People Share Their Big Time Revenge Story
14. Abuse Animals? Get Out Of Our Neighborhood
“One year ago, I was renting a house next to the most unpleasant neighbor I hope to ever experience.
The only thing I liked about her was her cat, this freakishly adorable tabby who could grab even the most hardened criminal’s heart by the balls. Every time I came home from work, he would sidle up next to me for some TLC, which he never got from my neighbor.
As far as I could tell, she just used the poor thing to keep away mice and “play” (i.e., be terrorized by) her toddler grandkids on the weekends.
The poor furbaby looked severely underfed and always appreciated the meals I’d leave out for him on our back porch.
Now, I have an indoor fur baby of my own (a tail-less ball of energy, aptly named Goblin), and one day, he managed to escape outside.
Luckily, I found him within a few hours, but by the next morning, what jumps on my lap? Not Goblin, alas, but a flea.
And if my social butterfly cat had fleas, I was positive the next-door fur baby had fleas too.
Now, I already had a bitter history with this neighbor. In addition to being a tw*t rocket to her cat, she’d harass my older parents who were helping me move in. Why? Because our U-haul rental was blocking a sidewalk to nowhere in front of MY house for all of 10 minutes. My parents are extremely pleasant people — my mom frequently gets THANKED on customer service hotlines for being the rare, kind soul in an ocean of impatient Karens.
And this lady was berating them needlessly for “ruining the community,” ranting even longer than they’d been parked, until they eventually moved to an inconvenient and wholly unnecessary distance.
Regardless of her tw*t rocket personality, I figured I’d warn her anyway in the best interests of her fur baby. When I knew she was at home the next day, I knocked on her front door. When she answered (no “hello,” just a scowl), I started to explain that my escaped indoor cat has fleas and so there was a good possibility that her outdoor cat also had fleas.
Immediately she berates me for “letting” my cat get fleas and snaps that she keeps her house very clean, unlike me, so there is no way her cat has fleas.
I just loudly sighed at her and went back home as she continued to yell. You’ve never even been IN my house, lady! And that’s not how fleas work!
All week, I noticed her cat scratching himself raw and felt so bad for the little guy. I wanted to give him flea medication and a flea bath, but with my neighbor now watching me like a hawk and screeching like a banshee if I even pet him anymore, I had to leave him alone.
BUT, I realized, there was something I COULD do.
You see, we shared the same landlord, who was very concerned about household pests and instructed us to call him at the first sight of a bed bug, tick, etc.
I also knew that my neighbor was keeping her cat a secret from the landlord to avoid paying the pet rent, as I’d overheard her bragging about this to a friend outside one day. So, what do I do? I call up the landlord to explain the flea situation, and I make sure to add that my neighbor’s cat has also been scratching like crazy.
There’s a pause. “Did you say she has a cat?” Yes, I assure him, she definitely has an indoor-outdoor cat.
Turns out that my neighbor had harrassed our landlord into replacing most of her carpet due to her alleged cat allergy. I don’t know why the landlord caved into this, but it wasn’t cheap. And now our landlord learned that not only had Madwoman lied about an allergy to score a free renovation, but she hadn’t paid pet rent in more than a year.
Well, an exterminator gets called, and our landlord himself shows up to oversee the whole thing. We had both received a flyer taped to our front doors giving notice that he would be coming to our houses on that date, but I may or may not have removed my neighbor’s, so she wouldn’t be able to just hide evidence of her cat for a few hours.
So, our landlord arrives, and I listen gleefully with my window open as my neighbor tries to prevent him and the exterminator from entering.
Eventually, she allows them to come inside, where there is obvious evidence of a pet living there. I don’t know exactly what transpired between her and the landlord (there must be other sh*tstains on her record, being such a nutcase), but a few months later, I had a new next-door neighbor.
And guess who Madwoman purposely abandoned during the move? Her poor fur baby, who became a much-loved (and flea-free) member of our house.”
13. Wanna Take Me Home? I'll Reveal Who I Really Am
“Alright, so to understand the story, you have to understand a few things about me; I am a 19 year old guy. Bi, with a male partner. I’m often told I have a very feminine body.
I was out on a date a few weeks ago with my partner, who I’ll refer to as Alex (20). For storytelling’s sake, I’ll go by Liam.
We had just finished a movie date and decided to roam the dark streets of nightly NYC afterwards, just to chat and spend time together, as we don’t live together.
It’s important to note that I was dressed up like a girl. I’m talking a crop top and skirt, plus some thigh highs. Come for me all you want, I like to feel pretty lmao.
I was waiting outside the convenience store while Alex grabbed some snacks when a tall man, early 20s and dressed like your local dealer, walked up to me and tried to act sexy. I’ll refer to him as Creep.
Creep: “What’s up, baby.
Y’know you shouldn’t be out here so late, all alone.”
I said nothing.
Creep: “Now, come on, babe. When a man speaks to you, you respond. How about we go back to my place?”
Now, here’s something I haven’t mentioned. I have a high-ish voice. Still masculine, but high enough to where, if I try, I can muster up a good female voice. So I do.
Me: “Mmm.. no. Not interested.”
Creep: “C’mon, I don’t bite. I just want to have a little fun~” He got closer.
I shook my head.
At this point, Alex comes out with a bag of our snacks and notices the scene.
Alex: “Everything alright, babe?”
Creep: “Babe? What, you’re with this loser? Come on, let me show you what a real man can do for you.”
He put his hand on my hip. Alex started to walk forward but I signaled for him to stay back. I had a plan.
I put my hand on Creep’s, then wrapped his arm around me and cuddled into his chest.
He smelled like smoke, disappointed parents, and failed dreams.
I look up at him, still in my girl voice. “Oh, him? Don’t mind him.. if you want me..”
Then I switch to my normal voice.
“Then you can have me.”
Immediately he pushed me into Alex’s arms and storms off, yelling obscenities mixed with a few homophobic slurs here and there, plus some transphobia tossed in for good measure.
Me and Alex both go into hysterical laughter, nearly falling over each other. Once we calm down, he looks to me. “You’re really an a**hole. You gotta stop doing that to guys.” He chuckled
“Hey, they all approached me.””
12. Dad Helps A Couple Of Kids Get Back At A Big Bully
“This week was our middle school reunion (most of us went to the same K-8 school – ages 6-14 for our friends across the pond), and while we all were laughing and talking over Zoom, my friend (whom I’ll call Janice) brought up this memory.
At our schools, with the exception of Kindergarten, two grades would be paired together (so 1st and 2nd grades would be taught together, 3rd and 4th would be taught together, so on and so forth).
The 7th and 8th grades had to do a special project every year called Toy Team (or TT).
Basically, we would be put into teams and build a specific toy that we could market. Representatives from local businesses would be invited to judge our projects and win awards in various categories (Best Presentation, Best Design, Best Research, etc).
The idea behind this project was to teach teamwork, ingenuity, creativity, etc. But in the end, it caused more trouble than it was worth…for reasons I’ll get to in a moment.
I hated TT with a passion. The biggest reason being that the boys would take over the building of the toy, and the girls did the secretarial work (listing results, surveying the groups, writing final reports, etc).
It wasn’t fair, but I was always too afraid to speak my mind and ask to help building (something I’ve always enjoyed). But 8th-grade year was the one that almost broke me because of one kid.
Enter Carlos. Carlos was in 7th grade but was touted as a math and science genius. He had to go to the local high school to take math/science classes because none of the teachers at our school were qualified to teach at his level.
He also prided himself on being a cool kid and had a gang of sycophants follow him around, reaffirming his greatness.
In reality, Carlos was a little punk who honestly could’ve used a lesson or two in the school of hard knocks. He was a jerk to the highest degree, always looked down on everyone else, and since his parents (who were honestly Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy come to life) defended his actions and threatened everyone around them.
Because it was a private school and Carlos’ parents were big donors, even the teachers were limited in what they could and couldn’t do to discipline him. The worst they could do was detention, but he just shrugged it off.
Seriously, unless he killed somebody, Carlos was untouchable.
Janice and I were thrilled to be in the same group…until we learned we’d be paired with Carlos. Carlos immediately took over the project and bossed Janice and me around.
Janice and I were favorite targets for Carlos and his sycophants because we were quiet, kept to ourselves, and just focused on our work.
Carlos proceeded to make our experience in TT miserable. He claimed that because he was the big math and science expert, only he could build our glider, and we had to write it down.
Janice and I put up with it at first because we knew our teachers would do nothing, and it was just an 8-week long group project.
Then one day, during Week 6, it happened.
We had to test the gliders.
Our testing rigs was set up with yard sticks and rubber bands on tables. You’d load the gliders into the rubber bands, pull them back, and launch. Then you’d measure how far they flew and make your corrections.
Once again, the boys took over, and the girls did the recording. Janice and I were making notes when I noticed the rubber band was about to snap due to how stretched out it was. I warned Carlos about the rubber band and to adjust the glider.
When he protested, our teacher (who I’ll call Mrs. Adams) snapped at him and told him, “Listen to your partners and adjust.”
