People Charm Us With Their Revenge Stories
14. Keep Parking On My Dad's Lawn? He Has A Special Way Of Getting You To Move Your Cars
“This dates back to 1992 when I lived with my parents in a university town.
We used to have students live next door and a little downhill from us, and they’d continually park their cars inside our property near a dodgy fence between our properties. Their place was full of junk and only had one accessible driveway where one of the longer-term students would always park. Dad was a lawn-proud man, and while he was incredibly patient with these guys and would ask them repeatedly to move their cars, he hit a breaking point one weekend when there was a big race in town.
Half a dozen visiting student guest crapbox cars ended up on our lawn, and he went around to protest, saying it’d gone beyond ridiculous, especially in wet weather when it’d be likely to damage his lawn all the more. They promised like they always did that they’d get the cars out and not park there ever again, but hey – the race was on, they all wanted to watch it and have a decent Sunday, and they’d leave them there until the race was over.
As I mentioned, our backyard was uphill from theirs, and part way through the race, it really started bucketing down. Dad didn’t show any outward anger, but he went into town, came back with a few bottles of dishwashing liquid, and coated the whole lawn in the stuff. Come evening, some of the guys needed to move their cars, and when they got to the downhill slope to go out of our driveway, they found they couldn’t steer or brake.
Two made it out without much damage, but the third slid sideways, got onto the steeper part of the lawn, and went straight through the fence and into one of the other students’ cars and pushed it sideways into the house. Total damage? Four student cars with dents, one with busted front suspension, one wall of the student rental totaled, a bunch of arrogant students kicked out, and a few skidmarks on dad’s lawn. Total cost to my dad? Four bucks in dishwashing liquid, a few weeks of lawn regrowth, and a brand new fence shared with the new neighbors, who were pretty decent people.
Dad’s response to the police asking about the frothy stuff on the lawn? ‘White oil. Kills bugs.'”
13. Bully My Disabled Brother? We'll Show You What It's Like To Be Made Fun Of
“My dad was one of the first geologists to go and work in the gulf at the time Dubai was just a desert, so we are a very well-off family. My older brother has Quadriplegia and can’t talk, caused by a complication during birth. Every time we get back to our motherland, we go back to the rural town where my parents were born and raised and away from the city because traffic noises always made my brother jump, and his muscles stiffen for a few seconds if he hears a loud noise like a car horn.
It was summer vacation, and my dad went to the city to do something related to work there while my mom left to visit a relative in the hospital, so my older brother and I were left with a babysitter. I don’t know how old I was back then, but I was still in elementary school.
So the babysitter decided to put my brother in his wheelchair and go for walk around the town and visit the park while I decided to stay and play around in front of the house with a friend.
The babysitter came back early and was red-eyed because she was crying. Apparently, when she was taking my brother to the park, some fat, little brat had some fireworks, which made my brother jump and stiffen. The kid noticed that and found it funny and started throwing fireworks toward my brother and making him jump, then calling him rude names.
The babysitter told him to stop and tried to chase him, but she had no luck.
In the end, the jerk managed to throw a plastic bottle and hit my brother’s head, then my brother broke down crying.
The babysitter managed to catch that little, fat brat, but his mother, who was also a massive fat jerk, told her not to touch her kid. The babysitter told her that her son was bullying my disabled brother. The fat kid said that she was to blame, and the mom told the babysitter that she should keep “that thing” inside the house.
This was the moment when the babysitter started crying and took my brother home.
After finishing telling me the story, my brother cried not because of the bullying but because he felt he couldn’t defend the babysitter. I was just a kid back then, yet my heart sunk inside.
Now I mentioned that we were very well off, and because my brother liked video games, we had every console out there from Atari to Nintendo and Sega system with a ton of games and a big CRT TV, and my brother loved to watch more than play, so we always had kids come to our home to play with us.
One of them was our neighbor’s kid who was a freshman in high school and very close to my brother, so we are going to refer to him as “My Brother From Another Mother” (MBFAM).
So I went and told him the whole story, and he was furious. He went and called some kids to gather information about this little brat, and apparently, one of his classmates knew he is a sadistic jerk who liked to take puppies and put them in front of stray dogs (If you don’t know, stray dogs will attack any dog who comes near their territory).
So one of the kids went to his house and told him that they found a dog and that he should come and see it. The naïve idiot went straight to the area we sent him where there happened to be no houses or people around.
MBFAM, a couple of kids, and I surround him. MBFAM said, “I heard you bullied my brother from another mother,” and he pushed him.
The kid said in a teared-up voice, “Stop.” MBFAM said, “You want me to stop now? Why, are you gonna cry? Did you stop when he cried?” Then another kid pushed him. Every time he tried to get up, someone would push him to the ground, then one of them pushed him into a puddle of mud, then took off the fat kid’s shorts to make it look like he soiled himself, and all kids started laughing, “Dude, why did you poop yourself?” The fat kid started squealing and ran straight to his house.
30 minutes later, he got his mom banging on the door and screaming like crazy, mad screaming. The babysitter was scared beyond belief and wouldn’t dare open the door until the sheriff came. Somebody called him because it was a freaking circus in front of our house: a fat witch and her spawn and a crap ton of kids. I felt like all the kids of the town gathered in front of our house.
The sheriff came to see what the heck was happening, and of course, the fat whale started to scream incoherent words saying words like, “this little twig…this thing…my poor baby.” Then the babysitter opened the door and told her side of the story about how the kid started throwing fireworks and making my brother uncomfortable, then the whale interrupted, “Then the witch shouldn’t have taken that thing outside the house.”
At this moment, the sheriff said, “Shut your freaking mouth! He isn’t a thing; he is physically disabled, and he’s smarter than you and your son, so go back to your freaking home before I arrest you for domestic disturbance.” Everybody could see the fear inside the whale’s eyes, she took her spawn back with the cheers of kids all laughing around her.
Now the kid has been known as the kid who pooped himself. My parents came back home, and I don’t know what exactly happened after that, but the father came to apologize, and their house was getting vandalized every day for a week or something. Years later, I came back to our little town for a relative’s funeral. I caught up with MBFAM, and he told me this:
The father of the little kid was a truck driver who was never home.
The kid was spoiled by his mother growing up, even throughout high school when he was a little brat.
The father died, so the kid got his inheritance and ransacked the house, stealing his mother’s jewelry and anything else expensive in the house.
His mom was left with little to no savings, so the community gathered donations to help her.
She refused to rent the house or sell it and move into a small apartment.
Her house is a complete dump with no electricity or running water.
Nobody knows what happened to the kid to this day.”
12. Show Up To The Party Uninvited? Even The Cops Will Laugh At What We'll Do To You And Your Car
“So I was in my 20s and had a good group of friends. We always hung out at one guy’s house on weekends. His dad was rich and had an EPIC party house. There were about 20 to 30 people there every weekend.
One jerk started showing up, a friend of a friend kinda deal. Well, the guy he always came with moved away, but the jerk kept coming over on weekends anyway.
He was a “lightweight” when it came to drinking and turned insulting and mean to people he didn’t know that well and was always rude to the girls that were there. We got tired of him fast, and when he got wasted, he would sleep in his car till the morning (at least he didn’t drive under the influence).
To get rid of him one night, my friends and I decided on a plan.
Jerk came over on a Saturday like normal, drank, and got rude within a few hours as always, and went to sleep in his car like normal. But this time when he was sleeping in his car, we disconnected the battery from the car and taped a black, plastic tarp over all the windows.
I left about midnight, but I heard that the next morning, he was screaming in his car for about 5 minutes till he figured out how to get out in pitch black. The kid even called the cops to report my friends. The cops came, and they told cops what they did. The cops laughed and said there was nothing they could do.
Never saw that kid again.”
11. Can't Be Respectful To Authority? Hope You Like Standing Out In Your Undergarments
“I worked for several years as a campus safety officer at a small college. The vast majority of students were respectful and willing to be cooperative when we made contact with them.
There was this one kid who was an over-the-top jerk, though. He insulted us, insulted our intelligence (we all had degrees, some of us officers had advanced degrees), and claimed we were too stupid to have real jobs.
He never followed any of our instructions to turn down his stereo, hand over his booze (he was underage), or present his campus ID when required. Just an entitled little brat.
