he was arrested. Well, I got sent home early because of the issue.

I was told neither Brad nor myself would be allowed to return to work until after the issue was resolved in court. Well, my mom worked next door, and guess who she saw back at work the next day having a jolly ol’ time with Store Manager and District Manager….? You guessed it, Brad was back at work already.

I call up the District Manager and ask why Brad is allowed back but I’m not. He spews a bunch of bs about how I have a toxic relationship with Store Manager and that’s why I’m not allowed back and then offers me to work at a store over an hour away from me, not guaranteed the same position and pay.

I told him to shove the job up his a** and to f*ck off with that bullsh*t and hung up on him.

Court day comes, I show up and head over to my lawyer and my support lady that was there. The hearing gets underway and the verdict, not guilty. Great. If only I had gotten this guy who I’ll call Zack to come (not his real name for privacy reasons). Remember how I said Brad used to work there a few years ago? Well, that’s when Zack was there.

Zack was 16 then and Brad was 32…. He told Zack to get down on his knees and to suck Daddy’s balls….. If Zack had come to the hearing, I could have gotten a guilty verdict. But because I had no proof of what he did, he got off free.

Well…. This is where my revenge takes place….. My entire family found about what happened and I legally couldn’t take to social media for legal purposes, but nothing ever said my family couldn’t.

Little did Brad, Store Manager, and District Manager know my family had a lot of connections and ties in the community. Within a day, everyone in the town and in surrounding towns too, found out what had happened.

Well, needless to say, they lost A LOT of business. Rominos FIRED District Manager, Store Manager, AND Brad!!!!! They aren’t even allowed to work or come into any of the stores ever again. On top of that, somehow in the midst of things, someone in town found out that the DM was cheating on his wife and told her…. She divorced him and got everything…. Everything could have been fine had DM called me back or even just sided with me.

But nope he wanted to side with a pedophile/predator. In the end, I still came out on top!” UnicornRainbow666

Another User Comments:

“Wonderful to see something like this work out. This happens so often in the workplace, it’s covered up by HR, and the victims are fired. The cycle never ends. Without your family connections, this would have been the same case I’ve seen hundreds of times.” thepacman

6. Continue To Cause Problems As A Property Manager? Say Bye To Your Job

“After graduating from college, my girlfriend and I moved to a new state where she was accepted into an engineering program.

We found a lovely garden apartment-style complex that advertised 100 Mbps internet speed included in the price among a few other amenities. When we met the property manager, he seemed strict but well mannered, nothing out of the ordinary. Until we signed the lease…

The first problem:

Suddenly, walking into his office was not allowed without an appointment. I had come by to ask a question, saw him browsing social media, and figured he was as available as he made himself to us when we first came by, unannounced, to view a model apartment.

Nope. He refused to answer my question and asked me to make an appointment via email.

The second problem:

The terms of our lease included an attachment to complete within 48 hours of accepting the keys that detail all discrepancies within the unit. We submitted the attachment via email around the 40th hour. The property manager responded that the terms recently changed from 48 to 24 hours and since we had passed 24 hours, we would be held liable for all found damages.

When citing our copy of the lease which explicitly stated 48 hours, he informs us that we signed an outdated copy and would need to make an appointment to come by the office and sign a new lease.

The third problem:

The internet speed was not 100 Mbps as advertised. It was less than 15 Mbps off-peak and about ~5 Mbps on peak. We again contacted the property manager to complain but were referred to make an appointment.

The fourth problem:

We made an appointment to address the previous three problems. During this meeting and after I finished voicing our issues, the property manager leans forward and says, “There are other communities in this neighborhood that may be more accepting of people like you and your girlfriend. You’re welcome to break the lease and leave.”

“People like you and your girlfriend.”

I had thought he was referencing our no-nonsense response to his nonsense (daily communication, scheduling multiple meetings to address these issues, etc) but my girlfriend believed he was speaking towards our skin colors.

Her, a black woman, and myself, a white man. My girlfriend jokingly told me to check my privilege before getting serious and explaining to me that we were experiencing discrimination at the very least.

The solution:

I did some research and discovered the property manager worked for a larger organization that owned several complexes throughout the country. I found their director of human resources on LinkedIn and made a connection. I then emailed her copies of all email correspondence, screenshots of the lease, pictures of the internet speed flags advertised by the road, and more screenshots of online speed tests.

We further noted his comment and the implications behind it.

The human resources director replied within a few hours and promised us she would look into the issue.