Well, Carlos did as said…but he pulled back the glider back too far and too fast. As a result, the rubber band snapped. The rubber band not only slapped Carlos in the face but broke our glider to pieces because he pulled it back too far, and the force hit the fragile wood.
Carlos was p*ssed and turned his anger on me.
“No wonder you suck at math and science,” he said.
This, in addition to all the stuff going on, broke me. It’s true that math and science were my worst subjects because I have a learning disability that makes those subjects tough. But I’ve always loved building and repairing things. My dad is an engineer, and some of my earliest memories were of him teaching me how to fix my toys and encouraging me to experiment with different building things.
In addition, I was a total daddy’s girl. I wanted to make him proud and I knew that me being bad at math and science was something that stressed him out.
So, I’m not joking, I ran away, like in those cliché 90’s movies. My house was two blocks away, and I ran there. Fortunately, my teachers knew that there weren’t many places I could’ve gone and called my mom (who was a stay-at-home mom) to tell her what happened and to please return me to school.
What I didn’t know was that Dad was working home that day.
When I ran in, crying and upset, he noticed and went after me. He calmed me down and asked what happened.
I told him everything. About Carlos taking over. About how Janice and I were doing all the hard work and Carlos being a nasty bully. The rubber band snapping and me getting blamed.
Dad was quietly hugging me, kissing my forehead. When Dad is quiet, that usually means he is angry. When I looked up, I saw that his mouth was set in a hard line, and his eyes were dark.
I was scared he was angry at me. I begged him to not be mad at Janice or me because it wasn’t our fault.
Dad instead reassured me that he wasn’t mad at Janice or me.
He was mad at Carlos…and had an idea to teach that little punk a lesson.
Dad then called the school and reassured Mrs. Adams that I was okay and that I would spend the rest of the day at home. He also sent an email to not only Mrs.
Adams but Janice’s parents detailing this plan of his. Janice’s parents and Mrs. Adams were game. After we heard it, Janice and I were smiling ear to ear even though we knew we had to put in the work all by ourselves.
The next day, Mrs. Adams pulled Carlos, Janice, and me aside and said, thanks to the glider incident, Carlos was now on his own and had to finish the project by himself. Janice and I would be doing our own project.
Carlos was pretty happy about this “because those two slowed me down.” However, what Carlos was not thinking about was that since Janice and I were doing all the paperwork, we had all the information.
We offered to share our notes with him in an attempt to be fair…but he said, “It’s all in my head, and I don’t need it to slow me down. In fact, I bet I can do it even better!” We all had to sign a contract that information was not exchanged and witnessed by Mrs. Adams.
The next two weeks were easily the best of TT for Janice and me. Since we had all of the notes, we were able to rebuild the glider in less than a week.
Our dads even set up a makeshift glider range for us to test, and we spent an entire Saturday flying the gliders (one in red, the other in blue, which were the most popular colors according to our surveys).
As a result, we improved our glider and even made a game out of it, racing them. When Janice’s dad mentioned that the red and blue gliders reminded him of the Gemini Dueling Coaster at Cedar Point, we decided to name the toys after the coaster and make them a two for one.
We built the box for our gliders and got our calculations double-checked by not only Mrs.
Adams but two independent adults as well. Both dads (who were coworkers) signed off on the math, even adding their proof of work and signing the back (this is important for later), a presentation board with an overview and along with a huge binder showing all of our work.
Janice and I worked really, really, really hard on this project, and it felt awesome. On our last day, we had a pizza party and sleepover, making bets on what Carlos’ reaction was most likely going to be.
Presentation Day arrived.
This was one of the few days we could wear something else other than our school uniform, so we were dressed in nice outfits to make our presentations. Janice and I stood together with our gliders and had big smiles on our faces.
We looked at Carlos…who had an actual nice-looking glider, box, presentation board, paperwork, and everything. However…he had an anxious look on his face instead of his usual arrogant and cocky one. Which made me happier.
Presentation Day worked was like this: the first half of the day would be the representatives walking around and judging who had the best-looking gliders, boxes, presentation boards, binders, etc.
Then we’d have lunch and come back. The ones who had been selected for the second round would then make their presentations to not only the representatives but the entire class.
Janice and I answered the questions asked by the representatives arrived with confident and clear answers. One of the businesses that attended was the engineering firm our dads worked for. They were impressed with our presentation and selected us for the second round.
Carlos was also selected, and he had a worrisome look on his face when the bell rang.
After lunch, we returned, and something about the way the binder was sitting made me double-check.
Wouldn’t you know it, the pages with double-checked calculations and proof of work were gone.
Carlos, being the d*ck he was, didn’t keep notes about his experiments, so he decided to steal our work and present it as his own.
Janice and I decided to take a professional approach in order to grind Carlos further into the dirt.
I went up to Mrs. Adams and the representatives and asked them if they had gone through our binder when we were gone because the calculations and proof of work pages were missing.
Mrs. Adams was immediately suspicious as well, given Carlos’ behavior and immediately walked over, took his binder off the table, flipped through it, and found the corrections page.
He had hastily scrawled in his name at the top next to ours so it looked like he was involved.
Mrs.
Adams looked at him and said, “Carlos, why did you take the pages?”
Carlos said, “They gave their work to me, remember?”
Fortunately, Janice and I included our copy of the signed contract from earlier saying Carlos had refused use of our information in our binder and pulled it out.
At this point, Carlos looked like the kid who denied he had been eating cookies even though he had a ring of crumbs around his lips. “Well…they stole my double-checked work! See!” He shows the proof of work our Dads had done.
“I took it out and put it back.”
Then Janice looked at one of the men (who I learned later was the supervisor of the team both of our Dads were a part of) and said, “Mr. Lionel, could you please check his proof of work? Our dads signed the back of ours.”
Mr. Lionel agreed and flipped the page over. Carlos didn’t notice that our dads had signed the back of the proof of work and included their names.
Mr. Lionel nodded. “I know those signatures anywhere,” he said before looking at Carlos with a glare that could wilt a flower. “You told me you wanted to be an engineer someday, right?”
Carlos could only nod, his face white.
“You are aware that engineers take the theft of others’ work seriously?”
Again, Carlos nodded.
“And that if you were doing this in a professional setting, you’d not only be fired from the company but blackballed from the industry?” Mr.
Lionel said, staring down at this kid. Carlos looked like a melted snowman and that he wanted to disappear into the ground.
I learned later that Mr. Lionel was a nice man…but man, in that moment, I could immediately see why our Dads respected him.
Mr. Lionel turned to Mrs. Adams, “I recommend that he be disqualified from the next round and be made to apologize to these two girls in addition to returning the proofs to them.”
Carlos did return the paper and apologized for the theft, not looking me in the eye.
As a result, not only was Carlos disqualified but because he cheated, he flunked the project as a whole.
Since TT was at least 30% of our science grade, he ended up getting his first “D” on his report card, which his parents had a freaking field day with until Mr. Lionel sent them a letter telling them what their son had done and that if he didn’t shape up, he risked real trouble in his professional life.
Janice and I ultimately won Best Design…but the best award was seeing Carlos’ ego get knocked down several pegs. He was still a jerk but was scared of us.
Hey, I might be bad at math and science, but at least I know not to be mean to people who might help me someday.”
11. Take Advantage Of People's Mental Health? Your Life Is Going To Suck
Nobody is going to get away with something like this.
“This is the story of the time I ruined the life of an online troll. Now, this may sound extreme, however, I believe it was justified given the circumstance and nature of my encounter.
To understand how I found this individual, I need to take you back to 2015.
It was in 2015 that I would spend my days Googling pointless topics. One day, I decided to look up opinions on the meaning of life.
I scrolled through various pages of search engine results until I came across the concept of
Nihilism.
What is Nihilism? Nihilism interested me because it was unlike any other belief I found on my search for the meaning of life.
To put it simply, Nihilism is the belief that the world is meaningless. It is a pessimistic approach to life, which suggests that there is no point in life because nothing holds real relevance. Nihilism can make people believe existence does not matter therefore their actions do not either.
Many people view Nihilism as a real belief that opposes our human nature to seek significance. I wanted to speak to a real-life Nihilist and hear their opinions on life.
What I found shocked me.
Nihilism explained
Upon discovering Nihilism, I joined several Facebook groups surrounding the topic. These groups were full of dark humor and memes that made fun of life and passing away. Comments such as “existence is misery” were common to see. In these groups, I came across a few genuine Nihilists.
The community was predominantly made up of people who were depressed, or people who would see the humor in depression. The Nihilist approach meant that depression was not important, because nothing is relevant.
This was why “life-ending” jokes are a hit in Nihilism groups. I found that the constant sharing of these kinds of dark, life-threatening memes meant that people become desensitized. People would believe that their existence is meaningless, which is not a good thought to have if you are dealing with genuine depression.
I spoke to one individual privately who said they did not want to live anymore. They told me “the world is not real but my sadness is.” The world is not real, but my sadness is.
