People Deliver Their Captivating Revenge Stories

Do you ever sometimes find it difficult to get other people's attention? In a perfect world, they would all respectfully listen to what you have to say with no interruptions, random subject changes, or complete oblivion to the fact that you were just talking. It's true that it's rude for people to ignore or brush over what you're currently speaking about; however, sometimes the best way to get the attention of others is to mention something exciting that will have them with all eyes and ears on you. Let me tell you: that's exactly how I felt when reading these revenge stories. Each story completely grasped my attention like a magnet, and they will for you too, I'm sure.

11. Lie About Giving Me A Raise? Your Income Will Be Gone

“I work as a sub-contractor for an actually licensed contractor for a realty company.

Basically, the realty company buys houses, and the contractor tells us to go to the new address, and my coworkers and I flip the house and get it ready to be rented out. When I first started a job, it was a difficult transition considering I was a plumber previously but, eventually, I became a valuable asset to Contractor’s company thus the realty company as well.

Contractor was infamous for being a bit of a jerk when it came to actual business. He was constantly yelling and screaming at the plumber, the painters, etc. about prices and how it took them too long and he wasn’t paying that much, which I would understand if the yelling was actually warranted.

When it became tax season, he gave everyone else a 1099 and then said he ‘lost’ mine and got angrier every time I asked about it.

This guy makes easily 2 million a year (so he says) so I don’t really think $100 off the price matters that much. Not enough to get into a screaming match and ruin relationships with the other sub-contractors. I have been working for him for about a year now at 16/hr. Not too bad for my area but, I make him a lot more a day than the $160 I make every 10-hour workday.

One day I asked him for a raise, which he laughs at and shuts me down immediately. After that, I decide to work harder, get houses done faster, and show him that I deserve a raise. A few months later, I decide to ask for a raise again but not as directly. ‘How could I be more useful to the company? So, I can increase my productivity, and both of us can make more?’ He said, ‘Get a van and a trailer, and then we can talk about a raise,’ in his normal gruff tone that says, ‘shut up and get back to work.’

After that day, I worked side jobs here and there.

Worked a lot later than I usually would, and even all throughout the weekend. Saving up as much as possible. I sometimes wouldn’t eat some days just to save a couple of bucks. He loved how much I was getting done and I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes when I told him all that I got done every day. Finally, the day came where I saved up just enough to buy my Dad’s old Ford van.

Then not long after, I bought a little piece of trash 5×10 trailer that I had to fix up.

The following Monday, I pull up with the bright white gas guzzler and the fixed-up trailer following behind. I walked up to him smiling ear to ear about my accomplishment, hoping he would be proud or at least happy about all that I have done. I tell him to look at my new toys and all he says is ‘cool,’ and got in his truck and left.

‘Okay, maybe he’s just busy,’ I thought as I processed his extremely underwhelming response.

At the end of the day, I finally have a moment with him to discuss my raise. ‘So! I have the van and the trailer. I have saved up and done everything you said that I needed to do to make more and be more of an asset to this company.’

He narrows his eyes at me, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You said that if I got a van and a trailer that you would pay me more,’ I said confused.

‘I never said any of that. You have to actually work if you want anything else from me.’

I was devastated. I have been working my butt off while he sat on his butt and watched. I followed every instruction, completed in the very least two houses a week (which he makes about $5,000~ per house or so he says) and he acts like I do nothing for the company.

I swallowed my pride and let out a quick, ‘Yes sir’ and left his office.

I was finally tired of dealing with Contractor. Tired and defeated, I decided it was time to start looking for other jobs that actually had the possibility to move up. Then the company electrician gave me an idea. (I am going to call him Adam for privacy reasons). Adam is a good guy all around.

If you needed advice or, just someone to talk to, he was always there for you. I told him about everything that has happened with Contractor and told him I was looking for other jobs.

He simply said, ‘You’re not supposed to be here to try and make it to the top. You’re here to learn. Learn everything you can and then one day, you’ll be the contractor.

A better one than Contractor for sure. Why not look into getting your general contracting license? It’s not hard, you just have to work for it. That’s what I did to an extent. I worked for Contractor for years dealing with his nonsense. Until one day, I decided to get my electrician’s license. Now, he doesn’t decide what I’m paid. I do. That is if he wants me to work for him.

And if not, then I have other customers to make my living.’

I took his words to heart and came up with a plan.

Revenge:

I did some research on becoming a general contractor in my state (Requirements differ in other states).

Basically, I would need books to learn the material, references, a bank reference, and to pass the test.

The books were pretty expensive. With bills, taking care of my family and a monthly van payment, it seemed impossible for now.

Until I found a group following in my area that needed a handyman to do a variety of things. Perfect. Extra funds. Soon, my name started blowing up in my small town.

I did everything from repairing fences to installing toilets. I took everything I learned from plumbing and from working for Contractor and used it to build a reputation. References: check.

This is when I decided it was time to open my own business.

Again, I did my research and learned all I had to do to open said business. I’ll spare you the details but, it was basically business license, how to get an LLC, Liability insurance, think of a name NOT already taken, blah blah blah.

It took a while, but I sent in all that I had and prayed to whatever god is there for me to be invited to take the test.

I waited and waited until about three weeks and FINALLY, I got a letter inviting me to the next test. It was a three-hour drive and on a Tuesday. Great another speed bump. Have to miss work AND pay $300.

The day of the test came, and I panicked. It was open book but, I eventually ran out of time and didn’t get to finish. I was so disappointed in myself that I basically gave up.

I just decided to keep working my job and a little side business.

A week later, I was holding my son. He is a beautiful blonde-haired blue-eyed reflection of myself. After I managed to get him to sleep, I stared at him and wondered if I would be able to give him a better life than I had. I remember growing up in trashy trailers, being hungry, and being made fun of at school because I wore clothes from Walmart.

Not the best way to grow up but, I had a roof over my head. I always wanted video games that my friends had but never got it. I wanted to go to trampoline parks and water parks. I’ve only been once in my entire life.

That’s about when my resolve renews itself within me.

I had to do this. Not only for me but, for him. I saved up all over again and came up with the $300 and requested for a re-take of the test.

I took practice tests online, so I was ready. The day came and I BARELY manage to pass. BUT I still pass the test and receive my license! Now time for the fun part.

With all of the time passing, I became pretty close friends with the owner of the realty company. Going to BBQs, stopping to tell him some corny joke I saw on social media (he LOVED puns), and doing extra tasks not under Contractor.

One day, I came into his office and saw some invoices from Contractor on his desk. I just said, ‘Wow, that’s how much you’re paying him? Dude, he should at least take it a little bit easy on you since you have known each other for so long.’ He just nodded and said, ‘You think so?’ and he just looked at the papers more. Since then, I would say little comments about how much Contractor was getting paid and how many houses we could buy with that amount.

Just planting seeds in his mind that I slowly water until they turn into a beautiful garden of resentment.

Finally, Owner calls me and wants me to come to his house for a beer and to ‘talk business.’ (We’ve done this a few times before. It’s usually about his wife or the hit last time he played golf). I pull into his driveway, and he told me to meet him out back.

After the usual how-are-yous, he tells me that he and Contractor had a bit of an argument and they are ‘limiting’ him from now on. Then, he turned to me, and said, ‘There is a meeting Friday. I want you there at 9 o’clock.’ I hesitate. I wasn’t sure what it could have been.

‘Sure, I’ll be there.’ I manage to say calmly through a scrambled mind.

After a few beers and stories about fishing trips, I headed home.

So I go to the meeting, and as I go in everyone shook my hand. Some I’ve seen before and said my ‘Hi how are yous’ to, others I have never met in my life. THIS WAS AN INVESTOR MEETING. Some of these people are worth figures in the nine digits. I was internally freaking out after finding out, but if you’ve read, you’d know I know how to keep my cool.

After our greetings, we sat down and waited.

It wasn’t clear who we were waiting on until an hour later Contractor walks in with his usual stained T-shirt and cargo shorts, while I am in a nice dress shirt and tie. (Figured I would look nice for this.)

Everyone made a face and greeted Contractor while we got in settled again. Contractor didn’t seem to notice me until we all sat back down.

I saw him do a double-take and give me a look that said, ‘What the heck are you doing here?’ I had requested today off so I could only imagine what he was thinking. After introducing the new investors to the old investors, Owner got started saying about how we were going to have an amazing 2019 and an amazing future for the company (I suppose he was just hyping up the new guys so they would invest more).

About two hours of production values and budget stuff blah blah, he turned to me and said, ‘I would just like to take the time to congratulate OP for passing the general contractor’s exam and his newly acquired business!’ I smiled and thanked him, then he continued. ‘As we are growing, we have a demand for new and inspiring people within our company. After hearing about OP’s success in both our company and his, I would like to personally ask him a question in front of the whole team..’ (My heart was pounding in my throat as each word sounded slower than the last.

