People Share Their Diabolical Stories Of Revenge

Some people just don’t have a moral compass. Seriously. Or they have serious baggage that causes them to act out and behave like dimwits. Everyone has a story, and when all of a sudden your boss casts you out because you wouldn’t go on a date with him, full-on revenge mode gets engaged. It’s ok to have off days and make choices that are self-serving. But when it’s consistent ill-regard because your very own dog poops on your very own lawn that you clean up after, you can’t help but be totally flummoxed. And with no reason or explanation? Up goes the ante! Desperate times call for desperate measures, so if you have to take matters into your own hands to prove you’re not a doormat, nor do you deserve to be treated in any way other than civilized, out goes playing Mr. or Mrs. Nice-Person cause there’s a new bada*s in town.

Cue a different facet of yourself that comes out in times of trouble. How would you react if someone stole your big, beautiful fluffy dog? What strings would you pull if all you were trying to do was your job and two entitled divas kept cutting you down? It’s hard to tell until you’re there yourself, but let these following stories paint you a picture of total diabolical revenge.

Cutthroat. Savvy. Brutal. Conniving. Strap yourself in for total destruction. Even the devil himself is cracking up over these ones!

13. Can’t Deal With My Dog’s Poop On My Own Property? Here’s A Little Something For You

“Here’s some back story. I have a 4-year-old Cocker Spaniel named Charlie and he likes to poop. I let him out in my front garden every morning for his toilet routine, same in the evening. We don’t have a boundary fence on where my garden and my neighbor’s starts beside a row of bushes. Saying this Charlie hasn’t ever crossed/pooped past these bushes. Now every week, I collect up said poop before it gets into a disturbing amount, I’ve been doing this for the past 4 years to keep my front garden looking good and not smelly.

One day, I come home from work to find that my neighbors weren’t happy that there was dog poop in my front garden. I instantly went to collect up what was there, there wasn’t much and it was nowhere near the boundary of where our gardens met. Fast forward a week, my neighbor again complains about the dog poop being in my garden however this time threatens to hurt my dog if he continued to poop in my garden. This time I wasn’t so nice about it and stated that it’s my garden and my dog can do as he pleases.

Now I know dog poop can be annoying. But when it’s not in your garden and there’s no smell due to decent airflow and open front garden, is it really justifiable to threatening a man’s dog over some poop?
Anyway, after months of this going with petty things and shade being thrown at me every day about having a dog, I decided to declare war on my neighbors. Now I knew these people pretty well, They’d just moved in and we let them use our wifi for a couple of months until they got theirs sorted. I picked up a few things about them and one of them was how OCD they were.

They cut their back garden every week and painted the entire bottom layer of the house to match their fence. This was all the fuel I needed to exact my revenge.
My first step was to start off small, I knew they liked things to match so I painted my fence gate bright pink instead of matching it with my fence. This was my first small victory! They hated it so much they begged me to correct the color. So I did. I figured if peace was an option it was worthwhile. Then began the hate again, I had to come up with something so evil and yet genius that couldn’t be traced back to me.

This is when I planted over 5000 dandelion seeds in their front and back garden. I figured I was in this for the long game. I did this under the cover of night and made sure to plant them in places not easily mowed. Fast forward 3 months and their garden was covered in weeds, they grew through all the slabbing and were patched all over the garden. It took them over 3 days to clear the weeds and around £100 of weed killer.” GamersEatBacon
12. Don’t Want To Believe the Sign And Take The Stairs? You Leave Me No Choice

“So I’m an elevator technician.

When they break, I’m the one who fixes them. When parts wear out, I replace them. You get it. The other day I was on a job replacing a worn-out emergency light. Back in the day, it was a habit to use the battery of the emergency light to power the elevator’s siren system. Modern emergency lights have different voltages being LED, so I can’t use the old way of connecting everything. So, I have to wire everything up from scratch, including a new battery and siren. No big deal, but it takes a little longer to complete the task. Note that this is a 3 stop elevator.

(Ground floor, 1st, and 2nd). I start by hanging up all my ‘out of order’ signs and start working on the ground floor.
5 minutes in, just disassembled the old piece, the story begins. In comes the Entitled Woman (mid-40s, can walk perfectly fine) carrying 1 barely filled grocery bag.

Entitled Woman: ‘Excuse me, is the elevator broken again?’
Me: ‘Not exactly ma’am, I’m changing this (showing her the new emergency light) because the old one wasn’t working anymore. This will probably take about an hour to complete.’
(At this point her daughter walks in)
EW: ‘How am I supposed to get my groceries upstairs?’
Me: Getting annoyed, I look at her bag, and give her the ‘Are you f*cking kidding me?’ look
Daughter: ‘Mom, seriously, take the stairs, it’s 2 floors.’ (Clearly annoyed)
EW: ‘NO! I pay for this elevator, and I need it now!’
D: *sigh* ‘I’m going up.’ (And takes the stairs)
EW: ‘How long is this going to take?’
Me: ‘Like I said, ma’am, about an hour.’

The woman then sits her a*s down on a bench in the hallway waiting for me to finish.

Really? Oh well, I do my thing in the cabin, not hurrying at all, mount the new E-light to the ceiling, and pack my things to go 1 floor up, to start the wiring on the top of the cabin.

EW: ‘You done yet?’
Me: ‘No, ma’am, I still have to wire things up on top of the elevator.’
EW: ‘No, I can see you’re done, you’re packing your things!’
Me: ‘Yes, I have to take my bag 1 floor up so I can start on the wiring.’
EW: ‘Can’t I use it now?’
Me: ‘No ma’am, you can’t, there’s exposed wiring up there, if you use it now you can cause a short and you will get stuck.

It’s really not safe.’
EW: ‘FINE!’

And she sits back down on the bench, seriously p*ssed off. I take my bag and make my way upstairs. As soon as I stand in front of the 1st-floor door, I hear the door on the ground floor close, and sure enough, EW went into the elevator and tried to take it upstairs. Hell no, I wasn’t having that. I take my emergency key and as soon as the elevator started moving, I open the lock, cutting the safety chain, and the elevator comes to a sudden stop. This scared the sh*t out of her and she screams! I open the door and in my most fake surprised voice, I yell ‘OH NO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!’ while calmly pressing the emergency stop on top of the elevator.

Yep, this thing isn’t going anywhere soon.
Me: ‘This is exactly why I said the elevator is unsafe to use now. I’ll do my best to get it working again asap, but you made a mess up here so I don’t know how long it’s going to take.’ (There was no mess, but I couldn’t resist teaching her a little lesson)
EW: *swears, yells and makes a scene*
Me: ‘I’ll be right back, I have to go to the engine room to see if I can get it working again.’
I close the door and make my way up. On the second floor, the daughter came out of the apartment because of the yelling of her mother.

I quickly explained what happened.
D: (raising her voice) ‘Oh no! Please get her out of there!’
But then she comes closer and whispers to me: ‘Don’t hurry, make her suffer.’ That’s my kind of girl!

Music to my ears! I smile, give her a thumbs up, and make my way up to the engine room. I call my supervisor to explain the situation, in case she files a complaint.
In the engine room I start playing around with the fuses, putting her in the dark, because yea, I haven’t connected the e-light yet. I play with her for about half an hour before I turn off the emergency stop I activated, the elevator synchronizes to the lowest floor, and I wait for the doors to open.

Me: ‘PLEASE, don’t EVER do that again!’
EW (white as a sheet, shaking) ‘N-no, I won’t.’ And she takes the stairs and goes inside.

I never heard from her again. I calmly finish my job, and leave the building with a smile on my face. Mission accomplished.

FYI – I made sure there never was any risk. It was intentional that the elevator was able to move because I needed it to. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to access the car top because of the distance between the floors. I tested all safeties I was going to need before I started the work. I disconnected the old light, which was convenient with a plug when I tested said car top safeties, so there never were exposed live wires.

When I blocked the door with my bag, I never left the site. On every floor, the ‘out of order’ tag was placed over the floor call buttons, and the reason why I initially started working on the ground floor is so people who enter the building can clearly see me working when the elevator was still ‘active.’
The moment when I started working on the car top, and people couldn’t see me when entering the building, I did make use of the stop button, that I already tested, to prevent the elevator from reacting to calls. Every action I took was well thought out, potential risks were considered, and actions were taken to eliminate them.

If I really needed that elevator to stay where it was, I would make sure it would.” PuffMaNOwYa

11. Don’t Want To Pay Me? I’ll Find A Way To Make You Pay Someone

“This story isn’t about me, but my dear old’ dad. Back in the day, he used to be a plumber. He then went on to join the military where he sustained various injuries/chemical exposure. Anyway, this happened during the time when he was fighting for his disability. On occasion, he would do side jobs just to get by. It was very painful/difficult work for him, but alas, the bills needed to be paid.

At the time, he had a neighbor up the road who needed some pretty serious work done in his home and offered to pay my dad a bit over $3,000 for the labor. To be frank, $3000 was a bit on the low end for the work, but my dad figured hey, help a neighbor out and he really needed to make some extra cash (the holidays were coming up, a little over two months before Christmas). The guy buys the supplies, my dad does the labor, with promises that he’ll be paid when it is finished (you already know where this is going).

Surprise surprise, the work gets finished, the guy doesn’t pay up.
Not only does this guy not pay my dad, but he has the gall to laugh at my dad and ask him what he’s going to do about it since the work was under the table. Neighbor be damned, oh was he (my dad) ever p*ssed! I remember when he flat out told me – ‘that son of a b*tch might not ever pay me, but he’s going to be paying SOMEONE that three thousand dollars, just you watch sweets!’ and he got to work. He couldn’t spend a lot of time on his feet but he had quite a few hours to kill, and he started planning this dude’s comeuppance.

He went to the store and bought a sh*tload of jacks (the kind that comes in the game of Jacks, with the rubber ball and whatnot). He then proceeded to spend the next couple of weeks sharpening them up and making the ends into little spikes. Every time he would drive by this guys house, he’d casually toss a handful out the window into this guys driveway. You can imagine, this guy was constantly getting flat tires and had to continuously repair and replace them.

Fast forward to Christmas day, my dad calls me up cackling hysterically so I ask him what’s up.