About two days later, the property manager called and asked us to come by his office at our convenience. We showed up near the end of the day and sat down across from him. He then proceeded to ask us if we would be willing to write a letter stating we accepted his apology (despite not yet offering said apology) and in return, he would credit us a month’s rent, accept our damages attachment, and promise to have the ISP on site within a week to assess the internet issues.

We declined. He got personal with us and revealed his job may be at stake and asked us to reconsider.

My girlfriend leaned forward and said, “There are other communities in this neighborhood that may be more accepting of people like you. You’re welcome to leave.”

The property manager was replaced in a week with a super sweet older woman who not only gave us all the things the original property manager had promised; the one month credit, accepting the damages attachment, and then further scheduling maintenance to fix said damages, having the ISP assess and upgrade the internet to promised speeds, but she also made it clear her office was always open for anything we may need.

I looked up the old property manager about a few months later on LinkedIn. Still unemployed.” AE2AW

5. Just Don’t Screw With The Crew

There’s a reason it rhymes.

“Back in the early 90s, I got a gig working as a front-of-house sound engineer on a major 10-day music and arts festival in London’s Docklands with some fifteen stages dotted all around the waterfront.

All of the crew working the stages were either experienced theatre techs and/or had loads of experience working major outside events, which is the reason we were hired.

As an aside, this festival was to celebrate the culmination of a massive investment in the redevelopment of this area of East London, itself the former site of one of the largest dock complexes in the world.
I was tasked with running FOH sound on one of the largest stages. Normally, events like this are loads of fun to work but within two days it became apparent that the organizers had 1), no idea of how to run major outside events, and 2), had not the faintest idea of how to book acts and schedule same.

In particular, we also had to contend with some woman from Docklands’ middle management team who had been given the job of “overseeing” our particular stage, a person who not only had rapidly proved to be totally ignorant of any aspect of managing outside events but also someone for whom the word “entitled” had been invented.
Our stage was licensed to run events from midday until 10:00 pm but we rarely had a full days-worth of events for punters to enjoy, due to the aforementioned incompetence with booking.

Still, not our problem—we’ll just work with what’s given us.

On Thursday, we had scheduled an evening of old-time Victorian music hall which featured, as a special guest, a very famous film and TV actress. Her performance rider required a grand piano. For some unfathomable reason (and again due to the incompetence of the organizers), the piano—a full-size Yamaha concert grand—arrived from the hiring company on Tuesday. This was a remarkably stupid idea for any number of reasons: due to operational considerations, we had to store the piano in the backstage area where it spent two days suffering in the heat of the day despite our best efforts to shield it.

As any piano technician/tuner will tell you, this is An Extremely Bad Idea, especially with an instrument worth close to £100,000. Almost as bad was the fact that our area was little more than a roughly-graded building site: the ground was covered in hard-core rubble fragments around the size of hen’s eggs (very uncomfortable to walk around on, even with proper work boots), which also kicked up loads of dust and other detritus—not the sort of crap you want floating about gumming up the works of a very expensive concert grand!

Now let me properly set the scene: its mid-summer, very hot, and our venue is a large circus-style tent with around 800-seat capacity.

The cast of the show, along with our august star, was due to turn up at around 1:00 pm to conduct a production rehearsal so we could sort out sound and lighting cues for the show.
The main cast duly turns up on time, and we start sorting out their technical requirements (pretty simple and nothing that we’re not used to). At about 1:30 pm, our star turns up sporting dark glasses and immaculate couture. As anyone who’s worked in this industry knows, the initial interaction with a major A-list star vis-à-vis their technical requirements can go one of two ways: full-monty diva, or let’s go with what we have.

Her first demand was that the piano is dropped off the front of the stage so that she could maintain an eye-line whilst standing right downstage, both with her pianist and with the audience. The stage was about 4.5 feet above ground level and would have required at least eight burly lads to safely shift a full-size concert grand off the deck. Also not a good idea since it had been tuned that morning and moving it would have almost certainly caused the tuning to go out of whack.

I delicately pointed out that doing so would be in direct violation of both health and safety, and fire regulations—as per our written policy—as it would have put the piano in both the fire lane and close to one of the primary emergency exits from the venue.

Thinking rapidly, I then suggested that we place the piano as far downstage as physically possible and that she page herself three or four feet upstage so that she could still glance over and take cues from her MD whilst still ‘taking in’ the audience.

The tension was palpable: after a few seconds of consideration she replied, ‘No problem, I can work with that.’ Phew!! No sooner than this crisis had been averted than the Docklands rep rocked up. I remind you, gentle reader, that this person had absolutely zero knowledge about how to run an outside event.