I took a side glance at Contractor who is visibly sweating at this point.) ‘OP, how would you like to be our new property manager? You may still have your business and do your own work. But, we will pay you exclusively to be our personal contractor and help take care of all new and old properties.’ Everyone turns to me and I take a second to respond.

Just then Contractor stands up and says, ‘What the heck? I’m your god damn contractor! I’ve been your contractor for over a decade! You can’t just replace me for some jerk that doesn’t know what he is doing!’ Owner smugly looks at Contractor and says, ‘We’re not replacing you. You will just answer to him now. All tasks, orders, and billing will go through him now.

If you would like to still work for us, granted you mind your mouth and tone, you will run anything you do by OP.’

Contractor looks enraged and he turns to me, ‘YOU’RE FIRED! You have no business here anymore now LEAVE.’

Owner chuckles, and says, ‘You don’t have that power anymore. As long as OP agrees to my question.’ I turn to him and say, ‘Are you sure you can afford me?’ I laugh and shake his hand.

‘Yes. This is all I have ever wanted. All that I have worked for. Now we can get some real work done (I have to admit something, I’ve been practicing that response since I was asked to come to this meeting lol)’

Contractor stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. After he left, we continued to discuss the goals for this year and it’s out they bought 60 new houses for me to work on with the investor’s coin and he just looked at me and said, ‘Can you handle that?’ I happily said, ‘Yes, sir,’ trying to keep my eyes from watering.

All I thought about was my family and how proud they would be of me.

In a little under a year, I received a great license, my own business, and pretty much non-stop work. If there is anything you can take from reading this, I hope it will be this: Don’t settle in life. Be hungry to better yourself, and be the best person you can be. The only person stopping you is yourself.”

10 points (10 votes)
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sceri123 1 month ago
Plus the only other person trying to stop you is the asshole contractor who over charges the owners and the owners finally get someone else (you) who can do the job for better price and better time value.
3 Reply

10. Think I Can't Speak English? You Thought Wrong

“I am from a non-English speaking European country and this takes place in my second year of high school when I was about 16. In my country, most schools start teaching pupils English at the start of first grade (age 6-7), in which you start with the very basics – words, phrases, basic grammar rules. As you move up grades, lessons are supposed to get more advanced – however, the vast majority of schools do not have teachers who are actually good at speaking English, let alone teaching it and the curriculum is terrible, as it focused on grammar above all else, which means very little ability to speak the language properly.

I started teaching myself English passively by playing video games and watching YouTube at the age of 12 and was way ahead of my peers in less than six months. I became somewhat fluent by the age of 13 and fully fluent at the age of 14. I made some Irish friends online when I was 14 and within about a year, my accent was very noticeably a mix of British and Irish.

The beginning: When I started high school, I was way ahead of everyone else in my class and my teacher was very nice about it. I took an oral exam at the start of the school year and she said that the material she was going to teach is mostly what I already know and that if I want to participate I can, but she won’t force me.

We made a deal and I spent the entire year on my phone and as long as I was getting A’s on my exams and did homework, I wasn’t expected to participate in the lessons. She signed me up for a high school English competition halfway through my first year and I won the school round, the regional round, and came second in the countrywide round by half a point (this is important for later).

In my second year of high school, which is where this story takes place, a new class was introduced; English conversation. Now this lesson was mainly focused on learning how to speak so, at the start of the year, I approached the teacher and explained my situation, hoping she’d be as nice as my grammar teacher. She was not.

After lecturing me for ten minutes straight, saying stuff like “I’m the one who decides if you’re good enough” and “just because you know how to weasel your way through your exams doesn’t mean you actually speak the language.” She sent me away with a warning to never try and get out of her lessons again.

So I figured there was no point in trying to fight this; it was only one lesson per week and I knew I’d pass the class with flying colors.

The actual revenge: I did not participate much in the class. I did all my homework, passed all my exams – which she actually spent standing next to me the entire time to make sure I didn’t do anything dishonest – but I never raised my hand and if I was called upon to answer a question, I used the simplest of phrases, the least advanced words I knew and spoke with the most basic accent of my country.

Every time I did this, she’d make a remark on “You’re supposed to be so good at English, why didn’t you use X word or Y phrase.” She even called my parents to school and complained about my lack of participation. But I had a plan.

Over the first three months, I’ve noticed quite a few things about this teacher. First, her vocabulary was quite limited. Second, she often made mistakes in spelling and she seemed to mix up her tenses quite a bit.

Third, her sentence structuring was very odd. It didn’t flow and genuinely sounded robotic. And last but most important, she struggled to understand accents.

This is where my plan started to come to fruition. Like I said at the start, I made a couple of online friends when I was 14, and have been talking to them daily for about 3 years at this point, I could pull off a very well-sounding mix of a British and Irish accent.

And two months later, there it was. The mid-year exams came around and slowly, one by one, students were asked to come to the front desk for a final oral exam before the written tests. Now, this was the first time we had an oral exam with this teacher.

And finally, there it was. The day came and my name was called and I had to take the exam.

Now in this class, I had two of my good friends who knew very well just how good my English was, so as I was walking up to the front of the class, one of them said “Come on, you can do this man!” which made me chuckle. I sat down and immediately I knew this was going to be the most fun I’ve ever had in school.

The teacher gave me an off-putting smile and slowly and carefully asked me two very short questions. “What do you enjoy doing most in your free time? What are your hobbies?”

And I just went for it. I spoke about me growing up playing video games and meeting some of my best friends, my love for motorsport, some of my favorite TV shows and anything I could think of that would count as a hobby.

I made sure to ask questions while I was answering, just to see how bad this was for the teacher. And yes, not a single one of my questions was answered. I spoke for about two minutes straight before ending my monologue with a simple question of “What about you, do you do anything interesting in your free time?”

The conclusion: To this day, I don’t know what my teacher does in her free time because after I was done answering her question, she sent me to my class teacher (each class is assigned a teacher for the four years of high school who “manages” the class) and told me to wait for her.

She was angry. So angry in fact, that after the lesson was over, she stormed into my class teacher’s office and started yelling at him.

She wanted me kicked out of the school for making a fool of her, said I was the most disrespectful person she had ever taught and that she doesn’t want to ever see me in her class again. My poor class teacher was so confused and after somehow calming her down, she tried to explain that I pretended I didn’t know English just to make a fool of her.

I stayed quiet, not wanting to say something stupid and actually get myself in trouble, but as it turns out, I didn’t actually need to say a single thing.

My teacher pointed at a photo that hung above his desk; a photo of me and him taken at the countrywide round of the English competition to which he accompanied me. It had me holding the second place trophy and diploma.

In the end, nothing really came of it. I did get scolded for making fun of her but after I explained that I tried to have a normal conversation with her at the start of the year, which she shot down instantly, I was let off with a warning to not make fun of teachers again.

She never spoke to me again during class. Never asked any questions, never collected homework. At the start of my third year of high school, we got a different teacher – an American guy who was really chill and who was always happy to talk to me.

For the next two years, I occasionally saw her in the hallways, but she never answered when I said good morning to her.”

9 points (9 votes)
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9. Detract From Me On My Wedding Day? Wait Until Your Big Day

“Last summer I was at a cousin’s wedding. His bride and her family had been close with ours since before I was born, and the couple had known each other since they were toddlers, so it was a particularly exciting event for both sides of the family.

However, after the ceremony was over and the party had only just started, one of the bridesmaids decided to announce her own engagement.

The attention was immediately taken away from the newlyweds and brought to the bridesmaid (Sarah) and her equally smug fiancé.

My cousin’s wife (Emma) didn’t make a scene or utter a single negative word about Sarah. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she kept grinning and acted very happy for the other couple. This was unusual, as Emma is typically quite confrontational and speaks her mind no matter the consequences.

Sarah later picked Emma to be the maid of honor at her own wedding, which took place last weekend (I wasn’t there for it, but my cousin sent me some of the best bits on Snapchat and explained the whole situation).

This is where the fun begins.

Emma’s two much-younger sisters were the flower girls at Sarah’s wedding.

At the very last moment, Emma switched out the white petals in their baskets to blue ones she had secretly brought with her.

She told her sisters not to say anything about it or let the bride see them until it was time to scatter them down the aisle.

Sarah looked very confused upon seeing the blue petals (which didn’t coordinate whatsoever with her theme), but of course, she didn’t say anything about it at the moment. Most of Sarah’s other bridesmaids were also Emma’s friends, had attended Emma’s wedding, and were in on Emma’s scheme.

At the reception, Emma’s sisters and the other bridesmaids were tight-lipped when Sarah began demanding to know why there were blue petals.

The wedding planner ended up getting a lot of abuse for not checking the flower girls’ baskets before they walked down the aisle.

Finally, it was time for the speeches. The speeches took place in front of a massive screen, displaying a loop of photos with Sarah and her husband, which had been compiled by Emma.