Halloween comes around, and I’m working the midnight shift. It is cold out. We get a call to let a student into his dorm and then his room because he is locked out. When my partner and I arrive, guess who is locked out? Mr.
Entitled Brat. His Halloween costume consists of women’s undergarments and his flip-flops. He had nowhere for his keys. Following our department’s rules to the letter, I ask him for his school ID. He doesn’t have that either, no pockets in which to carry his wallet. “Sorry, Mr., I can’t open the door unless we can identify who you are and verify that you actually live in this building.” “No sir. I can’t let you in without your ID. That is our department’s rules.” “No, sir, I don’t recognize you.” “Yes, sir. It certainly is cold out tonight. You have a good evening.””
10. Continue To Be An Obnoxious Roommate? We'll Throw Away All Your Precious Possessions
“When I was 19, all my close friends were at a college 3 hours away from our hometown. My plan was to attend the local junior college and then transfer after two years to the same college as them.
5 of my close friends had rented a 4-bedroom apartment 3 months in advance (the good apartments get booked early). It was 2 couples, and my bro who was single: Chandler and Monica, Rachel and Ross, and Joey.
Well, Rachel and Ross broke up over the summer. 2 weeks into the fall semester, Ross couldn’t take being around Rachel anymore, so he moved out.
Chandler calls me and asks me to move in. He is like, dude, just work down here until you are considered a resident, then go to the junior college down here (becoming a resident would save me a lot on tuition).
Joey started telling me about all the hot college chicks down there, and I was really missing my friends, so I went for it. My father found me a good-paying job through his work, and I moved in. Life was good for a long time. I worked all day and partied with my friends at night.
At the start of the spring semester, our friend Phoebe transferred to the college and got a 2 bedroom apartment down the street.
Phoebe and Rachel were really close. So Rachel moved in with her and found a replacement named Marcel.
Marcel was our new roommate and was a friend of a friend. Rachel’s friend had met him in rehab (for a hard-core substance). Marcel seemed cool enough and was clean. He was a little wild and crazy. He liked to play the bongo drums, but we were used to loud music.
Joey was a DJ and would play loud music all the time.
A few weeks go by and Marcel started becoming a bad roommate. He wouldn’t clean up after himself. He would stay up to like 6 am and eat all our food. He drank way too much and would leave our apartment in shambles. We would talk to him about it, and he would get better.
But he would always revert to being a crappy roommate after a couple of weeks.
Then I lost my job, a job that paid well. Suddenly I needed to find full-time work in a college town. It was impossible because every restaurant or store could just hire part-time college kids. So after a couple of weeks, I had to start doing double shifts at a day labor company.
If you are not familiar with day labor, it basically sucks. You make minimum wage and they pay you at the end of the day. The jobs vary from garbage man to factory worker. The majority of laborers were homeless people. I would show up at 5 AM and work until 8 PM.
This is when Marcel and I start to have real problems. I would ask him to keep it down.
I was really reasonable about it. You could play loud music and not wake me up. But Marcel was playing music at the full volume of our stereo. Luckily we only had a month on the lease before we would move out and not have to live with Marcel.
I had a car and would frequently drive other laborers to the job site. That’s how I met Gunther who was hitchhiking across the country and working the same job as me.
We got along right away. Plus, he was 22 and could buy us booze. So I offered up our couch as a place to stay while he earned enough to travel to his next destination. I told him about Marcel and asked him to help keep it quiet at night. Monica, Chandler, Joey, and I were very chill people. Gunther was the exact opposite. Gunther had a “don’t screw with me” personality and was a big dude.
I am 6’6″ and pretty strong, but he was just as tall but way bigger than me. I brought him to the apartment and introduced him to Chandler, Monica, and Joey as our new stereo bodyguard.
It totally worked too. Marcel didn’t pull any max volume stereo shenanigans at 4 AM. A few weeks went by, and it was great. Finally, we had to move. Gunther and I had pulled a double shift during the day.
It was about 11 PM when I went to bed in order to be ready to move in the morning. Gunther, Chandler, and Monica decide to get a late-night snack together. About half an hour goes by when Marcel comes home super intoxicated. He turns the volume up all the way on the stereo and starts dancing in the living room. Joey comes out of his bedroom with a get-a-load of the guts on this guy, look on his face.
I had enough, so I just go out into the living room and unplugged all the wires connecting our super awesome sound system. It was Joey’s, and we had to unplug everything tomorrow anyway, so screw it. Marcel is talking mad crap the whole time. I just ignore him and go back to bed. About 10 minutes later, he starts playing his bongo drums as loud as possible.
I had forgotten about them. So I go out there and am like, shut the heck up! Marcel starts taking off his shirt and pants. He is screaming, “Let’s fight, Let’s go, loser.” Over and over. I tell him to screw off, and he grabs me by my collar. I basically just fall on him and proceed to pin him on the ground.
Marcel is screaming and talking crap the whole time while I pin him to the ground with Joey laughing his butt off.
Gunther, Chandler, and Monica walk in looking completely shocked. Gunther is like, “Move, I will beat his butt.” I am like, “Let’s just throw him outside.” We then proceed to throw him out the front door in nothing but his boxers. We lock the door, and he is just screaming the whole time to let him back in. Eventually, the cops come, and we explain the whole situation.
They tell Marcel that we don’t have to let him back in and that he needs to leave.
We wake up and start moving our stuff. Marcel doesn’t show up in the morning. We realize we have to move all his stuff out. I take his bongo drums down 2 flights of stairs and leave them on the lawn. Then I am like screw this bullcrap; let’s just throw his stuff off the balcony.
It was like a magical ballad of falling boxes, rugs, jeans, and t-shirts. Marcel finally shows up when we are finished. His mom was driving in to help him move back home, but she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. He begs us to keep his stuff in the apartment, but we just tell him to screw off. He then starts hiding his stuff behind a bush next to the building and then leaves.
Now, this is a college town which was pretty dirty all year round with lots of cans and litter everywhere. So the apartment complex was cleaned only once a year, and that was today. So a 12-man cleaning crew came and threw everything he owned into the dumpster with all the other trash on the streets. We saw Marcel digging through the garbage the next day with his mom.”
9. Keep Stealing Behind My Back? The Slammer Is Ready For You
“13 or so years ago, I was involved in a singles internet community forum, before regular social media was really a thing, that was centered around my local area. Here, I met up with this gal I’ll call Psycho Mary Sue (PMS) who started taking an interest in me and in replying to a lot of my posts. We hit it off online, and soon, my online friends in the community began notifying me that she was asking questions and inquiring more about who I was and what I did.
This was all during a time when cyber stalkers and internet-related crimes against persons were all in the news. It didn’t bother me that she was checking up to see if I was legit; it just told me she was interested and wanted to know more.
We started romantically being involved but found out she really wasn’t the bring-home-to-parents type material, and overall, we didn’t have much in common.
PMS was rather crude with language, smoked the nastiest things I’ve ever smelt, and had questionable illegal substance habit(s) that I wasn’t into. The kicker to this winner was that one of the words on her arm tattoo was misspelled (important later).
She was really into me from the start and wanted a friends-with-benefits relationship when I said I wasn’t interested any further. Hold the phone! Just physical stuff only? Sounds too good to be true, right? My hormones were in full gear.
Our first few weeks were HOT AND HEAVY.
I started to sense that things were amiss when she became more and more possessive. Checking my phone and email accounts, calling at odd hours and while I was at work. Back then, my ego was about as large as my bank accounts, so rather than ending it as I should have, I continued thinking I could control her.
What I did next was a jerk move, I know, but I asked her for a private picture session in exchange for gifts. She didn’t even bat an eye and made it clear it would cost me material goods for the favor. I got my explicit photo session with PMS, and our normal hot relationship continued for a few more months.
Around this time, I noticed funny things were happening around my place like my desk drawers appeared rifled through, and my financial letters/bills just disappeared before I got them.
The interactions with her were still fun, but a nagging feeling kept gnawing at the back of my mind to end it. I got the first real red flag when I got a phone call at work from my bank that someone tried to use my credit card at a local department store. The female culprit with tattoos fled the scene, but that’s all the proof I had that it was her.