This made me realize that Nihilism and depression are a bad combination. I reassured this person and told them they were important. A few months later, I went to get in touch to see how they were getting on but I discovered that their Facebook account had vanished.
Fast forward to mid-2016 and I get a Facebook notification from one of the Nihilist groups. It was someone seeking genuine advice on how to take their own life.
They said they wanted it to be peaceful but they were scared. Upon checking the comments of the post, I noticed one person advising them to run into an oncoming train, as this would be painless and fast. The person giving the advice was the troll whose life I went on to ruin.
I will refer to this troll as Nigel.
At the time, I thought that Nigel was being edgy for the sake of it but this was not the case.
I thought back to the time when I spoke to the person who told me their sadness was real but the world was not. The fact they had disappeared off social media gave me goosebumps. I assumed that the worse had happened and that this could become a reoccurring story in this group.
I decided to look up posts and comments made by Nigel in the group. All the comments turned out to be methods for depressed people to end their existence.
Nigel would give people reassurance that passing away was the only way out. He would pretend he was doing the people a favor. A distraught man posted that he was ashamed that he kept failing to take his own life. Nigel told him not to beat himself up about it, and that if he works hard, one day he will be able to do it.
The First Warning
I realized that Nigel was not your ordinary troll and that I had to do something to stop him.
I created a fake profile to contact Nigel. At this time, I had no intention to ruin his life, I just wanted to stop him ruining the lives of others. On my fake profile, I told him that I had seen his comments and that they could have a devastating effect. He replied to tell me that he did not care,
From my understanding, Nigel had the belief that depression was a weakness to humanity.
It appeared he was on a mission to weed out the weak members of society.
It was almost like he got a buzz from it, some weird kick that motivated him to do it that I could not understand. I warned Nigel that if continued, there would repercussions. He told me that he did not care and then blocked my fake profile. I logged into my genuine profile and checked for new posts by Nigel. A day later, I saw that he was back to his old tricks.
He was, yet again, giving self-destructive advice to another mentally tortured soul.
The Second Warning
Nigel had made a crucial mistake by not setting his Facebook profile to private. I was able to see every post that he had ever made, as well as the friends that he had. Nigel was a family man and made it clear on Facebook how much his wife meant to him. I decided that I would give Nigel his second warning. This time I would make it more personal.
This time I wanted to put the fear into him.
Within ten minutes, I was able to find Nigel’s home address. I decided that I would write a letter to his address. This letter was handwritten to add a personal touch. On the envelope, I addressed the letter to his wife’s name so that he would not be able to simply brush it under the carpet. The letter read the following –
“Your husband continues to encourage self-harm online.
He provides methods of taking life for depressed people and he must be stopped.
Could you please let him know that this is his final warning? I will be watching.”
The letter was sent with the intention to make Nigel stop doing what he does. I thought that this would be the only way that I could get through to him. The more I thought about it, the more I felt guilty that his wife may be living in fear.
This was something I did not take into consideration initially. My mission to stop Nigel clouded my thought, however, I knew this was necessary for the greater good.
The Final Blow
It had been a month since I wrote the letter and I had not seen a single post from Nigel. I thought maybe I had finally got through to him, but I was wrong. Another month had passed and Nigel was back at it again. I was disappointed, however, I was not prepared to give up.
I reached out to the depressed victims to let them know they had my support. Nigel had to pay for his actions, but how?
I decided to take a deeper look into Nigel’s personal life.
His use of the internet meant that his life was essentially an open book. I was stunned when I discovered that he worked at a care home. He was not someone I could trust in society to care for others. I knew I had to deliver the final blow.
Nigel’s Linkedin profile revealed that he was a senior member at a care home. This care home was reputable and risked their reputation by hiring him. I dug deep to pull out a barrage of screenshots I had of Nigel’s activity online.
After some contemplation, I decided that I would get in touch with the care home via their Facebook page. I logged into the fake profile via a proxy and sent the screenshots. I did not believe that he was fit to be trusted with human life.
A member of staff replied to say that the case had been handed over to the CEO.
Facebook messenger screenshot
The Aftermath
A week later, Nigel was no longer on the company website and had also removed the care home from his Linkedin page.
It was clear that his actions had caused him to lose his job. Nigel’s relationship status on Facebook had changed from “In a relationship” to “It’s complicated.”
In almost an instant, he had lost his job and damaged his relationship with his family.
Nigel had completely stopped posting on Facebook and eventually shut his Facebook account. This guy’s life was turned upside down, and it all stemmed from his actions online. I have comfort in knowing that he will never encourage life-ending methods again.
Everybody has their right to an opinion but nobody has the right to prey on the vulnerable. Do I feel guilty? Of course, but then I remember all of those people that he sought to destroy. This man was in a position of care. What if my actions had saved the life of someone? It is these thoughts that make my guilt fade away.”
10. I Lost My Security Deposit, So They Lost Their Business
“I rented a little house from a man who owned a painting business.
The power was off when we came to see the property but he assured us everything worked, even put it in the contract. The place was dirty and poorly maintained so we negotiated the security deposit down to $300.
Turned out the heat/air didn’t work, along with the refrigerator and dishwasher. I asked him to have someone look at them. He cursed me up and down.
He called and left threatening voicemails.
He would show up unannounced and let himself in. On one of the visits, I showed him that the crawlspace was flooded and was a breeding ground for thousands if not millions of cockroaches and mosquitos that would come up through the floor vents. There was absolutely no ductwork even though he claimed the heat/air worked fine. He accused me of causing the flood myself even though I showed him the source was a pipe that had rusted through.
He refused to address any problems and said, “If you don’t like it then you can move. You can’t pay for a bargain and expect to live in the Ritz.” This man was a terrible man in general. Once he hired someone off Craigslist to cut down a tree in the rental property’s yard. The man worked literally all day for the agreed $150, cut up and hauled off the tree.
He came back that evening, just standing in the yard.
I asked if I could help him. He said he was waiting for the owner to get paid. The owner kept replying saying he was on the way but never showed up. Our neighbor told us he had punched the previous renter in the face and refused to pay him for a day’s work for his company.
He had bragged about renting to illegal immigrants and not having to do anything because they wouldn’t sue.
We had a newborn baby so we called his bluff and agreed to find a new place to live.
We left the home in much better shape than we found it. He said he would mail us the security deposit but never did. He dodged my phone calls until one day he called to say, “You aren’t getting it back.
You broke the contract when you left early, so go f*** yourself.” I was really upset because we were new parents and had very little money. That $300 was a big deal to us and a drop in the bucket for this man.
He owned an upscale painting business and had 15 rental properties.
The next week, I was online leaving negative reviews for his business when I clicked a link and noticed his website’s domain had just lapsed.
I knew what I had to do. I immediately bought it, then created a homepage with contact info for his biggest competitor. I emailed him from his old domain, asking him if he wanted to buy the website for $320 (the cost of the security deposit plus the price I paid for the domain).
He was irate! He started calling my work, threatening to sue my employer.
He even contacted my parents and threatened to sue them. He left a bunch of threatening voicemails for me, saying he was going to beat me up and he knows where I live and he has my social security number.
I received emails from several review sites asking if I was trying to update the contact info for the business. He must have used his old domain’s email as his contact email.
I didn’t want to get in trouble for impersonating his business so I did not respond. The contact info was never changed.
I received a few emails from potential clients. I called him and told him about the painting job requests. I gave him the contact info for one of the clients to prove I wasn’t just making it up. I told him it was the last time I was going to do that for him, and suggested he buy the website back in order to not miss out on any other jobs.
He told me he was taking me to court. I told him I had recorded his threatening phone calls and saved all his texts and voicemails. He said he was going to sue me for illegally recording him (not illegal in my state). I said, “I look forward to seeing you in court where I countersue and press charges for harassing me,” and I hung up.
He called back and cussed me out for hanging up on him.
I said, “Call me back when you can speak respectfully to me,” and hung up again. We repeated this about 5 times, each time he was angrier until the last time. He spoke respectfully and explained he hadn’t got a single job in months. I suggested he focus more on creating a website to find business.
He lost it and cussed me out again.
6 months passed and he still hadn’t bought the website from me. I get a call from him, begging me to “do the right thing” and give him the website back.
I told him the current price was $350. 6 months later, I get another phone call. I told him the current price is $380.
Eventually, he texted me to say, “I went out of business.
I hope you’re happy.” I responded, “I hear having a website really helps your business. $380 and it’s yours.” He told me what a terrible person I am and said, “Karma’s a b*tch.” I responded, “Maybe if you stop trying to rip people off, your karma wouldn’t be so bad.” That was the last time I ever heard from him. The major business listing sites confirmed his business did indeed close.
I renewed the domain for another two years just in case he was bluffing.
A few months later, I drove by his office to see if it was still there. It was empty with a “for rent” signposted. I never got that $300 back and spent money on domain registrations but it was totally worth it.”
9. Won't Leave The Parking Spot? Your Car Will End Up In Another Country
“I have lived in an apartment complex in Lisbon, Portugal (where is important) for the last 4 years.
