People Entertain Us With Their Clever Revenge
10. Two-Time Me With My Best Friend? I'll Ruin Your Career
As if going out on him wasn’t already bad enough, she had to do it with the worst person possible.
“Craphead and Sarah have been like family to my wife and me for several years, practically ever since we moved in across the street from them.
The four of us were extremely tight. Our kids are the same age as theirs and are all good friends. We were one big family unit. We did dinner together a few times a week. We went on vacations together.
I truly saw Craphead as a brother, and my wife and Sarah were very close too.
Five months ago, I was completely blindsided by the discovery of an affair between my wife and Craphead. My wife had left her email open on our computer, and I saw an email from her to her longtime therapist saying that Craphead would be joining her at an upcoming session “again.” Uh, what the heck? My mind started racing – why in the world would Craphead be going to her therapy sessions without my knowledge? I did a search and found some other emails to and from the therapist proving that Craphead had been going to sessions together with her for about six weeks.
I checked our mobile phone account and discovered that, since late summer, they had been exchanging hundreds of texts every day, peaking at nearly 500/day by the holidays. Speaking of the holidays, my wife and I hosted both of our families (parents, siblings, etc.) for both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, and Craphead and Sarah joined us either for dinner or after dinner on both holidays.
Text records showed that the entire time that they were at our house celebrating with our families. My wife and Craphead were texting each other across the room. They were doing that pretty much every time the four of us hung out, for months.
And, you know, all day every day, just in general. But what bothers me the most is that they were doing it with Sarah and me right there.
I confronted my wife with the evidence and she admitted that yes, she and Craphead had fallen in love.
“It just happened! I don’t know how! But I love him and I just don’t feel anything for you anymore, I’m sorry!” They had gone on a school district trip together, something had happened in her hotel room, and things had moved quickly from there.
She explained, as I lay face-down on the couch, unable to look at her, that they had already made plans to move out and divorce me and Sarah, and while they didn’t plan to move in together immediately because of the kids, they’d probably do so eventually.
The meetings with the therapist were supposedly mostly for the purpose of finding a way to break this to me and Sarah as gently as possible because they were so very concerned for our well-being. (Sarah and I are fairly certain that they weren’t planning on telling us about the affair at all and were simply going to “discover” their feelings for one another several months down the line after they’d come up with some other reason to divorce the two of us.)
My wife moved out two months ago.
I was, and still am, utterly destroyed. I cry every day. I cried writing the first few paragraphs of this story just now. I worry non-stop about the impact on our kids. But I am also not exactly a shrinking violet when I feel that I’ve been wronged.
And in this case, I was, objectively, very very wronged.
So, a couple of years ago, Craphead ran for a Board of Education seat as a pretty extreme underdog. I helped him with his campaign materials and debate prep, and my wife, a well-known school district employee (this becomes important later), got the word out as best she could.
Much to our surprise, he actually won in a squeaker, by just a few dozen votes.
Being on the Board became the center of Craphead’s world. He joined every committee that he could. This turned into the foundation of his affair with my wife, as they were constantly going to school events and meetings together on evenings and weekends.
Once I discovered the affair, my thoughts turned pretty quickly to revenge, and it occurred to me that an extramarital affair between a member of the Board of Education and an employee of the school district was at least bad politics and possibly violated district policy.
Making things far worse for them was that my wife was in the running for an open administrative position, and everyone knew that she was more or less guaranteed the job and the major pay raise that came with it.
She had just finished her master’s degree in school administration, at the urging of her principal and the superintendent, so that she could be promoted to this specific position.
I had plenty of evidence of the affair – texts from both of them admitting to it, text records showing that they were texting hundreds of times a day, emails to and from the therapist, etc.
I considered simply emailing all of the evidence to the Board and the superintendent, but felt like I, as the grieving, betrayed spouse, might not be seen as a credible source. So instead, I invented a fictitious “furious friend” who was planning on showing up to the next Board meeting and publicly shaming the two of them for their affair.
I told my wife that I’d tried to talk this person down but couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t show up and humiliate them publicly. As I expected, this led Craphead to conclude that the only option was for him to preemptively admit the affair to the Board.
The superintendent subsequently recommended that Craphead resign, which he did. Sarah said that he was utterly humiliated and crushed, and barely got out of bed for a few days afterward.
Once word of the affair and Craphead’s resignation started getting around, the superintendent (a longtime friend of both my wife and Craphead) contacted my wife and tearfully informed her that it was no longer politically appropriate for her to be promoted to an administrative position within the district.
The position that had been lined up for her was later filled by an outside candidate. This sent waves of confusion and rumor throughout the district, as it was pretty well-known that my wife was getting the job.
The day after she was informed that she wasn’t getting the promotion, my wife and I, despite our crumbling marriage, took our son out to breakfast together on his birthday, and a parent stopped by our table to congratulate her on her new role.
She said thanks, then excused herself to go cry in the bathroom for a while.
I let the dust settle for a couple of weeks, and then, right before my wife moved out, let them in on my little secret – there was never a “furious friend” threatening to expose them in the first place.
Word of all of this has gotten around our fairly small town, which Craphead grew up in and my wife has worked in for nearly 20 years. My wife refuses to talk to me about how things are at work now, but I’ve heard from some people I know in the district that her formerly spotless reputation has taken a major hit.
Craphead, formerly a gregarious social presence in our neighborhood and at events and pubs in town, has completely gone underground and barely emerges to mow his lawn. He’s moving out soon, to a crappy little townhouse which is all he can afford due to all the child support he’s going to have to pay his wife.
My wife and Craphead claim that they plan on trying to make things work together, despite all the public humiliation. I wish them lots of luck with that. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun to show their faces together in town.”
Another User Comments:
“I love how you got them to destroy themselves.
That’s savage level 1000. And the best part is they won’t last. Whenever relationships start off like this, it’s doomed. Trust is out the window from the first moment because everyone knows if they have an affair with you, they’ll have an affair on you.
Eventually, they will resent each other when the dust settles and the reality of their new, crappier lives sinks in. They’ll miss their old lives and begin to blame each other for messing everything up. Meanwhile, you will have moved on and be happier.
Yes you were savage in your revenge and I definitely approve, but your best revenge is yet to come. The best revenge is to live well. Good luck OP. You deserve better than these terrible people.” Anonymous5348
9. Say It's Not Your Job? I'll Make It Your Job
“My dad was a mechanic for 20+ years, and for as long as I can remember, I drove him nuts because I would go around the house with a screwdriver he left out and take everything apart because I wanted to see how it worked.
As I grew older I developed an affinity towards computers and electronics, which led me to be “that kid” in High School who changed his grades, crashed the school district’s servers, and used the NET SEND command with great success.
I would spend my weekends either with my grandparents and uncle working on science projects or dragging my dad outside to help me fix my car (which consisted of him telling me that he would help once I got it taken apart).
Those “figure it out” lessons were probably the greatest gift he could’ve given me growing up.
I joined the US Army in March of 2004 and went into communications or “commo” for short (25U) where I managed to go from PVT (E1) when I joined to SGT (E5) by the time I returned from my deployment at the beginning of 2007.
After returning home, I was subsequently transferred from a Light Infantry Unit (walking everywhere) to a Mechanized Infantry Unit (riding in an armored vehicle everywhere) and placed in charge of the Battalion Commo Shop because the current person running the commo shop was scheduled to retire in a few months and I was the only other NCO.
This is where things got interesting and my Commo vs. Mechanics ProRevenge story starts…
As anyone else that was in the US Army can attest to, every Monday is/was “Motor pool Maintenance,” which essentially means, go make sure all the Tanks, Bradley Fighting Vehicles (BFV), or anything else with a motor works the way it should.
This included testing all the radios and communication equipment as well. If it didn’t work, we filled out the maintenance forms with the correct shop and have them fix it. All the issues would later be consolidated into a report that the leadership team would review.
If a vehicle was on that report, the leadership team wanted to know why it wasn’t fixed.
I ran my shop using the same approach my dad taught me, which was “figure it out” and don’t come to me with a problem unless you have a solution.
One Monday morning shortly after taking charge of the commo shop, one of my soldiers came to me with a problem he couldn’t figure out and asked if I could come to help him. I agreed and followed him over to the BFV that was giving him problems.
After a few hours of troubleshooting, we finally traced the problem to the BFV’s slip ring. We double and triple-checked that indeed was the problem because 1) slip rings in general have a low failure rate and 2) it wasn’t something we could fix on our own.
It required help from the mechanics because the slip ring required taking apart the interior of the BFV turret to actually get to it.
So, I went to the mechanics to get their help so we could fix the problem.
This is when I learned the mechanics didn’t like the commo shop. I was essentially told by the motor chief to screw off and the slip ring is a commo issue and it’s the commo shop’s job to fix it, not theirs.
I was mad at the response and tried to insist we needed his help. However, I was promptly shut down and told to pound sand. At this point, I was beyond mad, I tried the official way, I even swallowed my pride and asked him nicely, but both times I was crapped on.
I decided I was going to play Global Thermonuclear War and teach him a lesson that neither he nor anyone else in his shop would forget. So, I went to my guys and told them I would be back in about an hour or two because I needed to run home and grab some stuff.