I confronted her with no position to judge, but she denied everything. Suspicious of her actions, I started seeing less and less of her over the few weeks, and through disinterest and mistrust, I then called it off.
The poop hit the fan once I did, and I quickly found out that back at the start of the relationship, she wasn’t just checking up on me; she was gathering a portfolio on me.
She was a gold-digger con-artist researching her latest claim. I made a good salary, had a great job, and she felt that it was hers now. Even though I had bought her things during our relationship, other small items in my place of minimal value started disappearing. Not only that, she had no shame in attempting to blackmail me by calling my friends/family and even my job.
PMS made it clear that she would pretty much continue this until I gave her $2,000 from what I “owed” her in taking and keeping the pictures. I had “destroyed her name” (HAH!) by doing so. She underestimated me and my influence on my job/family and friends. I was able to persuade them all to ignore her, and I filed a restraining order within a few days.
PMS made several attempts to make good on threats. After she got the summons, PMS all but dropped out of sight after a week or so.
Several months later, my place was broken into, and my computer, TV, personal records, and some sentimental items of little value were stolen. The police couldn’t find any prints but clearly knew that the thief must’ve been familiar with me. They grabbed everything of value while disturbing next to nothing that normal burglars go for, AKA drawers, filing cabinets, certain desk drawers, etc.
That same day, PMS attempted to purchase/withdraw from another department store using a spare ATM I kept hidden that she obviously found while raiding my place. My PIN was easy to figure out, and I found out via a fraud alert phone call that this card was being used for the first time. Oops on her and lucky me!
She had stolen my computer, so she thought all the photos of her were in her possession.
She forgot to take the backups I had in CDs right next to it. I gave the police all the explicit digital photos in hopes that the department store surveillance would identify her. The female was wearing a hat and glasses and no other positive means of identification except for an exposed arm/wrist. The cops found the misspelled tattoo via her arm on the video and were able to positively identify her in the act of fraud.
I don’t remember how long it took (felt like months), but PMS was eventually arrested and convicted because of the photos I gave to the cops.
I never got back my computer (Officer says she probably trashed it as it wasn’t worth much) and some of my personal sentimental items she wanted to use for blackmail, but the revenge was mine.”
8. Can't Keep It Down? He'll Blast A Special Song On Repeat For You
“Growing up, I lived with my parents in a three-bedroom condo unit on the second floor. There were only three condos in a unit, so we had only one apartment above us and one below us. The unit is a part of a few blocks’ worth of condominiums, and it’s like its own little community. All the neighbors know each other and were always around to offer a helping hand.
It was an awesome, quiet little nook filled with families in what was otherwise a very busy part of a large city. My parents still live there after 25 years since they bought the place when they first immigrated to America.
My parents are for the most part very friendly people and had good relations with all our neighbors. Below us lived a nice Eastern European family and above us, a large Asian family who despite the sheer amount of people living there, we never heard a peep from them.
They were all on friendly terms, but it was very much a situation of ‘I won’t bother you, so don’t bother me.’ My entire childhood, there was never any bad blood between any of the neighbors, and for the most part, everyone just did their own thing and lent a helping hand once in a while.
As a side note: my father worked in construction since he was a young kid, and building codes are essentially his bread and butter.
Within the Department of Buildings and Fire Department in my state, he cultivated a reputation over the past 30 years as being one of the foremost experts in understanding building codes and spotting potential issues on any job site instantly. This is important to remember.
The trouble didn’t start until about 12 years after my parents moved in, and the nice large Asian family living in the unit above us decided to move out and sold the property.
The new owners did a full renovation of the apartment. What they failed to do was properly insulate the floors again, which meant we heard every step, every little noise this family made at all hours of the day. Seriously, it was bad, especially when you’re trying to sleep in only to be woken up by what sounds like a rolling bowling ball on the floor at 6 am on a Sunday.
When this problem first occurred, my father went and spoke to the owner. He explained how not adding insulation was a violation of several building codes and also a direct violation of the condominium contract they signed that stated that insulation in floors and wall is a must. This Jerk Owner (JO) pretended not to speak English, even though we constantly heard him yelling in English on the phone.
My dad was quick to call him out on it, and when JO was caught, he started yelling in broken English that he couldn’t understand him and that my dad needs to learn English.
Now, English is not my dad’s first language or even his third. He taught himself when he first came to America and got a job as a bellhop in a fancy hotel by reading newspapers.
He has a heavy Eastern European accent, but you can easily understand him, and he’s comfortable enough to hold a long conversation with someone in English. To hear this man yelling at him to learn English was not only rude but downright insulting.
JO did this every time my dad tried to approach him about it during the time of his renovation to change the floors. After six months, there were no more contractors coming into the unit, and it was clear that JO had no intention of fixing the floors.
My dad tried one more time and got the exact same response from JO, so my dad said, “Screw you, I’ll see you in court.”
I don’t remember the exact way of how things were done, but I know my dad got a building inspector to see the place, and they were issued at least a few fines for violations but still refused to fix the floors.
My dad then took them to court, using a decibel meter to measure how loud the sounds from their apartment were to us. This trial lasted two years before the judge issued them a court order to fix the floors and ordered them to pay a set amount to my dad.
Again, JO paid his dues to my father, but after six months, he still didn’t fix the floor.
In fact, in those six months, it was louder than ever. It felt like they were purposely walking louder, running, and moving furniture at all hours of the day. I had taken to sleeping with music on to block out the noise.
My father had enough. It was then he decided to take things into his own hands. He placed some orders on the phone and got my uncles together.
One morning, they came back with huge boxes from the electronics store. They used the settlement from court to buy several thousands’ worth of those heavy bass speakers you see in clubs and in stadiums.
Now, remember, my father knows his stuff after years and years of both working on construction sites and working as an engineer. For the next three days, my father and my uncles all strategically cut holes in our ceilings, one hole in every room in the house.
They would mount a speaker inside, do the wiring, and then strategically insulate it, so they could direct the sound. Then they patched the holes right up as if there was never a hole there to begin with.
That very night, they finished all the work, we were relaxing in the living room, watching a movie when the stomping and running started. My dad casually leaned over to our stereo system and turned it on.
I saw him fiddling with it for a moment before he turned the volume up all the way. Faintly from our ceiling came the sounds of Cotton Eye Joe. We could just barely hear it with the television on inside, but when you stepped onto the balcony that was directly below the balcony of the people living upstairs, it sounded like they were blasting music from their apartment.
My father played that song on repeat for over an hour and well into the night. They stomped angrily on the floor for a good while, but still that song played on. They banged on our door, which my father answered, and yelled at him for playing the music. He just opened his door wider so all you heard was a loud TV and my dad said, “You guys are the ones making the noise,” and closed the door in his face.
For the next year, whenever the neighbors were running or stomping around, my dad would blare Cotton Eye Joe on full repeat. They called the cops on us a few times, but my dad would just turn off the music and show the cops the court document that stated it was the neighbors with the noise violations. After about two times, the cops never came again.
JO moved out after a year and a half of enduring “Cotton Eye Joe.” The place stood empty for a while until my dad found out that JO decided to rent the place out without fixing the floors again. For the next few years, that place must have gone through at least eight different people renting it. My dad always spoke with the renters before they moved in and explained the court order on the apartment on the noise level. Whenever they got noisy, my dad had no problem blaring “Cotton Eye Joe” on full blast.
A few months ago, the unit went on the market. Real estate agents had to disclose that there was a court order on fixing the floors in this apartment.
Two days ago, my father closed on the upstairs unit at almost half the cost of the original listing price.”
7. Not Happy With The Phenomenal Work We Did To Restore Your Business? We'll Tear It Back Down
“A couple of years ago, my husband and I moved to his hometown after spending time abroad and starting a business. We needed a job to make ends meet as we grew our business, so we both took a job as a server/bartender at a beautiful historic inn and restaurant in our town.
The bosses were an old couple. We realized pretty quickly that the woman of the couple wore the pants and that she had no idea what she was doing.
In addition to this, she was a real witch. The place was horribly mismanaged, in a market where it was impossible NOT to make a profit. However, the hours were convenient since the restaurant was only open on a limited schedule, and we were the only servers who didn’t have terrible substance issues, so we quickly became the de facto managers. We are both business-minded people, and we started thinking that we could really run the place well if given the opportunity.