If anyone’s from here, you’ll know parking is hell. Fortunately, my building has a private garage. However, as is often the case, some parking places are more difficult to park in than others. I have one of the easier ones.
Last year I was offered a job abroad and took it. Thought I’d be nice, parked my car at my parents where they have plenty of space, and left a notice in the building elevator that went along the lines of “I’m the owner of 3B and will be away for at least 6 months, feel free to use my parking spot.”
Ended up being away for longer, almost a year.
I came back to see my parking spot occupied (which was okay, since I offered for it to be used). Put another notice in the elevator, this time to say I was back and would use the parking spot again. I gave it two days and picked my car up from my parents.
Went into my garage, and my space was still being used. I had to park somewhere on the street and decided to give it another day.
The day after, it was occupied again by the same car. I asked a couple of neighbors, and figured out it belonged to a lady living 2 stories above me.
Went up to talk to her, and she immediately got defensive and said that her parking spot is very difficult for her to park in, and since I was away for longer then I had announced I lost the space (which is stupid logic, as the spots are bought with the apartment; it literally belongs to me).
She also told me I couldn’t use her parking space instead as she was using it for storage.
I went to the building admin, who said he’d talk to her. He did and came back shaking his head. Nothing.
I sent a registered letter telling her to stop using my space and giving her 48h to take her car elsewhere. The next day I saw the unopened letter in the garbage bin beside the mailboxes.
I ended up scouting my garage, waiting for her to leave, and would immediately park my car, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t, and we ended up doing this dance for a few weeks. Up until the day I came back to see my entire driver’s side keyed.
That was the final straw. I talked to a friend, who owns a towing company. We chose a Saturday morning (the last few weeks she hadn’t left home on Saturdays – I knew as I had been watching her car like a hawk – so I thought we’d have a good chance of her not noticing anything until everything was done) and towed her car.
The plan initially was to leave the car just down the road. But that felt too close and too easy. Then I thought about leaving it in a city about 15-minutes away, but it still didn’t feel quite right. My friend jokingly said, “Let’s leave it in Madrid” (FYI Madrid is in Spain, about 600km – 375 miles – away).
I knew he was joking, but Madrid did feel right. I asked if he had enough time.
He had, so off we went.
Once we got to Madrid we went out for lunch, strolled around the city, and waited until it got dark and the streets empty. In the meantime, we had already decided on where to leave the car, a handicapped parking close to a Police Station. And so we did. As a bonus, my friend also took both license plates off the car. Then we drove back home.
It has been two weeks, and I haven’t seen her car since.
One of these days I might leave a letter in her mailbox telling her to contact Madrid Police, but in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being able to use my parking whenever I want to.”
8. Can't Be Nice To Me In School? Hope You Like Manure
“When I was in high school, I was with a dude who was was a real d*ck to me. Basically, he ruined 4 years of school. In the end, he was 2 years behind us. We ended school, and he left it. Stupid moron. Fast forward to a few months ago, I’m an Agrarian Technician with an office and all the things. yes, I even got a potted ficus in there. In come this dude named Dude McJerk who has the same surname as the d*ck from high school.
Turns out, this is the father.
He wants some counseling for their farm and for me to order them some phytoproducts (stuff for plants, anti parasites, and nutrients).
Ok, no problem. I need to see the place. He says, “No, you can’t see the place. Just order everything.” He’s gone angry and starts yelling profanities. Total d*ck just like his son. He even scratched my car. Then I just made a call and waited. I called my friend and my mentor; he’s the only other A.T.
in the place. I explain everything, and he agrees to send the Dude back to me.
Then Dude agreed to show me the place. Turns out, he has a completely illegal house (unfinished home, looks unfinished outside, legally counts as machinery deposit, low to non-existent taxes). I see everything. All his trees are completely messed up beyond recognition by every type of bug, and his crops are dying.
And then, I see him – the d*ck from high school.
I ignore him and get to my job. I order 20 tons of manure for the crops, plus some fertilizer, and various kinds of pesticides. I tell the d*ck dad that he needs to employ someone with the right license.
He smirks, then pulls his cards a little bit too early. He says he will sign when everything gets delivered. Plus, he says that I have to write that I’ve never been to his farm. Now, if you try to f*ck me, I will f*ck with you right back.
I put in the order, not in my usual way (pay everything and then get the money – it’s faster but is based on trust), but in another way (order arrives, client pays me, deliverer and who sells everything).
Then comes the delivery day. D*ck dad and son are not home. Their plan is simple: Have me pay for all, I sue them, they use the product in the meantime, and after months, I get sh*t. Not on my watch.
I tell the big truck to dump all in front of what seems like the machinery deposit.
There you are, 20 tons of poop two meters from your door. Then the other products. And we wait. After two hours, they come home (expecting that we left before) and see the new Mount Poop. Sh*t hits the fan, Dude yells at me, and D*ck (being the sh*thead he is) pops one of the truck tires with a knife.
The truck driver hits him.
D*ck and Dude threaten to call the police. Then the driver calls the police. D*ck is cuffed for being a dumba**. D*ck is getting his a** fined for the illegal use of dangerous products (this sh*t is worse than poison), then the police see two things: ammonium nitrate (the fertilizer) stored near the oil fuel for the tractor and a tv antenna coming out the sh*t pile (the house was invisible behind the pile).
D*ck got arrested, sued, got out of jail but lost his hunting license (a must-have here). Dude got arrested; sued; and jailed for scamming, dangerous storing of potential explosives, plus more time because they found unregistered firearms. They both lost the house (destroyed), and the farm (lost crops and trees).
The truck driver got his money and a new tire. Other people got their money. I got my $2,000 of work, my $400 for the car, and another $1,000 for the attempted scam. Feels good.”
7. I'll Waste Your Time Since You Want To Pay In Pennies
Take those pennies to the bank, not to a cashier at a store.
“Years ago, I’m cashiering at a whacky mart on a register that holds all the smokes and alcohol. It’s 10pm and these two young men (early 20s) come up to the counter. They have three random novelty items (I don’t remember they were), but it was strange and unusual to get odd items this late at night.
It’s a college town so I get weird stuff from frats a lot. I scan the items and tell them their total is $22.xx.
Grinning at each other, they reach into their jackets and slam down two-gallon zip-lock bags, full of only pennies. I stare them in the eye, but they didn’t even look back at me. Everyone else in line groan and went to other registers. These two kids knew what they were doing, but they didn’t know what they were in for because I prepared for this; I knew this was going to inevitably happen.
Me: Is this $22.xx?
Ringleader: …
Me: Did you count it?
Ringleader: Nope.
Me: Are you going to?
Ringleader: Nope.
Me: Is it at least $22.xx?
Ringleader: Don’t know.
Me: Nice.
Coworker: Hey! You guys can use the self-checkout. It can take all of your coins at once.
Me: Oh, don’t worry about it Cowor–
Ringleader: Nope, don’t trust them lady.
Coworker: What? Why!?
Ringleader: Doesn’t count all your change right.
Coworker: I’ve used them before. It really works!
Me: (to Coworker) I got this.
I unpacked the zip locks and threw all the pennies on the counter. It was a beautiful, massive sh*tstorm of a mess. And I dug in it. I was Frank in a dumpster in ‘It’s Always Sunny’. The two, still averting my gaze, start chuckling as if they were taking away my dignity. They whisper to each other “Dude oh my God,” “Dude yeah,” “Dude, hilarious.” I counted each penny, one by one.
My coworker comes up to me.
Coworker: Guess I’ll help you count this.
Me: Don’t worry about it.
(She looks at me confused. Then she puts on her ‘get down to busy’ look.)
Coworker: I got your back.
Me: *Oh…*ok.
We worked up a system where we counted ten, put them in a pile, then with ten stacks of ten pennies we separated them, making $1 piles. We made progress slowly but surely. Some customers came to the line, but we advised them to get to another line.
Some of them looked at us confused, but when they saw the counter full of pennies they understood. Some decided to wait, but when they realized it wasn’t going to take just a few minutes they took their leave. Another register in the liquor department opened so it wasn’t too bad for other customers. We get to about $12 (about 10min in) until I “knocked” over the piles.
Coworker: Neontonsil!
Me: Oops. Sorry.
(Coworker looks at my grin. I give her a wink and tilt my head, motioning her to leave)
Coworker: You know what, I think I better let you do this.
Me: Ha, alright.
(Coworker leaves. I look at the two guys. They are absolutely stunned at the fallen piles of pennies.)
Me: (To Ringleader) Yeah, I’m going to have to count all of this again.
Ringleader: ….Ok.
I started from zero. I count slower than ever and made my way back up. The duo is entirely silent. I get to about $7, when suddenly I say:
Me: Drats. I lost count. I better start all over again.
Ringleader: Really?
Me: Oh yeah man.
Ringleader: Why!?
Me: I lost count, sir. I could be in trouble if my register doesn’t have the right amount of cash, and I don’t want to rip you off.
Ringleader: …
It’s about an hour later. My manager walks past, looks at me. I smile at him, and he looks at the counter. He walks away without a word. I eventually count all the change and surprisingly they had only $18!