This is actually one of my favorite memories of him, he tells me- ‘Remember that neighbor?! The one that screwed me over??! Well I just drove by his house and he, the wife and the kids are all dressed up for church standing in the front yard by their car and its got a couple of flats!! You see, I think he wised up because he started parking in the grass, but motherf*cker didn’t know I threw them in the yard too!!!!’ I love my dad. Aikotoba86
10. Steal My Dog? I’ll Get You Fired

“I adopted a full-breed husky in the Pacific Northwest.

We named him Toby but after a while, he developed the name Real Big Toby. He wasn’t a huge husky or malamute but boy did he look beautiful and boy was his personality ‘really big.’ He had one blue eye and one brown eye which never failed to trip people out. On top of that, he was a huge ham, loved attention and would actually talk to you about how his day was going.

It got to the point where it was kind of stupid to put him on a leash. I would tell him to stay when I went into class for example, and he’d be passed out or getting the chicks to scratch his belly when I came out.

Every time. The dean of the college even knew him on a first-name basis and started to bring his dog into work after watching Real Big Toby do his thing.
At the time I lived in a mountain town, attended college and was an avid mountain biker so having a dog that would happily and easily do 30 miles in a day was cool. He would follow us everywhere we went. My mountain bike was my only source of transportation so we became very in tune with one another. He was a husky, after all, so you could tell when he ran that this was exactly what he was born to do.

Toby was such a super good boy. He listened, paid attention and never left my side. He had a seat designated for him on the deck at the local coffee shop which meant you had to walk by him and try to resist giving him a scratch if you wanted to go inside. It got to the point where just about everyone in this fairly small town got to know Toby on a first name basis.
Every once in a while on mountain bike runs we would get separated or Toby would just get sidetracked on the way down the hill. It was such a small town that, in the few times it happened, he was back with me by the end of the day.

The police all knew him from around town, the pound knew him so if anyone called they’d just give them my number.

One day it happened again. He got lost on the way down the hill. Only this time, he didn’t come back. No call. Nothing. For days. It got to the point where I started asking around town. If you’ve ever lived in a small town you know it’s hard to keep a secret. After about a week, a friend says he saw Toby and tracked the guy down and gave him my number. He never called. After searching, trying to find this guy I finally got a breakthrough.

He worked at the college!
Now, I am aware of how stupid people can be when they receive an animal. Toby was RIPPED. You could see his muscles bulging out of his fur. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him because he was in excellent shape. I fed him mostly a raw diet and what kibble he did get was the best you could buy. The first thing out of this guy’s mouth was to tell me that he’s keeping my dog. ‘You don’t take care of him. You don’t even feed him and he’s such a good dog. He will be better off with me,’ he said.

I became enraged.
Well, as I mentioned, he worked at the school I attended. I also mentioned the Dean hammed it up with Toby on a nearly daily basis. I didn’t mention I had the Dean’s home number, though so a call Saturday morning resulted in Toby being returned to me later that day. This guy had the nerve to, along with Toby, bring me a 50lb bag of the sh*ttiest store brand of dog food you could buy. ‘I bought you this so you could feed him.’ Rage.

Come to find out this guy was in charge of a research project for the school.

It was very easy to figure out where his office was. I went to his office with a plan for returning his food and chewing him out in front of his colleagues. He wasn’t at his desk so I did the most natural thing I could possibly do… I turned the 50lb bag of dog food upside down on his desk, computer, and stacks of papers to the point where it formed a perfect mountain on top of his keyboard. Truly an awesome sight.
Knowing loose lips sink ships, I didn’t tell anyone but my close friends. The school brought misconduct charges against me.

The hearing was in front of a board of other students and staff and well ‘I don’t know what happened to the bag of dog food. I was telling the story to a bunch of guys and one of them asked me for the bag. That’s the last I saw it. All charges were dropped.

The a*shole that tried to steal Real Big Toby had it much much worse. 50 f*cking pounds of dog food on top of your research project, as it turns out, doesn’t bode well with management. For reasons unknown, 2 days later he was fired from the college.

Not only did they fire him but put a restraining order on him and had to change the locks to the building.” Guelapapyrus

9. Use Me As Your Scapegoat For Years? I’ll Flat Expose You And Get Your Nose Broken

“I’ve worked in marketing for seven years since I graduated from college. That entire time, I’ve worked for one company. I haven’t been the best employee, but I’ve been nowhere near the worst, either. Middle of the pack, just where I like it. I don’t make waves or bring attention to myself. I just do my job and go home. I’m one of only three females in a male-dominated department of about fifteen.

My job basically entails courting big brands into choosing our agency to create their advertising campaigns. Lots of spreadsheet work, profit projections, boring stuff for people not in the industry. I WAS in the industry and I’m bored just typing a general description of it.
The entire time I was with the company, ‘Dan’ was my boss. Dan is a mid-level manager who reports to the vice president of the entire company. There are five other Dans in the office, all of whom run their own departments, handling their own big clients. Dan is the typical former high school or college jock who never made it to the pros, so he takes out his aggression in the office.

In some instances, aggression in the office can be a good thing, all that testosterone driving toward success. But in Dan’s case, it just made him a jerk.
As I said, I was middle of the pack my whole career. I never aspired to get promoted, but over the years I noticed Dan promote all sorts of people around me. For those who clearly did more and better work, it made perfect sense. There have been some total losers in my department over the years, though, and seeing them get promoted was kind of funny. Like I said I wasn’t ambitious, just did my job, so I didn’t resent those employees who weren’t as good as me earning more.

What I did resent was getting blamed for their mistakes or being used as a scapegoat if our department didn’t secure as large a contract as we wanted. For example, our partnership with X brand might be for a whole year at a certain price, whereas our company wanted two years, at a higher price as some other departments got with their clients.
If I did something mostly on my own, Dan made sure credit was shared with the whole department. That’s cool. But if the entire team didn’t do so well, he’d single me out, or single out some other poor schmuck to take the rap for the whole thing.

Dan would then write an after-action report where that person got the lion’s share of the blame and eventually got fired. Whether our team exceeded its goal or not, Dan would make sure he and his favorites got fat bonuses.

One thing Dan believed in was going out on team building lunches. At these lunches, the team made sure to be on our guard. Only one drink apiece, watch your tongue, that sort of thing. But Dan would always get roaring drunk and would say all kinds of non PC stuff. Dan’s favorite thing was guy jokes. I mean, guy humor. The other two girls in our department seemed to like that sort of thing and didn’t mind.

I minded but kept my big mouth shut because I didn’t want to cause trouble.
Well, eventually a friend of mine from another department came to me and he told me that he overheard Dan and his (my friend’s) supervisor talking about who was on the chopping block next. Evidently my friend was about to get fired, and I was about to get fired, too. My friend tells me he heard Dan saying that he would fire me after I made sure to make him look good at the next presentation we were making for a prospective client: a huge brand from Asia.

The presentation would be in a month. My firing would be a week after that, and then Dan would hire a friend of his, just out of college to take my place.
I trust this friend because he’s been with the company as long as me, and we bonded early over our love for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I geek out over that show, even though it’s slightly before my time. We’d talk all the time about how hot some of the guys on that show were. Well anyway, until my firing, I was to continue slaving away collating marketing reports, wining and dining the clients, being charming, and prepping Dan’s powerpoint presentation to the clients.

I have a good friend in HR, and on a lunch date a few days later she told me that it was true, I was one of the names submitted by Dan for the termination in the near future. She swore me to secrecy and I promised I wouldn’t say a word, but I also made her promise she wouldn’t say a word about what I was planning. I remember how much of a jerk Dan was in that he wouldn’t even let me take my two weeks off to get married two years ago, even though I requested it several months in advance, without making me feel like a lazy jerk.

Meanwhile, he’d sign off on his buddies’ vacation requests without batting an eye, even if they’d come to him last minute. He’s always been a jerk to me, and part of me suspects it might be because I never took him up on his offer to take me out after work or chat me up on a personal level from years ago before I got married.
I had just realized I was pregnant with my first child and I dreaded eventually having to ask Dan for my maternity leave. This job really wasn’t making me a happy person anyway, and my husband makes a fine salary and has always told me it’s perfectly fine for me to take time off to be a stay at home mom for a few years, or even permanently if I want.

Well, I’ve always done my job effectively, done well on performance reviews. Never off the charts good, but always well above ‘effective’ rating, even when Dan the failed tight end was reviewing me (he had to play nice because an HR rep would be in the room).
Growing up with two a-hole brothers who are now wonderful people (one teaches high school English, and the other is a chemist), I knew a lot about the classic mousetrap stinkbomb trick. Where, you superglue a stink bomb ampule to the cheese area of a mousetrap, and set the mousetrap so that when the trap is triggered, it crushes the ampule and releases the fart and rotten egg smell.

You glue the mousetrap itself to the bottom of a small, oblong box, usually a shoebox. The trap is glued on one end of the box’s inside. on the other side, you put a tennis ball, then you seal the box. You make sure that for storage, the ball stands in a tall way, with the ball on the bottom, and the trap on the top. When you’re ready to use the stink bomb, you lay the box gently the long way, so that the ball gently rolls along the bottom of the box, near the mousetrap. The idea is that if the box is jarred, the ball will move around, trigger the trap, and then you get the stink bomb smell.

My brother told me it’s usually for putting in people’s cars. That once the car started moving, the natural momentum would spring the trap. My plan didn’t involve cars, but the trap would still be fine.
I decided that I would ruin Dan’s presentation with a stink bomb. That would be annoying, but it wouldn’t really be revenge for seven years of him treating me like crap and making me do all this work that ultimately he took credit for, and gave himself raises for. So, for the next four weeks, three times a week Dan and our entire team would be that obnoxious group of office workers you see at Chili’s or Red Robin or whatever mid-price, sit down restaurant you have near you that’s a step up from Denny’s.