After being there for about 6 months, we made the owners an offer to run the hotel and restaurant for a year for a small salary but with the potential for a huge bonus at the end of the year, calculated as a hefty percentage of any increase in profit over the prior year.
After looking at all the numbers, we realized quickly that we had the potential to make a LOT of profit very quickly with almost no expenses as we would be living and eating there too.
So when the owners accepted, we hit the ground running, and within two months, we were on track to quadruple the profit of the previous year (not to brag -there was some seriously low-hanging fruit).
Quickly, however, there were some big problems. We’d been told that we would get to move into the owner’s suite quickly after we got some experience under our belts, but that never happened, so we spent the entire year living in a hotel room.
We’d been told that we would have free reign in decision-making but continued to be micro-managed like crazy (just absolutely moronic crap like not putting flat and fitted sheets in the same washer). And we thought we knew what we were getting into with our bosses–but they turned out to be crazier than we ever anticipated.
I could write a book on these people (and I actually am working on one), but for the sake of brevity, I will just say this: the guy of the couple was nutty, volatile, racist, and sexist, but I would have worked for 5 of him before I had to put up with one of his wife.
She was all of the above, plus dishonest, greedy, conniving, manipulative, judgmental, haughty, and nearly every other vile attribute you can think up–all with the face of a bulldog eating a lemon. And we LIVED WITH THEM! We were never off the clock, and besides the part of the winter when the hotel closed for renovations, we had 3 days off the whole year (which we had to fight for tooth and nail).
She wouldn’t let us hire someone to work the night shift, so with our huge increase in business, this meant that we were often taking calls until 3 or 4 in the mornings on in-season weekend nights. We were exhausted and beat down, and even though we were racking up a large sum of profit, our other business had a breakthrough, and we knew we couldn’t last another year.
We really turned the place around in a year. The owners were generally disliked in our small southern town, so we did a huge job in improving the public face of the business. Suddenly we had a local clientele! We were getting phenomenal reviews. We cleaned out the dead-weight staff and retrained the ones worth a darn. The chef (who was also a jerk) hated the shake-up and being held accountable for the first time ever, so he tried to play hardball with the owners (he pulled a “them or me,” and we’d made them a ton of profit whereas he had never had a restaurant year in the black sooo…).
He got his walking papers, and we got a way better chef. The business was outpacing our wildest expectations, and we were setting up the following year to be a truly exceptional year as well. Even though we knew we couldn’t stick it out again, we wanted to do all we could to set them up for success.
A month before our contract was up, we told the owners we would not be renewing our contract for the following year.
They were shocked. We offered to stick around to help train a new management team and do whatever we could to make a smooth transition. We showed them the numbers, where we could hire a good general manager, a restaurant and events manager, and a ’round-the-clock front desk team for less than they would end up paying us for the year. They could sit on their biscuits and take it easy.
They said they’d think about it.
Come to find out through off-hand little comments that the lady owner thought we were lazy and weren’t working all that hard. She couldn’t believe they’d gotten duped into paying us such a huge percentage of the profits. She had no concept of the additional workload that comes with tripling the business levels. They decided to go back to doing it all themselves.
(I will say that telling our team that we were leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. A lot of tears were shed, especially from the old-timers who knew how bad it was before we came. There was a bit of Stockholm Syndrome going on in the early days.)
To the dismay of the owner, I’d also sent emails to all of my contacts (vendors/clients/customers) that we were moving on and that we’d been proud to continue the “tradition of excellence.” She hadn’t wanted me to reach out–and just wanted to tell them we were gone when they called.
Because that’s super professional.
We said our goodbyes with a fat check in our hands and got the heck out of dodge. We’d secretly bought a house 5 hours away, so we moved away in a jiffy.
Now for revenge:
When I realized that they didn’t want to hire a new management team, we worked on compiling a huge manual for them on all new procedures, all events we’d booked, etc.
I convinced them to sit down with me and go over it, but they didn’t take it seriously, so I also trained the staff on whatever I could. That all fell apart immediately.
The owner told the staff that we’d let them get lazy and that things would be changing. In her mind, this meant calling up events that had already signed contracts and trying to squeeze more out of them (in spite of the fact that we’d nearly doubled the average event value and booked twice the events), and overstaffing servers (who she didn’t have to pay much) and understaffing housekeepers (who she did have to pay).
Oh, and overtime pay? It doesn’t matter that you worked 45 hours; she’s not paying time and a half. (I’m aware that the last one is illegal, and I’ve informed the affected employees as such.) She was also drinking more than ever and verbally berating both staff and guests.
We had prided ourselves on making our staff feel valued and appreciated, and they were loyal because of it.
What she failed to realize was that they were loyal to us, not to the business or to her.
So they left. All of them.
That great new chef? He quit less than a month after we left. All the wait staff? They followed suit one by one. The ENTIRE housekeeping staff (all of whom had been there for over 4 years)? They quit last week. The whole housekeeping staff.
It’s the middle of the high season and the owners had to clean 45 rooms. The chef they hired to replace the other chef? Walked out. They’ve now been through 3 chefs in 10 months.
The reviews are plummeting. My husband’s parents still live in the town, and people often ask about us to wish us well. We left politely and spoke highly of the owners to anyone who would listen, but everyone tells his parents that they couldn’t believe we were able to do it for a year.
We genuinely wanted the place to succeed and did everything we could to set it up for success, but after they crapped on all the work we did, it’s more than a little satisfying to see them finally appreciate how hard we worked.”
6. Be An Unethical Boss? I'll Gladly Help With Your Projects
“For the last 6 years, as of last September, I worked for my country’s Civil Prosecution Office. What we do is protect the interests of the state in civil cases, as a counterpart to the Prosecution Office, which represents it in criminal cases. For the first 4 years of my career, I worked abroad, seconded to an international court, as a representative of the state. While I was there, I had heard that things had gone south with the appointment of a new boss, but since I was 2,000 miles away, I was minding my own business, turning in my work regularly, and generally not getting into the whole mess that had started brewing back home.
My mandate ended, and I was returned back home to work for the central office. I was appointed in the office representing us in international courts and arbitration. As soon as I started working there, I saw what everybody else (long-time colleagues) was complaining about. I knew that the workload and schedule would be quite burdensome, but then again, so was when I was working abroad.
After a few months, I started noticing things that left me at first puzzled and after a while enraged. The new head of the department had fired older qualified staff to hire new staff who had, according to her, finished prestigious schools and were extremely accomplished in that line of work. Problem was that these new recruits, for the first 6 months on their job, barely even touched a single case.
Even when they attempted to turn in a report or brief, things were sent back to me and a couple of other colleagues for a double-check. Seldom the reports and briefs had to be redone in their entirety due to fundamental problems. I first thought this was normal since we were there for a longer time and knew the precise procedures, but this went on for more than a year.
I approached my head of division and asked what the whole deal was with the work of capable workers needing double checks and why their workload was so light while we were being assigned more than 15 cases a month with a plethora of other miscellaneous duties to be met simultaneously. This is the part where the puzzled phase ended and the rage started. They were all kids or close family or friends of the new boss, who had been hired as a favor, etc., etc.
I complained regarding this problem, but they fell on deaf ears. This also bought me a couple of enemies in the office. The workload was dumped on me systematically with the new guys just hitting social media and whatever all day long. The worst part was that they were being blatant in their disregard for their responsibilities and how their work was being reassigned to me and my colleagues.
Things went like this for some time. I started in the meantime to look for another job, despite loving the current work I was doing. It had become too much to handle. Working days 9 to 8 pm and most weekends, all without overtime, and with the higher-ups complaining that work was not being done on time.
Things peaked when an international court started a program of translation of its key judgments for the year.
It was a program that provided funds for the translation from English into the local language. Our office, as a coordinator had to find the people to do the translations and publish them. Lo and behold they made us do the translation, something completely out of our scope of work and, mind you, illegal. We complained but were subtly threatened with dismissal or some other form of reprisal.
We were at least promised some sort of bonus for the work done. On top of all the work, I had now to translate and edit ~450 pages of court judgments. It took us 3 months to finish the whole process, but in the end, we were pleased with what we had done.