When I got home, I went directly to the garage and started packing all the wrenches, impacts, and sockets that I could fit into my portable toolbox. I also loaded up the portable air compressor and any extension cords I could find and made my way back to the motor pool.
Once I got back to the motor pool, I had my guys locate every extension cord they could find around the office because I could only find one in my garage and help me run power out to the BFV that we were going to have to fix ourselves.
Meanwhile, I also had 2 of the guys run to the HQ and find me two of the largest empty coffee cans they could find. I ended up having to tell them twice because the first time they thought I was joking… they couldn’t understand why I needed a coffee can of all things.
When they returned with coffee cans I had everything in place. I had power, compressed air, tools, and a place to neatly put all of the bolts, nuts, and washers I was about to remove. Under normal circumstances I would only remove the things that absolutely had to be removed, the fewer things to put back together, the better.
But these weren’t normal circumstances, and I had absolutely no intention of putting anything back together. It was about lunchtime, and I decided my way of fixing this issue probably wasn’t the best example to set for my team, so I sent them to lunch and told them I would handle this issue so they could focus on the other vehicles when they got back.
For the next few hours, I proceeded to dismantle every single bolt I could find. I removed seats, interior plates, shelves, and pretty much anything that wasn’t electrical or commo related got removed. I would then place all of the newly removed hardware in the coffee can.
By the time I reached the turret I had filled up both coffee cans with nuts, bolts, and washers so I had to go find something else to start putting this stuff in, luckily we had Zip-Lock bags by the dozen laying around the office.
I grabbed a couple of those and went back to having fun taking apart the BFV. I finally reached the slip ring and managed to luck out. I didn’t have to replace the slip ring after all! Turns out the mechanics didn’t install one of the cable mounts and one of the commo cables got snagged and subsequently cut.
It probably took me less than 15 minutes at that point to replace the cable and missing cable mount (of course the fact that I completely removed everything in the way helped because now I didn’t have to fish the cable through anything).
Once I replaced the cable and made sure all of the other commo equipment worked, I figured while I had everything taken apart it would be much easier to fix any other problems they might have been having.
All commo systems checked out, and my job was done.
Everything that I had taken out of the BFV was then gently and neatly stacked in the interior of the BFV. I put the lids on the coffee cans, zipped up the bags, pulled out my trusty sharpie, and wrote “bolts” on each of them.
Once everything was tidied up, I went off to find the owner of the BFV and let him know his commo issue was fixed but he should probably have a mechanic look at his BFV because I had to disassemble some (and by some I meant “most”) of the vehicle in order to get to the part I needed to replace and I couldn’t remember how everything went back together.
I stared out of my office window for the rest of the day waiting for the mechanics to get around to looking at the BFV. I still remember the reaction of the motor chief when looked inside that vehicle and if I didn’t know any better I could have sworn his head rotated around 3 times and darn near popped off.
His reaction was absolutely priceless.
I knew he was about to storm into my shop in a fit of rage, so I got up and decided it was probably best to meet him outside in motor pool.
As soon as I reached earshot distance he started screaming and demanding I put the vehicle back the way I found it. However, I was having none of that, I simply shook my head and told him “It was a “mechanical issue” now and it wasn’t my job, I asked for your help in the beginning and was told no because it wasn’t your job.
I’m just a commo guy. I didn’t know what needed to be removed so I could fix the commo issue in the slip ring, so I removed everything, if someone from your team would have been there, I think this whole misunderstanding could have been avoided.”
That vehicle remained on the weekly report for the next 3 weeks while they figured out what bolts went where.
However, after that incident, I was never told “It’s not my job” ever again and the mechanics were more than willing to help me fix any issues that came up. By the time I left the unit we ended up starting to cross-train each other’s team members so we could fix things faster as they came up.”
8. Be Super Bad At Your Job? I'll Take Over
“I was working as a lab tech in a small manufacturing lab with a girl about my age who I will call Hannah, because that is her name, and the lab manager, a nutcase called Colin, because that was his name.
Colin was a bully and would single me out for any reason he could, if he felt like I wasn’t paying enough attention to my work he would belittle me in front of all the bottle fillers, would make me do all the dirty jobs and generally be an awful boss.
He was also pretty sexist and decided that women should wear white safety shoes (?) and were not suited for lab work. Finally, he was prone to violent outbursts.
Anyway, I took all this on the chin, because I needed the job and it was actually nice to work with Hannah and others around the factory.
A few times, however, he went too far. First, he decided that he needed to use the funnel I was using to fill up barrels. I found it and took it to carry on with what I was doing in the noisy machine room, so I had headphones on.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him marching up… “Why did you take my funnel?” I don’t hear him, so I take my headphones out “WHY DID YOU TAKE MY FUNNEL YOU FREAKING IDIOT, YOU ALWAYS HAVE FREAKING HEADPHONES IN?” I asked him quite calmly not to swear, this causes him to quite literally explode with rage, he starts jumping about and getting in my face, eyes popping out of his head.
“I’LL FREAKING SWEAR IF I WANT TO YOU FREAKING MORON. YOU ALWAYS HAVE HEADPHONES IN! WHY DID YOU TAKE THE FUNNEL? I NEEDED THE FREAKING FUNNEL YOU FREAKING IDIOT…” I walked away to get away from him, feeling a little shaken, but he followed me, yelling in the same vein until I finally ran away from him and hid in the kitchen, breaking down in tears.
I was later told that he could be heard all over the building, even from the noisy machine room! He later smoothed it all over with the upper management, which would be a recurring theme.
This was not long before my birthday, so I had a few days off after this, I come back with him saying that I was not in his good books for yelling at him (?) and that the bosses will be keeping an eye on me (?).
I ended up writing a formal grievance against him, but it did not end up helping and he upped his mockery of me.
I saw my first chance for revenge of sorts when he brought a bottle of Chloroform into the so-far windowless and unventilated lab.
My chemistry senses started tingling and I asked him if he had done any COSHH forms for this (these are mandatory health and safety forms for chemical handling). He says no, I say he should, he says he has never written a COSHH form in his 25 years of being a chemist! I tell him he shouldn’t open it in the lab as it will be dangerous.
I have a day off the next day and don’t think much of it.
I walk in the next day and the lab reeked of this weirdly sweet solvent smell, everyone who was near the lab had a headache and there in an unmarked bottle of separated phases of a solution on the desk.
My chemist sense is tingling, even more, he opened the bottle and exposed everyone to a dangerous chemical, and left unmarked solvent waste. I was prompted into action, I print off a COSHH form, fill it in and show it to upper management.
Since upper management isn’t chemists, they don’t really understand, but can see I am concerned so they go talk to Colin, who smooths it over and comes to me to chastise me for “fear-mongering.” I decide it is time for me to get a new job.
After a few interviews, I manage to get a job offer at the university as a lab tech in their research labs for a little more than I was currently getting, and most importantly I am finally free from Colin.
About an hour after getting the confirmation email on my phone the big boss comes down to ask me about a product that went out to our biggest client. They are complaining about the wrong flavour.
I ask him about the batch code (I kept extensive batch code logs to the chagrin of Colin, he disliked it for some reason!) and the big boss tells me, I look it up and tell him that there is a note on it for a sanctioned flavour change.
The big boss didn’t sanction the flavour change, I tell him that Colin sanctioned it and the notes of the change are in my lab book. Colin is away somewhere at this time so the big boss asks me to come upstairs to the board room.
The big boss informs me that the flavour that went to the customer was wrong and they are withdrawing their business, and he needs me to be totally honest with him. I inform him that I had been given a job offer that morning and that I have nothing to gain from lying, I tell him that I was told by Colin to change the flavour and that I wrote the note in the lab book (which Colin signed off).
He then got on the phone with Colin asking him to explain himself. I was not party to the conversation, but Big Boss brought the phone to me saying “Colin would like to speak with you.” I answer the phone and Colin says “Don’t say anything until I get back, we will sort this out together” lol, ok Colin!
Ladies and gentlemen I sang like a canary, I told him about the bullying, the health and safety breaches and the unsanctioned flavour change, the fact that I had a good feeling that he had done none of the paperwork required of him as lab manager, which the other upper management guy corroborated with the COSHH form I had personally written.
They then tell me that they would be dismissing Colin, but as a matter of policy and doing it right, they would be suspending us pending investigation and not answering any phone calls from Colin. Throughout the day, I had 23 missed calls from him, various frantic voicemails and several text messages.
He eventually came in 5 minutes shy of the end of the work day, telling me that I am not going home until “we” have sorted it out and that I need to tell him what went on before he faces Big Boss, the pleading tone, and the look on his face when I stonily told him: “I am going home Colin, Goodbye.” Will last in my memory forever.
So I look forward to a morning of video games on paid suspension, I get a phone call around 11 am to come into work. When I arrive I am whisked into the board room and told what went down by Big Boss and the upper management guy.
It turns out, he tried to blame me for sanctioning a flavour change. This didn’t fly with Big Boss, who had had enough of his crap by now. Colin then decides to blackmail Big Boss, as it turns out Colin had sourced a dodgy supply of flavour and had been putting it into the products, and that he would go to the press with what he had done.
This resulted in Colin being dismissed with immediate effect and then escorted off the premises by police.