She had also been a major thorn in our side for the previous week, trying to micro-manage proceedings in the venue in order to big herself up in front of her bosses: we, of course, completely ignored her ‘suggestions’ but in such a way as made her think she was in charge—trust me, she wasn’t! She had also been inexcusably rude to virtually every single member of the crew from Day One and had over the days previously reduced several of them to tears.

Production crews don’t take kindly to our own being treated in such a cavalier fashion, and while we’re generally fairly thick-skinned, there comes a point where we want to get our own back.

Believe me, after a week of constant abuse, we were coming up with creative ways of disposing of the body.
Although we didn’t realize it at the time, our savior was at hand… but I digress…

Obviously star-struck, she announced in gushing tones that she would be taking personal charge of our star’s every need and that we were not to concern ourselves with that aspect: indeed, we were to ‘keep our place’ as we were only the hired help.

Our stage manager, who was at that time sweeping the stage, bridled at the suggestion and made as if to use his broom to beat the brains out of this woman.

I had to step in front of him as unobtrusively as possible and stop him from burying the woman right there and then—“she ain’t worth it, mate.”
She then swanned off, leaving our star slack-jawed in amazement. She then turned to me and said, ‘Is that f*cking woman for real?’ I replied: ‘Darling, you have NO idea!’, at which point she laughed uproariously.

I gave our star a brief summary of the previous few days’ farragoes and instantly, she became one of us and from then on we were all on first-name terms.

We then ran a full tech rehearsal from 3:00 pm to 5:00 pm, sorted out all our cues, and then repaired to the beer tent with the cast for a spot of late lunch and a drink or two.
The show was scheduled to kick off at 7:30 pm.

At around 6:00 pm, The Harridan reappeared to overlook the situation. She noticed that we had all the sides of the tent raised in order to get some air flowing through—remember it’s mid-summer and it’s currently low to mid-80s. She then demanded that all of the tent flaps be lowered because she wanted a more “theatre” atmosphere and the light spilling through the side walls would spoil the effect.

Despite pointing out that dropping the tent sides would significantly raise the temperature in the venue, she demanded the sides be dropped, so despite our earnest advice to the contrary, we reluctantly complied.

At around 7:00 pm, we saw eight 50-seat coaches arrive. To our amazement, out from the coaches came an entire flotilla of old-age pensioners, many on Zimmer frames, who proceeded to shuffle their way into the tent across the hard-core rubble underfoot. We discovered later that the organizers had forgotten to advertise the event anywhere (seriously??) and in desperation, had gone around to all the local Darby & Joan clubs a couple of days before handing out free tickets and laying on transport in order to have an audience.

So now we have 400-odd OAPs frantically fanning themselves with anything to hand as the temperature climbs ever higher. We start the show: everything’s going fine but the mercury in the thermometer I have strapped to the FOH rack is slowly going up and up: it’s so hot up at the sound desk that I’m down to my shorts!
By the end of Act 1, the temperature has gotten up to around 94°F and one could clearly see the old dears are in a bit of distress.

Naturally, the organizers had neglected to provide water for the public, and judging by the horrified expressions of the two St John’s Ambulance first-aiders stationed either side of the stage, things were about to get a lot worse.

I climbed off the tower, found the rigging crew, and ordered the sides of the tent raised. No sooner had I done so than “our friend” standing nearby demanded that the sides stay down because “she was in charge” and “…her instructions were to be followed absolutely, no questions!”
It was at this juncture that diplomacy went completely out of the window.

I informed her in no uncertain terms (and employing a fair amount of Anglo-Saxon vernacular) that it was, in fact, the crew who had the responsibility of ensuring the health and safety of all the people in the venue, not her, and that we have the legal authority to enact ANY procedure that we see fit at ANY time to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone present.

I then informed her that I was now exercising my authority under The Health & Safety at Work Act 1974 to remediate the situation and that if she made one single attempt to circumvent that authority, I would have her ejected from the venue without hesitation.

She then got in my face and screamed, ‘I’M IN CHARGE!’ No strike one, no strike two, instant strike three!
I glanced over at two of our security crew who had been hovering in the background with huge sh*t-eating grins on their faces, who then stepped up either side of her.

Defeated, but complaining like a banshee with a terminal case of hemorrhoids, she was escorted off the premises in short order.

By the time Act 2 kicked off, we’d gotten the temperature down to a more manageable low 70ºF, much to the appreciation of our audience, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch.

After the show, cast and crew—including our august star—repaired to the bar for a well-earned drink. Moments later, you-know-who appeared and in imperious tones informed us that our star was to be the guest of honor at a VIP reception for the various Docklands’ bigwigs.