Publication day comes around, and we were told that there was no funding left for the bonuses on our work since the budget was tight.
We felt so betrayed, and at the same time, huge idiots for believing something good would come out of it. What made us feel even worse was the fact that the office had paid thousands to hold the publication event, all while “we were on a tight budget.” That was the worst week of my career.
In the meantime, I had finally gotten a couple of job offers, but I had to wait for a couple of months for the new workplaces to start their activity.
I could not wait to leave that toxic environment. Exactly 5 weeks before I was to leave the job, we catch wind of a new project on translation. We get called into our boss’ office and are told that we would repeat the procedure, but this time we would get paid for certain at the end of the job. Everybody was looking down quite unhappy and in disbelief apart from me, who told them I would be more than happy to take even a larger burden since I had finished with most cases for the next 3 months, all while smiling ear to ear and thinking to myself, “Screw you!” Three weeks into work and I had done in total 5 out of 600 pages of translation while excusing myself with random small work that had to be done.
I could not wait to give in my notice.
Friday comes by and I submit my two weeks notice. Everybody was in disbelief I had found another job since I had not even once talked about my job hunt with anyone. The first week goes by with me slacking off the whole time. One of the new additions to the office (boss’ lickspittle) ratted me out. I was called into the office and asked for explanations.
I promptly explained that I was closing off all the remaining cases; completing the procedures for transfer of files; talking out things with HR over the process and other general issues that I had to iron out before leaving. I did not want to leave anything that would jeopardize my departure or give the possibility to my boss to fire me instead of me being able to quit without be-smudging my record.
I told her that I was unable to tend to the translations since I had more urgent things to do.
She reminded me that I had to finish it before leaving. I plainly said no, and as of next Monday, not my job. She started screaming and cursing (seeing as this was her pet project) and threatened me with dismissal over noncompletion of a superior’s request/order. That is when I cut her off and told her that she could not fire me for not following an illegal order.
My line of work as well as the description of my position does not provide for me to do these translations. I threatened her that if she did something to ruin my record, I would gladly meet her in court where things would go public and not very good for her.
The next day, I got a notification from HR that my papers were ready, and I could actually leave early.
Went back to my office, made a copy of all the files I had worked on, since I knew the IT guys would wipe everything, packed all my stuff, met my close colleagues, and tried to explain to the other guys where every file was in case they needed it and that they should migrate all files to another PC (but I was disregarded), and immediately after I filed a report with the ombudsman and her superiors at the ministry.
The head of the department was reprimanded, which got into her permanent record, and the practice ceased immediately. A few weeks ago, they called me over some important documents they had lost on a very important case. I told them to go screw themselves and watched in happiness as my boss personally lost the case with a penalty of 15+ million bucks. The icing on the cake is that a bunch of my colleagues left their job too in a matter of months and now the office is in a real crisis with a lack of human resources and qualified staff. Only people left in the office are the boss’ moochers, and they have started spiraling due to the pressure of having for the first time to do their actual job.”
5. Refuse To Return The Things You Stole From Us? Let's Get The Police Involved
“Early in 2017, I moved into a shared house, where there were 4 single occupancy rooms and only 2 other tenants at the time. Each tenant had space for a single car on the driveway. This is because we shared a driveway with the neighboring house which also had multiple cars. And all tenants were required by law to be adults (i.e., over 18 years old in the UK).
One female and one male. I work as a software developer. Female is a chef (from now on, “F”), Male is an engineer (from now on. “M”). We were all well educated, successful in our fields, and shared similar interests, so we all got on well.
The landlord started advertising to fill the final room again and informed us 3 hours before a viewing (In the UK, we have to be given at least a day’s notice before the landlord can enter the property unless it’s an emergency like flooding, etc.
– this is a legal requirement). The prospective tenant arrives, enter Gym Rat (from now on, “GR”).
At the time of the viewing, both M and I were home and had privately raised our objections to the viewing without reasonable notice, which the landlord apologized profusely for, so we let it go initially. However, we saw GR had brought his girl with him. They went around the property together and started talking about how nice the place was and how awesome it would be for BOTH of them to live here together.
That sent red flags for me and M immediately, and the landlord clearly missed this exchange.
As soon as he had left, we raised the concern that he was probably not a suitable fit with the rest of the tenants, especially with the exchange that we had overheard and then relayed to the landlord. The landlord said she would take it into consideration; however, one thing to explain now is English wasn’t her native language (she was from mainland China), and it was clear that she didn’t have the most developed grasp of it, so it would probably explain later goings-on.
A week later, GR turns up with his partner, all of their stuff, and his car and his work van. We had been ignored. Sure enough, GR and his partner had both moved in regardless of it being illegal due to the type of property and the way the residency laws worked. His partner also wasn’t mentioned on the lease.
Now, a sidenote, M traveled a lot for his job, and for most of the remainder of the proceedings, M was out in the United States for work.
And then our plates and cutlery, food, and drinks all started disappearing. It turned out that GR had thought it was included in the rent. We then very clearly explained it wasn’t, and we had no idea how he had got that impression. We requested that he return our stuff and reimbursed us for the food and drinks that he consumed. He simply told us to screw off.
I personally actively avoid confrontation, so left it at that. When my stuff started reappearing in the shared kitchen, I washed it and then relocated it into my room behind my locked door.
Food continued to disappear. F had a pair of high-grade Wagyu ribeye steaks disappear whilst she was on shift, which she had spent a sizable amount of her monthly paycheck on as a celebration of a promotion.
GR had taken them, as he had been the only person in the house from the early morning to the late evening. She confronted him and told him that he was paying her back for the meat that he had stolen, but he just laughed in her face.
Stuff like this happened on and off for about 2 weeks, with us frequently reporting his actions to the landlord with nothing being done about it, which was when we started smelling strong whiffs of substances emanating from his room.
This was unacceptable, as the entire property was non-smoking, to begin with, and the use of illegal substances was mentioned as being an automatic cause for eviction proceedings, so we immediately reported it to the landlord, who didn’t even care (apparently, smoking is a fairly common thing in China, as I was later informed by a friend who had spent 2 years working and living out there, in rural areas of the mainland), despite it being a clause in the contract she had supplied us with.
Myself, F, and M all had clauses in our employment contracts that could result in dismissal if we were found to have any illegal substances in our systems if given a random spot check. So this response was unacceptable to us, as we were being forced to secondhand smoke as the smoke was drifting throughout the house.
GR started parking both his car AND his van on the drive (remember, each tenant is only permitted a single CAR on the driveway), taking up all the available space meaning that none of us had anywhere to park when we arrived home.
Now before I’d moved here, I had checked out the area and discovered that a covenant existed which had existed since the 1960s that made it illegal to park any work vehicles anywhere on the estate overnight. After the parking incident, I immediately raised this with the council. They asked if the van was displaying any warning labels on the outside. I told them it had labels for compressed gas, flammable gas, explosive gas, and corrosive liquids on the back (GR worked as a car bodywork repairman).
The person at the council then told me, that not only did the covenant make it illegal to park there, the contained items in the work van meant that it was supposed to be kept in a locked work yard when not being used during the day, not on a public road or in a residential area.
At this point, F and I confronted him and told him that the smoking will stop or the authorities will be involved.
We also informed him of the covenant and that we had contacted and made the council aware of his work van being illegally parked in a residential area. He went into a rage, telling us we had no right to do any of that. We informed him, had he had any remorse with any of the previous situations and had at least tried to conform to the rules, and normal social graces of living in a shared property, we wouldn’t have gone to these lengths.
But he didn’t, so we did.
He now started to threaten both myself and F with physical violence if we were even present in the same room as him again. Now an explanation of why he is referred to as Gym Rat. This is because he was always at the gym. He looked like a steroid user, by the fact that his arms were entirely disproportionate to his body (GR was no more than 5 foot 7 inches tall and had arms so big that it would make Dwayne Johnson’s look like Barbie doll arms), and all the veins were permanently above the skin.
It also sort of explained some of his attitude and outbursts.
At this point, I waited until he had left the house in a rage and contacted the police. I explained what had happened, and they asked if both F and I would come to the police station to file a statement for the record. We both agreed and did so the next day.
A week passed, with a few minor incidents, and then the landlord finally confronts GR about the goings-on, and he goes into a rage again.