Emma took the remote that controlled the presentation screen and at first, she showed some pre-approved humorous photos of Sarah with Emma and other friends to facilitate a couple of lighthearted jokes.

Then, at the very end, Emma said to Sarah that she must be wondering why there were blue petals instead of the white ones originally planned.

That was when Emma displayed the last slide from her presentation.

Emma announced in front of everyone that she was five months pregnant and that she’d just discovered the baby was a boy, hence the blue petals. The last slide? Her ultrasound picture.

There were shocked yells and gasps, Sarah had a fit, but those involved in the scheme cheered so loudly that I sincerely regret watching the Snapchat recordings with headphones. Apparently, Sarah had been very nasty to her bridesmaids before, driving several of them away and forcing the others to pay ridiculous amounts for dresses.

Emma and my cousin were eventually thrown out of the party, but they were all smiles.

Sarah’s fuming mother went to confront her outside, and Emma retorted with, ‘Gentle, gentle! I’m pregnant!’ I reckon Sarah doesn’t speak to the majority of those bridesmaids anymore.”

Another User Comments:

“And then at Emma’s baby shower, Sarah flaunts that she’s dying! And at Sarah’s funeral, Emma announces she killed her! And at Emma’s trial, SARAH COMES BACK AS A ZOMBIE!” SethRogensCottonmouf

9 points (9 votes)
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sceri123 1 month ago
SethRogensCottonMouf I know you are making fun of Sarah bit I don't think Sarah is going to be invited to the baby shower. Who would want the degenerate there anyway.
3 Reply

8. Be Unfaithful And Use Me? I'll Destroy Your Favorite Video Game

This is every guy’s worst nightmare. Be careful what you do to a tough lady!

“My partner and I had met online well over 6 years ago through an online game by the name of RuneScape.

It had felt like we had been friends forever. We both played the game very often and connected through it, eventually leading us to start a long-distance relationship. Things began to escalate as the years went on and we began seeing each other in person every few months or so.

We were about 1,500 miles apart, so one of our main priorities for the future was moving in together and closing the distance. My job had prevented us from doing that, but we had finally set a date for me to move in with him in December of this year.

Our relationship never had any serious issues and I was more than happy to have him in my life as he was happy to have me.

As I got older, I began to play RuneScape less and less, as work took up most of my time. He continued to play regularly, if not more than he had when I first met him. He could never really hold down a job and barely had an income, but I supported him throughout the years and even paid his rent from across the country after he moved out of his parents’ house a few years ago.

I never really minded it because he was a sweetheart, but we began to have problems.

In November of last year, I couldn’t help pay his monthly rent. I was struggling financially after having to pay my own living expenses alongside car repairs and bills I owed to the state, and I just couldn’t afford to support him at the time. When I called him one night to discuss it, he freaked out and started crying that he didn’t want to live with his parents again.

I tried calming him down and even suggested that I could help him find a temporary job until I could start providing for him again, but he wasn’t having it.

He claimed his parents would abuse him if he returned home, which I know for a fact isn’t true because he and his parents have stayed with me several times. They’ve given him the world. I eventually did calm him down but he remained passive-aggressive the entire night and we eventually hung up.

Because I cared about him, I reached out to his father the next day and informed him that he would probably be moving back home after his lease expired that month. I explained how I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for his living for a month or two.

I asked if there were any local jobs he could work in order to… y’ know, MAKE AN INCOME.

Apparently, a friend of his father’s needed help managing a small warehouse for his business and was looking to potentially hire my partner for the season. It paid $15/hr and was super easy (lifting boxes, sweeping the floors, and taking inventory). I brought it up to my partner that same night and he was not having it. Not only did he not want to work in a ‘trashy warehouse,’ but he didn’t want to work at all.

All he planned to do day in, day out was play RuneScape.

I brought up a few other job listings I had found in his area and he immediately shot all of them down as well. He then had the audacity to comment about how he thinks I should work harder and possibly work a second job. I kept my composure and simply argued against it until we eventually hung up.

I collapsed on my bed and cried for a good hour or two afterward because of the intense emotional stress I was under. Not only do I work 8 hours a day, 6 days a week, I’m also an industrial meteorologist. If I remember correctly, that’s a lot more work than playing RuneScape every day and using my Hulu account.

I really considered breaking up with him right at that moment, but I changed my mind and decided to give him another chance.

Looking back on it, big mistake.

I messaged him throughout the night and we sort of made up, but I was still a little uneasy about the entire event. He had moved back with his parents by the time December had come and I began to help him look for jobs while he wasted his life away playing video games. I eventually persuaded him to start working at a small retail store near his house and he thankfully began to make an income! I would still buy him video games and transfer him funds like normal because I spoiled him.

Our relationship began to feel somewhat okay again.

Last month, both he and I put our dough together to fly him across the US to stay with me for 4 days. We hadn’t seen each other in person since last summer, so we were both looking forward to it. He arrived and we had a great time for the first few days because he could actually take me out for once with his new income.

Everything was perfect until I caught a glimpse of his phone’s lock screen while he was taking a shower.

‘When are you gonna leave herrrrr?’ the Discord message read.

I could have run into the bathroom and snapped his neck at that moment but I kept myself together as best as I could without killing him. I had never felt so used, disrespected, or hated in my entire life.

When he came out of the bathroom, I gave him a fake smile, but I genuinely hated him from that moment on. He could have dropped dead on the floor and I would have spat on him. I spent the remainder of the night watching him play RuneScape and I remained very quiet. He took notice of this and asked me if everything was okay, and I lied and told him I was fine.

When it came time to go to sleep, I let that jerk climb into bed with me and he tried initiating physical affection because it was our final night together. I rejected as politely as I could. He was disappointed but went out like a light.

Immediately after he went to sleep, I reached over and unplugged his phone, and started digging through his messages with that girl.

I feared that I had misinterpreted the message I had seen, but I was completely right after all. Not only had he been unfaithful to me, but he had also been going behind my back for nearly six months; leading me to believe that he hooked up with another girl directly after I couldn’t pay for his living in November.

I scrolled through probably 100,000 messages and wanted to vomit my insides out by the end of it.

He had talked trash about me, claimed I was emotionally abusive (just as he had done with his parents), and even sent this girl my personal photos so they could pick me apart physically.

When morning came, I had slept in because of how late I was up reading his messages. I woke up to find him on my computer playing RuneScape and eating my food. It was like our entire relationship had been wiped from my mind and he was now an evil stranger sitting in my house.

I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to tear him apart and kick him out of my house onto the street, but I didn’t. In fact, I gave him as much love and attention as I could muster that morning because I wanted to leave things feeling normal between us. I dropped him off at the airport and we had a quick and somber goodbye before I left him forever, unbeknownst to him.

I drove back home as calmly as I could before crying my eyes out in a mix of complete anger and emotional pain. I ended up kicking my bedframe so hard that the wood split and I had to buy another one recently. If only it were his face. I wanted to break his heart by the time he arrived back home, but I wanted it to really hurt.

I logged into our joint RuneScape account that we had made several years ago, where he and I would work on training the same account and raising it almost like our ‘baby.’ We had always joked that if we were to ever split up, he would take half of the account’s bank contents and I would take the rest. I took my half and transferred it to my main account before taking his half and giving it away to random people throughout the game.

Every last bit of it. Even items I couldn’t normally trade away, I used a spell to convert the items into coins which I then gave away as well. The bank was now empty.

It then occurred to me that the credentials to his main account were written down in my desk, as he would frequently have me train his Farming skill every so often. I didn’t hesitate at all and logged into his precious 14-year-old RuneScape account.

I immediately took all of the contents of his bank and sold it all on the Grand Exchange, a marketplace in the game. It took an extremely long time to clear out his bank, but he would still be flying home for about another 4 hours so I had plenty of time.

By the time I had sold/destroyed everything, I had four stacks of coins totaling over 8.5 billion.

Now what to spend it on, hmm…

I wanted to waste his ‘life earnings’ on the most useless, stupid thing I could think of besides him. I logged back into my main account to reach out to a friend of mine that collects massive stacks of burnt food. For the unaware, burnt food in RuneScape has no use. You can’t ‘unburn’ them, eat them, or even sell them on the Grand Exchange.

They are, however, tradable amongst players. I’ve always poked fun at this guy for collecting burnt food, but I was now more thankful than ever to make his acquaintance in my revenge.

I asked him what the most obscure, unwanted item of the burnt food variety was and he replied “Burnt spider”. Lo and behold, he had roughly 6,000 of the item “Spider on shaft (burnt)” in his bank that he was willing to sell me.

Feeling generous with my ex-’s coins, I gave my friend a full stack of 2.147 billion coins and left a very happy customer. I dropped the 6,083 burnt spiders in his bank, but still had about 6 billion coins left to spend.

With the remaining coins, I decided to treat myself. I went onto the Grand Exchange and ended up going on a shopping spree! The first thing I bought was 100 bonds.