Per usual, Dan would talk about what losers people in other departments were, how the company was nothing without him, how the boss’s new wife was hotter than the previous wife, and how he banged both. We all knew he was just messing around and just bro-talking.
Whatever he was doing with all his drunk talk, I thought maybe upper management would be a better judge than me. I thought of just emailing the best audio files to them. I didn’t mention before, but I had gotten into a habit these last few weeks of quietly hitting ‘record audio’ whenever Dan decided to tell off-color jokes, sex jokes, or make fun of differences between Black and White people, how ‘funny’ it sounds when Asian people speak English, and so on.

My friend from another department who was also on the verge of getting fired helped me change a lot of the audio files on Dan’s upcoming video presentation to his most classic sounding sound bites of making fun of Asian people, Black people, telling sex jokes. The visuals stayed the same, but the audio track was completely changed. Officially, Dan’s dull-witted friend was in charge of creating the presentation, and he and Dan would take credit for the whole thing.
The reality was that I was supposed to create the whole thing, make it a smash hit, and get fired without getting any credit for it.

Every day, I was supposed to submit my work to Dan and his friend, and they were supposed to give their okay on my work. But over time they realized I produced good work and they didn’t even bother checking what I was doing. They did, however, send THEIR confirmation to their bosses that they were completing their presentation. Since they didn’t want to share credit with me, they excluded my name from their reports.
Our presentation room for the client is about the size of a classroom. It’s basically like a private theater in a mansion. Our clients were about a dozen Japanese men.

There is a movie screen on one end, with a podium beside it. Dan was supposed to make a speech at the podium, then show how approachable and cool he is by pacing up and down the stage in front of the screen to really sell our agency’s services, and then take a seat while the video climaxes the show. The video is projected from behind a glass room, like a movie theater in back, and a projector is connected to a laptop beside it. The projector shows its image through a glass window.
That projector room has one door accessible from inside the theater, and it has a deadbolt lock, though it’s never locked.

Another door leads to the rest of the building. We are on the eighth floor. Only the custodian has the key.

Dan had a remote control where he would click a button and the presentation would start. Without Dan knowing, I had had the projector changed to a different model that wouldn’t read his remote, but the remote I was holding. There were like five different projectors available on the projector room.
The plan was supposed to be that Dan would press his button, the video would play its three-minute length, and that would end our pitch to the client.
My plan was that I would press my own remote at the same time as Dan.

Well, Dan goes through his nauseating presentation, really kissing a lot of butts, and the clients are watching him speak. He finishes his pitch, and then, on cue, presses his button. As planned, I press MY button. Oh, I ought to have mentioned before, but I had gotten my hands on a copy of the custodian’s key without anyone’s knowledge, and I deadbolted the projection room door. The first minute of the presentation goes as planned, the correct audio playing about how our company is so wonderful yadda yadda yadda. Dan is lulled into security and relaxes at his seat. Then the fun part of the audio starts where Dan tells a lot of racist jokes, makes fun of how Asians talk, how he screwed the boss’ wife, how the company was worthless and how he was the best employee.

Dan PANICKED. Practically screaming, he runs to the projection room only to find it… LOCKED! LOL. The whole team, especially Dan and the doofus who claimed credit for my presentation are wondering what to do. They are trying to usher our Asian guests out of the room, but oh, no no! They find it fascinating! LMAO.

Just when things couldn’t seem to get any worse, I open my briefcase and take out my stink bomb that I’ve been carefully carrying like a Faberge egg. I made sure not to actually set the mousetrap until I was in the room earlier during the meeting.

While Dan was droning on, I opened the box in the darkened room, pulled back the mousetrap, closed the box, and waited.
Now was my chance. With Dan and his crash test dummy friend now screaming for something heavy to break the projection room window, I kick the box down the slanted theater floor. Only seconds later, the entire room fills with a horrible stench of fart and eggs. The video’s over, anyway, and everyone rushes out of the room during the confusion. But not before Dan threw a chair through the window and broke a $4,000 company laptop. Understandably, everyone in the office was wondering what the hell happened in the conference theater.

The Japanese businessmen were livid and complaining to the big boss about having their time wasted by a recording of Dan being racist toward them and bragging about how he had sex with the boss’ wife. They then left and took their business elsewhere. Dan was immediately called in, together with his underling.
In the presence of an HR rep, they of course instantly tried to blame me for the whole fiasco. The boss then asked them, according to my HR friend, why are you trying to pin this on OP? Every day for the last three weeks, you and [crash test dummy minion] have submitted reports saying only YOU two were working on the video presentation that was supposed to cap off the show.

Are you admitting to fraud? Needless to say, both of those losers were fired.

One by one, my whole department was called into the HR office with the main boss to be interviewed separately. Including me, of course. We all said we had no idea what all of that was about. Everyone admitted that the audio recordings (which survived the broken laptop screen) were genuine, but no one could place who recorded them. All we knew was that one of us did it. The thirteen of us who remained (ten guys, three women) were in a group interview with the boss, and he thanked us for exposing Dan and his main underling.

He told us that he wished we did it in a more constructive way, but that it was a positive thing that Dan was exposed for costing the company business. We were all to be given raises.
In the general aftermath of everything, no one really asked about the stink bomb. The custodian simply cleaned up a discarded box later that day and no one mentioned it. Custodian’s cool and knows how to not be a narc. He took back his key no questions asked. I really think the stink bomb wasn’t necessary to get Dan fired. I just thought it would make his destruction more LOL.

My new supervisor is a much nicer guy. He hired my friend from the other department to join his, after I resigned.
HR told me that if I let them lay me off, I could collect six months of unemployment. I took it because I don’t think I’ll work in that field again. But in case I do, I got letters of recommendation from the boss and new supervisor. Dan, of course, knew it was me who sabotaged his career. He has seen me around town before and knows I go to this cafe not far from where I live.
One day, about three months after it happened, he saw me sitting at a table alone.

He came up to me, looking like his failed jock self, and said, ‘You think you’re pretty smart don’t you, you effing B?’ Then he started to approach me like he was going to use his physicality to intimidate me. There were lots of witnesses, mostly elderly.
Lucky for me, my husband came out of the bathroom just in time to see another man looking like he was threatening me. Happy ending. Dan had a broken nose.
No, I’m not going to press charges, officer. 200-foot restraining order? Yes. Seven senior citizens stayed behind to tell the police a husband (himself a former football jock, but now a quiet research scientist) was defending his wife.

Give it up, Dan. You lose!” DressOfOphelia
8. Make Me Work Multiple Jobs Then Try To Fire Me? You Really Don’t Know What You Had Until It’s Gone

“I used to work for a manufacturing company who makes waste containers, dumpsters and such, and at first it was a good job with a good manager and no problems. I enjoyed the work, it was a dirty, physically demanding job but kept me in good shape, I could just put in my earbuds and cruise through the day without any issues. 
My initial job was to prep the units for painting by polishing imperfections with a sander and grinding down the areas that were too rough, as well as cleaning them up after the welders were done with them, but after a while they kept laying off so many people and dumping their jobs on me that eventually towards the end of my time there, I was quality control, helped the painter, was a warehouseman, finisher, grinder and also janitor.

Oh and for no additional pay beyond the small cost of living raises we got once in a while. After about a year of working for this company (prior to having all these jobs dumped on me) without any issues, new management showed up, and as they like to do, they started making all kinds of changes just for the sake of making changes, things that made jobs harder with no benefit, cutting corners that should not be cut and generally hurting productivity and workplace safety.

The change in management was bad, but it was not the end of the world. It made things harder for no real reason but all in all, things were still manageable – until I ended up off work for about a month with a collapsed lung that I still, to this day, believe was caused by working conditions there and lack of ventilation and PPE.

When I came back to work, I was on light duty for quite some time since I had a surgery to repair the lung and prevent it from collapsing again. I went from the golden boy who they called on when the sh*t had to get done to the redheaded stepchild of the company, and management was doing everything they could to get me to quit.

 They would throw my tools away, hide my stools so I couldn’t use them while I was working, hassle me over things like my earbuds citing ‘safety’ as to why I couldn’t use them, even though OSHA themselves told me it was not an issue.

The production manager would lie about things and write me up for non-existent violations, refused to fix my bay doors that had been crashed into by forklifts numerous times that had to be closed and opened with a crowbar by 2 people since the track was mangled.

 Other things include the company giving everybody in the plant raises except for me, catching me 5 minutes before leaving work to go on my weekend and ‘informing me’ that we had to work the next day and selectively enforcing safety rules, and even making rules up on the fly. After about 6 months, I had had enough and decided that if they want to constantly cite policy and safety rules to f*ck with me, then I could play that game too.

I would make this manufacturing plant the safest company on the planet and ensure the policy was followed to the exact letter. This was now my mission.
I began to slow my work WAY down and only do the jobs I was hired and paid to do. Instead of doing the workload of 10 employees with nothing in return, they now got exactly 1 person’s worth of labor out of me. Customers orders began stacking up, deliveries were late, bad welds and welds that got missed during production were overlooked causing the units to have to be repainted when they had to go back to the welding lines to be fixed.

The warehouse became a wreck with containers backed up to the point that people did not even have room to work. I went from completing a large unit it 30 minutes to it taking me 2 and a half hours on the same one, not to mention all the repairs that needed to be done that were missed during production, when before I would have caught them before the units even left the production line.
Other petty things I did included not showing on Saturday to work when the manager would catch me at the last second and tell me I had to.

I took to cutting out the text in the employee handbook citing that working unscheduled hours required management to notify you 3 days in advance and leaving a letter with that portion of the handbook on his desk the following Monday. There was nothing they could do since I was following the handbook to the letter. At this point, it was a game of who would blink first. They could lay me off and I could draw unemployment on them, or I would quit.
Next on the list was safety. They liked to hassle me so much about trivial things that I figured they would appreciate me going through the plant and documenting every single last OSHA violation, safety violation and anything else that was not right.

I had a notebook that was FILLED with violations from one end of the plant to another, things like crane lifts that were being used improperly with J hooks that OSHA previously warned the company about, the same J hooks they liked to hide every time OSHA came through the plant. Welders that had frayed cords around puddles of water, tools being left on top of units that could fall off and hit someone, lack of ventilation, particle counts that were too high, forklifts that were not serviced enough, I tagged out equipment that technically shouldn’t be used in its current state, and locked out the forklifts that needed brakes or any sort of maintenance.