Me: Hmm, I think that this is $18.
(The duo has been dead silent. They look done for the night.)
Me: I’ll recount it.
I f*cking recounted it.
Me: I think this is actually $19.xx.
(Without a word, the Ringleader whips out a $5)
Me: Seriously? You had cash?
Ringleader: Needed to get rid of my change.
Me. No problem. I’ll just recount this again. I want to make perfectly sure that this is $19, since I counted $18 the first time.
Ringleader: Are you kidding me?
(I shake my head no, completely serious.)
He takes out a $20 bill straight out of his pocket and throws it at me.
My coworker gives the biggest WHAT THE F*CK face. Internally, I die as well, because they were smart enough to have a backup plan. And the fact that he was touching his cash in his pocket the entire time kinda messed with me. I take the cash, do the transaction, give him his change, thanked him, and wished him a good night. The two start to put their pennies back in the ziplock bags and I didn’t help them at all.
I watched them just as how they watched me. Lots of pennies dropped to the floor, but they didn’t care to pick them up. It looked like their souls were sucked out of them. It was past midnight and I clocked out way past when I was supposed to. A lot of my coworkers gave me a thumbs up or told me good night. Even my manager told me ‘good job,’ the only two words he ever said to me.
I went to bed at the dorms after such a great petty penny night and crashed. Strange to say, but I’d love to count pennies again.”
6. You Know It's Illegal To Make Us Live In A Moldy Home, Right, Mr. Landlord?
“I had recently moved into a house with two other girls.
It wasn’t the best house, but it seemed to look okay for a college apartment. One of the girls had a friend who had lived there before and told us that the landlord was sexist and kind of a d*ck but usually meant well, and it was decent rent. I’ll be referring to him as Dumb A** Landlord.
We were all broke, so we decided to sign a lease.
I should have realized the warning signs when Dumb A** Landlord wanted to sign it in a Big Boy’s after he had just eaten dinner there, and the leasing agreement looking like he chopped it up from other pictures of lease agreements on Google.
We also found this apartment as an ad off of Craig’s List.
Things were fine for a few months. I was living alone until the next school year would start and wasn’t home all the time since I would go over to my partner’s a lot and sleepover.
It was a split house with an apartment in the basement and ours on the first floor. It wasn’t long until I started to notice things happening.
We’d get a good amount of rain since we were in the Midwest by some big, local lakes, and it was springtime.
We’d get a good amount of water, and the concrete steps to the house would consistently fill up with water that I had to jump over, and it would disappear overnight.
It also started to get a little bit of a musty smell in the house, and I had started coughing and sneezing all the time but didn’t know why.
Soon, the other girls moved in, and we started having some difficulties with Dumb A** Landlord. He wouldn’t tell us when he’d come over to check on the property.
(He said he did this to keep up on looks and mow the lawn, but he did it way too often for any of us to be okay with.) He would argue with us about having a copy of our own lease.
He’d yell at us to give him rent payments in cash, especially before going to his cabin up north with his girl. But the biggest of all was that we were having problems with mold, and he did not care.
For a while, we hadn’t talked to the people in the basement apartment until everyone started having problems with Dumb A** Landlord. We’d hear them arguing and yelling down below about as often as we would upstairs.
But they were in a hell-hole. Everything they owned had mold growing on it. They had bugs everywhere: earwigs, beetles, ants, you name it. They were constantly throwing away their clothes, dishes, furniture, even their college papers, and homework since it was all growing mold.
They spent money on plastic bins to hold most of their important items, but even those would get moldy.
We also found out that they were supposed to have another roommate down below, but she couldn’t live there because of her allergies to mold after signing a lease agreement.
We also found out that Dumb A** Landlord verbally abused her and her mother on the phone to the point where they were crying, and she couldn’t get out of the lease. She ended up paying for two places every month so that she didn’t have to live there because he wouldn’t let her break her lease and didn’t care.
Upstairs wasn’t as bad as the basement, but it wasn’t good either. All of us were coughing more and more each month.
We would wake up coughing in the middle of the night, and we were getting really sick. We tried to air out the house as best we could, but nothing helped. I ended up getting a severe case of strep throat so bad that every swallow I took made my eyes water and made me verbally make noise from the pain.
(I tried to ask the doctor I went to if he could prove that this was from mold later, but he, unfortunately, he couldn’t give me a solid statement on it.)
Me, being a vocal, neutral-good person who was also going to school to be an architect, tried to explain to him what was going on in the house: no air circulation, and his concrete steps and foundation walls were not sealed, so all of the water I’d have to jump over was most likely going into the basement walls causing most all of the mold.
We also found a few areas on the roof that needed patching, since we noticed some leaks, among other things. And the basement apartment had cheap patio doors for their only means of entrance and exit, which would consistently be up against water when it rained, adding to the problem.
Oh, SMART Dumb A** Landlord decided that we were all just girls complaining about silly things that didn’t mean anything, so he brushed us off and said we were fine, even though I had told him that I was learning about these things in school and knew what I was talking about.
He wouldn’t let us out of the lease as hard as we tried. So, all of us girls in both apartments decided we would get out if it was the last thing we did.
Then began researching all of the legal apartments and tenant information for our state and city to get out. We were paying for attorney fees, started taking pictures of the mold upstairs and downstairs that we could find, talking with several different city staff and police, and started compiling this into a nice document.
After deferring my rent payment to get a copy of the lease agreement from Dumb A** Landlord, we could finally take a look at our legal document and use that further to get out.
We were also working with another landlord at a rental company in town, who I will call Good A** Landlord. He was, thankfully, doing his best to get us out of the sh*t hole and into his apartment.
Through him, we’d get all of the legal ins and outs of the renting business, and he would help us find a loophole.
Then, after months and months of arguments, money, and researching, we found it.
If we sent in a mold test to a research lab, and it was over the limit of what was inhabitable, we could get out. It was safe to say that we had a pretty good idea it was over the limit.
The tests came back a few days later, and we sent that off to the city, including our nice, document of pictures, statements, and leasing agreements.
Not even four hours went by, and we got a call from the city.
Our house was so full of mold, that we were to move out of the apartment within 24 hours, and it was to be condemned.
We were ecstatic.
All of that hard work had finally paid off, although it was horrifying to know that the mold count was so high that the mold researcher who had been in the business for more than 30 years had not once seen a place with higher mold count than this house.
(Yes, this included black mold.)
Fast forward to us happily packing up in our house, all of our parents getting us out together, us moving into the apartment that Good A** Landlord kept open for us to move into, and poor, old, Dumb A** Landlord sobbing in our driveway as we happily stack boxes into cars, complaining that he should have paid more attention and listened to us, that this was his girl’s property, and that she’s going to dump him.
We all took a picture the next day, smiling in front of the condemned signs. It’s still one of my favorite pictures to this day.
Serves him right for not listening to his tenants.
As for the aftermath of it all, apparently, the city knew about a lot of shady things he did, when we spoke to them, it seemed like he was an “eye-roll” landlord. They all knew of other problems he had with tenants, but no one had been able to do anything about it until us.
He’d sneak his way out of things since it was a really small town. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of rules set in place for bad landlords, unless they did something really illegal, which is why we had a really hard time getting out of there.
Also, about a year or so later, I saw more college students living there again. We’re pretty sure he did one of those “at-home-mold-testing-kits” to get it up for sale again or fought the city somehow.
I don’t know what he ended up renovating, other than he ripped out a lot of carpet. I felt bad for those new people. I just wish them the best and hoped they don’t have as bad of an experience as we did. I wish it had turned out differently in the end, but I hope he learned his lesson to actually help his tenants when they need it. I don’t hate the guy, but I think he has some things to work out for himself.
Some people are also asking why we didn’t sue. We could have, but it wasn’t worth the money and time since we were all graduating in a few months and broke from speaking with lawyers. We did see what we could do about it, though. We just decided that getting out of the house and cutting ties would be the best instead of dragging the situation out further.”
Another User Comments:
“Mold is no joking matter. A few years ago a pipe broke in our finished basement and it flooded.
We had it professionally dried out and repaired. A year later, the pipe fix broke (due to an incompetent plumber), and the basement flooded again, this time with fast-growing black mold (due to incompetent water removal guys). Because the insurance adjuster didn’t believe that both tradesmen could have been bad (that his insurance company recommended), he brought in a mold scientist to prove that the black mold couldn’t have grown so fast without another problem. Well, the mold scientist proved him wrong with lots of pictures and explanations about how mold grows.
Yea! He then further proceeded to made the insurance company pay to remove almost the entire finished basement to get it dried properly and then failed the inspection three times to make them do even more drying out. In the end, a $10k repair became almost $25k, which the insurance company had to pay. We could never have gotten them to agree to so much, but it was their own mold scientist recommending it after all.” LongPastDueDate
5. Accuse Me Of Cheating On You? Lose Your Business
“I had been seeing someone for a few months and decided to get an apartment in their home town. Everything was going fine until I logged into a local chat room (think AOL days) to hopefully make some new friends and find out good places to go sing karaoke, and a weird username messaged me and said, “Hello” and nothing else.