If you’re not familiar, a bond in RuneScape grants you 14 days of in-game Membership. After trading all 100 bonds to my account, I now have almost 4 years of Membership paid for me. I spent a majority of his coins on extremely nice armor and weapons, all of which went straight into my account. He still had about an extra billion, so I spent it on the supplies I needed to level up an expensive skill of mine.

By the end of the afternoon, he was left with a measly 150,000 coins in his bank, all of which I gave away to a guy cooking pizzas outside of the Exchange. Nothing was left, so I decided to pick up a pile of bones off the ground and leave it solely in his bank. It might sound petty, but I laughed for a while.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.

This is so cruel, you ruined the tens of thousands of hours he had put into a game! Well, it was time he learned that I can be a jerk, a MEAN jerk. On top of spending every last coin he had ever made, I leveled his Defense skill. This may not sound bad; in fact, it sounds like a good thing! I helped his account progress, right? Well, no.

Unfortunately for my ex, he had what players commonly refer to as a ‘pure’ account: meaning he never, EVER dared to level his Defense skill from Level 1, in order to keep the lowest defense stats but have high offensive stats. Well, not anymore. Have fun with your permanent Level 6 Defense.

Cycling through hundreds of possible forms of revenge in my head, I settled on getting rid of his house.

It’s quite an achievement in RuneScape to have a nice house of your own, in fact, he had one of the nicest I had ever seen in the game. In order to have built it, he must have spent well over a few billion coins.

Too bad I had disassembled it all in a matter of minutes, deleting it all into cyberspace. And there’s no insurance either, he’s going to have to rebuy everything with his non-existent coins if he wants a new house.

Bye-bye, Casa de jerk.

Scrolling through his friend’s list, I decided to act like him and pay a visit to his friends who were currently online and admit that I had been unfaithful to my partner and was fully proud of it. If his friends hadn’t removed him by that point, I removed them. All of them.

Lastly, to add a beautiful little cherry to this revenge-filled cake, I changed his username.

You’re able to change your username once a month on RuneScape, so I changed his to let everybody know that he’s a dirty loser. I obviously won’t drop his username here, but I did the best I could to embarrass him with a 12 character limit. He should be able to reclaim his previous username in about three weeks, but if he waits too long, I’ll be able to swipe it and slap it on a throwaway account of my own forever.

He sent me a very hateful and aggressive message later that night, followed by pictures of him crying. I wrote him a sincere message officially ending the relationship, while also scaring him away by threatening to ‘take him to court’ for sharing my personal pictures and possibly filing a cease-and-desist if he were to contact me any time soon.

I don’t plan on doing any of that, I just don’t want to speak to him ever again.”

8 points (8 votes)
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StumpyOne 1 month ago
I appreciate a good "scorched earth" revenge! Good job!
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7. Just A Teen Getting Back At A Jerk Mailman

Looks like Mr. Mailman really hates his job.

“The mailman my parents had when I was growing up was a total butthole. He was so awful it still makes me mad just thinking about it. For some reason, delivering packages just ruined his day, at least if they were too big for the mailbox.

Any time he had a package that didn’t fit the mailbox, he just sat in the street blasting his horn until someone came out to his vehicle and got it.

If no one came out he made a big show out of coming to your door and pounding on it like he was on fire or something. Didn’t seem to occur to him that people may not be awake, available, or even home at the time he pulled up. My dad worked all hours and long shifts as a trucker and this guy used to ruin his sleep on a regular basis when he could have just left the package at the door.

Half the town complained about this rude jerk but he was able to keep his job due to small-town politics aka stupidity.

As a teenager I once had the audacity to be in the shower when he pulled up and no one else was home. He did his usual routine, I didn’t even hear the horn. He pounded on the door so long and hard I thought my parents had died in a car accident or something.

(I swear not even the police knock that hard). So I threw on a towel, shampoo still in my hair, and dashed to the door in a panic, opened it relieved to see it was just the mailman…and he snapped “finally” and then shoved a huge box at me so fast that I almost dropped my towel, and huffed off back to his car. My relief turned to shock, anger, and finally pettiness.

This was near the beginning of the summer, meaning I was about to be at home pretty much every day at mail time. From then on, any time he had a package for us, which was relatively often as my brother had just discovered Amazon Prime, I refused to go out to his vehicle to get it. Sometimes, just to be a jerk, I would wave from the window while he honked.

I also refused to answer the door for his childish pounding tantrum.

Instead, when he was almost back to his car, I would open the door as loudly as possible to make sure he saw me taking the package in. His face the first time was absolutely priceless. Other times, I would wait till he left to come outside, and I’d sit on the porch swing till he passed by the second time (it was a dead-end street so he always had to turn around and come back), and I’d wave enthusiastically as he drove by.

This went on for years bc he doubled down on his bad behavior and kept doing it instead of just leaving the package at the door like a normal person.

Worked like a charm. Angered him to no end every time and there wasn’t anything he could do about it – except stop his ridiculous behavior, which obvs wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t switch routes bc there was only one in our little town, and he couldn’t complain to his bosses about something within his job description.

The best part of it was, I had gotten my dad in on it too. He was home one day when I pulled this shenanigan, he’d already gotten woken up when the dude first honked his horn, and he came stomping down the stairs demanding to know why I wasn’t answering the door. I just told him to watch and he burst out laughing when he saw what I’d been up to, then started doing it himself.

That fall I went back to school, along with his daughter, who was in my grade. The first thing she said when she saw me was “Dude, my dad hates you!” The next summer, I got a job at the only gas station in town, one of the very few jobs available for high schoolers. So he’d often see me there too. Sometimes he’d try to goad me into being rude to him, I’m guessing to try to get me in trouble, but I found the whole situation very funny, so it was easy to just smile in his face, which would make him angrier.

What are you gonna do, pal, tell my boss I was too nice to you? Screw yourself.

I still have no idea why he picked that particular hill to die on, or why bringing the packages to the door made him so angry, but the whole thing stemmed from him acting like a jerk, which was totally preventable. I did ask my parents about it once, and they said that he used to just leave the bigger packages on the ground next to the mailbox, but he must have gotten in trouble for that bc then he started bringing them to the door. So I’m guessing he was just mad he had to get off his butt??”

7 points (7 votes)
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chga 1 week ago
Had a similar issue when I was in High school living in a rural area. We had a postal carrier that was super passive-aggressive about nearly every aspect of her job outside of driving and dropping letters in mailboxes. If a package didnt fit in the mailbox, she'd leave a note telling us to get it from the post office, if the mailbox had something to go out, she'd ignore it about 75% of the time. It got so bad that almost the entire neighborhood complained about here multiple times, and she was NEVER fired. Me and a few friends decided we'd were gonna try to prove what she was doing in hopes she'd either stop or get replaced. Now our area requires that postal carriers leave packages in the porch unless otherwise specified, or if something needs a signature, they have to bring it to the door, knock, and wait a short time before leaving. the have to make 3 attempts to deliver this way before it it left at the post office for pickup for another 3 days, then its returned to sender. Remember, she was doing neither of these. What we started doing was buying most of our stuff online for delivery instead of driving to town to do so, then we waited for her to pull up and we recorded her not doing her job. We probably got 35 videos of her not doing her job from at least a dozen different angles, all timestamped. We sent that whole thing in about a week before that school started for that year. We had a new postal carrier before that week ended
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6. Try To Force Me To Let You Copy My Work? My Friend Has A Better Plan In Mind

“So my friend, we’ll call her by her nickname Leah since it’s absolutely nothing like her real name at all, is someone I’ve known for ten years give or take a few. Went to the same primary and she and I were the only two people from our school to go to the secondary we went to.

We’d known each other for about six years by then, although since we were in different classes it was more as acquaintances than as actual friends.

Over the summer we bonded a lot over messaging. Going into secondary school, we were not only in separate classes, but different bands too (we had X and Y band where X did french and Y Spanish, meaning we had completely different timetables). Still in the same form and still hung out though.

Now in my form, there’s this other kid, who we’ll call Robin (sorry all Robins out there) who is literally the most annoying, arrogant person I’ve had the displeasure of dealing with on a daily basis.

Before our GCSEs, X and Y bands were separated, but now that our timetables were messed up even further with different subject choices and whatnot, I suddenly moved into Y band for a couple of classes. History, French, and a couple of others, although I was still classified as X.

Here is the actual story now:

Robin and I share only one class – history. This particular day, we had history class and neither of us had done the homework.

I spent the whole day before procrastinating it, then panicking and trying (and failing) to make myself do it, so now I was sitting in form next to Leah attempting my homework.

We had to summarise each paragraph a timeline about Germany in 1919ish times in three words. If you couldn’t already tell, I’m a rambler so I was taking my time trying to use only three words.

Robin comes up to me and demands to copy my homework. I have issues with this because I’ve been bullied and taking advantage of before because of how non-confrontational I am, but I’m in a bad mood and panicking now so I tell him no, leave me be so I can do my work.