He then also threatens the landlord with physical violence. This became the last time the landlord came to the property whilst he was still a resident, but she refused to report the incident with him to the police.
F has had enough at this point and gives the landlord a week’s notice that she would be leaving, and she then moves out to go live with her sister in the next town temporarily.
The landlord then employs an agent to manage the property. He’s a really nice guy, but more importantly, he actually runs a large rental agency, so he understands the various laws around the whole situation. The first thing he does is contacts GR and organizes a meeting (I am in my room next door whilst the meeting takes place – my door was locked). GR now does the entitled spiel and claims we have been bullying him.
GR doesn’t know that the agent had in fact already, met with me, the landlord, and F (who came back to explain the goings-on to the agent) shortly before meeting with him so had already been made aware of the police statement and physical violence threats. The agent wasn’t taking any crap so issued an immediate ultimatum, firstly the lying can stop, he knows what has happened, and has evidence of it (turned out the landlord had made a voice recording of her altercation after all).
Secondly, GR would reimburse all the tenants for the full cost of anything that had been stolen or broken by him, and thirdly, he would start toeing the line in regards to the contractual obligations in the tenancy, or he would be evicted.
GR didn’t like any of that and tried to threaten the agent as well. At this moment, his partner apparently made an appearance, entering the property using a key to the front door which she was not supposed to have in her possession.
She then gets involved, and as far as the rental lease goes, fatally referenced how their combined tenancy had been met with by all the other tenants. At this point, the agent had had enough, he told GR to expect eviction paperwork within the next week.
The agent left, and GR went into a flying rage, and I heard lots of smashing and crashing, and then he started hammering on my door shouting out all manner of obscenities at me, threatening to break the door down and hurt me.
I immediately called the police emergency number, and police turned up shortly after, to which GR was oblivious. Police knocked on the door, and I rushed over to my windows and went to talk to the officers, who could all still hear the goings-on. I gave them my keys through the window so that they could enter the property and deal with him.
On entering the property, they immediately told GR to stop what he was doing and calm down.
He didn’t. So they grabbed him and restrained him. Both GR and his partner were then taken to sit in the back of the police car to calm down.
The officers, came back into the house to give me back my keys and ask for me to explain my side of things, I mentioned all the goings-on and the meeting that GR had with the agent. They asked for me to call the agent and ask if he would return to the property to discuss this with them.
So I called the agent, and he agreed to return, which he then does so immediately. The police officers then took his statement as well. Once all of this was over, we were collectively asked if we would like to progress this and press charges. We agreed that we would like to do so.
So the police officers then left, taking both GR and his partner with them back to the police station for processing.
At this point, the agent tells me that he is going to the county court immediately to file an emergency injunction against GR and his partner. 2 days later, the court grants the injunction, which prevents GR and his partner from entering the property again unless accompanied by either the police or a court official. Additionally, the court also granted an eviction notice for both of them, citing breach of contract for him and using squatters laws for her.
Unsurprisingly, once GR and his partner are released by the police with little more than a warning, they completely ignore the injunction and come straight back to the property. And once again, he starts getting violent. At this point, I’m scared as he is waving a kitchen knife around. I can smell that GR has been smoking recently and has also clearly been drinking as well (slurring speech and stumbling about).
I immediately call the police emergency number again and explain the situation, and they told me to get to somewhere safe immediately. I was already locked in my room at that point, so it’s about as safe as I could get at that time (I would’ve had to get past GR to get out of the house entirely).
Police arrived, and they went in wearing riot gear because of the knife – luckily, the front door had been left wide open by GR.
So the officers swarmed GR and arrested him immediately. The officers then knocked on my door – when I explained to them about the emergency injunction and my suspicions of his recent intoxication, they arrested GR and his partner immediately. At the time, whilst they could confirm the use of substances and booze, they couldn’t find any substances on either of them. So both were once again, taken away for processing.
At this point, we were left in peace. But with a problem, he had left his van on the drive in such a way, that it blocked all of the cars on the driveway from getting out. So I called his employer, to get them to come and move it.
The next day, they came down to pick it up early in the morning, and when they got there, they opened up the van which, it turned out is where the substance had been smoked, as the van reeked of it, and some fairly substantial bags of it were found in the glove box.
Once again, the police were called, and when searching the driver’s area, this time, they found everything. All the substances in the amounts found were classed as possession intent with intent to supply.
This resulted in the van being seized by the police, despite the complaints of the company representative. It later turned out, that my actions resulted in him getting fired in addition to being evicted. But also, resulted in him receiving initially a 2-year prison sentence as well.”
4. Don't Take Our Group Project Seriously? Have Fun Watching Your Grade Tank
“This story happened a couple of years ago in University, a place with a lot of privilege – talking children of doctors, engineers, and wealthy business people. This didn’t constitute all of the population but a hefty amount. I, myself, do not come from privilege, but I was here because it was the farthest away from my parents I could get. The reason this is important to the story is because I took my education seriously.
Don’t screw with me and my grade, and I won’t screw with you; I pay for this crap with a 40-hour work week while taking 16 hours of class a semester – I had gotten two teachers contracts to be reconsidered and not renewed at the end of two different years. I give everybody respect, but do not screw me over. I explained my situation to my teachers at the beginning of every semester, saying I may not be in class and why, but will still give my 100% effort in learning the material and getting assignments done.
Most were understanding; the particular professor in this story was understanding as I would always show up in his office hours in the afternoon after sleeping all morning and asking relevant questions and not asking, “Hey, what did we learn in class while I was sleeping?”
The spring class in this story was an Implementing Business Computer Systems class. For the yearly project, we had a real-life client that whom our school volunteered the students for Pro Bono work for small businesses in the area.
We were seniors, so we are trusted with the client’s work as it is overseen by our professor. This is a big step and I, for one, am excited. I had been doing nothing but working as a bartender/server in a fine dining restaurant and having my head in books learning how to code with barely any time to do much else – this was an opportunity to get a taste of the real world we were about to embark on.
The project started out fine. We all drive thirty minutes away to meet our client. A wonderful woman that owned a small floral business and she was paying 1-800-Flowers to sell her product for her, which came with a website itself and a HUGEEEE price. This lady was also in her 60s and by no means fluent in computers – this is important for later. We talk and find out she wants a new website, and her contract with 1-800 ends in the summer.
No pressure; we will be able to finish the website and give it to her by the end of the semester, if not earlier. This will give us time to teach her what is needed and what to do so that she can maintain and run the website by herself. Afterward, we delegate the tasks, and since I have the most extensive background in coding and computers, I volunteer to learn how to create this website for our client as long as Damien, Jeff, and Kirk work on the other parts of the project – the user guide and the technical documentation.
For our client, this needed to be extensive so that she would be able to post her product on the website with an easy transition.
As we weigh our options over the next week, we come up with some proposals for the client, and we set a meeting to go over these on a Tuesday – the day everybody is the freest in their schedule – the following week.
Sunday – Jeff says he can’t make it, Kirk quickly responds and says he can’t make it either. I say it’s cool, Damien and I will be able to make it. Monday – Damien says we should reschedule because now he can’t make it. I say no; I will go by myself as we shouldn’t cancel on the client – no biggie, I understand things come up.
As the project went through the semester, I am killing the website. I have a working e-commerce store integrated with the store’s PayPal, I have a shop tab, and a featured page for in-season flowers. I ask about the documentation and the user manual, and I am told by all three of them that they are working on it and will have a rough draft for me soon to check out.
Cool, no problem. Time to show the client the product to see if she wants any changes or if we should just continue creating this website for her; we set a meeting with the client on a Tuesday a week or two in advance, and everybody says that is okay.
Same song, different story. Sunday – Jeff says he can’t make it, Kirk quickly responds and says he can’t make it either.
I say it’s cool. Damien and I will be able to make it. Monday – Damien says we should reschedule because now he can’t make it. I say heck no; this is a client. You don’t do that to clients. So I hop my butt by myself to drive 30 minutes to meet our client. I show the client the website, and she is happy with the product and asks us to continue, and she is excited for the finished product.