A few days later, me and my man (let’s call him Bob) are supposed to meet up for breakfast, and when I get there, he has a messenger bag with him.
I ask what he wants to eat, and he says he’s not hungry. I ask him what’s wrong, and he pulls out about 20 pages of a chat log from that weird username on the website.
In this chat log there is some very graphic adult stuff that was being discussed by that username. Also in that chat log, was my name commenting on it, which I never did. I asked him what this was, and of course he asked me to tell him what it was.
I honestly had no idea and told him so. He broke up with me right there over this.
As I stated before, that username had said hello to me, and that was it. This chat log was faked, and I had NO idea why someone would do that. When I got home, crying my eyes out, my phone rang, and there was a strange voice on the line, saying how that now that I’m single, I should go out with them and all sorts of crap.
Then the text messages started about wanting to sexually assault me and various other things. It was then it was revealed it was the ex of my now ex Bob. I called up Bob and told him what was going on and asked him why he gave my number to his ex. He said I should have tried to cheat on him with his ex. Again, never happened. Up until this, I thought Bob was going to be the person I spent my life with, but that obviously didn’t happen.
Needless to say, this resulted in a police report being filed with pictures of all the text messages and voicemails being given to the police.
I almost killed myself that night over all of this. Bob’s ex created this fake chat log to try to break us up, which it did, just to try to get him back, which didn’t work in the end.
The REVENGE:
My ex man, Bob, was running a computer business, and at the time, Windows required cd-keys to install. He was building custom computers for people but using a key generator to make the keys to install Windows and Microsoft Office 2003.
I found this out and decided to contact Microsoft and anti-piracy groups and gave them all the information I had.
I didn’t hear anything more about it. Until…
Just before I moved back to my home state, the hammer fell. My ex lost his computer business and was fined over $100,000.00 for software piracy. He still doesn’t know who turned him in, but it cost him everything he had worked for. He was forced to move back in with his parents, sell his car, and get a job waiting tables.
Update: I was asked why Bob got the brunt of this, well here it is.
Bob gave my contact info to his ex, and that started a campaign of harassment by his ex towards me.
Police wouldn’t do anything because of his uncle being on the force. So Bob giving my phone number out to people and being the instigator and telling them to hit me up, as I later found out, is why he got the brunt of it. Rather than going after that sleazeball ex of his, but I couldn’t get info on him.
I suspect the other reason that the police didn’t do anything was because of it involving three gay guys.
Maybe if it had been a big city, MAYBE something would have been done back in 2005, but it being the midwest probably explains why the police there didn’t give a rats a**.
Also, I should mention that I have done some IT work in the past, so THAT’s why I called Microsoft and anti-piracy groups because I knew what Bob was doing was piracy, and it would cost him everything if they dropped the hammer on him, which it did.”
4. Boss Shows His True Colors And Gets Forced To Shut Down His Business
“This is a story from around six years ago back when I was a gullible wee sod which will explain a lot. I’d probably call this karmic revenge because I never planned for things to fall into place like they did.
I got a job with a direct sales company in sunny Scotland that ran on a commission-only basis. Clients would hire us to sell for them and we did everything from credit cards to internet. We normally had portable pods we’d take into shopping centers, but sometimes we’d just be in the middle of busy streets.
Some people often worked for the day and made zero cash which meant folks were getting hired and quitting every week. I actually did pretty well though and usually made more than I would working similar hours in an unskilled labor position. Boss took note of this and started mentioning an expansion into Australia, describing it as an untapped market for what we did. It would be a gold mine, he said. He told me he was planning to leave in a few months and wanted to bring decent salesmen along to hit the ground running while they looked for more local staff to build the team.
If I proved my worth, I’d be invited.
I worked harder than ever. Coming in early, staying late, and helped to train the noobs that came in without pay as time went by. Best efforts weren’t fruitful though and I still didn’t have enough savings to get by for long by myself on the other side of the world. I told the boss what I had, and he said that would barely even be enough to pay for your flight let alone the hostel and other living costs while we get established.
I was actually under the impression getting invited meant they’d at least move me over there, so now I felt like this plan just didn’t seem feasible anymore. I’ve learned to ask these questions well in advance now. Months of sweat down the drain.
Boss said I couldn’t give up and I had to do what was necessary to achieve my goals. I ate that sh*t up, and he suggested I take out payday loans and bump phone/tablet contacts for the extra cash.
Obviously, that would put me in massive dept but the boss, who I considered a friend at this point, reassured me that I’d be making 10 times what I owed per month when we got to Oz. I trusted him enough to believe it but still asked him if he would pay for my plane ticket if I couldn’t afford to fly back after 6 months to be present for the birth of my daughter in Scotland.
He said of course, but it was silly to think I’d be so poor, I couldn’t get home. I went through with the idea.
The time came, and we were ready to leave. Boss asked the regional manager to pay for my plane ride upfront and dock my wages later because the ticket would have still eaten a third of my savings. Turned out, I was the only one from Scotland beside the boss and the RM going over.
I was told it was because no one put the effort in I did, and RM couldn’t pay for everyone’s ticket. Normally I’d have been really concerned, but the boss was a pal now, so I just felt really special. On the way, it was revealed to me that we wouldn’t actually be selling anything this time around. The only clients were a few global and local charities. What we’d be doing now was going door to door and convincing people to subscribe.
I would have to get someone to sign up to donate a minimum of 40 dollars a month for two years to get my comish… What the f*ck?!? Again, I was reassured that, unlike Scotland, in the land down under, everyone has loads of disposable income, and they love charities. It would be a saunter for us. I managed to convince myself it wasn’t so bad, and I actually got quite excited about doing something for charity like that.
Things didn’t take off as we’d hoped, and just two months in, I was completely relying on income from the job to support myself.
To my surprise, I’d been sharing a bunk bed with my boss in hotels the whole time. He said it was just to save money, but I already knew he had no more than me because of our constant proximity. I worked 13 hours a day, 6 days a week in the field, and even on my day off, the boss would always have something planned for the ever-changing team. I was a good sport and ended up being pretty well-liked by anyone we brought on.
Part of my job now was to participate in training everyone new except still for no pay. I wasn’t in a position to argue and since we were in this together I complied. I ended up doing most of the training, but at least I was making new friends.
The next four months were awful. Boss and I eventually separated when we hired two other lads from the UK who I became close with. We stayed together, and the boss somehow had enough to stay in air bnbs now; meanwhile, I was living off noodles and sleeping in up to 24-bed rooms in hostels with the boys just to get by.
We ironed our shirts on the floor and couldn’t afford shoes to replace the ones soles were coming off of from the constant door knocking. Boss had become a bit of a pariah among the team because of his ugly attitude. I actually found his temper funny a lot of the time because it was never directed at me until it was and the benefit of the doubt I’d given him no longer existed when it came time for me to go home for my daughter.
I couldn’t afford a bus never mind a flight, and when I asked the boss for the emergency handout, he essentially said tough cookies; I can’t afford it. I missed the birth of my daughter and cried for days over how much of an idiot I was for trusting the boss. I couldn’t even risk leaving and not finding another job. I just had to save for as long as it took and go home.
Shortly after this, the boss declares he’s now got the resources he needs to start planning a move to a different state where he can open his own office away from the RM.
Of course, the team would have to follow, and at his request, I played a part in convincing most of them to go. I’d started living in robot mode and just became a yes man to get through the day. I also figured maybe the new location would reap more reward. Boss invested in a town office and spent what he had setting it up along with getting the clients sorted.
It took three weeks for everyone to see the boss’s true colors, and I was particularly worn down.
Part of the recruitment process involved the applicant shadowing myself or another member of the team for the day to show the sales, but when anyone came out with me, I basically said, “Listen, you DO NOT want this job,” so needless to say, we didn’t hire many locals. I had stayed in touch with a girl from the previous office who I had gotten close to and she was more than happy to help me vent.
She offered me a place to stay in her flat should I want to risk quitting and finding another job to get home. I’d just have to get back to the other side of the country with no money. We were so skint the lads and I hacked a hungry jacks reward app to give us unlimited free value meals lmao. FYI, we were paid two weeks in lieu, so I hatched a plan to wait until the wage from my first week in the new office came through before quitting.
I had the strong feeling my boss would withhold the remaining two weeks because he knew I couldn’t fight it. I was right in the end. I also sat the team down in private one night and told them I was planning to quit for all these reasons. They were sad to hear I was leaving but completely understood. I quit the next day and used the wage I just got to pay for the way back to the other side of Oz.
I did find another job in a coffee shop and had enough to fly home three months later. Then I completely rebuilt my life.
I learned through the grapevine that every single member of staff quit within days of me leaving my boss’s office, meaning he had to shut down and hightail it back to the old one because of how much money he lost. I saw him running around a few times trying to catch busses with a clipboard and iPad like we did when we’d knock doors, so I’m assuming he couldn’t hire any more staff either and had to do the groundwork all by himself.
He never recovered from what I hear.