Big Boss then offered me a promotion with a 10k pay raise, since he decided that I can do a much better job than Colin did (which I have), which I took!”
7. Take Advantage Of My Grandma's Bank Account For Years? I'll Get You In Trouble With The IRS
“This happened about 5 years ago. My grandma was getting old, late 80s/early 90s. She had one wish, to not die in a senior home. Easily done as my grandpa sold some assets way back when then invested the earnings and let it ride for 30+ years; he never touched it and collected a pension.
Way back when my grandpa died, (about 10 years before this), my grandma appointed my dad, this crappy aunt, and my uncle as the trustees of the trust. Basically the trusted advisors for her and her care for the foreseeable future.
All was well in the beginning, but then my dad (Willy) moved further away and couldn’t take care of the day-to-day upkeep as the trustee and see that my grandma was ok. My aunt (Rebecca) told her that she and my uncle (Fred, who lived in Arizona) could take over and all would be fine.
It was fine for a while.
A few times, my dad went back to visit and noticed my grandma didn’t always have overnight care or that her mail wasn’t picked up and the driveway wasn’t plowed. She also lost her cable TV and newspaper subscription.
My dad figured it just lapsed, so he had the services put back on. My dad also noticed my grandma was eating moldy food at times because her truck was sold and she had no transportation (she drove up to 90 years old).
She basically just chilled at the house alone and did crossword puzzles. The craziest part of this is that my aunt only lived 2 miles from my grandma, but my grandma told my dad she saw aunt Rebecca once a week on Saturday for about 1 hour.
As with the elderly and age, my grandma passed away. She did get her wish and was able to die in her own home. Upon her death, things started to get real interesting. Once the probate lawyer got her children (my dad, aunt, uncle, and another estranged aunt (Becky)) around the table some shady business started to come out.
My aunt Rebecca asked that everyone just forgo any audit or paperwork and just sell the house (for around $400K) and divide up the remaining back account balance of roughly $400K. So just signing on the line, each sibling was to get a check for $200K, not too bad of an inheritance.
My dad thought that was somewhat a little rushed. He said at the time that he wanted to wait because my grandma’s house was easily in the $600K range based on size and location. My aunt exploded in his face, cursing at him and calling him all kinds of names because he was unwilling to sign the assets then and there.
She basically wanted a quick close while everyone looked the other way.
My dad ended up leaving the room after the screaming and the deal wasn’t signed that day. It took nearly 6 months before another appointment and they were all back at the table.
The thing is though, when you are a trustee and the person dies, the funds and access to financial accounts are all under heavy scrutiny until all beneficiaries are made aware and sign the final papers.
At the next meeting, my dad went in there with no intention to sign the deal. He got his brother (my uncle Fred) to agree that they audit the entire account(s) going back 5 years. When they demanded this again at the meeting with the lawyer, my Aunt ended up arguing that a forensic audit would cost $5K and it’s a waste, like what difference does it make? Two beneficiaries requested it, so it was what was going to happen.
The audit report showed up about 3 months later.
Here is where it gets good.
My dad began looking over the audit report and saw it was full of holes, like excessive monthly food costs for a 90-year-old lady.
Payments made for car services for a car my grandma no longer had. Many different things in there that just didn’t add up. My dad asked me to give the audit a second look, so I spent a Saturday night going over it, and here is some crazy stuff I found (and alerted my dad about):
- Costco monthly food costs of $1,100-$2,000 for the last 4 years.
- Telephone bills for 6 cell phones (my grandma has a home phone only)
- Gasoline for a truck my grandma didn’t have for like 4 years, and easily $400/month
- House repairs paid to my aunt’s husband who owned a construction business.
Some of the house repairs were like $16K for a new roof, new garage doors, home security system which she didn’t have, etc., all inflated prices.
- Grandma paid for my Aunt to go to Europe twice on vacation.
- My grandma was paying my estranged aunt Becky a stipend of $2K a month for the last 5 years, as well as her deadbeat son for $2,500.
Every month they were paid.
- All grandkids were to be paid a lump sum of $10K upon their 30th birthday as that is when the $50 check from Grandma stopped for all grandkids. Guess who was paid out, her kids and my estranged aunt’s kids, but not me or my siblings.
- My grandma gave loans to my aunt Rebecca for her husband’s construction business in return for equity in the company, which amounted to nothing.
These loans totaled about $200K over 3 years, right around when the housing bust happened.
- They also sold her assets like jewelry and whatnot because some big ticket items simply vanished from her house.
Armed with all this, the next probate meeting was interesting.
In the time between my grandma’s death and the 3rd probate meeting, my aunt’s construction business filed for bankruptcy so that $200K in equity grandma had, had simply vanished. The probate lawyer was also somewhat concerned and makes it obvious that this was fraud and a breach of fiduciary duty, where my aunt could actually get real prison time.
After this, the negotiations were much more favorable. My aunt got nothing, literally zero, my other aunt only received $25K after all the stipend payments. My father and uncle shared the rest after all grandkids received the $10K payout.
The house sold to the first offer for $520K.
That was the regular revenge for any treacherous witch that ripped off grandma and had her eating moldy food. Here is the pro.
My aunt probably felt pretty bad that she couldn’t supplement her lifestyle with grandma’s savings anymore, but that was the least of her worries.
Since she tried to personally rip me off for $10K, I took it personally. I don’t care how tough you are, the IRS is the scariest thing that can happen to a person, nobody wants to have their funds forcibly removed.
I did a little research and found the 3949-A I also had the audit and legal office could/would provide the full trust requested (demanded by the IRS). I don’t know if it ever was. So I photo-copied my documents, had them notarized, and send off the info to the IRS.
I felt like it went nowhere, then maybe 18 months later, I was notified and asked to come to the IRS building for an appointment in my city.
The agent went over all the details, and what they found in their research, and then they asked for a sworn statement.
It turns out, my aunt didn’t declare something like $1.2M in additional income over 5 years, and as such, she owed the IRS around $420K plus penalties. There was no way she was going to pay that on a teacher’s pension and after her husband bankrupted his business.
Her house was sold, her vehicles sold, and they left the state. Now, my aunt and uncle live in a depressing desert town in the southwest.
The IRS paid me around $60K about 3 months after the appointment. She should have paid that $10K.”
6. Try To Get Me Fired Without My Knowledge? I'll Throw You Under The Bus
And it was well-deserved.
“So, we had a temp covering maternity leave that turned out to be a bit of a nutjob. She was EA to Deputy CEO and seemed to think this gave her some sort of status.
We’ll call her the temp. I’d spoken to her twice maybe three and was incredibly nice; I make it my business to be nice to everyone. What she didn’t know is that from about a week after she started I knew she was sending daily complaints (all unfounded and untrue) to my manager about me.
My manager and I get on socially and professionally and he was dumbfounded by her doing this. I still have no idea why she did it to me either and until today I’d put her out of my mind.
We are talking about 3 or 4 complaints a day and asking for stuff to be taken further and why wasn’t I getting warned/reprimanded, whatever?
What set our alarm bells ringing though was one day I was leaving early and asked her to cover something that afternoon in person, to her face.
She was nice about it and said no problem. I have flexible hours and get lots of time in lieu so I’m not always there 9-5 like other staff. Often I’m there late or on weekends so I have hours built up and let my boss know I’m cashing them in.
We have an unusually complicated leave system and neither of us wants the paperwork so I always need to clear when I worked them and when I take them. We keep our own record. On the day in question, I rang my boss and told him I’d spoken to her and she was doing whatever it was for me.
My boss rang me that afternoon and said she’d come in asking where I was and who was going to do the job she’d agreed to cover me for. She denied we had a conversation and then she complained about my hours saying I hadn’t been there for hours on end and making up days I wasn’t there.
We had a record of that of course. He explained the nature of my job meant I often wasn’t at my desk and am available on a company mobile that she could ring anytime. She deemed this wasn’t enough and basically tried to have me report any time to her where I’ll be and for how long.
This is a temp, not even the CEO expects me to do this, so why does someone barely aged 21 and not full-time or in my department expect it? When she left my boss called the person sitting next to her who confirmed I had spoken to her.
We knew we’d have to watch her.
Here’s where her actual downfall started. At work, we supply long-life milk only and coffee. Everything else belongs to staff, this is widely known. It was told to people explicitly during their induction, by me.
Don’t take other people’s stuff, what’s in the shelf marked staff you can have/share. I order all of our supplies, office and tea coffee for staff and conferences so the few e-mails I would get from her would be complaining about all the stuff she was using was running out and not being replaced.
I would let her know it was mine and she could use a bit but to get her own. I can’t stand long-life milk so I always bought my own fresh milk. Unbelievably this will be relevant later.
It kept going and got worse she even took a few microwave dinners from me, others were complaining about their stuff walking too. The complaints from her continued and I’d reply (always) by e-mail and say the same thing over and over but no, I was wrong; staff was to be supplied with the items she mentioned and I had to replace them and she would be forced to tell her manager if I didn’t do it.
I told her by all means, tell your manager; I always ask people to give any complaints they have about me to management as I can justify them or explain why something won’t get done.
Of course, she never went to her manager, she just kept sending more and more e-mails in secret to my boss and now others with her making up conversations we’d never had and doctoring emails, yeah it was getting to this stage.