Eventually, the production manager took the bait and untagged one of the forklifts I had locked out due to having bad brakes. Anybody who knows the lockout procedure can understand what a massive f*ckup that is.

Once I compiled my list of improvements, I went to the government official who was overseeing safety and procedure since we often worked on government orders. I gave him my notebook, informed him of my manager taking the lockout off a defective forklift, then went on break and waited.
 About 30 minutes later, I saw my manager walking back from the head office and looking p*ssed beyond belief.

Later, I heard from someone who knows him that he got punished severely, especially for the forklift. From then on, he avoided me and wouldn’t even speak to me or look at me. After that, I continued to slow my work pace down and got a bit of satisfaction each day from the complete sh*tshow the place had become and how backed up it was every single day.
 After I left the company, I heard they hired 5 guys to do my job and that they still did a sh*t job at it. Had they treated me better instead of coming at me as they did, they would have been still getting the top quality of work from me that they got when I first joined them, and things would have gone along just fine.

I can’t even imagine how much money I must have cost that company by sticking to the exact letter of the rules.
”  TheBadGuyBelow
7. Accuse Me Of Stealing Merchandise? I’d Rather Steal Your Business Instead

“My nephew, Bob, had a job selling cell phones at a store in a mall. The store was owned by a licensed distributor of one of the big-name brands. He was very good at convincing customers to buy calling plans, extended warranties, and accessories that were obscenely profitable. Pretty soon he was the #1 salesman in the store.
The owners asked him to transfer to their other store in a different mall, replacing the assistant manager who they had just fired.

In addition to an increase in his base pay, he’d get a cut of every sale made while he was in charge.
It took him about 2 days to figure out why sales were down. Clueless sales reps and lousy management. The manager would disappear for hours at a time leaving the sales reps to sit around ignoring customers. Most of them would show up late, leave early or not bother coming in at all. And when they did speak to a customer, they had no idea how to make a sale. On his first day, he outsold them all. After making sure the guys on his shift were actually doing their jobs, especially when it came to selling the high-profit add-ons, the store’s sales improved.

The store manager saw what was happening and wasn’t too happy. He knew it was a matter of time before he was kicked out and Bob took his job.
One day they received a shipment of new phones. As usual, Bob signed for them and locked them in a storage closet. The next day was his day off. The manager called and insisted he come in immediately because there was a problem. Overnight, someone had broken into the store and stolen about a hundred of these brand new phones. The mall security camera showed two people driving up to the back door, opening it with a key, shutting off the alarm and walking out with the phones.

The police were called.

Bob was grilled by the police for a couple of hours but they had no evidence against him and he had an alibi. But the manager convinced the owners that Bob was probably involved since he had signed for the phones, had keys to the door and storage closet and knew the alarm code. Bob argued that they hadn’t changed the locks or code after they fired the previous assistant manager and anyone could know about the shipment. But he was fired – actually they allowed him to resign. And they stiffed him on his last commission check.

At the other end of the mall was a store that sold phones for one of the competing cell companies. They knew that since Bob had joined that other store this store’s sales were suffering. They hired him on the spot.

Sales improved overnight. One of his favorite tricks was to stand in front of the store and wait for a customer to walk by carrying a shopping bag from his first store. He’d chat them up about their brand new phone, calling plan, warranty, etc. (It’s amazing how much the average mall shopper is willing to share with a stranger).
Then he’d tell them that they probably didn’t need the extended warranty and those accessories could be purchased at Walmart for about half the price.

And he could sell them the exact phone with a better plan for less money. If they agreed he would walk them back to that other store and tell the clueless sales rep how to void that sale he just made, then bring the customer back to his new store to pick up their new phone. It took about 3 months before that other store closed its doors.” CountMountjoy

6. Take Advantage Of Me? I’ll Show The World Your True Colors

“I have had migraines since I was 3 or 4. Sometimes they start slow and sometimes they hit like a hammer. I can be instantly unable to function if they hit quickly.

In college, this could be a huge problem. The only available medications just knocked you out so you didn’t care that you hurt and wanted to vomit. My freshman year (1987), I was at a party for my roommate’s boyfriend’s birthday. I had never had champagne and didn’t know it was a migraine trigger. I took a sip or two of champagne and instantly got a migraine. We were at someone’s house about 20 minutes away from the dorm. My roommate didn’t want to leave the party so she arranged for a guy she knew to drive me home. She had no idea what he was really like.

She just knew him from a few parties.
On the drive that I thought was to my dorm, this guy pulls over on the side of the road in an undeveloped area. No one was around. He sexually assaulted me and left me on the side of the road. I didn’t even know where I was, much less how to get back to the dorm or to a hospital. After a while, some lady found me curled up on the side of the road. She thought I was dead. Cell phones were not a thing, so she half lifted me into her car, wrote down where she found me and drove me to the nearest hospital.

I could barely speak enough to tell the hospital people my name. I was beaten black and blue by this guy. The hospital knocked me out for about 8 hours with pain meds and muscle relaxers, once they were sure I didn’t have a head injury. He only hit me in places that it would not show.
My roommate didn’t get home until about a day after I did. She was staying at her boyfriend’s dorm room. She probably wouldn’t have come home as early as she did but her parents called at the same time every weekend and she HAD to be home for that.

She was shocked when she saw how beat up I looked. I asked her how she knew that guy and learned she didn’t really, he was just at a party now and then. I wasn’t happy with the situation, or that she let some creep she barely knew to drive me somewhere. She felt really guilty, but guys don’t advertise that they like to take advantage of girls. She did have some information on the guy. He didn’t live in our city but instead went to a really Christian school with a great law school. He was in law school and was visiting for the party.

His dad was a really well-known lawyer for a televangelist’s church. That was the beginning of what I learned about him. Remember, the Internet was in its’ infancy and social media did not exist.
I called some other people who knew him from the party and got some information from them. I got his girlfriend’s name. Then I went to the library and learned about this girlfriend, the church, the law school, the college he was at, etc…. I had photos from the hospital. I had declined to press charges because even then I knew that it would be hard to prove.

Even with all the bruises. It would be my word against his. He was from ‘a good family’ and went to a Christian college and law school. My family was not prominent, and I was wearing a miniskirt that night. At the time, it was normal for lawyers to smear victims based on what they wore, if they had a drink (especially if they were under 21), etc… I didn’t want to have to deal with all of that. I just wanted to ruin his life without having it ruin mine.
I got phone numbers for the Dean of his Law school, the head of the college overall, for his father, for his girlfriend, and for the person who owned his apartment complex.

He lived in some fancy apartment owned by a guy who was a big donor to the college. It was for people getting Master’s or law degrees or medical degrees after they already had bachelor degrees. The apartments were given out as a type of scholarship to the school, and they were supposed to be really nice (I never went there, so I don’t know firsthand what they are like, but I heard about them from this guy’s friends). I wrote some letters, including tear stains that made some of the writing blur a bit. I included copies of the photos of my bruises.

I said that I didn’t want to press charges because I knew it would be an embarrassment to the college/law school/televangelist/his parents (whichever one fit the person I was writing to). I just thought they ought to know because he could harm a member of their family/congregation/school. He could also be a HUGE publicity nightmare if he did this to someone else and I didn’t want that because I believed in their message (sent to the church and the school). I called the girlfriend (her number was in the phone book) and told her that her boyfriend sexually assaulted and beat me.

She cried, and said he had beaten her too, but she thought it was her fault. I told her the violation was not my fault, I was trying not to puke when he attacked me. I told her to stop seeing him and have nothing to do with him if he treated her that way. She said that her family would be upset as he was from such a good family and he was so well thought of at the law school. I didn’t tell her that I was working on ruining that for him.
I sat back and waited for things to happen after I mailed the letters.

His family was shocked but not surprised. They wrote me an apology, saying he had been in trouble before but they thought he had gotten better after the church intervened in his life. Apparently, he hadn’t and they were cutting ties to him. The man who owned the apartments actually called me. He wanted to hear what happened from me so he could figure out if I was telling the truth. So I told him what happened and why I didn’t press charges. He believed me and started eviction proceedings. A representative from the church called me to ask me to stop telling lies about the guy.

I told them that they shouldn’t protect someone like him and to ask girls he dated how he behaved because his girlfriend told me that he beat her when he got angry. They were shocked. I never heard from the college, but the Dean of the law school called me. He asked if I told the truth and assured him that I had. DNA wasn’t commonly used (it was 1st used in a criminal case that year), so it was my word vs. his word. Just the accusation was enough to have the guy kicked out of law school, especially with the photos of my bruises and the tear stains on my letters (which was the reason I wrote them out by hand and let myself cry while I wrote them).

Apparently, those accepted to that law school should be above reproach. I don’t know if they would have handled it the same way if I tried to prosecute the guy, but since I ‘was trying to keep it quiet so I didn’t harm the school’s reputation,’ it meant I was a good Christian girl who could be believed.
I was actually surprised that the letters had so much success. I expected his father to send a letter telling me to stop slandering/libeling his son. The letter saying they were cutting all ties to him was a surprise, but a good one. Sadly, it indicated that I was probably not the 1st to accuse him.

About a year later I found out he was working for a company installing carpet in homes. I called that company and told them that they were sending a bad person into people’s homes. I even offered to send photos of the bruises if they wanted them. The woman that I spoke to was horrified. Just the idea that he had been accused, and that I cared enough to call when I learned he was going into people’s homes was enough for her. I learned that not only did the company fire him, but they also called other companies and told them what a liability he would be if they hired him.

He had started to drink heavily by that point, at least according to the friends who knew him at my school.
I went on with my life, got therapy to help me cope, eventually got married and have had almost 30 years with an amazing husband. I don’t know what happened to this guy, but I know he never became a lawyer (his dream). I know that I made his life a LOT harder. I did google him a few years ago. He has had many arrests and has spent quite a few years behind bars. I like to think that by getting him kicked out of law school and getting his family to understand that he was very much un-reformed, I helped speed him into the defendant’s chair in a courtroom.” Zeldaspellfactory
5. Give Me A Hard Time? I’ve Got Lots Of Tricks Up My Sleeve

“This one took place back in 2002.