With a tinge of regret for having our fun curtailed prematurely, we said our goodbyes to our star.
Now it gets interesting!

Not ten minutes later, she storms back into the beer tent with a face like absolute thunder.

Taken somewhat aback by her reappearance, we enquired as to why she had returned.

‘That f*cking woman! She drags me off to this so-called ‘VIP party,’ I get there and all that’s there are two f*cking plates of curled-up ham sandwiches and two f*cking boxes of cheap wine from Sainsbury’s! How the holy f*ck did she get this job? I gave her a right bloody earful and came back here because I’d much rather drink with you guys!’

At which point she calls the barman over and orders a round for the entire crew.

We spend the rest of the evening chatting away like old friends: she regaled us with stories of her life, and she was gracious enough to listen to some of ours. Despite us trying to buy her a drink, she refused point-blank and picked up the entire bar tab for the rest of the evening on the basis that ‘…you’ve had to put up with that f*cking evil b*tch all week: the least I can do get you, folks, a drink!’
All good things must come to an end and at the end of the evening, her chauffeur turns up to take her home.

She embraces all of us like old friends: she hugs me, plants a big kiss on my lips, and thanks me, whereupon I comment, “you have just fulfilled a boyhood dream!” Again, that uproarious laugh! She looks at me and says, ‘Don’t let that f*cking b*tch get you down! Leave it to me…’

I later discovered through the back-channels some weeks later that our bête-noir had been fired from her five-figure job for her monstrous screw-up, primarily because our star’s agent had ripped the organizers a new one in very short order; you do NOT f*ck with someone of our star’s track record without there being consequences.

So, although we were not directly responsible for The Harridan’s demise, we were gratified to have someone of our star’s caliber standing up for us. Revenge is a dish best served cold!” GhostOfSorabji

4. Mistreat Your Rabbit? She’s Not Yours Anymore

“I went to a party, and the guys who lived there kept his rabbit in a tiny cage meant for hamsters and blew smoke in her face all the time. They never gave her veggies. Instead, they were feeding her wet cat food, so she was hella malnourished.

My friend created a diversion, and I grabbed the cage and booked it to the car. I took her to the vet, and they kept her for two weeks to get her back to normal. She was apparently seizing from the withdrawal combined with dehydration. She was also incredibly mean due to the abuse. The vet said there was evidence of prior broken bones that had never been healed.

The dudes who owned her had no idea who took her and were posting pleas on MySpace to give her back.

Fat f*cking chance! She required intense care, so I gave her to our vet tech who was also our petsitter because I couldn’t take care of her the way she required. I don’t feel bad about the theft (bunny-napping?) for a second.

For those who read this, her name was Sasha. She lived another five years afterward in my vet tech’s house. She had a hutch in the backyard she shared with a few other rescued rabbits, and her favorite thing to do was to lie on her lap and watch TV.

She loved to be cuddled, loved belly rubs, hung out with the dogs inside, and was basically a dog herself.

If any parents are reading this, please don’t buy an Easter rabbit for your children tomorrow. They might be cute, but they are difficult animals and not toys.” sweetrhymepurereason

3. Don’t Mess With The I.T. Guy If You Know What’s Good For You

“This is a long one, but a good one.

BACKSTORY

In 2003 I was the Director of Information Technology and Communications on a project tasked with securing major weapons storage sites throughout Iraq, performing a comprehensive inventory of said weapons, and then destroying what we’d found.

I was based at one of the largest weapons storage sites in the country so our mission there was monumental. Blowing up 100 tons of weapons six days a week (SCUD missiles, anti-aircraft missiles, anti-shipping missiles, all varieties of rockets, grenades, and mines heavy to light) was going to take years.

In order to accomplish this, we had to first build base defenses and secure an area the size of a small county. Once that was complete, we built a major support base in the middle of the Iraqi desert from scratch and all the infrastructure to support it.

We’re talking housing, cafeteria with a full commercial kitchen, office buildings, electrical, water, and sewage systems, toilet/shower trailers, recreational facilities, an eight-bay full-service vehicle shop/motor pool, and most importantly IMO, IT and communication systems (radio, network infrastructure, servers, VOIP phones, all connected to the outside world via satellite uplink).

STORY

All of these facilities housed bomb/explosive technicians, engineers, base support personnel, and as we had to provide our own security, private military contractors (PMC). If you’re not sure what PMCs are, think Blackwater/mercenaries or look them up and you’ll get the picture.