At the time this happened, I didn’t know what a pyramid scheme company was, but thankfully, I’m wiser now. I discovered that my boss made money, not from the client directly, but rather, he got a percentage of every sale the team and I made as did every superior he had. I never saw a dime for all the people I hired and trained. That explained why he could afford better lodging and ultimately an office. I’m now certain he could’ve afforded to send me on the flight back when I asked.”
Another Users Comments:
“Australia has tough labor laws; you may have been able to take that company to the cleaners in unpaid wages if you’d talked to a lawyer.” Frari
3. Bully Me In High School? I'll Make Your Adult Life A Tragedy
“Wayback in 2006 during my first year in high school, I was bullied by this new guy in class.
Let’s call him BB (BigBully). BB was somewhat other people would call “cool.” He’s got the looks, the height, and most importantly the manipulative personality.
This guy tormented my 4 years in high school through daily bullying. Calling names, threatening with physical contact, humiliating me in front of other people, and spreading false rumors about me are just some of the things I went through.
Reason being? -I don’t know, probably never had a dog in his life.
Fast forward, we finished high school and I moved to another city to study for college. BB, I don’t know what happened to this guy and I didn’t really care.
I went from shy introvert guy to an outgoing, everyone is my friend type of person during college, where I finished my degree in dental medicine in 2016.
I became really active regarding my profession (through community works and civic actions) and has expanded my connections.
After a year, my high school was about to reach its 50th founding anniversary and the alumni association was planning for a grand reunion. I was added to the group regarding this event in facebook and there I saw BB’s profile.
He didn’t make it great in life. Regularly changing jobs, most of the time unemployed, and a wife engaging in illegal activities in which he takes part of. Now the illegal activities I mentioned here is performing dental work without license for a very cheap price.
They do install braces for 3000 Php (around 60$) to curious teenagers and adults alike.
I cannot even describe the feeling I got when I remembered the nightmare I was in high school, and now I have the chance of revenge.
In our country, one law states that if you do dental works without license, you’ll be imprisoned for at least 2-5 years and must pay fines costing Php200k-500k ($4,000-9,000 USD). This guy didn’t attend college. This guy didn’t have any license.
This guy is in no position to do dental works. Having sworn to uphold my profession and prevent harm to others, I did what any licensed dentist here would do if they knew someone practicing illegally.
So I called up some people within our local dental chapter so they can connect me to the other chapters and do some kind of entrapment operation within BB’s area. Cop went undercover and had him avail of the dental braces.
Other cops went in as BB’s wife was putting the brackets in the cop’s mouth.
Both of them went to prison. BB never knew that it was me behind his imprisonment. He and his wife are still in jail and the verdict is yet to come.
It’s a bailable offense but I doubt BB saved enough for the two of them. Justice system here sucks so it would probably take some happy time in jail while the case is in process.
In our country, people would do stupid things to look rich, hence dental braces since it costs a lot. The price for a dental brace is usually around Php50k ($1,000 USD), while the daily minimum wage of an average citizen is Php512 ($10 UD).”
2. Make Me Do All Our Project? I'll Throw You Under The Bus
And they did it all passively.
“So, this story happened when I was in 7th grade. During that time, the school district had all students participate in a mandatory annual science fair from elementary school up to the end of middle school. The idea was to get students interested in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) fields and occupations.
After participating in science fairs for 6 years, I was used to the usual rigmarole that a science fair project entailed: I come up with some, hopefully unique, project ideas (most likely the very original “electricity from a potato” project), I make a hypothesis, collect data, pay the school or Home Depot $10 – $20 for a science fair board, tape up charts and diagrams to the board the night before presenting, and then rinse and repeat for the next year.
However, this year, my class was doing things a little differently.
My class had the honor of being the first to be selected to participate in a digital science fair. So basically, we were voluntold. No one in our section of the district at that time did a digital science fair before, so we were signed up as guinea pigs to test it out. If that wasn’t good enough, my class also had to promote healthy collaboration amongst students, so we were assigned to do projects in a group!
Now I hate group work! I always got the short end of the stick in a group.
Either my group gets stuck with someone that skimps out on work and the other group members and I have to cover their portion, OR everyone in the group except me avoids work like the plague, and no matter how much I urge them to participate, I eventually have to do all the work myself to maintain my precious grades. I was a straight-A student at the time, so any group work assigned to me was a threat to my grade and my sanity.
If I ever got less than an A on any assignment, my mother would ask me, “Why didn’t you get an A? Sonny boy, do you need help at school?” It drove me insane since I wasn’t failing!
Anyways, the online science fair was pretty simple. As a group, we were assigned access to a group “science fair board” that we could fill out with our results, figures, hypothesis, etc. We were to have certain parts of the project like the discussion done by particular dates to get points towards our grade.
The overall project was due in two months and then we were to give a presentation. Amazing Teacher was brilliant. She wanted us to record our project progress in a composition book in tandem with the online portion, which she would review during our presentation in two months. I believe this was to help us keep track of notes in case we forgot to log them into the computer later, but it was used by me as a tool in my revenge.
I was paired with Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy, who I was kinda friends with.
We brainstormed and settled on “testing the performance of an individual in exercise before and after they drink an energy drink.” This was in part influenced by Monster energy drink just becoming popular and Sheep Boy’s parents getting a new home gym. I thought it was great since I was playing football at the time and wanted to work out more. Also, Pathological Liar, Sheep Boy, and I literally shared every class together and lived within a mile of each other, so it would be super easy to communicate.
However…
Sheep Boy and Pathological Liar never seemed to want to talk about the project. After two weeks of radio silence from Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy, I finally corralled them in one place and suggested we meet up at Sheep Boy’s house that weekend to start the project. On the day of the meetup, Sheep Boy’s mom had to go grocery shopping or something, so Sheep Boy was out. Undaunted, I told Pathological Liar it’d be fine if we work at my house and researched other studies on it to get the ball rolling.
But, Pathological Liar never showed up that day. So I decided to confront him on our walk home from school the next day.
Oh my God, if you heard what came out of this boy’s mouth as an excuse…
While we were literally within spitting distance of my house, Pathological Liar said he couldn’t come over yesterday or today because his grandparents had gotten into a plane crash. I was flabbergasted and exclaimed, “What?! Really? But I didn’t see anything on the news about a plane crash.” Pathological Liar responded indignantly, “Plane crashes happen all the time StartingtoSAV! They’re not all going to get reported on! Their plane struck another plane on the tarmac and then rolled over and snapped off both wings!”
Me: *insert surprised Pikachu face* “Oh my God, I’m so sorry… Did they die?”
PL: “What? No, why would they die, idiot?! Anyways, I can’t do the project this week! See ya…”
This little turd then ran home.
After I got home and deduced that he just fed me a sack of crap, I just said whatever and filed out the preliminary sections of the project and wrote notes in the composition book to at least ensure we had something to turn in next week. I was willing to give the group a second chance because maybe their busy middle school lives were swamped.
After another two weeks of attempting to coordinate my group, and getting them to at least contribute a page or two to the report, we finally decided to meet up at Sheep Boy’s house again to start collecting the data.
We actually all showed up this time, and Sheep Boy’s mom had bought the Monster energy drinks we needed. Pathological Liar started to guzzle them because he wanted to test out the drinks first. Sheep Boy showed off his new home gym and then got us to play Smash Bros for half an hour. I didn’t want to play at first but then decided to lighten up, and we could do the tests afterward. After coaxing my group back to the gym, Pathological Liar just rambled and chit-chatted.
Me trying to be pragmatic said,” Hey guys, why don’t we start our exercise now and record some data, and then afterward, I can school y’all in Smash Bros?” Sheep Boy looked willing until Pathological Liar sighed out, “Oh my God, StartingtoSAV *SIGHHHHHH* We didn’t invite you out to do this stupid project; we invited you to hang out.” Sheep Boy’s attitude did a complete 180 chiming in, “Yeah, we don’t want to do the stupid project now!”
I WAS SEETHING.
Pathological Liar spouted a load of bull. This wasn’t even his house; I was the one who organized this get together to collect freakin’ science fair data! I was the one herding these sheeple around! Oh my God! The second chance I gave them was taken and then stomped all over the ground, and they weren’t getting a third one. I relented and said, “Okay then, let’s just hang out then.”
When I got home that night, I was angry, and I used that anger to fuel my revenge! I conscripted my parents to the science fair project, and they helped me collect the data I needed by volunteering to work out and drink energy drinks, so the data collection problem was solved.
Once I got enough data, I wrote down everything for the science fair project in the composition book. I even uploaded everything to the online science fair board. I created all the PowerPoint slides and scripts for the presentation. Over the next few weeks leading up to the presentation, Sheep Boy and Pathological Liar didn’t even ask about the science fair project; they had no intention of doing any of the work. Although my anger fueled me to get the project done, I wasn’t finished.
I did the pettiest thing I could think of and signed a corner of the composition book with: “StartingToSAV did all the work!” I knew that Amazing Teacher would be checking our composition books while we were presenting the project, and I couldn’t wait to see how Pathological Liar would try to weasel out of this one.