Robin does not. For the next ten minutes, he proceeds to pester me, lecture me, steal my things (especially my Rubiks cubes from my blazer pockets or on the desk where I left it to start working), guilt trip me, call me names, etc

Like he’s entitled to my homework because, and I quote, ‘I have better things to do than homework when I can just copy someone else’s.’ Obviously, he forgot I’m that one person who almost always says no to copying homework so jokes on him.

Eventually, Leah (a godly artist, her drawings are crazy good), gets tired of Robin’s endless ranting and tells him to shut up. When he doesn’t, she offers to do his work for him. Robin happily agrees, despite the multiple times in the past she messed with his homework because he was trying to make others do it.

She was nice enough to do it in pencil at least.

Completely disregarding the three-word rule, she haphazardly scribbled down a random set of words. Among them were ‘Germany is somewhere’ and ‘SPD (social democratic party) sounds like a disease’, as well as ‘bro never cleaned his butt properly’.

I was tearing up and wheezing with laughter at this point, and then she finished and handed it to Robin. Who just. Put it in his bag without checking it.

She was nice enough to give him a heads up as we were leaving form for our first lesson of the day.

The next day we made him sign a ‘contract’ on a lil pink sticky note I keep tucked behind my lanyard. Robin has yet to realize we never agreed on consequences if he broke the ‘don’t ask OP or Leah to copy their work’ rule, and I have no intentions of telling him.”

5 points (5 votes)
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5. Try To Destroy My Orchard? Lose Your House

“My great grandparents planted an orchard, and it is now at least 120 years old. My grandparents and my parents were really proud of the peach trees growing in it and did their best to keep them well and in good health. We always threw a big party when the peaches were ready to be harvested and invited all of our friends and neighbors to it.

I loved those parties.

The neighbors on the property to the south of our orchard were particularly fond of our peaches. They were a bunch of fine old people, and the old man, Sam, and I were pretty good friends. He taught me a lot about woodworking with hand tools only and we had some great evenings in his workshop. We finished many good drinks there together.

In return, he got a lot of fine peaches, marmalade, homemade peach liqueur, etc… Sadly he died a good ten years ago, cancer sucks. His wife followed soon after, many suspected it was of a broken heart.

They had no kids, so all of their property was left to the state, except his tools and booze collection, which he had gifted me a few weeks before he died.

In comes Karen. The name speaks for itself. Haircut, attitude, witchiness. The whole deal. She bought the property of my late neighbors. We couldn’t afford to buy it at that time, as we had met some dire straits the years before and all our savings were gone. The first thing she did (before she actually moved in), was to go round and make demands of the neighbors on the surrounding properties.

When it was finally our turn to listen to her gibberish, she told us that we needed to remove half of the trees, as the leaves were blowing on her property. We told her in a polite way, that we won’t comply with her demands as the orchard is a vital part of our family heritage/tradition/life and has been there for at least 120 years. She was pretty angry but did nothing for the time being.

There are some things you need to know before I continue with the story. The workshop I mentioned before was situated right at the border to our property.

It was a small timber-framed building, at least 160 to 180 years old. The regulations in my state are pretty strict concerning old structures. Every structure over 100 years is protected and you need special permission to tear it down.

Failing to get this permission can lead to a hefty fine. To get permission to build a new building, it has to be up to code and you have to ask your surrounding neighbors and if they agree, you’re good to go. Except there is one specialty in my county. You have to keep a certain distance to the border of the property to allow emergency services full access to your property.

If one of these requirements isn’t met, the building is illegal or at least only partially legal and can actually be ordered by the court to be torn down. That might come in handy later.

So, back to my Karen. After our first encounter with her, she did her best to pester the whole neighborhood. She got the neighbor’s dog put down because he allegedly attacked her brat.

It later turned out she faked the attack. The dog was the sweetest and most innocent dog you could imagine. A Bernese mountain dog, big, but a real teddy bear. Anyways. She later got us to stop doing our annual peach parties, as she called the police every time for various reasons.

Noise complaints (we had a band playing there in the afternoon), arson (we lit a fire in a designated fire pit in the middle of our property), she called the ATF on us, in short, she was a real pain in the butt.

After three years, we decided it wasn’t worth it to deal with various officers and law enforcement agencies every time we threw the party. We decided to quit. After she had reached this goal, she resorted to pestering us to remove the orchard. We didn’t cave in and some things started to get really fishy.

Somehow the tires of our trucks got slashed, eggs got thrown on our farmhouse, our cat disappeared and surfaced a few days later in pretty rough condition.

It looked like somebody had tried to cut his tail off. Don’t worry, he healed up completely, but we actually couldn’t prove that she did all that.

Then came the day she made her biggest mistake. She had a company come in in a sort of secret operation and tear down the old woodworking workshop overnight. Two days later, they started building a big garage/recreational center/house right where the shop was, but she missed one fine detail, which got pretty important later on – she didn’t ask our permission, nor the neighbors’.

A short while after, the trees right next to her property started to get sick. The leaves turned brown in the middle of summer, and the branches started to die. We lost four trees before we figured out the cause. Somebody had driven long copper nails into them. We had a suspicion, but we couldn’t prove it. So we put up some trail cameras. Perfectly legal, as it was on our own property.

We caught her red-handed. My dad confronted her, she apologized, and my dad, being the way too nice guy he is, wanted to let her go off the hook.

But not me. The nail she drove into our oldest tree was the final nail to her coffin. I started to investigate. I had some friends at the administration of our county and asked them to do some inquiries.

Turns out she hadn’t applied for permission to tear down the old shop, nor for permission to build a new building. I pressed further about the borderline of our property. Turns out, the old markers vanished over time and her building was about 3 feet on our property. After I had gathered all this information, I presented it to my parents. At first, they were reluctant as they didn’t want to start a neighborhood clash.

But after I recalled all the things she did to us and our neighbors, they were in.

So let the games begin. First, we called the authorities on her for tearing down a protected building and presented them with all the evidence we gathered. Then we called the building authorities on her for building a building without permission, not up to code, and not only did she not keep the required distance to the property border, but she also built on our property without our permission.

Long story short, turns out the workshop hasn’t only been protected because of its age, but also because it was a historical landmark, which played a vital role in conflict back in the 1860s.

She got sued for this and had to pay a fine of an equivalent of about $150,000. She further had to demolish her newly built building, costing an additional $50,000. She got fined for this too (about $83,000) and had to rebuild the workshop at her own expense, which was another whopping $154,000, as it had to be period correct up to the smallest detail.

This means it had to be built with the correct materials with hand tools only and to the correct dimensions. As you can imagine, paying professionals to build quite a large timber-framed building only by hand gets pretty expensive pretty fast.

So, all in all, it cost her an equivalent of $437,000 plus further expenses with lawyers, etc. This caused her to go bankrupt so she had to sell the property in the end, which my parents bought, by the way. The last I heard of her was that she moved back to the big city. Yes, the Peach Parties are still on and even more lit than ever! “

4 points (4 votes)
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4. It Might Take A While, But I'll Get My Revenge On You For Getting Me Fired

“So I worked for Company A for almost a decade that had a small team consisting of ten people, doing commissioned work for businesses in my city. The owner treated us like family, knowing that we worked long and hard days, sometimes up to 60 hours in a week. He paid us better than expected, bonuses and perks, he negotiated with businesses that commissioned our work, even gave the whole company a week off paid when his son was getting married so we could attend it.

We had our squabbles like any other family, and things weren’t always bright and perfect, but this is to show how nice the Owner treated his employees. And didn’t screw me over.

After working there for years, the manager position came open. By then I was one of the most senior workers with Company A, so I thought I would apply, which had a few others interested as well.

I didn’t get the position, mainly because, despite my experience at Company A, I didn’t have a Business Administration degree. Someone who worked for the Owner did, so he got it. Realizing the education I would have to get, and the demand of this job, I thought long and hard and concluded that, if I wanted to go anywhere in life, I would have to get that degree.

Coming right out of high school to work for Company A was great, but if I wanted to do something more I would have to go to university. I talked to the Owner and gave my two weeks notice. When I explained what I wanted to do and why he understood that I was trying to make something of myself. This all becomes relevant later.

Going to university, I found that I had tuition covered through government grants but not things like food, rent, etc.

So I looked around and eventually found work at Company B. Company B was a retail store, with a bigger staff than I had been used to, somewhere around 50 employees but had such a huge employee turnaround that it was scary at times.

They dealt with a wide arrangement of goods from groceries to very expensive items. They had a certain niche clientele that they could order items for and catered to.

I ended up working part-time in their warehouse and answered to the Warehouse Supervisor, who answered to the Manager. There were other supervisors for other parts of the store, but for this only the Sales Supervisor is relevant.

Skip forward seven years. In that time I got my BA degree and worked at Company B the whole time, going from part-time to full, and eventually applied for the Warehouse Supervisor position.