Our PMCs were a mix of ex-US Special Forces (Army, Green Berets, Delta Force, Air Force Pararescue, SEALs), British SAS, French Foreign Legion, and ex-South African/Rhodesian Special Forces (Recces, Selous Scouts). All of them were now mercenaries, and in reality, so were the rest of us to some degree. Most of the PMCs were d*mn good men, but when you assemble a motley crew of individuals from such disparate backgrounds, you’re bound to have a couple of bad apples in the bunch.

This story is about one of those bad apples and for the purposes of this story, we’ll call this bad apple RoidRage.

RoidRage was one of the supervisory PMCs and oversaw the night watch from 2200-0600 (10PM-6AM). I usually started my day around 0700 (7 AM) and often worked until midnight although those last few hours were generally spent surfing the Internet and catching up with folks back in the US as Iraq is nine hours ahead.

You’re in the middle of the Iraqi desert so there’s not much else to do anyways and other than the daily 100-ton explosion at 1600 (4 PM) the Internet is pretty much your primary source of entertainment.

Since I was often in the office late at night, I was regularly alone in the office with RoidRage for a couple of hours.
As I previously mentioned, I managed the IT/communications infrastructure for this project and a vital component of that infrastructure were our telephones and voice over IP (VOIP) phone system.

All of our sites used a satellite uplink to connect to a central VOIP server in Baghdad which in turn, connected us to the world. You could pick up any phone and dial a five-digit extension to connect to any of our sites throughout Iraq or call any international number in the world.

It was a pretty sweet setup, but it was also ripe for abuse.

We tried locking down international dialing with various server rules and PIN schemes, but due to the inherent latency in satellite communications and the amount of bandwidth being consumed over a single satellite uplink at each site, we had trouble keeping those rules pushed to the phones on every desk.

Ultimately, we had to scrap the restrictions as they were a real headache and we went with an honor system. All international calls for business would be logged for review by the site manager each month. Anybody wanting to make a personal international call had to use an AT&T calling card which you could top up online or with a credit card.

After spending a few nights alone in the office with RoidRage, I noticed a trend.

RoidRage would start his shift, check-in with his men at their various positions/patrols on base, and then pick up the phone and talk in hushed tones for hours. It was a fairly large building and our desks were on opposite sides of the office so I couldn’t ever really make out what he was saying, but I could hear this constant murmur of him speaking to someone on the other end of the phone. It wasn’t my business, however, so I largely ignored him.

This went on for a couple of months and as our site manager had to return to the US for a family emergency, the phone logs went unreviewed during that time period.

A couple of weeks after the site manager returned, I have summoned to the conference room for a meeting with him and our senior US Military and Department of Defense (DoD) advisors. I could sense the tension in the room and as I sat down, the site manager slid a manila folder across the table to me.

As I opened the folder to reveal pages upon pages of call logs, he said, ‘Freebass, we know you’re usually in the office late at night and somebody has been making hundreds of international calls during that time and racked up thousands of dollars in phone bills.

I hate to say this, but you’re our prime suspect at this point, and with theft of this magnitude, we’re going to have no choice but to terminate you immediately and bar you from working on any DoD contracts in the future.

Unless you have some evidence to the contrary, we’re going to have to move forward with termination and remove you from the country on the next supply convoy.’
I was shocked and sat in stunned silence for a couple of seconds and then it hit me. Those calls were made by RoidRage! Someone hadn’t been using their calling card! I immediately protested my innocence and told them that every night, RoidRage would get on the phone at the start of his shift and would still be on the phone as I left around midnight.

They then summoned RoidRage to the conference room and confronted him with the records. He begrudgingly admitted it was him and began to spin some bullcrap story about being unable to top of his calling card with his credit cards and blah blah blah. All the while, he’s staring at me with eyes of the fiercest degree of rage. We were short on senior PMCs at the time so a call was made to Baghdad and a decision handed down that RoidRage’s employer was to immediately settle the debt with the US government and RoidRage’s salary would be withheld until he worked off the debt with his employer.

RoidRage was also put on final warning that any future impropriety whatsoever would be met with immediate termination and removal from Iraq as well as being blacklisted from working future DoD contracts. For an ex-US Special Forces Operator turned mercenary like RoidRage, that would forever spell the end of the DoD contracting gravy train and he didn’t take this threat to his livelihood lightly. Now, any rational person would admit they messed up, tighten up their game, and move on, but RoidRage isn’t a rational person by a long shot and the events that were about to unfold would highlight his irrational and sociopathic nature.