I had been an Over The Road truck driver and engaged for a year. I thought I would try to get a local job so I could be home every night with my soon-to-be wife. The wedding was only a few months away. She lived in a pretty small town. There wasn’t much in the way of local truck driving jobs except for oil field or hauling dirt. I did find a dirt hauling company that was hiring.

The supervisor was a pr*ck from the very beginning of the interview. He informed me that payment was $9/hr, and that’s it. No raises, no benefits, even if you work there for over 20 yrs.

Well, I decided to just go on and accept it as I knew that after we got married, my wife would be moving back to her hometown to accept a job, and there was plenty of driving jobs there.
My first day of work, the super-pr*ck has me fill out the paperwork, and tries to force me to sign a waiver to decline Worker’s Compensation should I get injured. He ‘promised’ their insurance was far better, but I had already learned about many of those scams and refused to sign it. This utterly p*ssed him off (a telltale sign that they are trying to screw you).

So, I have to train with another driver for a week before getting assigned to my own truck, which is good so I can learn the routes and roads. I hear him tell the trainer to nit-pick everything as he doesn’t want me on the crew. Unfortunately for him, everything I do is to perfection. The only complaint the trainer had was I tended to ride the clutch a little hard when taking off on the first day (was trying to get used to the extra heavy loads and very sensitive clutch), otherwise, I floated gears like a 50 yr pro vet.

So, I finish the week and get assigned my own truck. I do my pre-trip safety inspection as required by DOT regulations, and I noticed one of the steer tires is almost to legal wear.

Me: ‘Hey boss, Unit 12 Left steer is almost to regs. It’s at 5/16.”‘
Bossman: ‘Sounds to me like you just don’t want to work.’
Me: ‘No, it’s legal for now; just informing you that it’s going to need to be replaced real soon.’
Bossman: ‘Are you fu–ing stupid? I just replaced both of those steers 2 months ago. Now get in the truck, or clock out and go home.’
Me: ‘I will drive it until it is illegal or unsafe to do so.

But if I get fined, I have enough witnesses here, right now, to put right it back on you.’ I got in the truck and went to work. Bossman was peeved. But, two days later, I noticed a new set of steer tires during my daily inspection.
The next week, Bossman informs me that we are on nights for the next few days:
Bossman: ‘When on the ranch land, watch your speed. If you hit and kill one of the landowner’s $45.000 prize-winning steers that he makes $20,000 when breeding, I’ll run your ass off and you lose your pay.’
I bust out laughing – HARD.

This p*sses him off.
Bossman: ‘What the Fu– you laughing at? You don’t think I’m serious? Get your sh*t and get out.’
Me: ‘Is that what the landowner told you? Does he breed his prize-winning steer for $20k a pop? And you believe him?’
Bossman: ‘Yeah.’
I was nearly on the ground laughing so hard.
Bossman: ‘The fu–‘s your problem. Fine – go home.’
Me: ‘Sorry, I meant no disrespect. It’s just that, I imagine that you’re from up north, right? From the city?’ I could tell from day one from his fake southern accent, but I kept quiet about it.
Bossman: ‘Yeah, what of it?’
Me: ‘Well, I’m a city boy as well, but even I know that a steer is a castrated bull.

While it’s true that a prize-winning steer can be worth tens of thousands of dollars, they can not be bred. Ask anyone here, they’ll confirm it.’
Trainer: ‘Yes sir, it’s true. A steer is a bull with no balls.’ My trainer just happened to walk by when he heard me laughing so hard.
Boss turned white. ‘Don’t matter. Watch your speed or you’re down the road.’
The second weekends and the third begins. About the 3rd day, another truck breaks down, so the Bossman decides to have me give my truck to the other driver and ride with my trainer again. For some reason, Bossman decides he wants this to be my last day, but he can’t due to no reason.

So, he makes something up, only to have it backfire on him. At the end of the day, he’s waiting for us at the yard when we pull in and get parked. I head to the office to get my check for the first two weeks, and he’s waiting for me outside.
Bossman: ‘You done f—ed up today, boy. You almost got someone killed.’
Me: ‘Really. Please, do tell.’
Bossman: ‘I received a call from a man who said that you cut him off and ran him off the road. He gave your truck and trailer numbers and identified you as the driver by the cap that you wear.’
Me: I smiled.

‘Really. About what time did this incident happen?’
Bossman: ‘Why’re you smiling. You nearly killed a man. I’m letting you go right now. You’re an unsafe driver.’
Me: ‘No, first you need to answer my question.’
Bossman: ‘What does it matter? I don’t have to answer you. You’re fired.’
Me: ‘No, you do need to answer. Remember, there were two drivers in that truck today.’ Just then Trainer walked up. ‘And FYI, I know that I didn’t cut off anyone one today, as I did not drive at all. I can also vouch that Trainer did not cut anyone one-off, nor ran anyone off of the road.

So, either: 1, the guy misread the numbers of the truck and trailer and identity of the driver; 2, is lying, or 3, you’re the one lying because you have been trying to find fault in everything I do and run me off since day one when I refused to sign the waiver for Workman’s Comp.’
Bossman: ‘Fu– you, you little fu–.’
Trainer: ‘He’s right. I drove all day, and don’t recall any incidents or near misses. You know I’d have called as per policy.’
Bossman: ‘Well, alright. I guess you still have your job. But know, I’m keeping a real close eye on you.’
Me: ‘Thank you, and I don’t doubt it.

My butthole has already been feeling your nose hairs tickling it since day one.’
I opened my check and looked at it as Bossman began to walk away fuming.
Me: ‘Wait a minute. There’s a $59 deduction on here for insurance. We don’t have benefits, remember?’
Bossman: ‘That’s for the insurance against injury, remember?’
Me: ‘You mean the one I declined and refused to waive the Worker’s Comp for.’
Bossman: ‘Yeah. It’s mandatory.’
Me: ‘I see. So it’s deducted whether I sign up for it or not.’
Bossman: ‘Yep. Don’t like it? Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.’
Me: ‘That’s illegal.’
Bossman: ‘No it ain’t.

Now get the fu– off my property.’
I decided to end it right there, as there is no point in arguing with a spoiled child. It’s best to be the better man and walk-off… Yeah, right!

Now for the ProRevenge:
It turns out that the Captain for the TX Dept. of Public Safety (Department of Transportation for you truck drivers, or state trooper for everyone else) of the precinct just happened to live about 4 houses down from the apartments that my fiancee lived. He just so happened to find an anonymous note on his windshield the next morning. The very next morning, there were 5 state troopers with all 15 of the company’s trucks pulled over on the side of the highway right in front of the company, being thoroughly inspected (I was parked on the shoulder in my car across the highway watching it all unfold while sipping my coffee).

Of the 15 trucks, 11 of them were shut down for safety violations. Thousands of dollars in fines were written and the Boss plus two other drivers were taken to jail for warrants. Boss also had an expired Commercial Driver’s License (He was forced to drive since I didn’t show up for work that morning).
As you can imagine, Bossman lost his job. I had moved to my fiancee’s home town and got a job in the oilfield driving tanker trucks. I heard that Trainer got the Bossman’s job. And everyone lived happily ever after. Well, maybe not Bossman, as he also popped positive on a drug test… As to why I was a jack-hole to Bossman, I just needed to let Bossman know that I wasn’t a pushover and that I wouldn’t drink his Kool-Aid.

I’m normally a nice guy, even to those who are jack-holes to me. I was nice at first until he pushed me too hard.
I did tell my trainer that I was behind the State Trooper attack, and he thanked me. He told me that most of the other drivers wanted to thank me as well. Some were worried about the safety of the equipment as they had been told off for reporting things as well. Many were brand new to truck driving and got their license through the company.

They said that through me, they learned that they did have rights and that it was okay to stand up for them.

They had been suspicious of the waiver but feared to decline it. All but 2 immediately had pulled their worker’s comp waivers and due to that, one driver was saved. She was involved in a bad accident about a month later and wound up on permanent disability. Had she stayed with the company’s insurance, she would have been screwed, as they did not offer long term, let alone, lifetime disability benefits, and she had learned that most of her medical claims would have been denied.” SkidmarkSmellybum
4. Don’t Want To Let Me Work In Peace? I’ll Foil Your Life Plans

“I worked at a popular, high-end clothing store while I was in graduate school (I’m an engineer).

I won’t name the brand, but it’s the sort that charges $50 for a pair of male boxer briefs, $200 for a lady’s fancy bra, $400 or more for a pair of jeans, $1,000 or more for those skinny suits that hip guys wear to their job, where the hems of their pants reveal that they’re wearing loafers without socks.

The clothes there weren’t really my style but the starting pay was two dollars higher than minimum wage and higher than most of the other, surrounding stores. This was at a rich people shopping center, where lots of people who shop there are wannabe celebrities and constant selfie-takers.

I was surprised to get hired there but was relieved that I wouldn’t have to really do customer service, as I worked only in the stock room. I’d put out clothes on the shelves and racks before and after closing, and also arrange everything in the back to make it organized. I was also trained so that in emergency situations I could cover register if we were short-handed so that the regular associates could go on break.
I was hardly seen by customers, but I still had to wear the clothes the store sold, to promote the image of the company. I didn’t, thankfully, have to wear the dainty little suits, but I did sport the jeans and other casual things we sold.

It was a job. I didn’t love it and I didn’t hate it. I just worked, took my pay, went to school, and went home. At least that’s the way it was for two months.

After those two months, “Jessica” began to work during the same hours as me. She was about my age (I was 22), no more than maybe twenty-five, tops. She didn’t work in the stock room (it was just me back there, with one or two other college guys), but worked the front. She wasn’t the manager or even a supervisor, but she SWORE she was in charge of me.

She made it known to everyone, even customers, that she graduated with an associates degree in fashion marketing from FIDM. I suppose it’s a big deal but I was thinking girl if you’re a college graduate why are you bragging about it as if it has something to do with you folding jeans and ringing people up at the register? She talked like she was fashion expert and in the ‘fashion industry,’ and would talk about the New York or Paris fashion weeks in a familiar way that implied that she just got off the plane after attending these events personally.