My boss would come over with a staff member’s printout every time and I would show him my original e-mail replies given I never knew when she’d e-mail; this was further proof I was telling the truth.
He trusted me but the independent staff member was us doubly covering our butts. We decided to mark what server tapes we used for the backup that day so we could retrieve them at a moment’s notice if we had to.
We made note of it all including incorrect timelines and false claims and when all false e-mails were verified by other staff to be untrue we then just pretty much ignored her constant complaints. Her boss knew what was going on and admitted to ignoring the stuff she was doing and said to me and my boss to ignore the temp’s complaints too.
Other staff members were now reporting her increasingly odd and vindictive behavior and the deputy CEO apologetically said to my boss and me and several others to ignore the temp as she was desperate to not have to rehire when she had two months left until her usual EA was back from maternity leave.
I’m a big boy and with management’s blessing, we just ignored the lunatic. If you’re thinking the top managers in this place are crap, you’re right. I’m riding this job out until my wedding is paid for and I’m out.
So none of this really affected me, I just didn’t want to lose to a moron at this point. I knew she was building to something and at this point, I wanted to see her go down in flames.
Anyway, in a horrible twist of fate, her boss unexpectedly had to go on personal leave pretty much indefinitely and a replacement was rushed in to cover her. Then like two days later the bombshell dropped that the original EA wasn’t coming back and the temp was offered a new short-term contract until a new replacement was found.
Thankfully this wasn’t an extension but a brand new one, so she was on 3-month probation again. Now the new Deputy CEO didn’t know the lay of the land and the temp was ramping up her operations looking for the now-permanent job.
With her old boss out of the way, she was now including her boss in backdated e-mails addressed to my boss and me as if I’d been part of the chain the whole time ramping up the complaints to give off the impression that she is just banging her head against the walls with us doing nothing she asked.
Now we knew with the increase in complaints and her increasingly hostile behavior towards me behind closed doors, we lined our ducks up. We basically had a running record so we killed her with kindness and waited.
The day came and she struck, would you believe it, it started over milk? Even though I’m getting older and should know better, I love milk I’ll have a glass with my lunch often more. Don’t judge, it is what it is.
Anyway, she is in the kitchen and I take my milk out of the fridge to take to my desk. As I’m walking out the door I get “Don’t you think it’s rude to take it all, maybe some other staff might like to use that?” I was having a bad day and had enough of this freaking jerk so I basically said she was too stupid to read emails so I’d tell her again it wasn’t for staff.
“We’ll see who’s stupid,” she replied walking out the door.
I texted my manager and said D-Day had landed. Sure enough, an hour later the HR person comes in (We outsource HR) and didn’t even say hello to me coming in.
She ALWAYS swung by my desk. My boss has kindly printed out everything and is ready to bat for me. I play dumb when I am called into the room. The new deputy CEO has a thick file that the temp has compiled and she basically starts grinding her axe about all the terrible stuff I’ve done to her referring to the files, times and dates, and whatnot.
Now, given the deputy CEO doesn’t know me from Adam and the HR person doesn’t deal with us day to day, they are buying the damsel in distress act.
When I was asked to defend any point, I didn’t.
I said I wanted every complaint read out and once we’d gotten through every single thing she wrote I would then put my case forward. They certainly thought this was strange but obliged me nonetheless. We were there for about half an hour, the temp is crying at how badly I have ignored her, how was it the company and my boss allowed this treatment of her to carry on? It’s getting hard to sit through this absolute character assassination but I do it.
They wrap up and I am asked to explain myself.
I ask for my boss to be present and that I have “one or two” e-mails that can clear this up quickly. In walks my boss with a stack of everything we’d kept.
Her edited e-mails, mine between my boss and me, my time records, my job lists and logs, and even some invoices proving complaints she’d made about stuff not getting done were lies/wrong.
I then said if that wasn’t enough I also could provide the list of tape numbers from the backup that could prove my e-mails were doctored by her and also the list of staff that was present with my boss when he compared them.
Then I finally showed various e-mails between the Deputy CEO and me outlining what was going on. The Dep CEO and HR lady just looked at each other and said I wouldn’t be needed anymore.
The temp’s tears changed to hysteria, she was livid, calling me a liar, and that I was only doing this because she’d rejected a pass I’d made at her.
It became clear that all the staff hated her and it was a big conspiracy to get her fired. She then tried to provide times and dates of when staff members had done social stuff without her and she was being excluded and harassed.
She went on screeching for probably about an hour with anything, you name it about how the staff and I in particular had screwed her over and that she see us in court. How anyone could have felt so victimized was actually scary to me.
We’re relatively small and while I’d be the first to admit the staff here aren’t my best mates or anything they are pretty nice people. This is a nice workplace. This nutjob made it sound like she was the plucky Cinderella of the story getting bullied by the ugly step sisters.
The last I saw of the temp was as she was marched to get her phone and her other crap at her desk and straight out the door as she wailed like a banshee. Today she rang looking for a reference, but she won’t get it.
I don’t care about my managers not doing their job as I don’t plan on being here in 6 months’ time. They are paying for my wedding and I’m going to bounce. To the temp, screw you, I win.”
5. Lie About Your Terminal Illness? Have Fun Being On The News
“Once upon a time, I (almost 49F) had an extremely close friend, “Mindy.” Heck, she was not just my friend, she was like a sister. We met in grade school. She pursued my friendship, always tried to sit next to me, always wanting to talk.
Over the years, we would spend lots of time at each other’s houses, but by the time we were 19, my house was our meeting place because she had extremely bad family trouble. My parents kind of informally took her in because they sympathized with her situation.
I always tried to make her feel like she belonged and avoided luxurious stuff if she could not afford it (expensive shows, nice clothes she might like but could not wear). Other times, I just gave her some stuff from my closet.
She was nice, outspoken, and made me feel like I had the most loyal friend on the planet.
The years go by. I’m fresh out of college and got a nice job. Mindy’s life has improved. She had her own place and a 9 to 5 very reliable job.
By then, we had a group of friends. All young professionals trying to make our way. I remember that time in my life as bittersweet. We would often reminisce about our college days, and, because this happened in the 90s, there were no social networks, no texting.
If you wanted to get in touch, you had to exchange phone numbers or emails. Now it’s fairly easier. So exchanging old stories glued us together as we wondered how things worked out for friends we may never see again.
Gatherings and get-togethers happened in my apartment. I loved that place! It was spacious, still half empty because I was careful not to throw too much of my savings into decoration. Around those days, Mindy began to look sickly and quite not herself.
I was worried and loved her to death. She had been there for me. Especially when my fiance broke up with me for no reason. I guess we now call it ghosting. He was the first man I ever truly loved.
I was never able to get him to express his love like I did, but I accepted him for who he was. He had some cold stages which left me wanting but I thought I could manage.
Basically, I was settling for being breadcrumbed. He was gorgeous, successful, and protective. So when he proposed, I was on cloud 9 and decided to ignore the negatives. I had saved a lot for our wedding.
To be fair, he did the same in a separate banking account. Things came to an end when all of a sudden, he broke up with me. He told me he did not want to get married and did not love me or want any type of relationship.
He let me keep the savings from our joint account plus some of his things at the apartment (workout bench, clothing, pretty much everything). This had a bad effect on me. I felt like he despised me and wanted to cut ties no matter the cost.
Invitations had not been issued, so calling off the engagement was not such an ordeal. Mindy was there for me, listening to my pain, my rants, and my endless sobbing. I lost so much weight I was embarrassed to be seen out on the street.
She had a partner, George, and he was awesome about letting me crash at their place whenever anguish and pain hit me hard. They both cut ties with my ex. I had made so many life-altering decisions for him only to be left in the dark.
Mindy and George sat me down and disclosed that my ex was seeing someone else. I remember the shock and emotional pain. My heart was racing and I ran to the bathroom because the bad news made me throw up.
I never understood how my ex treated me like that. Those Christmas were so bad. I would sit in my living room staring at the wall. Mindy and George helped me set up a very 90s posh concept Xmas tree to cheer me up (only white lights, a few golden ornaments, and natural pine).
I was so depressed, the tree stayed put until the next Spring.
By Summer, Mindy broke some devastating news. She was terminally ill. I was so angry! She didn’t deserve this. Her diagnosis was grim. So bad, that George proposed earlier than he had planned because he wanted to live in the moment.
She had always dreamed of a huge wedding. It was her obsession. We would go into bridal shops and try as many dresses as possible when we were teenagers. The wedding of her dreams was now out of the question.
Her family would not pitch in (she’d left their home on very bad terms) and George could not pay it on his own. George was now barely out of medical school and up to his neck in debt.
I decided to pay for her wedding. It would be a small event, but I would make sure the decorations and her dress were as dreamy as she had always wanted. I still had what I had saved for my wedding and as financially risky or stupid as it may have sounded back then, I was sure those final days with Mindy would be worth gold when she was gone.
Her illness made me realize there are worse things in this life other than being unceremoniously dumped by my ex. I threw myself into it. I was also happy and hopeful, as Mindy was able to go to her chemo sessions by herself without becoming too sick.
She also looked much better than other patients.
Our group of friends also helped her a lot. There was not a day when someone would not bring her groceries or help pay for a random utility bill as she was now out of work.