After the daily demolition at 1600 (4 PM), I was especially dirty so I hurried back to the base to beat the evening rush on the shower trailer so I could grab a hot shower before the limited supply of hot water ran out (our water heaters took forever to heat). Upon entering the shower/toilet trailer, I noticed that I had the entire place to myself! I savored this rare moment of solitude, used the toilet in peace, disrobed, and stepped into a much needed, hot shower.

Just as I was working a nice lather of shampoo into my hair, I hear the door to the shower trailer open…

Boots clomp across the floor to my shower stall and the shower curtain is ripped off its hanger by none other than a very p*ssed off RoidRage! Seething with rage, he grabbed me by the throat and yanked my wet, naked butt out of the shower and slammed me up against the opposite wall of the trailer choking me all the while.

Now, I’m about 5’11” and a toned 175lbs., but RoidRage stands 6’4” tall, weighs about 240lbs., and is a steroid-enhanced muscle-bound mass of a man. RoidRage’s grip on my throat put ever-increasing pressure on my windpipe and in my oxygen-deprived state, I began to panic. I thrashed about trying to loosen his grip, but in doing so I expended the limited oxygen I had and felt myself growing weaker by the moment. RoidRage leaned in close to my face and said, ‘You think you can rat me out like a little b*tch and there wouldn’t be consequences?! Let me tell you this, Iraq is the home of unsolved mysteries and bad stuff happens to people every day out here! You better watch your f*cking back you b*tch a*s motherf*cker because I’m gonna be coming for you from every f*cking angle at every f*cking opportunity from this moment forward!’ Just as I felt myself about to blackout, he threw me to the floor and gave me a solid kick to the stomach followed by another to the kidneys and walked out leaving me cold, wet, and gasping for air.

I pulled myself up onto a nearby bench, caught my breath, and staggered back into the shower in shock. I p*ssed blood for two days after that beating. So much for a peaceful afternoon shower…
I made my way to my quarters, sat on my bed, and thought about everything that had just taken place. My immediate thought was to report him to the powers that be but given the circumstances and that he was always armed, I had to plan my next course of action carefully.

RoidRage is a steroid influenced individual and professional killer with his career on the line in the high-stress environment that is Iraq.

My fear slowly turned to caution and then evolved into anger. Yes, I’d have to plan my next course of action and ultimate revenge very carefully. For the time being, I decided against reporting him and riding on any convoys he was on. I had been procrastinating setting up a private WiFi network connection to my trailer, but I wasn’t going to be caught dead spending any late nights alone in the office with RoidRage in the near future so I got that set up that night.

The next night I left my trailer to use the bathroom and as I passed the office on the way back to my room, I saw RoidRage sitting at his desk by the window on the phone.

Why is this guy on the phone all the time and who is he talking to? Time to investigate.

INVESTIGATION

I don’t want to get off in the weeds in technical jargon so I’ll try to keep this as brief and simple as possible so you can comprehend my next course of action.

All of our phones at our site were voice over IP (VOIP) phones and connected to the local network which was connected to our satellite uplink. Every VOIP phone has a unique MAC address, a fingerprint if you will, which identifies it on the network. I had the master list of all devices and phones connected to the network so I could easily identify the phone RoidRage used every night.

Network Instruments makes a nice little program called ‘Observer’ which allows you to monitor all traffic on the network.

It even has a cool little feature where you can flag a phone’s MAC address (fingerprint) and tell it to automatically begin capturing traffic on that phone from the moment the phone makes a call until the end of the call. Once the call is complete, it dumps the entire phone call to an audio file which you can then playback at your leisure. Pretty neat! Time to observe!

ANALYSIS

Over the next month, I amassed hours and hours of calls that RoidRage made and I finally found out who he was talking to! We already know that RoidRage is a huge waste of space, but the conversations I listened to took it to a whole other level of d*uchebaggery.

I sat at my desk every day with my headphones in pretending to be listening to music, but in reality, I was digesting each and every call, taking notes, and marking timestamps of the ‘good’ stuff. Here’s what I found:

RoidRage is married and has three kids. RoidRage also has a mistress in the US who is a stripper and by the sounds of it, she’s a world-class gold digger.

RoidRage spoke to his wife and kids about twice a week on average, but always kept the conversations brief because he was ‘busy running the show in a very dangerous Iraq.’
As soon as RoidRage would hang up with his family, he’d immediately call his stripper mistress.

Let’s call her SM. RoidRage made it a point to call and talk to SM for hours every night. A d*uchebag has to have priorities, right? Most of the conversations were pretty nasty phone s*x, but others were sprinkled with bits of gold like, ‘Yeah, of course, I f*cking hate my wife. She’s a dumb b*ch and I regret marrying her in the first place. The reason my kids are so f*cking stupid is because of her sh*t genes.’ ‘Yes, baby, I promise as soon as I get home, I’m going to divorce her and marry you.