How our weeks are set up is in such a way that they start on a Wednesday and end on a Tuesday. So the last day of classes is on a Tuesday. The school then gives an extra free day that Wednesday for a “study day,” then the exams schedule goes Thursday, Friday, Saturday || Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I am sure you can infer what students do on that Tuesday before study day.
Fast forward to the end of the semester, I still haven’t seen any documentation or user manual and it is due on the class’s exam day, which is the first day of exam week. So a week before it is due, I am told I will have the documentation and user manual in my hand before our meeting which is at 12 PM on that study day – Wednesday.
I receive an email at 11 PM on Tuesday as I am getting off work, and I see that is the technical documentation and the user manual. I open it up, promptly get mad, turn off my laptop, play some Xbox, and pass out before midnight. The reason being, the technical documentation was 1 page and did not contain anything about the Database Schema used, the website language, the PayPal information, or the emails registered.
Just the URL and some other information that wasn’t important and was half a page long. Remember how our client was in her 60s? The user manual was 1 and a half pages long and, I kid you not, contained about 5 sentences and 3 pictures with an arrow. 0 explanation on how to use the website.
Come to the meeting at 12 pm, I show up and wait about 5 minutes.
I then text everybody asking where they are at, but no response. I start looking over how to fix the user manual since I obviously have to start over. While I am working on it, I haven’t said anything and then Damien walks into the room.
D: “Did you get the docs?”
Me: “Yeah. You guys really think this is finished?”
D: “Oh yeah, it should be good to turn in.”
Me: “I don’t know.
I think we should add a little more. This is for our client; she won’t understand this. Where are Jeff and Kirk?”
D: “Ahhahaha. We all got messed up last night after finishing up the documentation; they are probably still passed out. Also, I’m turning it in tomorrow. If you want to do anything else go ahead, but whatever I have, I am turning it in. I think it’s ready to turn in, so I won’t be doing anything else.
I have other classes to study for. I already have an A in this class, so it doesn’t matter to me, and Kirk and Jeff have As as well, so they don’t care at all.”
Perfect. He said the magic words and then he left with a flash drive. I immediately went upstairs and told my professor, Matt, everything. I said I don’t want to leave my client hanging, yes my client, not ours.
Matt said that he completely understands and even commends me for wanting to stay on top of everything and not give our client a bad taste for our students. He then asks why. I simply stated, “What you are about to receive tomorrow for ‘our’ project is completely unacceptable. It is unfair for us and for our client to leave her hanging.” I showed him the website, which he likes, and then I showed him the user guide and technical documentation.
I asked for an extra week to finish the documentation and user guide – as I had a plan for what it should be and needed time to create it all. Matt said absolutely but forget about the documentation. You obviously know what is in it, so just focus on the client. So I created user videos with dictation, drove to the client, and showed her how to use it all, and where to find the videos.
I even created a program that had all the videos inside so she could have it on her desktop and the program pulled up the video of her choice for whatever she needed help with, with some buttons, so she wouldn’t have to search folders for the videos. I gave her my contact info and said I’ll be here over the summer if she ever needs help with the website or has any questions, and I can swing by.
After all of this happened and afterward, I gave an update to Matt who also had an update for me. Apparently, he almost failed the rest of my group because they turned in their project by slipping an unmarked USB drive under his door. He only accepted it after they emailed him asking him if he received the USB. Matt also called our client to verify my story of the fact that they never showed for client meetings, and the client told him I was the only person that has been showing up.
Hearing this from other people, anybody in my group that had As in the class leading up to the project got a C, and anybody with a B in the class failed. Damien’s GPA was screwed up from this class as it was a 4 hours class. Kirk and Jeff both failed and Jeff wasn’t allowed to graduate, and Kirk had to retake it the next semester even though he wasn’t graduating.
My grade which was an 84 before the project was bumped to an A. The next year Damien asked how I did in that class because he was confused about his final grade, and I simply said I did fine and received an A. He has no idea the reason why.
Don’t mess with me and my grade, and I won’t mess with you.”
Another User Comments:
“When I was in Uni, I worked my butt off on presentations for a group project.
The group sat around me whilst I created it, checking they were happy with the content, etc. They all were and wanted me to continue.
Presentation day comes, and surprise – I’m the most prepared. We manage to do it all though, so I was just pleased to get through it.
My tutor then calls me back after the class to tell me I’m not getting a grade.
Apparently, the rest of my group had gone to see her and tell her I did no work and only wanted to stand and give her the presentation itself.
I argued and kicked off and told her I created the presentation and gave her the little details about our slide show, and she said that it was 4 against 1 and nothing she can do.
I contacted each of them separately, and they all just said ‘I just wanted the grade’ to worm their way out, and the only one I thought was my friend just said ‘Sorry.’
Man, I wish I had the backbone to do what this guy did and some hindsight to protect my own butt.
Nice one, OP. I applaud you.” Joscelan
3. Exterminate Me Before I Quit? I'll Get You Fired Too
“Since I’m still in school, I took a job at a bakery of types which I won’t name. The place has Bread in the name but also sells overpriced salads and sandwiches. I worked there for close to a year where I had this boss named Betty (not her real name of course). Betty and I didn’t get along whatsoever. She had gotten the previous general manager to quit because she had an affair with him, and she threatened to tell his wife if he didn’t leave.
He quickly left the job, and she was promoted to the position. I didn’t like her, but I have to respect her dedication to be the general manager of a small store.
When I first started working there, I was respectful, but she would do things that would get on my nerves. For instance, I would clean all the places I would be hired to do, and once I was done and relaxed for maybe 5 minutes, she would run out of the manager’s office screeching, “Why aren’t you working?” I would tell her, of course, I did my job, and as a cashier, if nobody is there to help, then I didn’t have anything to do.
She would glare at me, then I would see her “accidentally” drop an entire pot of brewed coffee onto my freshly mopped floor for me to clean. So I learned quickly to always look busy.
Once she realized I was going to kneel and kiss the ground she walked on, she started dropping my hours. The store ran on a Game of Thrones type of politics for who got promotions and raises.
Somehow all her friends were managers and would bully the rest of us.
She was barely at work. She would drive to my job and clock in just in case corporate decided to check her hours. So she was essentially stealing hours. When you clocked in, it printed out a small piece of paper telling when you clocked in. She would just drop them on the floor for me to clean up.
I would usually pick them up and stick them into a pocket. So this led to me finding Betty clock in and out stubs in my pocket at my house. This will be important for later.
Did I mention she was super racist? She was white, and most of the staff were my fellow high school peers who were all mostly POC. One day at work, she walked out and told us, “When you’re on the clock, I own you.” When we all reacted to look at her, she backpedaled and was like, “I didn’t mean it like that.” This will be important for later.
So after a while, I got sick of practically begging for hours, so I went to my current job. But decided I merely wanted to drop my hours, which were already barely a day a week. But suddenly when I got my new job, she scheduled me every. Single. Day. Of an entire week. She never did that even when we were on semi-good terms. So I obviously told her I had a new job and couldn’t do this.
After that, I went home and called my friend who was still working there to tell him I was going to quit tomorrow. He has a bad habit of putting his phone on speaker when he’s cleaning at work. So Betty overheard this obviously.
The next day, I walk in and go through the respectful motions of saying, “Thank you for the opportunity and blah blah blah.” Betty let me get through the entire speech before she said, “Oh yea, I was meaning to tell you…
You’re fired.” I was so blindsided and angry that I cussed her out. My mom raised me to treat women with respect, but this freaking fat, overweight hippo-looking witch made me so angry.
So I left and was mad about being fired before I could quit but didn’t push the issue. I’m only 18, and I already had another job. I wasn’t expecting Betty to give me a good reference anyway.
I would have completely left it alone if it wasn’t for the district manager Ben (not real name) texting me.
He thought I was still working there, so I explained to him I was fired. He was stunned due to the fact that I was a decent employee. He asked why she let me go, and I explained it to him, and he was angry. He clarified that she fired me before I quit, and I said yes.
He was livid that she did this and asked if there was anything else she might have done.
I kind of just vented to him for a bit. When I told him about the racist remark, he asked if anyone else would corroborate me. I forgot to mention that she slowly fired and forced people to quit and replaced them with her friends and family, which according to company policy, she couldn’t do.
Something about conflict of interest.