I had initially offered to help her set up a better health insurance plan but she declined (pay attention to this, more on this later). So I decided not to intrude and give her the fairy tale wedding (or as close to it as I could) that she wanted.
She had picked a nice rental dress and tiara. The florist was to accommodate her taste and create an indoor garden (the venue would be my apartment). The baker had been retained for a 6-tier wedding cake.
There would be 35 people. With tables, an aisle, and a musician to play some music (we could not do the loud disc jockey thing).
Now, back to the insurance issue. My first job was as a junior sales executive for a health insurance company.
There was a legal dispute against another insurer and I was called in by the court to be a witness. As I was getting cleared to enter the building, I saw my ex. My stomach churned.
I immediately thought “courtroom wedding.” By the time I reached the elevator, he had already vanished. That messed up my day. I relived the lack of closure all over again. I could not let it go.
I contacted a good friend who I knew was doing her law internship at the court district. She helped me by checking any legal records regarding my ex. No court wedding (I was relieved, I know it sounds silly), but there was a fraud claim and he was the plaintiff.
I didn’t make much of it but it was strange. He was very smart and getting screwed out of his savings sounded too uncharacteristic.
I still wanted to help Mindy and tried to set her up with a good insurance plan.
I knew it was difficult given that companies treat terminal patients as financial risks. I pleaded with my old boss and he searched for her name, but she was not in the company database. Maybe she was using a different insurer, but that was odd because she clearly told me what her insurance company was.
I felt guilty because I was kind of snooping.
Things were normal for a month until my friend at the courthouse broke some disgusting news. The defendant in my ex’s lawsuit was my best friend, Mindy. She asked me if I knew anything about it.
I had no idea or clue. She then disclosed that the case had become “popular gossip” among courtroom clerks because my ex had fallen for a complicated Cupid scam. As it turned out, Mindy and my ex had an illicit love affair behind George’s back and mine.
It spanned a full year. And she was not “out of work.” She had been fired for embezzlement and larceny (stealing from an employer). I did know that she kept moving apartments but I thought she had been trying to save on rent, so she had kept looking for cheaper and cheaper places.
She moved around towns in the same city. First, she took my ex’s savings for some “investment” and she used her former employer’s credibility for it (never got too many details). Then she got him to help her with “medical bills” and scammed him out of close to 20,000.
Her illness was fake. I avoided her for a week. I hired a PI to help me get whatever I could, without much hope as their affair had ended. The PI managed to help me get some closure.
His name was on her lease for a small studio. Everyone in the building thought they were a couple. It was their love nest and it was 2 hours away. I never suspected anything. But apparently, he had been lying to me about his actual working hours.
He had also helped cover her car payment at least 6 times in a year. She had my ex as her sugar daddy. She had seen me cry, puke, curl on my bed, and had broken the news that he had someone else: herself.
My ex seemed salty over the fact that she had chosen to stick with George. It was simple math. My ex was very successful but George, although not wealthy yet, had become a physician and was spoken for to start a small practice with a potential partner.
She upped and left and scammed him out of his income along the way. Apparently, my ex figured out she had been lying about her condition. The disgust, pain, and disappointment hit me fairly hard, but somehow, I had so heavily invested myself in helping her that I had emptied myself of any potential nerve-wracking reaction.
I was numb.
I went straight to all the wedding vendors and canceled before it was too late to get my funds back. I defunded her wedding. No cake, no dress, and no veil. I sat down with George on a Friday afternoon and offered him all evidence and proof.
He cried, but in the end, admitted to feeling painfully relieved. Yes, he loved her, but he had felt pressured to get married. He confessed to many red flags: she always went to her medical appointments by herself and became irritated if he asked too many questions.
She had shown him some test results that were incredibly well crafted but now knowing what she had done he thought the medical documents could be fake. He confirmed that the sneaky way: having his nurse ex-roommate run her name in the computer at where she claimed to be her doctor’s office ( it was logical on her part as back then, a fairly small town had only one oncologist).
We also suspected that she may have been having a new affair as she spent more and more weekends with her all-girls church camping group. She claimed it was her sanctuary and helped her a lot.
It may have been a front.
George and I accepted the fact that we had been lied to, taken advantage of, and emotionally destroyed by the same person. I personally felt a loss of innocence. Now I understood why she wanted to keep her wedding thing almost a secret.
It may have been possible that making it public may have blown her cover, one way or the other. George and I decided to do “what was right”.
I paid for a “video tribute” to my “loyal” friend and decided to send it to the local news as the “heartwarming story of love and healing”.
It featured her and George’s apartment compound on purpose so that everyone wanting to serve her court papers could find her. I did not want to see her and I made up excuses, but George had a hard time feigning happiness once she had returned from her “camping trip”.
It was an agonizing week. The news wasn’t showing our “positive note” yet and we were sick of the waiting. It all blew up on Tuesday morning. The news channel enthusiastically showcased our story with a collage and lots of information about her and how she was about to get married and had almost already “beaten cancer”.
Dozens of “ill-spoken” haters popped from out of nowhere. As it turns out, this had been her second “illness story”. I never knew someone so close to me could lead such a scummy double life. My ex went straight to the channel and was interviewed.
Oh man! It was pathetic! He poured his heart out about how crazy in love he had been and how she had only used him. I think by then he did not care if all our friends and families found out what he had done.
George confronted her with all the information. She denied it, then said it was a lapse of “bad judgment.” She moved out without too much drama. It took George over a decade to forgive himself for allowing someone to make him look so stupid as a person and as a physician.
She left me some voicemails with lots of excuses. I picked up the phone only once and told her I had defunded and pulverized her wedding and that it was me who told George what was going on.
I used a leveled voice to tell her to never call me again unless she wanted to find out how far I would go to see her pay for her unlawful actions. I cried immediately after I hung up.
It was so surreal.
George and I slowly found normality. But it took some time. He went out with a couple of girls here and there but was not ready. I myself became shut down. She avoided jail I don’t know how even when our mutual friends filed petty claims for all the funds they invested buying her stuff while she carried on her false pretenses.
Eventually, I used the “wedding funds” to partner with George and we opened a small clinic. Best decision ever! Over the years, George and I became best friends and grew closer. We got married some years ago and are proud parents to a happy family.
Fun fact: I got a message from her 7 years ago. She began very sweetly but then proceeded to blame me and accused her of “stealing her man and her life”. I blocked her.
Fun fact 2: I ran into my ex in 2001.
He apologized profusely. I accepted his apology and told him it all worked out as I now have a life with someone who truly deserves me. Back then George and I had begun seeing each other.
Fun Fact 3: Mindy avoided doing time for her deeds back then, but was prosecuted for setting up crowdfunding for a fake cause and stealing from an elderly person.”
4. Attempt To Get Me Kicked Out Of University? Your Life Is About To Go To Crap
“At the time, I was a university student in my second year of biotechnology. I’m autistic and have another heap of social issues, suffice it to say I can’t do emotions easily.
Then you have my mother, who lives with her partner (now my stepdad) who was very high up in high risk at the BBC (British Broadcasting Company, the national tv corp in the UK) and runs a PMC (Private Military Contractor).
My mom works as head admin for the company and most of the guys working owe her favors. When she talks about it you’d think it’s some James Bond-level crap.
Then there is my ex (X). A real bunny boiler, she’s lovely and sweet 90% of the time, somewhat childish, and feels like she’s supposed to be 16, not 19.
However the other 10% of the time she’s pure crazy and evil. Not that anyone who hadn’t gone out with her knew it. When we were seeing each other, she’d cause me to have breakdowns about once every 2 weeks and would gaslight me often enough.
My friend group at the time just assumed I was going through a rough patch due to exams and uni stress.
Then you have my ex’s mother, a self-obsessed woman who is of the opinion that her little girl could never harm a fly.
A very controlling woman who would puppet X to say what she wanted.
At the time, X, a few friends, and I lived together in university accommodation. Basically, everyone has their own room and bathroom but a shared communal area, and all amenities and repairs are prepaid and covered by the Uni.
It’s expensive (about $100 a week) but fantastic if you are a student as you don’t have to worry about fixing things or paying bills.
Now we have that out the way, our story starts simple. For a few weeks, X and I have been rocky.
She’s been telling me off more and more and I’ve been having more and more breakdowns. I was gifted a set of very lovely (and expensive) porcelain roasting trays by my gran. This was her last gift to me before she passed away.
The rule in the kitchen was no one touches them but me. X is cleaning the kitchen with flatmates and decides to put away these roasting trays and accidentally drops one. Friends say she did it deliberately, I wave it away and ask her to get me a new one.
I assume it’s an accident and put my anger to the side. About 2 weeks pass and we break up.
Easter rolls around. Most of the flat goes home. I don’t, I have work. X doesn’t because for whatever reason.
And one other, we’ll call her Libby. Libby can drive and has a car. Over Easter, a friend (F) from a club both X and I attend starts flirting with me, and then since I’m autistic, I don’t get what’s going on till Libby tells me to take the poor girl out.
So I do. I asked Libby to drive us. and X tries to get in the car, saying she’s coming with us. HUH? Uh, no. We tell her to jog on. She keeps this up, trying to act as if we are still together, creeping on me, trying to get in my room at night, somehow always being in the kitchen when I’m in there, trying to wear provocative clothing, etc.