Promise!’

Another memorable conversation involved RoidRage calling his wife and telling her that he’d have to cut his next vacation leave to the US short because he was so critical to the operations in Iraq, they wouldn’t be able to run the place without him.

This conversation was followed by an immediate call to SM telling her, ‘Yeah, the old lady bought the story hook line and sinker. Yeah (chuckle), I told you, she’s a dumb b*tch! Yeah, baby, I’ll book the tickets and this time we’re going to Paris.

We’re gonna do it big.’
While these conversations were certainly deplorable, other conversations with SM were more dangerous in nature and severe violations of operational security. Given RoidRage’s foul nature, I can kinda understand why he felt it necessary to brag about operations, but man, you’re talking to a stripper in the US who has no idea about any of this Iraq stuff anyways.

Make it up if you must, but DON’T ACTUALLY DISCUSS THE SPECIFICS OF OUR OPERATIONS AND MOVEMENTS TO INFLATE YOUR PATHETIC EGO!

Some of these calls went like this, ‘Yeah, I’m the convoy commander tomorrow.

Yep, large and in charge. I’m running a 20-vehicle convoy of flatbed trucks loaded with big SCUD missiles from Kabbalah to Amarrah tomorrow morning at 0900 (9 AM) and all 40 of the guys on the convoy report to ME.’ And, ‘These missiles are pretty volatile and sensitive and we’d be a prime target for the bad guys so I came up with a plan to cover everything with these huge canvas tents we stole off some local idiots so we can disguise everything.

Hell yeah, I’m smart, baby!’
This is just ONE of the many calls of this nature and the growing frequency of these calls ultimately forced me to cut my investigation short and move to the next phase of my plan.

PHASE 1 ACTION

I started studying RoidRage’s movements and which convoys he was on and where they were going. If I was going to pull this off, I had to be pretty spot on with my timing. I edited all the calls down to the ‘good’ stuff and burned two CDs for two different audiences.

RoidRage ran a weekly supply convoy to Baghdad and one of these CDs needed to be shipped to the US within a week’s time.

The only way to make that happen was to drop off one of them to DHL at Baghdad International Airport. The convoy always stopped by there on their way back to our site to pick up beer and booze at the Duty-Free (which was the only thing open in the airport terminal at that time) so I packaged one CD up and asked a buddy on the convoy to drop it off at DHL for me and told him I’d pay him back when he returned.

Once the convoy returned to our base, my buddy handed me the receipt and tracking information.

Done! Phase one is complete, now it’s time for phase two!

PHASE 2 ACTION

The following week, I packaged the other CD up and asked the same buddy on the supply convoy to drop that off at the DoD Country Director’s office at the project headquarters. By this time, the first CD was out for delivery in the US and the second CD would be delivered to Baghdad HQ in four hours.

Perfect! Not to pat myself on the back, but the disaster that was about to unfold for RoidRage was the product of patience, dedication, meticulous planning, and flawless execution. The convoy made its way to Baghdad and the second CD was delivered to headquarters.

RoidRage made the usual pass by the airport for the booze run and then returned later that night.

REACTION

The following morning the entire base awoke to an unusual sound. That unmistakable sound of the whirring of helicopter blades! The only time we’d ever had a chopper land was for a medevac (medical evacuation)!

So this Blackhawk helicopter, with overhead Apache escorts, lands and these guys come running out asking for RoidRage and the head of the PMC at our base.

They unceremoniously roust RoidRage out of bed along with the head of security and told them they needed to leave immediately for Baghdad.

With just the clothes on their back and their body armor, they were whisked away within minutes. As soon as they left, the camp manager approached me and said we needed to have a ‘chat’ with Baghdad in the conference room.
We made our way to the conference room and got on a call with our local DoD advisors and the DoD Country Director in Baghdad.

He had listened to the CD and wanted to commend me for blowing the whistle on RoidRage. He also scolded me a bit for not blowing the whistle sooner on the first violation of operation security I had heard, but when I told him the entire story and the brutal assault I endured at the hands of RoidRage in the bathroom, he softened his tone a bit.

He concluded the call with assurances that RoidRage would be ‘dealt with’ swiftly and thanked me for my vigilance.

FALLOUT

What follows was relayed to me by the head of security who traveled with RoidRage on the helicopter to Baghdad:

Upon arrival at the helipad at headquarters, a US Army security detail led the two individuals into the DoD Country Director’s office and RoidRage was confronted with the evidence. The Director sat there with the senior advisors present and played the entire CD in front of RoidRage and his superior. It was a heated one-sided conversation and RoidRage got ripped up one side and down the other.