I was interviewed, got the job, been a supervisor for months when the Manager and I hired K as a warehouse clerk.

K isn’t the one to get the revenge, but she played a crucial part in the revenge.

Then B gets hired.

B started out as a cashier, working quickly up the chain and brown-nosing as many co-workers as possible, including the Manager. When a sales rep went on maternity leave, B quickly jumped at the chance to work in sales and ended up permanently being a part of that team then the Sales Supervisor soon after.

B and I got along like oil and water. We butted heads over things constantly; she would tell the Manager all the small things that I did, but called me a snitch when I reported the issues she was causing. She would badmouth me and my warehouse staff, talk over me at meetings and try to take credit for my ideas.

She openly told co-workers that I was the cause of many issues and couldn’t wait for me to leave.

Oh, and she was NEVER at fault. It would be the customer’s fault, my fault, the delivery driver’s fault, another co-workers fault, etc. There were times when we got together well, but far and few between.

So one day, a very, and I mean VERY, expensive ring set (over $5,000 I found out later), ordered by one of our customers, comes in. Years ago, I set up a procedure for any type of jewelry so that it will not get lost or stolen.

The last step is, once we have done everything with it in the warehouse, we take it to the office and have someone put it in the safe immediately.

This particular time, I was the one who received the rings so, once going through the procedure, I told K that I was taking them to the office. The only one available who had the combination to the safe was B.

I asked her if she could open the safe, she looked at me, looked at the jewelry box in my hand, then said, ‘put it down here on my desk, I’ll put it away once I’m done this email.’ Keep in mind that B and I had had a serious spat over something earlier that day, and I generally didn’t feel like being close to her if I could help it.

So I never saw her put it in the safe myself.

The next day, I get a call from the Manager to come to the office. I head there to find Manager, B, and the HR consultant. Manager tells me that said ring set has disappeared. I tell them the procedure I followed and the last I saw them was with B. Manager tells me that B checked the box and that said box was empty.

Manager then pulls the box out. Sure enough, the box the rings were in was indeed empty. I swear to Manager that the rings were inside when I checked them before being given to B. At this point, it’s my word against hers. By a stroke of bad luck, the in-store video recorder had broken down days before the incident so there was no way to verify what happened.

We all know someone has to take the blame for this, and that’s when B strikes, saying that it was my fault, since it was last seen in my hands. Manager asks if this is true, then I realize that, yes, I was indeed the last person to touch the thing, and I never actually saw B pick up the box. B gives me the look that screamed ‘Gotcha!’ Manager and the HR consultant ask us both to leave.

After what seemed like forever, I get called in. Manager tells me that, since I was responsible for the rings at the time and now are lost, they would be firing me. But, since they had no proof as to whether I stole the rings or not, they wouldn’t press charges (which scared the life out of me as this was the first time I heard of them thinking this).

I went back to the warehouse, told K and the other warehouse clerks just what happened, grabbed my personal belongings, and left that day.

After a couple of weeks of trying to get my head around what happened and weighing my options, I decide my first priority is to try to get some sort of job, and consider it lucky if I get a job flipping burgers with the bad rep I’ll get when they ask Company B about my previous work history.

I call the Owner of Company A to get a good reference from them and explain what happened and why I was calling, only to get the shock of a lifetime. The manager position was about to be open; the guy to who I lost the position was retiring soon, due to complicated health reasons.

Owner had kept tabs on me while at university and understood when I didn’t immediately come back to him, but with a golden opportunity like this, he wanted me back and I wasn’t going to say no.

I dive into the new job I originally wanted with an Owner I enjoyed working for. I thought, then and there, everything would be behind me, not knowing it would come back, not to bite me, but to pay dividends.

This I found out later. After I was fired, K knew she had to do something about B. K knew that I wouldn’t lose or steal something like the rings.

But also knew that, without proof, B would deny that she did it and have K in her cross-hairs to attack next.

So, after talking with her husband, she hatched a plan.

She started hanging out with B telling her things like ‘I’m SO glad he’s gone!’ or ‘Wish he had been fired MUCH earlier!’ B, feeling high from getting rid of one of her thorns in her side, soaked it all in, and after a couple of weeks, invited K and K’s Husband (from now on KH) for drinks at her place with her and B’s Husband (BH).

Months pass, K and KH do things regularly together with B and BH, including drinking on weekends and couple-related events. When together, K would occasionally bad-mouth me, and B would agree. Finally, after over a year of playing nice, when K and KH were over at B’s for one of their drinking parties, K randomly bad-mouthed me, mentioning the rings in passing.

Then B says something that K was waiting for: ‘I wanted those rings, so I stole them.’

K, upon hearing this, asks for more details.

KH looks at her, tries to wave her off with one hand, then gives up when B keeps talking. That day, B had stopped writing her email and was going to put the rings in the safe. The safe was open and she was about to put the rings away when B had an idea. See, as mentioned above, B wanted me gone from Company B.

She also wanted those rings. She also knew that the cameras weren’t working. She figured that she could pocket the rings, tell the Manager they were missing, and spin it so I would take the blame.

K then asks where are the rings now, and B being too wasted and not seeing a reason not to brag, not only tells her but shows her where they are in her room.

All while KH had been RECORDING THE WHOLE CONVERSATION on his phone (the hand waving was him saying he started recording).

K gives a copy of the recording to Manager the next workday. Police are called immediately, B is arrested and her house is raided. They find the rings. K and KH give the recording and testimonies to the police. B’s reckoning has begun.

I eventually get a call from the prosecutor’s office after B is arrested and charged with theft of over $5,000, among other things.

He wants me to testify about what she did to me.

I didn’t skip a beat in saying yes. Fast track to the trial, the prosecutor has me, K, and KH testify and plays the recording of B admitting that she stole them. Her attorney tries to throw out the case saying that K got B deliberately intoxicated, but the judge didn’t buy it since there was proof she drank all the time.

The judge was lenient and gave her five years in prison, which she yelled was unfair, but I personally thought she got off easy.
Meanwhile, as the trial was happening, I was talking with a lawyer to sue B for setting me up like she did. We were also going to sue Company B for wrongful termination, but they settled the day they got notice of the lawsuit and knew they would lose.

B wasn’t so lucky. They tried some trickery by having BH divorce her and he received everything in the divorce, but my lawyer added him into the lawsuit as well. My lawyer asked overall for $3,500 for emotional distress, back pay from when I was fired until I started up with Company A again, and legal fees.

And now, you are wondering where the metaphoric cherry is on this story? Well, years after all this, we had someone leave Company A, so we were hiring someone to replace them.

The owner was going over the resumes and set up interviews for the job this week. Lo and behold, B was one of the people to apply, but he didn’t know that. I looked at the resume, was about to trash it, but then smiled.

Owner set up the interview. She came in at her slotted time, looking to brown-nose her way through. Then she saw me. I smiled an evil smile, she went white. All I said was, ‘Ah, B how are you? Remember me?’ A deer in the headlight look from her. I look at her resume and say ‘I’m sorry, I do not think you will be a good fit for our company. Thank you for applying.’”

3 points (3 votes)
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keba 4 weeks ago
I call BS. What cause of action exists against a company that fires an employee based upon a mistake? If not age, race, sex, National origin, disability or religion there is no cause of action. He was not a whistleblower etc…. And $3,500 for emotional distress? What lawyer works for 2 per hour?? Fiction. Pure fiction.
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3. There's A Special Tax For Jerks Like You

“It’s long but satisfying.

I was talking with another sales dad the other day at a scout cookout, swapping toughest customer stories, when this guy came up.

Glossary of jargon:

Spiff: arbitrary bonuses offered at management discretion

Pencil: preliminary buyer’s order used in negotiation. It delineates list price, discount, purchase price, trade value/payoff, and taxes/fees

CPO: certified pre-owned. If qualified by age/mileage/ownership, it gets a much more thorough inspection and earns an extended warranty for passing.

This happened about 5 years ago when I was selling cars, on a Saturday, just before lunch (the dealership catered lunch on Saturday, but I didn’t get to eat it). I sold a car to my first customer of the day which any car guy will tell you, if you can get one out before 11 on a Saturday, you should almost be mad if you don’t get a hat trick (3 sold in a day, typically hat tricks pay out an extra bonus.

At my store, it was $150). I’d already gotten some dough in the morning meeting for a couple of perfect surveys, and my sale was the first one of the day for the store, which happened to be a spiff that day, so I’m riding high having already put $500 in my pocket before noon, with a real shot at doubling it before they turned out the lights.

‘It’s gonna be a good day,’ I thought.

I’d just finished stocking in my fresh trade and collecting my 1st sale spiff when the receptionist comes to my desk.

‘Hey, mypostingname, you’re really good with weird, angry, and weirdly angry customers, yeah?’

Wonderful.

Me: ‘Yeah, I guess that’s me. What’ve we got?’