On the day of the presentation, Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy were nervously fidgeting at their desks because they didn’t have anything prepared.
I strolled in and told them to relax since I made a PowerPoint. They relaxed not knowing how stupid they were going to look while presenting. Oh how dumb they looked when we started presenting to the whole class. I had already memorized the slides and my script and was effortlessly strolling around the room, making eye contact, and delivering a killer speech on the science fair project. Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy just read off the slides with deadpan expressions with their hands in their pants not moving an inch.
I was relishing this, all the while gleefully peeking to the back of the classroom where Amazing Teacher was reading through our composition book. Amazing Teacher would stop our presentation every once in a while to ask questions and compare with what was written down in the book. But once the bomb dropped, my blood ran cool with maniacal glee. I saw Amazing Teacher stop and read a corner of the book. She then read it out loud: “StartingToSAV did all the work!?” I felt Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy grow cold next to me.
PL, that cunning fox, stammered out, “Well… Yeah, he worked on that section, Miss.”
Amazing Teacher brought her glasses down to the tip of her nose and stared at Pathological Liar over the rims and cooly stated: “So, you’re telling me that StartingToSAV was just signing his part of the composition book and that you all wrote in here equally?”
Pathological Liar: “Yes, ma’am.”
Me: *shrugs*
At this point, I wavered. I didn’t want to feel the social wrath from them or their friends for stepping out and challenging Pathological Liar’s lie, so I stayed silent.
At least I embarrassed them for a moment.
After my crowning achievement of embarrassing Pathological Liar and Sheep Boy, I thought nothing would really come from it, but boy was I wrong. After grades were released for the project, I was totally bummed out that I got a 96%. It wasn’t the perfect A that I was hoping for and knew my mother would be asking me, “Why didn’t you get an A+? Why didn’t you get a 100%?”
But then Sheep Boy and Pathological Liar ran up to me with their eyes wide with terror asking: “What did you get for your grade?
Me: “I got a grade…
Why?” (This is how my snarky butt avoided answering questions on my grade.)
Pathological Liar: “Sheep Boy got a 66%, and I got a 48%.”
I was shocked to hear that and then I figured out that Amazing Teacher must have interrogated my group mates on the project separately and awarded them the grades they deserved! Oh my God, my petty revenge tanked their grades! The science fair project was alone 25% of our total grades that year. I was so grateful that Amazing Teacher saw my frustration and punished them!”
Another Users Comments:
“Another project could have been the study of project group dynamics and slackers. Document your interactions with them the lies, etc. and then make them give the presentation about themselves thinking it’s about energy drinks!” havock77
1. Think You Can Start Drama? Be Prepared To Lose Your Job
“You see, I’m a 20-year-old female who works at a chain of convenience we shall call ‘The Tree of Dollar.’ Working as a cashier sucks already because of covid and entitled customers, but it’s worse when your own coworkers cannot get along.
Karen had just been working there at the store for perhaps only around 3 months, yet during that time, she had already been promoted to key holder. The power going to her already bleached head.
She was acting like she was the one in charge of us all even though most of us were around longer or had the same position. This is where Erina comes along.
Poor, poor Erina. She was a target from day one due to her being a tad bit of a doormat. She would clean the store whenever Karen was lazy. She had to cut her break short because Karen wanted to go on her break. Even her own labeled food in the fridge was taken because Karen was “didn’t want to spend 5 dollars on some cheap tv dinner.”
Anywho…
It eventually got to the point where Erina finally had enough, and the two began arguing day by day all of the time.
Now some information I’ve missed due to not being on the same shift, but the next day I came in, there was already a bad vibe in the room.
Karen was muttering under her breath and talking a lot of horrible things about Erina in front of me, and the customers she was tending to in line while Erina tried to stay her distance. My boss wanted for me to have them stay distant, yet the moment I came back up front, the two were arguing over how poor the rug was being swept.
Karen: “THERE’S SO MUCH DIRT ON HERE. YOU THINK THIS IS A BARN OR SOMETHING?”
Erina: “It’s just a small bit…
I’ll grab the broo—”
Karen: “Don’t even bother! You can’t even clean the rug right. Mommy and Daddy can’t even show you that much (insert racist slur here).
(Please note that Karen and myself are of color, yet she would always say racist things about Erina who was white. Stereotypical things like trailer trash or some other nonsense.)
Erina, at this point, looked truly drained and walked off to go find the broom. Later when our shift was about to end, she asked me to ring her up real quick since she didn’t want Karen to at her register, and I said sure.
After all, she only had like 2 to 3 things, and there weren’t a lot of people in line. Right away, as soon as I had finished bagging her stuff, Karen was right behind me and began yelling at us that we “shouldn’t be shopping on the clock.” Note, this was totally ok with my boss since everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, buys stuff on their shift. Karen wanted for Erina to clock out and then buy her stuff, but Erina of course protested.
By this time, my boss and supervisors had already left us alone in the store, and it was just us along with some stockers until second shift arrived.
More people began to enter the line and watch as Karen began to enter this huge tirade of how teens like us were so disrespectful and how she would ‘teach us a lesson.’
Right away, she took out her phone and called my boss about how we were shopping on the clock and disobeying her. My boss was about to ask for our side of the story, but soon, Karen hung up the phone and gave us a look like, “Haha, you’re in trouble now.”
Tired and annoyed, I told her that she had to chill out.
That this was not shopping on the clock, and that even if it was, it was fine since it was allowed. Big mistake.
Little note about Karen: she’s a middle-aged woman who still acts like a trashy teenager from the 11th grade. Her attitude was the worse as she would flip out on anyone without care or regard for who they were. She was already in hot water because of this, and now that the fire had been stroke, she was p*ssed.
I can’t remember everything word for word, but Karen was livid.
She began to insult my hair, my clothes, and saying that no one would ever want an ‘ugly stank-a*s hobo’ like you. Now I have horrible anxiety as it is, so imagine all of this, all of the yelling, all of the cursing, everything… AND THE STORE IS PACKED. People are watching, and here, I am not knowing anything to say as I’m reliving high school all over again. I went into a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and I was crying, but I was seething.
Granted, I shouldn’t have said this, but the look on her face made this so worth is –
Me: “AT LEAST I’M NOT SOME GODD*MN BIMBO STILL HERE SLAVING AWAY AT A COUNTER WHILE TRYING TO SCREW SOME PIECE ON THE SIDE.”
Things got messy from there.
Karen wanted to fight, but we were taken outside by the stockers, bless them, and left to go home. I had been given a few days off to calm my nerves, but it didn’t help. I felt like complete sh*t.
Karen made me feel like I was at my weakest point all over again, like I was trash just as I was feeling confident over myself and everything. I wanted revenge.
When I had come home that day, my grandmother saw me crying and came to comfort me before leaving for a few hours, and when she came back, she told me Karen wouldn’t be a problem.
I later got a phone call from the big boss, the district manager, over the events of that day, and after telling him my side, he said he would contact me later.
I thought that I was done for, that it was over for me. But then Karen was gone for a few days. A few days turned into a week, and a week became two. We were informed that Karen had to be tragically let go to due workplace bullying, harassment, poor customer service, and so on.
She. Was. Gone.
Yay, right? Not quite. It wasn’t until I came home and told my grandmother what happened and then she finally told me strike 3.
Now my gran is a petty woman. Screw with her, and pray that she’ll show mercy. Screw with her family, pray that you’ll die quickly.
That day when she left for those few hours, I found out it was to set her plan into action. She returned to the store hoping to see Karen. My gran found out near the back on her phone talking about how “disrespectful” I was to her and that I better watch my back.
My grandmother started her plan, beginning to act as the world’s most annoying customer: making spills in front of Karen, constantly interrupting her on the phone, etc. and etc. Remember when I said Karen’s attitude was the worse?
Yeah.
She flipped. She flipped once again and lost her cool. From what my grandmother told me, Karen didn’t know that my boss had arrived at the store to switch off with her, and when he saw his employee yelling at an elderly woman over a split case of water that said elderly woman was hunched over to grab, it was the nail in the coffin.
Karen.
Was. Gone.
I originally wasn’t going to post this due to it being so long along last year, like October, and unfortunately, Erina left the job due to it stressing her out too much. From what I hear, she’s doing better now free from the terror of Karen. As for Karen, she is the reason I am now posting today. She came to the store, and judging by her surprised face, she didn’t think I was still around.
But I was.
My coworker was outside on her smoke break when Karen stormed outside and proceeded and vent to my confused coworker. Now judging by her yelling, she was talking about me obviously. lot of–
“I can’t believe that have someone like here still working here!” And, “I don’t like liars, she’s a f*cking liar getting me fired,’ and ‘She stinks, and she’s so f*cking ugly.’ Other than the personal shots at my appearance (thanks for that, Karen), I took a lot of pleasure seeing her this p*ssed off at seeing me. It brought me even better joy when I went to lock the doors and flipped her off away from the camera’s view, smiling and all.
Karen, If you ever see or read this, just know… you’re a f*cking c*nt.”
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