You know the type, the kind that talks about famous fashion designers by their first name as if they knew them.
Well, she always criticized the way I wore the jeans because I didn’t tuck in my T-shirt like the mannequin, or that I work Chuck Taylors on my feet instead of the little leather Sperry Topsiders knockoffs we sold for $300.

We were given a clothing allowance as employees. As a stock person, I was allowed three complete outfits for free, everything from tops to underwear, to socks, and pants (but no shoes). If I wanted more and it was specifically for wearing at the store, I could mark it as a ‘uniform purchase’ and have the price deducted from my check a little at a time.

This was advantageous because they wouldn’t charge you tax for them, and charge you only a third of the retail price. Uniform Purchase was distinctly separate from ‘Store Discount,’ for which we also received a percentage off, but it wasn’t the incredible 66% discount we got for uniform purchases.
Jessica would snicker at me when I took over register for someone, shake her head or roll her eyes at me as if I looked really ugly. I’m always thinking, whatever girl, you wannabe model you aren’t even hot and you’re not the boss, who are you? But I held my tongue.

She’d also complain if I was supposedly not fast enough in grabbing a size medium from the back because a customer is requesting the dress and all we have on the floor are smalls and larges.

She’d trash me to the customer and when I showed up would sarcastically say ‘finally!’ and turn to the customer with a ‘see what I have to put up with?’ expression. She was especially mean if any customers got chatty with me and treated me with respect. And if those customers were female and were getting flirty with me, Jessica would be a total jerk.
The real manager, Paula (about thirty-five), had their own issues to deal with beyond petty bickering between a stockboy and an entry-level sales associate with delusions of ‘Project Runway’ grandeur. The assistant manager, another fashion industry wannabe named ‘Heather,’ was just like Jessica, but thankfully I hardly interacted with her.

According to my coworkers, Heather was just as bad as Jessica. Except, Heather had keyholder privileges which meant she was one step above being just as worthless as the rest of us. She looked to be in her late twenties.

Even though I didn’t plan on making this store my career, and even though Jessica didn’t bother me THAT much, I thought it won’t hurt to get this b*tch fired.
To her face, I’d just smile and act like I was following her orders happily, or didn’t mind when she would point at me rudely, or snap her fingers at me like she was calling a dog.

Jessica would always hear a directive from one of the managers, and then go around telling the other employees what to do, as if they didn’t have ears. She’d try to act as if it was HER directive. LOL.

Her coworkers who were the same ‘rank’  as her would sometimes vent to me about how Jessica acted like she was in charge when in some cases she had even less time in the company than other employees on the floor. I noticed that when I arranged clothes in back especially big-ticket, desirable clothes that were seen in magazines in our company’s advertisement campaigns, she’d ‘order’ me to set aside things in her size.

I’d do it because it’s my job to set aside things if employees want to buy them outright at a discount or put it as a uniform purchase. Whenever an employee was on the register (really, a big Ipad with a cash drawer beneath), you could tap in a code and the register would show a rundown of every non-customer transaction that employees performed that day, and with a few more keystrokes, their transactions over MANY days. The managers knew this code, of course, and I’ll assume Jessica knew the code too because Heather shared the code with her.

The code pretty much unlocked all the register’s managerial functions.

I WASN’T supposed to know the code, but I did, because there’s a mirror on the wall behind the register, and I was re-stocking paper handbags behind Heather when I saw her tap in her four-digit code. She assumed I was stupid and didn’t understand the incredibly complex wizardry that is a two-year-old, low-end spec Ipad.
I knew Jessica was getting rung up for ‘uniform purchases’ when she should have been getting rung up for the regular employee discount. She assumed that when I set aside all those expensive items for her, that I was too dumb to know what she was doing, just because I might have something of a mouth breather countenance, unfortunately.

Even if I look on the surface like a fugitive from the trailer park, something told me Jessica wasn’t going to be using $800 heels, a $500 dress, and $1200 motorcycle jacket while working at the store.

And anyway, I asked around. No one saw Jessica wearing any of the truly fancy clothes she bought at our store at what the other employees assumed was simply a regular employee discount. I thought maybe she was being honest, too. It WAS possible, after all, because I didn’t always work with her. Maybe she wore evening dresses to work on her other shifts? Whatever, I decided to make sure.

One time when everyone was busy doing other stuff and the store had to resort to putting me on the register, I typed in Heather’s code and pulled up Jessica’s purchases. As I suspected, she had bought thousands of dollars worth of our store’s best items but put them all as ‘uniform purchases’ and not at her regular discount.
So I swiped ‘print’ and the register switches from the regular tape to the 8.5″x11″ printer beneath the counter, and a complete rundown of all of Jessica’s purchases come out. I highlight all the most expensive items that she was charged for ‘uniform purchase’ (such as, her $1200 jacket would only be $300, and even that was tax-free and she got to pay it little by little).

I knew that my manager, Paula, wasn’t exactly a nuclear physicist and she was more interested in moving up the chain of command so that she could have a job higher than store manager in the company. So as long as her store’s sales numbers looked good, she didn’t care what her assistant Heather did. Except, if it was a violation of company policy that might reflect badly on her. I knew Heather was in on Jessica’s scam because you’re not allowed to ring yourself up at the store, you have to have someone else do it, and none of the other associates would want to conspire with her for fear of getting fired or worse.

To make sure, I printed HEATHER’s purchase history too. I didn’t see Heather as often as I saw Jessica, but I could also see really glaring red flags on her purchase report. Like, she bought a $900 nightclub dress as a uniform purchase, which I’m quite sure she never wore to work. I did the same highlighting on suspicious items as I did with Jessica’s.

Then, because none of this was REALLY my business, I was just a part-time a*shole who worked in the stockroom, after all, I waited for the most fun opportunity to lower the boom. Jessica got on the little Bluetooth earpiece that she wears on the sales floor that she thinks makes her look like a VIP, and says, ‘OP, I’m going to need XXX in a size small, customer waiting, get the lead out.’ So I bring the item, and Jessica says I’m ‘not passing muster.’ I thought wow Jessica you sounded really 1940s there, you wannabe pinup girl LOL.

After the customer leaves, Jessica says, ‘I’m going to need you to go on a trash run and sweep out the receiving bay. And I need you to cover Annie’s lunch.’ I laugh and tell her, ‘Who died and made you supervisor, you f*cking burnout?’ She looks like she was the goddamned Crypt Keeper for a second and that she wanted to punch me, before she remembered that I’m 6’2″ and outweigh her by a hundred pounds.
She hisses, ‘You are SO fired, you f*cking geek. Heather’s going to hear about this.’
I tell her, ‘F*ck you, I’m going to lunch.’
And I clock out and leave.

When I come back, I see Jessica immediately get on her little earpiece.
Before I even reach the stock room, Heather is there, and the manager Paula intercepts me.
Paula says to a nearby worker, ‘Annie, can you cover register? We have an urgent matter to deal with.’

I know I’m supposed to be fired.
Which is why, during my lunch, I went to the copy place and made PDF scans of the printouts I made for Jessica and Heather. I had all the corporate bigshots’ emails. They were in the new hire handbook all of us get when we start working. I saved a draft to each but didn’t hit SEND yet.

I had the printouts as attachments. In the BODY of my email, I described exactly what had been going on. I did send ONE email. And that was to Paula the manager, herself. But I didn’t press SEND until we were on our way to the employee break room.
Paula tells me, ‘OP, Heather sent me a text that says you were verbally abusive to Jessica. Heather herself says that Jessica has complained to her on numerous occasions that you are a substandard employee, and only Heather’s own, personal kindness has prevented her, as your supervisor, from presenting your name to me for termination.

I came in myself, on my day off I might add, to see if you have anything to say in order to save your job.’

It’s been a couple of years so of course, that can’t be exactly what she said, but it was something typical and rehearsed and faux-professional that any low-level boss would say when trying to sound important. I said I didn’t have anything to say in my defense, and that in fact, I quit. Jessica and Heather looked surprised, but then Jessica started smiling. She had won, she thought.
Paula looked disappointed, and said, ‘I’m very sorry to hear you say that.

At least for me, you’ve always done your job well. You may collect your last–‘ ‘Oh, but before I go, I think you should look at these printouts. I know you don’t spend a lot of time studying this stuff, but I thought you might find it interesting. It’s the last three months of Jessica’s and Heather’s employee purchases. Notice how they always ring each other up and notice all that stuff they’re claiming to use as uniforms. Thousand dollar evening dresses? Stiletto heels? Fascinating… Anyway, if you have any trouble understanding it, I explained it in an email I sent to your cellphone.

You should have it already if you check. I have the same email ready to go to Dan and Pam and Kimberly and Victor and Kevin because I thought they’d get a kick out of it, too, but I haven’t sent it in yet. I was hoping you could look it over and email me back when you’re ready, I mean if you want me to edit anything. After all, you ARE the manager, and I assumed you had your suspicions about these two disgusting THIEVES already since it’s your job to keep on top of things.’ I turned to Heather.

‘I borrowed your code. You know, the same one you loaned to Jessica. Hope you don’t mind. Later!’ Then I got up and left.

I had the pleasure of seeing Jessica’s and Heather’s smug expressions melt instantly to one of ‘ooooohhhhhhhh, sh*t…’ Later that afternoon, my phone was ringing. It was Paula. She was practically crying, she at least sounds like she’s sobbing while she pleads, ‘OP, please, please don’t send those emails, I’ve fired Heather and Jessica. They’re DONE. And please don’t quit. What can I do to make this right? Please, OP, remember I was always nice to you, please don’t tell anyone about–‘ She’s right.

I have no beef with her. She HAS always been nice to me.
I’m kind of embarrassed. I tell Paula to relax, I’m not a snitch (against cool people, anyway) and not a blackmailer and I’m not out for her blood. ‘I already quit. And I’m keeping my mouth shut.’

A few days later, I showed up for my final check. I learned from one of the sales associates that corporate Loss Prevention was called in (our corporate office is only a few miles from the retail location) to interview both Heather and Jessica about their fraud. Paula had used all her political and managerial dexterity to frame the situation in such a way that made it look as if she, as a responsible and observant manager, had discovered the employee dishonesty.