R: ‘That couple over there that looks like it’s taking too long for the guy at Jimmy Johns to make their sandwiches.’

I sigh, put on my sunny customer service face, and greet the couple.

They’re older, but not old, probably mid-50s. They’re aloof and condescending as I bring them to an empty desk (my desk was on the ‘used’ side of the dealership) and offer coffee. They scoff and decline until they see the big fancy cappuccino machine. The wife looks at me expectantly as I sit down, inviting her to help herself, reassuring her that it’s a very intuitive machine with several options, but I’ll be happy to help if she has any problems.

Hubby, CB1 for dialogue, hands me a folder. Inside is a printout from our website.

‘I’d like to purchase this truck, please, at the advertised price.’ He says.

I say, ‘Excellent. Before we discuss rebates, let me double-check that we still have the vehicle in stock, it’ll only take a min–‘

CB1: ‘You don’t know your own inventory?!? This is very unprofessional. Hey, honey! He says he probably doesn’t have it in stock! Looks like we might have come all the way down here for nothing!’

CB2: ‘This would never happen at Volvo.’

This is going to be fun.

I mindlessly apologize/explain that we have 18 salespeople and over 650 cars on the lot at any given time, we sell 250/mo, so inventory management is literally a full-time job as I check the key track, see the key as checked in, and politely excuse myself to pull the truck around.

In retrospect, I wish I’d have paid more attention to the listing, as it would’ve saved some pain, but I just pulled the stock number, verified availability, and pulled it around.

Me: ‘Alright, let’s take a look.’

They follow me outside and I start my walkaround.

CB1: ‘This is the wrong truck.’

CB2: ‘This IS the wrong truck! I TOLD you you were asking for trouble trying to buy domestic.’

CB1: ‘I told you, honey, a darn Volvo won’t pull the camper. This is what we need.’

Me: ‘What do you mean? This is the truck from the listing you gave me.’

CB1: ‘Christ.

No. It’s. NOT. The listing I gave you was for a white long bed king ranch. This is a silver XLT. I get that reading is hard, you’d think that even a domestic car salesman would know his colors.’

Me: ‘First of all, there’s no such thing as a $30k king ranch and you clearly know that. Second, I don’t appreciate being insulted. Clearly, there’s been a mistake.

Let’s go back inside and figure it out.’

CB1: ‘You have to honor your advertised price. It’s the law. My wife is a lawyer.’

CB2: ‘I’m a lawyer and will eat you alive.’

Me: ‘Look, there’s no need to get hostile. I don’t get paid unless you buy, so it’s in my best interest to work this out. I assume our web developer made a mistake with the pictures, but let me investigate and we’ll go from there.’

As I suspected, every word of text on the listing pointed to an XLT, as did the window sticker link.

The web guy mixed up the pictures. I found the pictured truck which had a sticker more than $20k higher, with fewer rebates. I printed both stickers and the fine print disclaimer at the bottom of every listing and spent 20+ minutes explaining, trying to talk sense, and fielding a myriad of threats and insults. Things have gotten nasty, and I was ready to fire them, but when I went to grab the stickers, the last thing I heard from the desk was, ‘Don’t you DARE cut these jerks loose.

Sell them a truck.’

I take it straight to the GM at this point, who comes out, takes one look at these people, decides it’s not worth it, and personally delivers a pencil showing a real $6k loss with the invoice to back it up. We’re still like $17k apart and they’re holding ground, still threatening litigation despite knowing that they have no leg to stand on, and knowing that they were already stealing the truck they wanted at the offered price.

Our store was part of the 3rd largest group in the world at the time, so we had lawyers, too.

We happened to have the exact truck they were trying to buy on the used lot. 1 model year older, 21kish miles, CPO, listed at $36,999. I flip them to that one, and we move to the used side. I show them the truck, and hubby is failing miserably at hiding his excitement by the end of the test drive.

My GM had told me to call him before I presented a pencil, so I did. To my chagrin, he cut the nuts off it and had me present $32,999, about $1k north of rough trade via NADA, and $2.5k south of the next cheapest similar truck within 300 miles, PLUS it was certified, which adds about $2k of value in warranty.

They’re still fixated on $30k, and here we pick up the conversation.

CB1: ‘I don’t care what the market says. I want to know what you paid for it, and then we’ll negotiate an offset from there.’

Me: ‘No. That’s not something you get to know. You don’t demand to know the cost of anything else you buy. You could literally go to CarMax tomorrow and turn a small profit at our price. Even if you weren’t stealing this truck, and you absolutely are, my time isn’t free.

I–‘

CB2: ‘We don’t give a DAMN about you. We want a great price, and we’re not there yet. Do better.’

Me: ‘You absolutely ARE at a great price, and given the abuse I’ve endured, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to budge one cent off my price. I have a baby at home.’

I know this next comment is going to sound embellished, but I swear to JESUS it’s verbatim.

CB1: ‘I couldn’t care less if your baby lives or dies. Take a thousand off or –‘

Me, holding back rage: ‘We’re done here.’

CB1: ‘What?’

Me: ‘You heard me. We’re done. Get out of my office. Now.’

CB1: ‘No. I’m buying a truck.’

Me: ‘NO. YOU’RE FREAKING NOT. I’VE BEEN VERY PATIENT AND YOU CROSSED THE LINE. GET OUT RIGHT NOW BEFORE I LOSE MY FREAKING MIND.’

CB2: ‘Typica–‘

Me: ‘NOW!!!’

They stood up and I half herded, half shoved them out of my regular office and out of the building.

I immediately got lit up by the desk managers, and I let them speak their piece. Then I told them what was said, and suddenly we were a united front. I was shaking, I was so angry, so I was told to remain in the tower until I’d calmed down. I was HOT, so it took a good while.

I was still there when CB1 called about 20 minutes later to whine about how he was treated, and he caught an earful from my manager.

He still wanted the truck, and my manager still wanted to sell it, so he put the guy on hold and asked me. ‘I’ve gotta sell the truck. What do you want me to do? I’ll do the paperwork if you want, but you’re still gonna have to deliver.’

Me: ‘Nah, that’s alright. Just tell him his price expired when he got himself tossed, and there will be no negotiations when he comes back.

If he wants the truck, he’ll pay what we ask. Don’t tell him the price and mark it up to $2,500.’

He laughed, nodded, and set it up. I got the deal jacket ready, brushed off his feigned apology, and made him fill out the credit app in silence before I showed him the buyer’s order.

CB1: ‘This is WAY higher than it was before!’

Me: ‘Yes, sir. It is.

Sign here.’

CB1: ‘WHY?!?’

Me: ‘Jerk tax. Sign or go home.’

He glared at me, I stared into his eyes and didn’t say a word for a good 30 seconds, then he picked up the pen and signed.

I remained cold but professional through delivery and managed to treat him like any other customer I didn’t particularly like with my sold follow-up.

He remained a jerk every time I spoke with him, but he ended up inadvertently being my biggest source of referrals.

Evidently, he told everyone he knew about me charging him a jerk tax, and he was such a notorious jerk that it made his circle want to buy from me. Over the next year, I sold 7 cars to people he knew.

If anyone is interested, I did make my hat trick that day, but it didn’t come until shortly after close.”

Another User Comments:

“Father of 4 here. The restraint on the butt beating is commendable. Couldn’t knock his head off so hit his wallet. This is why I can’t sell cars. It must have taken every ounce of your being to not turn into the Hulk.” jerseyojo

3 points (3 votes)
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2. Let The Squid Game Begin

Pexels

“I’m not normally a devious man, but even I have my limits. So this all started in high school. My best friend (we’ll call her) Jane was in an on-again-off-again relationship with a guy (we’ll call) Bill.

Jane and I went back basically to birth. She was the bratty twin sister I never had. We were friends and never anything more. This was a strictly platonic friendship.

So we grow up and go to different high schools in different parts of town. We kept in touch and caught up on everything in our lives. But during sophomore year Jane met Bill in the theater program at her high school. From then on there was no catching up, just listening to the relationship status of these two.

Bill was fine, I guess, but he would go out with Jane for a while, then get bored and dump her.

Jane would call me, and I’d play the role of the emotional tampon. A month later when Bill got lonely, they’d get back together and I’d hear about that too. For two and a half years it went on that way. Finally, in her senior year, Bill breaks up with Jane two days before the spring formal. Jane calls me in tears and begs me to take her.

Fine, I’m a friend, I’ll take her. So I spent two days and all my savings to get myself together for formal. Because of the late notice, everything in the city had already been rented. So my tux was out of date and a size too small (I’m 6’6”). The shoes look like something Paul Harvey would pimp in (in the worst possible way). And the flowers are basically the leftover stems from everyone else.

All the while, I’m getting scolded and tisk-tisked from the rental places because I should have planned for this weeks ago.

But all this was fine. I’d be embarrassed for a friend. The entire night of the formal she tried to parade me in from of Bill to make him jealous or show that she was over him, or something. Either way, I felt like trash because clearly, this wasn’t about salvaging a good time and more about using me as a tool.