He was ordered to leave the country immediately and would be taken under escort to the US Air Force PAX terminal at Baghdad International Airport upon the conclusion of the meeting. He was also notified that he would no longer be eligible to work on DoD contracts in the future. The head of the PMC was also excoriated for allowing this behavior to happen on his watch and notified that their security company would now be under investigation for any other possible violations.

If the investigation unearthed additional violations, they’d be found in breach of contract which would be terminated upon transition to a new PMC company.

That company lasted another seven months in Iraq.
As RoidRage left the meeting under escort, the Director turned to him and said, ‘AND TELL YOUR F*CKING WIFE TO STOP CALLING HERE AND BLOWING UP THE PHONES! SHE’S P*SSED OFF ABOUT SOMETHING, BUT THAT’S YOUR F*CKING PROBLEM TO DEAL WITH! YOU NEED TO CALL HER WHEN YOU GET TO THE AIRPORT AND TELL HER TO KNOCK THAT CRAP OFF!’ Moral of the story? Don’t mess with your IT guy.” freebass

Another User Comments:

“This post is like eating a nice rare steak after six weeks of nothing but soda crackers and ramen: bloody and probably objectionable to some people, but satisfying as all hell.” ShakespearOnIce

2. Putting The Bully To Rest

Now that’s what I like to hear.

“I did some theatre when I was young. My sister’s high school had some plays that needed a 10- or 11-year-old kid, and I fit the bill. There was a 13/14-year-old who was part of the chorus of most songs, and his mom was also in the play.

This kid was an a**hole. He would constantly insult my ‘squeaky’ voice (bruh, I’m 10 years old) and do the thing Bellatrix Lestrange did with Harry in the books where she mimicked what he said in a baby voice.

He would randomly slap the back of my head or 5-star me when I was facing the other way.

Everyone was walking down the hallway of the school on their way to the theatre coming back from eating dinner at intermission. He walks up behind me and slaps me in the back of the head, completely unprovoked. I snapped, and I turned around and grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed him into the lockers. Since I was smaller than him, my push hit his stomach and knocked the wind out of him.

He falls over, gasping for air, and I say, ‘How does it feel?’ and walk away.

This isn’t the end of the story.

I walked away, and we did a scene after the show started back up. The main characters were on stage, so the chorus and I were waiting to come back to the big finale. I go to the bathroom, and who do I see? A**face crying by himself.

I decided I wasn’t done with him, so I went into the back of the theater, went to my family’s seats and got my little brother, brought him to the bathroom, and showed him this a**hole crying into the sink, coping with finally being stood up to.

After the play, his mom finds out that I pushed him and practically shouts at me. I just told her what he did and she just kept repeating, ‘Don’t you ever touch my child again.’ I look behind her and there’s a**face, smirking.

My mom sees this, comes over, and tells a**face’s mom, ‘Your child is a bully, and you’re encouraging it right now. [My name] stood up for himself, and you need to work on being a better parent, or your child will grow up to be a failure.’

A**face stopped smirking, slowly coming to the realization that he can’t rely on adults to defend his bullying.

His mom’s mouth opens…closes. She walks away. And he never bothered me again.” thebachmann

1. Abuse The Cat? Well, The Cat Came Back!

“When my dad was about 10 or so, he, his folks, and his older brother lived in a rural area in Texas.
Next door to them was one of those kids that was just one nasty little piece of sh*t. The kind of kid that steals, breaks sh*t that does not belong to him, beats up on little kids, etc, all because it’s fun for him.

So my dad had a cat, and this being rural Texas in the 1960s said cat lived outside 24/7. One day, the neighbor kid decides to set this poor cat on fire. I kid you not.
Terrified, and in agony, the poor kitty ran away from home – straight towards the neighbor kid’s house. It ran under the house, and set who knows how many years worth of old insulation, cobwebs, and dust on fire before running back out.

It was at this point that my granddad was able to grab his son’s cat and smother the fire before rushing it to the vet.

They get home hours later to find their neighbor’s house reduced to smoldering ruins, and with the kid being dragged through the remains by his father, and getting his ass wailed on the entire time.
Kid and his parents lost everything AND had to pay the vet bills for my dad’s cat.

The cat survived.” shishi432234

Revenge is great, but it’s even better when it’s left to marinate.

Those juices and spices really shine through when the revenge is carried out successfully and in a way that genuinely gets back at someone. Ain’t that right, my little revenge lovers?