The narrative worked.
In lieu of arrest and heavy fines for what amounted to outright grand larceny, Jessica and Heather were simply fired, blacklisted from the store, and due to the store’s prominence, to say nothing of the cross-company word of mouth, blacklisted from working at any other prestigious fashion brands. They were, of course, unable to use the company as a reference, and due to being fired for cause, could not file for unemployment.

Jessica’s fantasy of being a major player for ANY fashion label in any capacity is deader than Lenin. Paula was actually in the store that day and practically ran to me, hugging me to thank me for ‘keeping this scandal at a store level.

It’s been handled, I SWEAR.’ I told her no problem. What I didn’t tell her was that I never did delete those drafts. She offered me a reward of free merchandise and again asked me to reconsider coming back as a stock person, even a sales associate.
No thanks.

I’m going to look awfully silly in those dainty little suits at my super cool new job of working at Sizzler. Same salary. Lateral career move LOL. It all ended okay. Paula ended up rising in the company so that she later found a desk at their head office. A year after the whole debacle I finished my degree, had a short stint as the night manager of Sizzler, but now I’m doing what I really want to do.

Except now at my job, guess what we have to wear. Yeah. Dainty little suits. I wear socks, though.

The need for something nice to wear to work led me back to my old store where Paula was once manager. She didn’t work there anymore, but one phone call from a sales associate to her office (because I said I knew her) led to a nice chat and three suits at a generous discount. I refused to take at least one absolutely free, even though she offered. That’s how I found out about her rise in the company.
She also told me that it came to light that Jessica and Heather had actually been reselling a lot of the clothes on eBay, at a markdown from the store but still at a huge profit for themselves.

The store found out because they offered to prosecute the two women less if they could return the items. But too late, they admitted the items were resold at an online auction. Both Jessica and Heather were slapped with huge fines to avoid big girl jail. Paula and I are now social media friends. Those old email drafts? Deleted. I would have never torpedoed Heather and Jessica if they just left me alone to do my job in peace, and didn’t try to feel big and important at my expense. I would have left them to live in their self-medicating lies, live and let live.

Other than some difficult customers, people like Heather and Jessica are what make working retail such a nightmare for so many. And that’s why I feel no guilt about destroying them. I’m sure Jessica had lots to talk about at that year’s Milan Fashion Week.” SaggingSkinnyJeans

3. Try To Beat Me In Court? You And Your Lawyer Should Have Read The Fine Print

“I’ll try to keep the details vague enough to keep me anonymous (hence the dummy account). I am the landlord of some apartments in the city. I sign the lease agreements, and go over the basics with tenants, although they don’t usually want me to spend hours delving into the fine print.

99% of the time, it’s a breeze, and everything is fine.
One lady, let’s call her Karen, had been paying her rent via a new bank account and new checks for the last several months. All of a sudden, we got several chargeback fees on our account– she had put a stop payment on the checks, and closed the account. I immediately called her.

Me: ‘Hey, Karen, it looks like your checks bounced for the last few months. I just wanted to make sure everything is ok.’
Karen: ‘Oh no! I promise I’ll get this fixed.
’
Me: ‘Ok. You’ve been a good tenant in the past, so I’ll give you a month.’ Needless to say, a month passed, and she didn’t pay.

So I called her again.
Me: ‘Hey, Karen, we still haven’t received payment, so I’m afraid we’ll have to file for eviction.’
Karen: ‘Oh god no, I’m an old woman, I can’t afford to be evicted. I’m trying so hard to pay! Can you give me another shot?’
Me: ‘As long as you pay before the court date, the eviction doesn’t have to go through.’
The court date arrives, and guess who hasn’t paid yet. At court, the judge rules for a 24-hour notice to vacate. Karen, in tears, comes up to me afterward.
Karen: ‘Can you please give me another chance? I can’t afford to go anywhere else.’
Me: ‘I’m sorry, Karen, but the only way I could do that is if you paid off the debt, signed a new lease agreement, plus a first month’s rent, plus a new security deposit.

And I don’t think that’s going to happen. Goodbye.’
So I left, and I thought that was that. My maintenance guy would come in in a few days to do the inspection and clean up, and then we’d put it on the market. He shows up a few days later, and there’s a problem… they’re still there. So I call the sheriff, to schedule a set-out. A problem, though.

According to the sheriff, the 24-hour notice was no longer valid, as we had struck up a deal afterward, so the court had reversed the eviction decision. I had no recollection of having decided that this would happen.

I called the court, and they informed me that the eviction was no longer valid, as apparently, I told the sheriff that I was giving her more time, invalidating the decision, etc.
What happened was that Karen had called the sheriff, and told him that the court had reversed the decision, because of a non-existent deal. She had then called the court and told them that the sheriff could not evict her, as I had waived the notice. And she had used my words- twisting my denial of an extension into a deal.
I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I sent Karen a copy of a new lease agreement, asking for the debts, in addition to rent for a first month, and a new security deposit. Her lawyer then contacted me – yes, she had the money to hire a lawyer, somehow –  informing me that, in fact, her old lease agreement was still valid, as my ‘deal’ (you know, the one that would require a NEW lease agreement) invalidated the eviction decision.
So I filed for eviction, on the grounds that she had not paid for several months now, 5 to be exact, and therefore had invalidated her old lease agreement.

And then, I read her old lease agreement. I already know these contracts pretty well, but as I said, I don’t usually delve into the minutiae. This time, I did. We show up at court. Karen has her lawyer. Karen is bursting, grinning like a fool, like she’s won the lottery. Her lawyer looks fairly happy as well. The judge asks me to speak.

Me: ‘I would like Karen to leave the apartments, but she is refusing, despite the fact that according to the court’s last decision, she should have left over a month ago now.’
Judge: ‘And, Miss Karen?’
Lawyer: ‘Miss Karen cannot be ejected from her home without a new notice.

Yes, she has not yet paid past due rent, however, she and the Landlord struck up a deal, giving her the time she needed to pay via verbal agreement. This deal made directly after the last court date invalidated the last decision, so Miss Karen will require a new decision, and therefore, a new notice before she can rightfully be evicted from her home. Until then, her lease agreement is still valid (insert legal crap)
.’
Judge: ‘And Landlord? What do you have to say?
’
Me: ‘Well, your honor, I have to agree. They have made a very, very compelling argument. Karen and I did indeed make a deal, giving her the time she needed to pay.

And yes, her old lease agreement is still valid, I guess. Well, according to the terms of the still valid lease, there are some additional things that the court needs to be aware of, that I’d like to go over for clarification. I’m sure you have a copy, your honor?
’
Judge: ‘Yes, I do.’
Me: ‘And you have a copy, Lawyer?’
Lawyer: ‘Yes, I do.’
Me: ‘Excellent. Well, your honor, if you look at section 4, subsection A, on page 2, you will see that after 10 days of nonpayment, a late fee of $100 is applied. If you continue reading to subsection B, you will see that after 15 days of nonpayment, additional late fees of $10 per day are applied, until full payment is rendered.

If you continue to subsection C, you will see that failed payments necessitate a chargeback fee of $50 per failed payment. If you will continue, your honor, to page 4, section 7, subsection F, you’ll see that if a tenant is in any way responsible for a loss of rent, including leaving an apartment in less than move-in ready condition, failed payments, or, lastly, refusal to vacate in the case of an eviction, the tenant is responsible for payment of said loss of rent, in addition to any other debts owed. In addition, on page 8, section 14, subsection A, you’ll note that the tenant is responsible for any and all legal fees resultant from the eviction process, including attorney’s fees, such as for the attorney I hired to help me review this lease agreement.

Finally, on page 10, the last page, section 17, subsection B, you will see that the tenant is responsible for all HVAC services rendered on their unit. As we sent in a company to fix the unit in Karen’s apartment at her request, we have the invoice here for the replacement unit- in addition to the totals for all of the fees listed.
At this point, the lawyer has gone completely pale- it’s clear that he was more concerned that I would fight the whole ‘deal’ thing, than the terms of the lease he thought he’d have to fight to keep valid.

Karen looks utterly shell-shocked, her mouth slightly agape, like a child confused by a game of peek-a-boo. The judge, meanwhile, is completely unfazed, until I hand her the invoice, alongside my maths, a spreadsheet, and a piece of paper with the total debt owed circled and highlighted at the bottom of the page. Her eyes widen to the size of her mouth, as her jaw dropped with an audible gasp.
Me: ‘As you can see, your honor, the total owed is in excess of $16,000. I will happily accept the payment in the form of a cashier’s check. I’d hate to have to charge yet another $50 fee for failed payment, should another personal check bounce.’
Judge: ‘Lawyer, do you have anything to say?’
At this point, the lawyer looks like he’s about to pass out.

Karen seems to have stopped breathing. The judge remains silent for a moment and then collects herself.

Judge:’ I’m afraid you’ll have to address that matter of debt in a different court than this one, Landlord. We are here only to judge whether Miss Karen is to be evicted from her home today.’
Me: ‘Oh, if she wants to stay, I’d be happy to let her. As long as she agrees to continue to abide by the terms of the lease agreement, specifically those clauses outlined above. And pays the debt owed today.
’
Judge: ‘I’m going to rule for a 24-hour notice to vacate unless Miss Karen can produce payment at this moment.’
Karen sits, still, quiet, speechless even.

Her lawyer is eyeing the window, I like to think contemplating his decisions in life that led him to this point. Maybe thinking about jumping, I don’t know.

Judge: ‘Right, a 24-hour notice to vacate. And, Landlord?’
Me: ‘Yes?’
Judge: ‘You’ll want to file those charges in small claims court… or a higher court, if it exceeds the amount that you can legally pursue in small claims.
’
Me: ‘Already filed, your honor.’

The case has now been resolved, and needless to say, I got a fairly significant bonus, in addition to a slight raise. TLDR: Tenant was evicted, but lied to get out of the eviction, claiming her old lease was still valid.

I then used the terms of her old lease to get a payout of (at the end of it all) about $20,000, and my boss gave me a big chunk of it as a bonus. Boom.” Thelovelylandlord
2. Don’t Want To Share The Road? Here, You Can Just Crash Into A Cop Car

“First, a little backstory. I’m a college student and cycle to campus every day. It’s not a long ride at all, but I have to go through a zone where it’s illegal to ride a bicycle on the sidewalk, so I’m forced to ride on the road. Most drivers don’t care and just go around me since I stay to the edge and don’t make myself a nuisance.