And that’s what I felt like, a tool.

So two weeks later Jane calls me up. She and Bill are back together. Oh no, heck no. Not this time. Nope times infinity. So that night I went to a grocery store and bought all the frozen squid I could find. About 11 lbs. I blew a week’s pay on it. Then I drove to her house at two in the morning and spent 15 minutes in a shadow behind her fence hucking them into the backyard pool.

The ground was coated with them and the pool was unusable. I rained my calamari of vengeance all over her space.

The next day I get a call from Jane. At first, I was afraid someone had seen me. But no, much like I had hoped, she was calling to complain about how Bill had thrown squid into her backyard. Oh sure, when she confronted him about it he had denied it.

But she assured me she could always tell when he was lying. Just like she could with me. (I had to put my hand over the receiver I was laughing so hard.) But that time it stuck. I never had to deal with a Bill story again. Jane and I are both 43 now, and she still doesn’t know the truth. It’s not that we couldn’t have a laugh about it or anything, it’s just that I don’t want her reconciling with him again.”

3 points (3 votes)
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1. Horrible Dog Sitter Gets Taken To Court

What an absolute mess this woman put them through.

“This didn’t happen to me, it happened to my sister.

My sister moved up to South Carolina from Florida about a year ago, but she still visits us periodically. We’re a big and close family. Shortly after Thanksgiving, she flew down with her husband and son for one such visit. She has 3 geriatric dogs, so she got a house/dog sitter.

MS (my sister) went through the basics of how they can only be fed at certain times. They get let out at certain times. They need to be in their crates from X hour to Z hour. Most importantly, they don’t get treats. They get vitamins in place of treats, but those vitamins have to be given only twice a day.

No people food. Very strict diets.

They’re all happy and healthy, but only because MS is so strict with their regime.
The lady MS hired to watch her dogs had stellar reviews on the site she was found through. She’s a stay-at-home mom who does this as a side thing for an extra buck.

MS left for Florida for a week. In the first 5 days, everything is going well. DS (dog sitter) texts MS regularly or video calls.

She shows MS pictures and gives her regular updates of when she comes and goes to MS’s house. MS just bought that house, btw. She’s been working her butt off to finally be able to afford it.

She put so much into making that a nice home for her family.

MS has had some health problems herself. She’s got a ton of prescription medication in her medicine cabinet.

She brought enough for the week but left the rest at home. Stuff for epilepsy, asthma, and allergies, but she’s also got a ton of painkillers from when she had my nephew not that long ago. She’s paranoid about becoming addicted, so she kept the pills for safety, but never used them. It’s a full bottle.

On top of that, she’s been a collector of rare beer for about 15 years now.

Beer that’s not even sold anymore because they were promotional from microbreweries. Beer she can’t get anymore because she doesn’t live in Florida. Those bottles, she keeps as mostly decoration in her kitchen.

On the 6th day of her vacation, DS stops all communication altogether. MS texts, calls, emails. Nothing. Radio silence. She’s got a bad feeling, but she doesn’t want to kill the mood because she doesn’t get to see her family very often.

Day 7, she gets on a late flight back to South Carolina. The plane gets there around 2 in the morning. They drive an hour to their rural town.

They get home. The front door is wide open. The lawn looks like someone in a truck (which DS happened to drive) just tried to go drifting over grass and a tree before vacating the premises super quick.

MS goes to handle my nephew who is groggy and screaming. It’s been a rough day. She’s thinking the worst; that someone robbed the house while this poor lady was there. MS’s husband (BiL) goes inside to survey the damages. It’s all clear, MS and Nephew go inside too.

The back door is wide open. The couch looks like it exploded. The rug in the living room and the couch, and pretty much every square foot on the main floor is covered in the kind of pee and poop that can only be made from 3 geriatric furry buttholes.

The dogs are, thankfully, still in the backyard. But they’re shivering and filthy. There are broken beer bottles everywhere. Some have been stuffed deep in the trash to hide the evidence. Some have been refilled with water and put back with their tops precariously situated on top so they might look like they haven’t been touched.

82 bottles, each growler sized (roughly 64 oz) – gone. The medicine cabinet is like one of those Western ghost towns with a tumbleweed rolling through.

MS is already thinking DS threw herself a party. No way in HECK could someone 5’6”, 170 lbs., drink that much beer and take that many pills and not be dead.

MS called the cops. Obviously. The police get there to figure this must be a break-in. They take a bunch of pictures, take an account of all the bottles and substances that were missing. MS cleans what she can, but gets to sleep because thankfully the upstairs hasn’t been touched.

One day later, the police find DS. MS has assumed she’s dead and abducted, so the police were looking for her and her car. They found the truck run off the side of a highway with this lady about two miles up, looking OUT OF HER MIND walking along the side of the road, screaming at nothing.

They take her in for whatever charges. Her husband bails her out and picks her up.

According to her husband, this has happened before. DS has an addiction problem.

At first, she’s messaging my sister, super apologetic, saying she’ll reimburse MS and please don’t press charges. MS quotes her the price of the rug, a new couch, and the vet bills because her dogs had somehow gained access to 9 containers of doggie vitamins and one of them was having liver failure (The dog is fine now, but she’s an old Yorkie so who knows.

Also, MS buys in bulk from a wholesaler, hence 9 containers).

The total was somewhere around $800. MS didn’t bother with the beers, the meds, the lawn, cleaning the house. She could have. Heck, I would have.

On top of that, MS demanded DS never dog sit again and she had to refund MS for her dog sitting. MS works in advertising. I won’t say what kind, but basically, if she saw/sees DS advertising herself as a dog sitter ever again, she has the means to drag this lady until all she sees is mud for the rest of her life.

DS insists she’d gonna pay it back, but that MS has to wait until they get their taxes back.

Ok. So MS waits. Late February, she texts DS asking where her refund is. DS immediately starts saying how she didn’t do anything wrong, MS is a bad dog owner and her dogs are miserable, none of the stuff MS says DS did was actually done. MS has all the old texts of DS admitting to all of it sooo….?

This goes on for a while.

Eventually, DS starts saying how ‘as a courtesy’ she has a friend who owns a furniture store. She will give MS a credit of $200 for a new couch. And she has an old rug she doesn’t want anymore that MS can have.

Erm… what?

She paid MS about $500 and insists she’ll get the coupon to MS soon. March goes by. Nothing.

Around March 20th, MS marches her happy butt to the small claims court and files.

Then she snaps pictures of everything. Then she sends DS the message. ‘As a courtesy, I’m letting you know that I just filed this at the small claims court.’

Then the fun starts. This lady goes OFF on MS. She says she’s going to sue for slander and undue distress and harassment and blah blah blah blah blah. MS saves all of it, including the fun bits where DS threatens her family and calls her rude names 20-dozen times.

Fast forward another month. Things move fast in a small town. This lady shows up looking like she just got run through by a garbage disposal truck. She gives the judge her sob story, talking about how she did nothing but give MS and her animals the best care, that MS is making all this up.

Yeah. MS has the old gangster of a cop with her.

She’s got pictures of all the damage, the vet bills, the bottles, proof that she was out of town, police reports of both the ‘break-in’ as well as DS’s DUI the following day. DS tries to spin it with that one law about how you can’t serve drinks to a known addict.

That obviously gets thrown right out.

DS then tries to appeal to Judge and MS’s sense of humanity.

She tells them how her husband just left her and is suing her for full custody (good!) and that if she can’t dog-sit, how is she supposed to support herself or ever get her kids back (tough cookies!). The judge takes my sister’s side, for obvious reasons.

DS is homeless now, living with her parents. She can’t see her kids, who by the way, don’t want to see her.

Apparently, she was an addict who ran her hubby’s credit all the way down, she was abusive to her kids, and because of her heavy abuse -– one of her kids has a condition because of her drinking issues.

DS has 60 days to pay the remaining $300 or she faces jail time. Her husband filed for divorce already. Oh, and she lost her license thanks to that DUI.

As a former addict myself and someone who’s been through a DUI, I want to sympathize. That’s a lot of stuff to go through. MS gave her chance after chance, but at some point, you have to take responsibility for your actions. It really seems like this lady has just been using her husband as a crutch while she tries to get better, only to backslide hard.

It’s rough, I know. I hope she gets the help she needs.

MS’s dogs are doing well. She got a replacement couch on Amazon for $75 and a nice fluffy rug for even less. DS eventually coughed up that coupon. It didn’t even work. It was for something like 20% off with a purchase of $500 or more, so um…no thanks.”

Another User Comments:

“Dog with liver failure, ruined rug and couch, and the bill is only 800? My dog has had liver failure, and that bill alone was over 600.” haterhurter1

Reply:

“I would think that if she had 3 old dogs, then she probably has pet insurance, which would help.” JustHereForStorytime

2 points (2 votes)
Post


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