I asked all the people who were working that day if they could, and a few said they would. But one did even better. My one coworker Andy is convinced he’s the next big vlogger, so he always has his phone out or just uses audio recording for hours for a chance to catch a funny clip. I’ve watched his content, and let me say, it’s just super cringe.
But turns out he labels each recording by the day and times. So when he checked, he found her making racist remarks. I got a brilliant idea, and with my other fired co-workers or co-workers who were forced to quit, we decided to scour Andy’s recordings. We found some great moments of Betty saying controversial things or just being nasty.
Like once a guest sneezed on the baked pastries, and when a coworker told her, she laughed it off and said nobody would know.
But this wasn’t enough for me. I try to avoid conflict, but when I’m in a situation, I’ll follow it through. I looked her up on social media and found out she was MARRIED. Nobody knew this, so when she had the affair with the other manager and basically blackmailed him, she was also married and being unfaithful.
I don’t think anyone ever cared enough to find out because she was a nasty old lady.
So I found the old manager Mark’s social media page and found out he and his wife were separated. Turns out that even after he quit, Betty was still trying to blackmail funds out of him. When he didn’t, she told his wife anyway causing his wife to divorce him and basically leave him to go back to live with his parents.
I did some research, and in my state, blackmail or extortion is a third-degree penalty, which has a max of 7 YEARS in prison with a fine over 10K to the victim.
So I told the old manager what my plan was for her. He agreed to call the cops on her, but I asked if he’d wait until I finished my part first. He said he’d give me a week.
So I met with District Manager Ben and showed him all our evidence. The recordings and the written statements from my other ex-coworkers and people who were still working there.
I also gave Ben the slips of paper when Betty clocked in and then left and returned 8-10 hours later to clock out.
Ben thanked me for the information and then I left. A few days later while walking past the store, I noticed it was closed in the middle of the day. I texted a guy who still worked there, and he told me everything. Turns out, Ben first checked the security cameras to see if she was there for the full time she claimed to be.
Big surprise, she wasn’t. So Ben decided to investigate the store’s expenses, since if she’s lying about her time, what else could she be stealing?
He found out she was stealing from the store’s registers. The guy didn’t fully explain how she was but just that she was. Turns out, she was breaking a lot of health and safety codes and used what she stole for repairs, etc., and for herself.
So she was fired immediately along with all of her minions, and that left barely anybody to run the store.
They shut down to clean up the store and fix things she didn’t make. So she’s out of a job, and Mark told her husband with photo proof that she two-timed him. But Mark phrased it so it seemed like she still was. So Betty’s husband flips out and decides to divorce her, and Betty is the type to post everything on social media.
So she’s begging someone to let her stay, but all of her friends and family totally bailed on her. So she was living in her car looking for a job. That’s when Mark decides to sue her for extortion, so she scrambles to find a lawyer, and to make it even worse, the company decided to sue her for everything she stole and plus all the repairs and lost revenue while the store is closed.
Betty’s life is crap. She had to sell her car for drastically under what it’s worth to pay for all the legal trouble. Mark told me bits and pieces of her crying in the courtroom but not too much. I was never super close with him.
Last I heard of Betty she was living with her sister who definitely hates her. To think she would have avoided all of this if she just let me quit.”
2. Ignore Safety Procedures? Be Humiliated Before Getting Fired
“In the early 2000s, I was working as a service technician for a major telecom provider in the great white north. I worked with some truly great people and one total jerk named “Steve” (name changed to protect the incompetent.)
Steve was a relatively new tech but was a know it all. His way of doing things meant cutting as many corners as possible so he could spend more time drinking coffee and doing nothing.
He was also very, very arrogant. In his mind, he was the greatest tech that had ever lived and would ramble on and on about how much better he was.
We had tried to get Steve removed from the crew to no avail. Our supervisor knew how we all felt but barring a major violation of company policy we were stuck with him.
One sunny summer evening turned into a heavy thunderstorm which led to damaging winds and my personal favorite type of work-storm restoration.
We had a quick team meeting the morning after the storm and identified the hardest-hit areas and came up with a plan of attack and designated assignments. Steve on the other hand wanted none of that.
Steve had decided that he was going to be the hero of the day and single-handedly restore the entire community.
After the meeting, the crew broke off and headed to our assigned neighborhoods to begin work.
I and four other techs had been assigned the same area as Steve and I was working one street over when my cellphone rang.
It was Steve. He needed help. It wasn’t normal for him to call anyone, for anything, ever. I asked what he needed to which he replied “just come to where I am.”
I loaded up my tools and hopped in my truck and drove the 30 seconds to the alley that he was in.
I saw his truck parked and his ladder laying on the ground but no Steve. I immediately thought that he had fallen and was on the ground injured so I got out of my truck and hurried over to his ladder to look for him. I called out his name and he instantly replied “I’m up here.”
I looked up to where the voice was coming from and there he was.
Dangling from his safety strap and safety harness.
I say “what the heck happened??”
He says “I was trying to clear a branch off this line and the ladder slid out from underneath.”
Our ladders are equipped with hooks at the top that are meant to prevent this from happening.
I ask “did the hooks not work” to which he replied, “I never use the hooks – takes too long.” He then asks if I can put his ladder back up so he can get down.
Sure, I could put his ladder back up and help him down but I had a better idea.
I grab my phone and dial 9-1-1. I say to the dispatcher that a service technician is stuck in the air and needs assistance from the fire department to get down. I then call my manager and inform him of the incident to which he replies “I’m on my way!”
The fire department arrives in minutes and the supervisor shortly after that.
The sirens and flashing lights undoubtedly drew a crowd including some of the other techs that were working in the area.
We gleefully watched as Steve was rescued from his precarious position – smiling all the while knowing that he had violated serious safety policy.
Steve was terminated that afternoon after it was determined that he had knowingly not followed safety procedures and the cherry on top was I was given a “safety award” for calling emergency services for help rather than putting his ladder back up.”
1. Threaten Me For Accidentally Cutting You Off? It'll Lead To Your Divorce
“I accidentally cut this guy off. I waved at him and yelled I was sorry. He followed me, stopped at a stop light, and threatened to beat me up. Tried to get me out of my car. I took pictures of his car; he told me he’d shoot me. So I drove off. I’m a guy who is very afraid of confrontation.
I subscribe to a lot of research sites, and I reverse looked him up based on his license plate number.
I got everything I could. His car had a college license plate and a Marine Corps sticker. So with his full name, his address, and the school he went to, he was easy to find on social media.
I created a fake social media account with pictures of a girl I found on the net. And I friended him. He accepted and started chatting me up a bit.
Just in messages though.
I could see everything about him – saw who his partner was and that he had kids.
One day, he asked if I’d call him. So I bought one of those cell phones from a grocery store and texted him. Told him I couldn’t call, that my partner was the jealous type but that I wanted out. Our texting went on and on, and I eventually started sending him selfie shots of a girl I found.
She had a full album, and I’d save each image for different days. He started texting me very TMI images.
I started sending ‘thinking of you’ cards to his home addressed to him, no return address. He flipped and asked me via text if it was me. He insisted that we meet to talk about it. So I pretended to be my ‘partner’ and told him I was going to blow his freaking brains out.
Then, I took pictures of everything, the entire exchange, and mailed this entire book to his woman.
She ended up leaving, and they got a divorce. The idiot never defriended me on social media. He lost his house and had to pay alimony and child support. He whined about being taken to the cleaners by his ‘witch wife.’
Don’t know what to think about this one.
I have this thing where if people really cross me on the road, I’ll do background searches on them and then will mess with them.
Most stuff I find out is someone had a criminal record and I anonymously ask their employer if they know. Or I subscribe to barely legal adult mags and have it mailed to their home or work. But this one I went farther than I ever had. Something about the way that guy kept trying to get me out of my car so he could hurt me scared me and made me really angry.
But I’m really bothered by the impact this had on his kids.
This guy was the last time I did the ‘search and destroy’ thing. I think I may have taken it too far.”
Another User Comments:
“To be fair, he still had the intention of being unfaithful to his woman. You may have driven him to do it (no pun intended), but he still chose to actually engage. But I do feel sorry for the kids. But then again, they might be better off without a jerkhead dad who is unfaithful to their mom with internet women.” AnoK760