Also, I have a sh*tty ebike that I commute on, this will be important later.

A few weeks ago, a guy in a Ford SUV (I don’t know exactly which kind) started yelling at me as he drove by while I was in the road-only zone. All the usual ‘get off the road, roads are for cars, you’re too slow’ kinda stuff. I get that from drivers on a weekly basis, I just ignore and keep going. This man was special though since he cut right in front of me and slammed on his brakes after yelling. I was able to stop before I hit him, and he floored it out of there, yelling ‘better be careful next time, bike!’
I was pretty mad, but I hadn’t got his license plate or anything and I doubt anything could be done about it anyway, there was no real proof.

Over lunch, I told one of my friends who works as an EMT the story, and he got seriously p*ssed off. Apparently he has seen the results of a car successfully brake-checking on a cyclist, and they aren’t pretty.

Two days later, the same Ford SUV/jerk tried to brake-check me again. I was expecting it as soon as I heard him yelling ‘get on the sidewalk, bike!’ from behind, so I avoided a crash again. I told my EMT friend over lunch again, and he was even angrier than before. I wanted to let it go since I can’t really do anything about him, and my bicycle isn’t going to win in a crash.

This guy keeps trying to brake check me every few days during my morning commute, whenever we’re on the same patch of road at the same time. About a week ago, my EMT friend told me that he told my story to one of his friends in the campus police, who was equally p*ssed off. The two of them wanted to catch this jerk driver. The plan was to have the policeman parked on the side of the road in hopes of catching and pulling over the jerk. I heartily agreed, and the officer pulled some strings and had himself posted on speeder-catching duty for that stretch of road.

A few days passed uneventfully, with no sign of the road-rager. I saw the cop parked in the same spot on the side of the road every day, a spot where the road has a left-turn lane and a straight line. Finally, I’m pedaling along and I hear the familiar voice scream ‘get the hell off the road, f*cker!’ I yelled back, ‘catch me then!’ and took off. I was spinning my scrawny little chicken legs as hard as they would go and pegged the throttle. I guess this made the driver even angrier because I heard his engine roar as he pursued me.

He shifted into the left lane as I stayed in the right.
I looked to the side and saw a nasty-ass old man in the driver’s seat, with the passenger window open. His mouth was going like he was yelling, but I couldn’t hear him over the wind noise. I saw the police car’s spot approaching and started to slow down. Taking the opportunity, the driver swung right in front of me. I don’t know if it was the speed or his anger that made him swing wide, but he cut across my lane and crashed STRAIGHT INTO THE BACK OF THE POLICE CAR.

I barely applied my brakes (slowed down to about 15 mph) and crashed into the side of his car. The officer got out (spitting mad would be an understatement) and called an ambulance and another police car. Everyone was unhurt since the jerk was going only like 25 mph, but there was enough of an impact to trigger the SUV’s airbags. The jerk ended up getting arrested for driving drunk (seriously, who drinks before 9 AM?), for an illegal lane change, and probably other stuff too. I don’t know all the details. I imagine that causing a crash like that would entail some additional charges.

The guy ended up having to pay for extensive repairs on the police cruiser and for a new ebike to replace the one he destroyed by cutting in front of me (the frame snapped.) On top of that, I hear that his car was defined as totaled by his insurance company since the airbags went off, so he also has to pay for a new car. With any luck, he’ll lose his license from the drunk driving charges and won’t be able to menace cyclists again.” Thetaterman314

1. Cheat On Me, A Veteran? I’ll Come After You

“A few years ago, my now ex-wife filed a false restraining order against me.

She was living with her boyfriend (we were getting a divorce) in another state at the time and had decided that a false restraining order was an excellent way to be awarded full possession of the vehicle I had purchased. We only had one key to the vehicle, and she was in possession of both the key and the vehicle. This is important later.
I was exceedingly upset that she had knowingly filed a false restraining order, and upon being served, I immediately submitted my appeal and request for a hearing. I contacted my company and had them print off all my department of transportation GPS logs, as well as company internal vehicle tracker data.

I also printed out my personal GPS tracking data from the navigation system I was using. So not only did I have federally accredited logs showing exactly where I was… Or more importantly, was not… I also had two very detailed systems information showing my exact speed, cardinal direction, and other pertinent information… Recorded in 2 minutes, and 30-second intervals.
After I had compiled my entire body of evidence, I wrote a three-page testimony to read to the court/ judge to assist in explaining the entirety of the data, as well as present my side of the appeal. Almost 30 days pass, and I realize that upon adjournment of the case (and subsequent exiting of the courthouse), there is a chance I will be able to reach my vehicle before my ex does.

With this in mind, I decided to contact the dealership from which I had purchased the vehicle and acquired a second key. As we had only received one key when we purchased the vehicle, I knew she would not expect me to even be capable of driving away in it.
So, fast forward a few days to the court date. I had driven across two states to attend this court judgment appeal, with all my paperwork, written testimony, and the key to the vehicle. I arrive approximately 4 hours prior to the hearing time, and patiently wait for the magic moment to come.

Bad news… It was extremely anti-climactic… As she was a no show. The judge summarily ruled in my favor, and the restraining order was dismissed. The judge then asked if I had anything further for the court, and if not, I was free to go. So I very politely asked:
Me: ‘Your honor, it is my understanding that the restraining order/PPO is lifted?’
Judge: ‘Yes ma’am.’
Me: ‘So am I, at this time, able to retrieve my vehicle?’
Judge: ‘Ma’am, as the Judge of this courtroom, I am unable to provide you with any form of legal advice.’
Me: ‘Oh, ok, I’m sor-‘
Judge: ‘However, if you find a seat in the back of my courtroom, my (secretary? Court recorder? I don’t remember the term) will provide you with a signed order of dismissal for the restraining order/PPO.

If you were to be questioned by law enforcement for any reason regarding property or contact, it is best to have this documentation on your person… As the cancelation of the order may not reach the police system until close of business today.’
The way in which the judge had worded her response was very clear in intent… She could not specifically tell me I was good to retrieve my vehicle, but she was taking the extra time to provide me with the paperwork that gave me a legal opportunity to retrieve my vehicle. So I sat down, and after nearly 10 minutes, the court official that was designated with the task of typing and printing the paperwork got the judges signature on it and brought it to me.

As I put it in my binder of other paperwork and turned to leave the courtroom, the judged called out to me.
Judge: ‘Mrs. BTK216.’
Me: (turning in mild surprise) ‘Yes, your Honor?’
Judge: (with a devious smile) ‘Good luck.’

Now I had to formulate a plan. See, as the ex-wife had not been present for the court proceedings, neither was my vehicle. I had the address for her boyfriends/ boyfriends parents house… As it was all over the initial restraining order’s list of protected properties. (and she had accidentally left a notebook with it written upon it when she first left to be with the guy).

I decided to utilize Uber to go to the address and check if the vehicle was present at the address. Upon starting the Uber trip, I requested the Uber driver to wait for me at the address after dropping me off, giving her a quick summary of my circumstances and plan, to ensure that I had a witness present for the intended retrieval of my vehicle. Quite simply, to ensure that no false allegations of fictitious activities during the recovery of said vehicle would have a metaphorical leg to stand upon in court. The lady Uber driver was sympathetic to my cause and agreed.

Even going so far as to give me her personal contact information in the event I required her for a future court appearance.
Upon arrival at the address, the vehicle was, indeed, present. The Uber lady waited until I had acquired the vehicle, left the premises, and she followed to be about two miles to witness I had left the property completely, and then she went on her way. (Bless that lady, she was a Saint) So, I make it about a half-hour away, and my phone rings. I answered it, and it was my ex-wife’s boyfriend, and as you can imagine… He was not happy.

He rambled off several vulgarities and other random insulting comments which I entirely brushed off.

Then he made a very large, and unintelligent mistake. He said, ‘If I ever see you again, here, or anywhere, I will blow your head off.’ Now… I’m a veteran. I don’t take very kindly on threats to my life. I was upset at him, I was upset at her, and I was just handed a gift-wrapped means of complete and utter destructive revenge. I immediately hung up with him and dialed 911 to report a verbal threat on my life. I headed to the parking lot of a local big box store to meet the responding officer and ensured I didn’t leave until I had a case number, attached written statement, and the reporting officers identification information.

I completed my trip to my home state, and the following Monday (this was all on a Friday) I went to my local courthouse and filed for an emergency restraining order/ PPO. The judge that was available to hear my case for an emergency order was, interestingly enough, the same judge handling the divorce. She listened to the case I provided, reviewed the police report information I provided, and issued the requested emergency order.

Doesn’t sound like a ‘pro-revenge,’ does it? Well… My ex-wife was living with the guy in his parent’s basement. The restraining order/PPO issued by the judge protected me, my property, and… My spouse… From him.

See, we were still legally married, so I was legally able to list her as a protected party. When the restraining order was served, he couldn’t be within 600 feet of my (now) ex-wife.
As she lived with him in his parent’s basement, he wasn’t the one that had to leave, she was. But… She no longer had my vehicle. She lost her brand new job. She wasn’t able to get to school, so she failed her college course, but was stuck with the student loans for it anyway. She was now homeless, vehicle-ess, jobless, kicked out of college for non-attendance, penniless, as she is atrociously bad with finances, and… To top it all off, she was nearly 4 months pregnant with his kid.

Moral of the story? Don’t p*ss off a lesbian veteran. I don’t like to fck fck play games. I will go out of my way to avoid playing fck fck games. I will bend over backward to make sure I don’t have to play fck fck games. But if you force my hand into playing the aforementioned fck fck games, I will not be the one that loses the game. Which… Is something I told her verbatim on our third or fourth date. Guess she forgot. Lol.”  BTK216
Truly, some of these are mega impressive. The extent to which people will go to prove a point, seek revenge or teach a lesson takes effort, skill and a hell of a lot of vision, not to mention creativity! To plant over 500 weeds in someone’s yard? Pure.

Evil. Genius. Got anything to share? Tell us everything!