You’re supposed to tell accommodation if people are doing things like this, I told accommodation and they told me to ‘man up’ and ‘just deal with it’. Oh, and she stopped washing, like anything, no clean clothes or anything.
Two weeks of this pass.
We’re starting to enter exam time. My porcelain roasting dishes still haven’t been replaced. I don’t care about anything else but my exams, and those roasting dishes (They were very dear to me).
So I politely ask her to replace them. She’s in her room watching anime. Tells me in no uncertain terms to screw off, and she’ll get around to it, she doesn’t have time with all her revising.
3 days later, we have a power outage and I sat on the washing machine (it’s in another building) on my phone using my data, and decide to find a replacement. I find one on amazon for about £40 (50$).
It takes me less than 10 minutes, and I send it to her on social media. She ignores it so I send her another message pointing out she could even make use of my amazon prime to have it to me in two days, then that’s it, never have to deal with each other again.
She storms down the corridor and bangs on my door, screaming, swearing, and being a general crazy person. I finally lose my temper and yell at her to shut up and decide to lay down the truth and tell her that she needs to get her crap in order, replace the stuff she broke and take a darn shower.
She turns away from me and starts walking down the corridor, still screaming and being a crazy person. I grab her shoulder trying to get her to stop so we can finally fix this crap show.
She turns around and tries to punch me. I instantly try and defend myself and knock her over. F, who was chilling in my room, sees all of this. X screams and starts saying I assaulted her, and runs into her room.
I go have a shower and try to relax.
Now, this bit of information is from friends and discovered after the fact: X called her parents to lie that I strangled her from out of nowhere. You’re supposed to take events to accommodation before it’s forwarded to the police.
X refused to talk to the police about it.
F however insisted we go provide a pre-form statement. It’s something you can do to say “This happened, this is my half of it, I am worried the other person will come in to lie, I want this on record.” That woman is a godsend.
X’s mom turns up and lives in X’s room for several days (You are not supposed to have visitors turn up for more than 1 night and only with booking). And starts making life difficult for the entire flat, trying to conduct an investigation and asking all sorts of questions.
Eventually, everyone starts to avoid her. X’s mom reports it to accommodation and provides a load of ‘evidence’ that is falsified. I get called in and told what’s going on and that I need to provide a statement etc.
I ask to see the ‘evidence’ and the Uni refuses. I’m 19 at this point and have no idea what to do. So I call my mom. She tells me to, and to this day I remember the words because she was Apocalyptic, “Sit tight, Do nothing, Sign nothing.
I will be down tomorrow.”
Now my mom is a lovely woman, but she has this ungodly ability to terrify anyone. I’m not sure if it’s a mother thing, or just unique, but my entire flat met her once before this incident, and I was told by all of them ‘If she ever is coming down again, give us a warning so we can run.’ The warning they got was my best friend, let’s call him Skip (and the guy who lived next door to me) having her knock on his window at 10 am to be let in.
We live in a gated area with security guards. We still aren’t sure how she got in. It’s a 4-and-a-half-hour drive to my Uni from my mother’s house. And she was dressed like she was about to represent someone in court.
So, he crapped his pants and let her in, I woke up, showered, and met her in the kitchen, where she had been made a cup of tea by Skip. He looked like he’d just been informed there was a live grenade in his rectal cavity.
She ‘asked’ him to go get everyone else in the flat except X and X’s mom, now I say ‘asked’ because it was phrased as ‘could he please’ but we both knew if he said no, he’d probably wish he’d have been able to drown himself in the teacup.
I was then asked where X’s mom and X were, I told her that they were probably out as they spent a lot of the day out because I cooked in the kitchen a lot and X’s mom and X were told by accommodation not to be in the same room as me.
My mom then proceeded to not so much ‘interview’ but interrogate every member of the flat for every detail about the past few months. She then ‘asked’ everyone to write that all down, and send her a signed copy.
The next people to discover why my mother was feared were the accommodation people. She basically sat down with them and was very ‘polite’ in the same way a lawyer is polite with the opposition. They went from polite and warm to the same ‘grenade in butt’ expression that Skip had.
When she was done chewing them out she handed them a small card and said “Any further communication with my son is also to be copied to me, and my lawyer both emails are here.” It wasn’t angry, or loud, it was polite, cold, and quiet.
They almost ran out the door after taking the card.
3 days later, I sit my exams (and fail), and several weeks pass, and a ‘hearing’ is arranged, This is basically a meeting between me, and the university’s conducts and appels people, my mother is ‘invited’ to attend, followed by a meeting with X and X’s mom (who have also just sat through a hearing).
The hearing is in between exams and resits, so about 1 and a half months after I sit my exams. In the time in between, I go home to my mom and she has me see several professionals who ask lots of questions, write letters, and stuff.
Mom also gets me to visit the local Buddhist sect. Helps me chill out and recover from almost 6 months of mental mistreatment. X’s mom turns up and is glaring daggers at my mother, who greets her by first and last name (having never met the woman), asks about her other kid, her job, her oldest kid’s job, and her husband (by name), and his job.
X’s mom looks shocked but ignores my mother. I’m sat there trying to work out what is going on and when Mom became some sort of information mogul. X is wearing some kind of stupid bell dress and actual freaking cat ears.
I’m wearing a suit.
In the hearing, the ‘evidence’ X’s mom provided is shown to us. and Mom basically rips them apart, pointing out that the accommodation failed in its duty to protect my mental health and prevent mistreatment.
Atop this, she also points out that they took X’s side without question but were constantly questioning mine along with several letters from psychologists basically saying X is a crazy witch and should be kept away from me, and that X’s mom only made it worse and should never be permitted to communicate with me.
The hearing just nods and tries to keep a straight face. According to Mom, they knew they were screwed.
We meet with X’s mom and X, and I say that all I want is an apology and my roasting dishes fixed.
X’s mom tells me they’d rather go to court than apologize to me for assaulting her daughter. X is looking very downcast and the Uni people are looking terrified. At this point, Mom stands up and thanks the Uni people for all they have done, and that so long as “this doesn’t escalate” she hopes to see them at my graduation.
She then looks at X’s mom and thanks her and says that she hopes that she has an interesting summer. I asked Mom what that was all about and this is when I finally got told the hand she’s been holding: X’s mom works as a school cafeteria lady and if she is externally investigated on her via DBS for anything kid-related she’s likely to get fired, X’s dad works at a bank that’s going to have layoffs soon, and Mom’s company is doing a VERY big contract for the company, and X’s elder sister is an invigilator and you need to have a spotless DBS (Criminal Background Check) for that.
Last I heard, their entire life had gone to crap and the only one still working was the elder sister. X was asked not to return to uni accommodation and told that if she was going to be in the same module as me she’d have to transfer the module or sit it in a different year.
This was all about 2 years ago now, I graduated with a 2/1 and am now living with F. The flat is still good friends and we meet up about once a month.”
Another User Comments:
“Moms are superheroes.
My mom is the nicest lady, but when my high school wasn’t going to rearrange my schedule to allow me to take my capstone engineering class, she rained fire and fury on the principal and guidance counselor in the kindest, most professional fashion. I owe her (and my dad) so much.” jastan10
3. Try To Suck People Into Your Pyramid Scheme? You'll Be The One Paying In The End
Isn’t that ironic?
“About 6 or 7 years ago, I was trying to enlist in the armed forces. I ended up not joining, but that’s a story for another time. At this point, I was led to believe I was about four months away from leaving for Boot Camp.
I was running out of savings and needed a part-time job while I waited around. So I did what any enterprising 20-something would do and searched Craigslist for jobs.
I normally hate sales jobs, especially those based on commissions, but figured it would be a great way to earn some extra funds short term.
Found a few job listings that looked promising, and put out some applications. A few days later I received a call from David. He was opening up a new store and needed associates. He liked my resume and asked if I’d be available for an interview on Friday morning.
I was very upfront with him, and let him know that the distance was a bit more than I’d normally drive for a retail job, and asked what he was offering for an hourly rate, to see if it was worth the drive.
He told me that they were planning on offering an hourly rate in the mid-teens, along with commission. Seemed like an ok deal, so I agreed to be there Friday at 8 am.
Friday arrives as a cold rainy day.
I wear a nice shirt and tie and drive in heavy traffic to the address David provided. I knew the area from a previous job, and eventually found the strip mall I was looking for. However, I’m not seeing any signage for the company name that was listed.
There is, however, one empty space with no signage and two people inside.
Ok, maybe they haven’t gotten the store set up yet. No big deal. I had arrived early, knowing how bad traffic can be in that area.
While in my car, I witnessed a young lady in business casual dress remove a sign from the window stating ‘Retail Space for Rent! Call 1800-Blah-blah.’ Ok, a little weird but maybe it’s the first day in the space.
I walk in about five minutes early, and immediately my nonsense meter goes from Yellow to the highest level, ‘Black Watch Plaid.’
The tables are all simple plastic folding tables. The kind college kids would buy while on a shopping trip to target.
The walls are plastered with laminated charts featuring tons of dollar signs, smiling faces from stock photos, and an organizational chart showing an all too familiar shape: A Pyramid. Darn. Alright, might as well have fun for a while to wait out traffic going home.
The young lady in the dress approaches me, introducing herself as Cindy. She welcomed me to Company Name and asked me to have a seat. She sat at her ‘desk’ (another plastic table), and pretended to go through paperwork.
However, she was really just shuffling papers around. We get to chatting, and I ask her how long she’s worked for David. She says she’s been his secretary for about six months and that I’m going to love it here.
Eventually, a guy walks out of the back office. Early 30s, clean-cut, wearing an ill-fitting suit from JCPenney. As he is walking over, all smiles, Cindy says, ‘Oh, Dennis! Our newest recruit is here!’ The guy stops in his tracks and gives her a cold stare.
‘It’s David, Cindy. We’ve been over this.’ He turns back to me and gives me his brightest ‘Hard to find good help these days’ smile.
David sits me down and welcomes me, saying they are going to start with a group interview, and has me sit down in a circle of chairs.
Eventually, more people come in and sit down. David gets up and begins to thank us all for coming. He tells us about an exciting new opportunity from Cutco! He pulls out a set of knives and explains how with his company we can earn as much as we want, all while setting our own hours.
He even pulls out a textbook, saying how this company’s ‘revolutionary tactics’ have even been featured in college textbooks! He opened to a page, his hand covering parts of it, making sure we can all clearly see the words ‘CUTCO!’ in large letters on the page.
Sad to say, a lot of the other interviewees were very impressed by this. One pregnant girl seemed very excited that she could work around her pregnancy and upcoming birth.
David was going on and on about how much he’s made and how ‘hard workers will rise to the top quickly.’ At this point, David said he needed to take a quick phone call, and gave us five minutes to have some coffee, chit chat, whatever.
As he stepped away, he left his college textbook behind. Oops. So I pick it up, find the earmarked page, and read. What I found made me almost burst out laughing.
As I thought, it was all about pyramid schemes, and it had Cutco as one of the largest examples.
It goes on to talk about how these schemes are not economically viable, etc., etc. So I decided to share this all with the group. I explain how pyramid schemes work, and how he’s just scamming us.
They seemed incredulous, so I said when David gets back, to ask them about what we need to pay to get started.
That finally got everyone to realize what was going on. David walks in a few minutes later, and one of the girls in the group asked David what we need to get started.
‘Well, all you need is your first set of knives to demonstrate! You can sell that on directly or have them order one and keep that as your demo kit. Doesn’t matter. Just have to pay the start-up fees for it.’ And that’s when utter chaos broke loose.
One kid started to get up and tell him to go screw himself, saying he’s wasting our time and he’s a jerk for trying to pull this. The pregnant girl is crying because she thought she found a place that would allow her to work despite being pregnant.
David is clearly confused and flustered and asking who told them all this. When it becomes apparent I’m the wrench in the machine, David gets upset and starts telling me to leave.
People are yelling at David, David is yelling at me, Cindy is trying to tell everyone she never met David before today and didn’t know what this was.
Eventually, we all walk out, leaving David behind. As I’m walking to the door, I see, leaning against the wall, the sign that was in the window before ‘Retail Space for Rent! Call 1800-Blah-Blah.’ As I get into my car, I dial the number.
Eventually, I get through to a person and ask about the property for rent at the location of David’s company. The nice lady on the phone apologized, saying they had just leased that property out. I asked if she knew how long the lease was for, as I was really interested in the property.
She said she wasn’t sure, they hadn’t done the official paperwork yet. They were on their way to the space to sign everything with the leaseholder in a few hours.
I told her everything that had just happened to me, and about David using the space for a pyramid scheme.
She got extremely upset, saying that this stuff happens all the time in the industry. They will go to sign and last minute the leaseholder will decide to opt-out, after using it for some fly-by-night operation.
She thanked me for the info, and I thought that was the end of that. Or so I thought.
A few weeks later, I received an email from David telling me how I ruined his life. About how the property management found out what was going on, and weren’t refunding his down payment on the space.
Saying he violated a clause in the paperwork he signed to hold the property. How he knew I was the one who called because I’m a terrible human being.
Now he was out thousands for the space and supplies, how he only wanted to give us jobs and help us.
It was a long, very angry email, with several things said about me and my mother. So I called 1800-blah-blah again, spoke with the same lady I did before, and she was VERY interested in an email from David where he essentially admitted to what he was trying to do.
Said it would help them all in the proceedings. And don’t you know, I was more than happy to send that email along to her.
Her lawyer said it should be an open-and-shut case at that point. I like to think I’m a helper.”
2. Engage In Sketchy Business Practices? The IRS Will Hear About This
“Many years ago, I was a broke kid just out of high school who had no plans for college at the time because I was sick of school. I moved in with a friend but he lived in what was an economically depressed area at the time with very few job prospects for a guy like me.
I was young and willing to do just about anything for hourly work after 8 months of mostly being supported by my friend (like a real friend will do for you). I tried to apply anywhere I could, but almost no one was taking applications.
I stumbled across an ad for a job in a construction-related trade, and at this point, I was ready to do anything to stop being a burden.
There was no real interview. I was new, so I was going to “start out” making minimum wage and they would be able to pay me in bills, which was great since I didn’t even have a penny to open a bank account.
I thought that this probably meant it was an under-the-table type of job like the couple of other crappy “commission” jobs I’d tried since I got there, but figured, “Screw it, at least I’ve got a job that is paying hourly.”
The first day I show up at the shop at the scheduled time and they ask if I had my own tools.
Of course not, I couldn’t afford any I had to borrow from my friend to get gas just to work the first two weeks. This was no problem and they handed me a stack of new tools for my first day.
I was also handed a time card and told to wait outside while each crew’s supervisor was given their instructions. The supervisors gave us rides to the various job sites in the company vehicles, everyone was told what to work on and I was trained on what to do.
My work was periodically checked by the supervisor. When the supervisor decided we were done for the day, we were all taken back to the shop, turned in any extra materials, and went home.
And so it went every day for the next two weeks.
If I needed a breathing respirator or eye protection, they’d hand it to me. Another tool? No problem. At the end of the second week, I confusingly received a check for my first week of work and it was a lot less than expected.
There wasn’t an earnings statement, so I figured maybe I was wrong and they had taken out taxes. I was just happy to be able to pay for my own gas and take my friend to dinner as an underwhelming thank-you.
I asked them about the payment and they promptly took the check back and handed me the amount.
The next week, my check was a lot closer to the amount I expected, so they obviously hadn’t taxed it.
I was a bit confused, so I asked why my first check was short. That’s when I found out I had “bought” all my supplies from them and the funds were taken out of my pay.
I’d already seen one guy fired for questioning them on a job site, so I wasn’t about to press the issue or ask more questions.
Now, I’m not a stupid guy and if I had more sense at the time, I would have run far away.
I should have known better, but again, I was young, “uneducated”, had a job at a time when it was hard to find one, and was finally able to pay my own way.
Then I was stuck.
I was working to make enough to eat, have a roof over my head, and buy the gas to get to work and earn another check. Sure, some of it was my own doing in wasting some savings here and there, but the rent was almost 2 weeks of pay by itself.
Car insurance, utilities, and a phone were most of another week of pay. Gas and food every week accounted for most of the 4th week of pay, and whatever was left went to liquor/beer and small guilty pleasures.
I say this only to illustrate the situation I found myself in, and why the last thing I was going to do was up and quit my job. I tried to look for another job when I could, but unfortunately, when you are working a long distance from home, from early morning to late evening including drive-time, and making just enough income to get by, you can’t just take off work to go for an interview.
This was my new life — days became weeks, weeks became months, months became a year. Over time, I came to find out who all my coworkers were. The addicts, the drinkers, the guys fresh out of prison (who usually fit one of the two previous groups, even on probation), and a number of illegals.
Some were jerks (the ones that got intoxicated), some were really nice (the illegals), and some were just there to make it another week.
Side note: Before I get hate for using the word “illegals” — I don’t hate illegals, just don’t bother trying to tell me they are “undocumented” because that is just a PC word for illegal.
I had done some harmless but illegal crap in my past as well (but not been caught), so I wasn’t one to judge them on an equally harmless act. These guys were almost all nice, friendly people, and I liked them.
We were all just trying to get by. We talked about their living situations, how they sent most of their income back to their families, what family they had here, why they came illegally, and so on and so forth.
I laughed right along with their stories of the “free vacations” to see their families when they would be deported before hopping the border and coming back to work a couple of months later. I also felt sad right along with them when they would tell me about their problems.
The entire point is, this guy loved employing the type of people who wouldn’t fight back about their crappy pay, and who probably weren’t going to file taxes.
I had less than $100 saved at the end of the year and was about to learn what I’d really gotten myself into.
In February, I was handed a tax statement — a 1099. I didn’t think anything of it until April came around and I knew I had to do my taxes. I filled in the forms, used the tax tables, calculated things up, and, “Holy crap…” In case you didn’t know, when you get a 1099, you are working as a “contractor,” or basically, you own your own business.
Since you own the business, you not only need to pay your own taxes but also all of the “employer” portion of the taxes on everything you made. I owed a couple of thousand bucks with almost nothing to my name.
I just gave up. I already expected I was going to be a tax evader by taking under-the-table pay, there was no way I could make the payments for what I owed, so I just didn’t file taxes.
It wasn’t long before I figured out that most of the other “contractors” were in the same boat — some of them had for many, many years without filing taxes.
One year became two, two became three…
I hated that job and the guy we worked for. We were being worked into the ground for very little pay while the owner made bucks hand over fist. He would stretch the cheapest materials as far as possible.
He made us buy our supplies and safety gear from him because if you didn’t have it on hand, you were fired, and generally found any reason he could to keep payments out of our checks.
Overtime didn’t exist because they considered us contractors. We had to work until they said we were done, based on the expectations they made on the supervisors. Because most of the guys were under-educated, illegal, or users, he knew they weren’t going to say anything to anyone.
By the time you account for all the tax burdens he transferred to us, we were probably making around $4/hr, with supervisors making around $6/hr.
The third year in, I received a small amount of pay unexpectedly.
The job market was a lot better, so I applied for as many jobs as I could and lined all the interviews up for the next week; the pay was enough for me to take that week off and I lucked out with a new job.
I quit immediately and started making reasonable pay. When the end of the year rolled around, I had a W-2 and another 1099. I knew I had a problem. I started combing through IRS documents to figure out just how deep I was.
Back-file, pay penalties and interest, the IRS would keep all my taxes and I would still owe about $5,000 which I could make payments on. At my current pay and what I could afford, I would probably be making payments for at least the next 5 years with the interest.
One day as I was agonizing over the approaching deadline to file, one of the IRS documents sparked an important question. What made me a “contractor”? Turns out, according to the IRS definition, I probably wasn’t.
Since I was told when I had to work, when I could leave, where to work, what to do, all work was supervised, and training was provided — all these things added up to it looking like it would be determined I was an “employee”.
Armed with this information, I filed my tax forms and immediately started a dispute process with the IRS. I made sure to be clear that all of the employees were in the same situation. At best, I hoped I would be just a little less screwed on how much I owed.
Things worked out better than I had planned. The owner tried to dispute it, but my story was too compelling. The IRS found in my favor and I was able to amend all of my previous returns.
I still owed the penalties and some taxes for not having filed on time, but it was nothing compared to my old employer. He and his business were audited, then slammed with a crap ton of fines and penalties.
His name and business were ruined.
The last I heard, he was doing small odd jobs…as an independent contractor. All I could think was, “Enjoy the taxes, you jerk.””
Another User Comments:
“I worked for a home framer who was an absolute jerk.
We were putting in trusses (the roof parts) with a crane one day when it was in the 90s; it was summer. One guy who was nailing them to the house stopped for literally ten seconds to take a drink of water and our boss (the owner) who was sitting in his truck watching us with an iced coffee in his hand and the A/C going, started screaming at him to not make the crane operator wait (it was being lifted but not even up yet), and he was paying X amount an hour for the crane, and of course, he threatened to fire him just for talking back.” TheBrandNewDay
1. Refuse To Do Your Chores? Good Luck Getting To Drive Anywhere
“After I had graduated from high school and still hadn’t “found” my calling, my parents told me I could live with them rent-free as long as I did one very important thing, helped out with the chores, don’t bring any girls or friends home after 9 pm, and occasionally offer to help with the groceries for the week.
It had been about 3 months, and for the most part, I was adhering to the second and third rules I was given. That all changed when I met my first “adult” lady friend. We’ll call her Roxy, cause she was a pretty bad chick.
Now Roxy was a SUPER bad influence on me she started getting me to stay out late, and spend most of my paychecks on getting us drinks and such. I started slipping down a wormhole from which I almost wouldn’t have returned.
My dad from time to time would remind me, “Hey son, you need to make sure you’re helping with the chores, and mind throwing 50 bucks towards groceries this week?” That all changed after 3 months of being out of school and about a month and a half total of me knowing Roxy.
We had come home from a concert in another city, for anyone who’s my “almost Old Fart age,” it was a concert for Papa Roach and she told me she was too tired to go home and she wanted to crash with me at my parents’ home.
The time… 2:30 am. We pulled up to the driveway and I told her to be quiet, of course, she wasn’t cause it was Roxy, soon as we step inside the house and I’d just locked the door, she starts screaming the chorus line from Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It at the top of her lungs.
Like clockwork my parent’s light comes on and my dad comes out of his room like a freaking Cheetah, a freaking cheetah I tell you, he sees us both and looks back in his room. Turning his head around he goes, “Take her home.
Now.” I immediately turn around and take Roxy home. She’s all mad and tells me I should stand up to my old man… yadda yadda yadda.
Soon as we get her home, I know I can’t go home, so I stay at her apartment with her.
The next morning, there’s a text on my phone, “Come home at your earliest ‘convenience.'” – Love Dad. I know I’m dead because A) my dad never texts me and B) If he does text me, he’s more of a John Madden play-by-play kinda guy.
What I mean is he’s going to give you a paragraph of words for what could have been a single sentence or two.
I kiss Roxy goodbye for what I’m sure is the last time I’ll see another human being and head home.
When I get home, he’s sitting at the table with a pen and a piece of paper in front of him. He tells me to sit down and then puts the piece of paper in front of me.
The paper is an actual itemized list. He tells me that for the last month and a half, I haven’t done any of my chores and that he’s calculated based on the roughly 4-5 hours a weekend of time I wasted for him that amounts to his pay which was 25.00 an hour (He’s an RN aka Registered Nurse), so he’s taken 4 hours x 6 weekends x 25 per hour pay and figured that I need to pay him 600 bucks for time wasted.
Then he’s also for good measure thrown in an extra 100 for the two times he’s asked me for 50 bucks to help out with groceries.
He gets up and walks over and says there is a dotted line for me to sign stating I will pay all of this back in one month’s time.
I’m adding it all up in my head and telling him I barely have a thousand bucks after taxes a month. He says I should have thought about that before I brought a girl home at 2 freaking 30 in the morning.
He tells me if I don’t sign this paperwork, I have 30 minutes to “get my crap and get the heck out.” I legit almost start balling and tell him that I want to sign the paper, but could I at least have a month’s extension? He puts his hand to his chin thinking and then looks down at me and agrees.
He says, “You have two months to pay me 600 bucks. Oh and by the way…” He purposely hangs this in the air for a good 20 seconds, “If you don’t pay and you continue to break my three simple rules…there will be pain in your future.” He revises the “contract” he’s written up on the paper and I sign it.
So a month and a half go by and I’ve “managed” to pay him 450 bucks. I haven’t seen Roxy as much over the two months because for obvious reasons, her “finance pit” has dried up a bit.
She then calls me on day 45 and tells me that she misses me, she wishes we would hang out, why am I working so much overtime…I’ve told her that I have to pay my dad back or get kicked out.
Of course, she ends up ending the call shortly after that, and then it happens. She texts me the next day about a show in another city, and I hear all the usual, “Oh it’s a band I REALLY, REALLY like! I’ve been wanting to see them forever, plus I miss snuggling up to you at the concert.” I somehow stupidly agree to go with her, and well, while we were up there, my wallet gets stolen out of my front pocket.
(To this day, I think Roxy did it, even though I’ve never been able to prove it.) We go home, I drop Roxy off and a few days go by. My dad comes knocking on my door as it’s now officially day 55.
He asks me do I want to pay him the last 150 or wait till the two months are officially up. I tell him I got him and that I’ll go to the bank right now seeing as I just got paid the day before.
I look around my room for my wallet, nowhere to be found. I go find the jeans I wore at the concert I was at with Roxy, no wallet in there either. (It’s worth noting I had and still have a terrible habit of leaving my wallet in my jeans after I take them off and forgetting that for several days.)
I start panicking as I can not find my wallet anywhere.
I check everywhere the house, the backyard, my car I even call the last place I was at “work” and see if they might have it. No one’s seen my wallet. I go back to my dad who’s in the backyard cutting the grass and tell him what’s going on.
He gives me a half grin and says, “Sorry for your situation, but I’m treating you like a tenant now. Go to the bank, get what you owe me, and when you come back and pay me the 150, we’ll go from there.”
I hall butt to the bank and my heart about falls out of my chest as the teller tells me my account has a balance of $3.42.
My. Heart. Drops. To. The. Ground. (Worth noting here it was a local bank that I’ve banked at since I was around 13, I was 18 at the time so they all knew me at the bank and with some quick verification gave me info on my account.) I head back home and tell my dad what happened.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Ahh that sucks. Well you know I’m going to have to get my 150 bucks still right?” I tell him there’s no way to have the payment to him in 5 days or less.
He says okay, well, how bout I drive you to work seeing as you don’t have a driver’s license right now? He drives me to work, to which I’m there for roughly 8 hours.
While at work, my dad pulled out his massive collection of craftsman tools and proceeded to drain all the fluids in my car.
He gets a buddy to come over and help completely remove my motor, my transmission, and my tires. My dad and his buddy being an ASE Master Mechanic manage to do all of this in an 8-hour shift of me being at work.
At the end of my 8-hour shift, my dad is in the parking lot waiting for me. He’s in his work coveralls which I find funny and he’s got grease all over his arms. He drives me home and I notice my car is pulled into the garage and on jack stands.
I look at my dad and ask, “What up with my car?” He points to the garage, “Oh, go ahead and see…I got my 150 bucks today.” I jump out of the car as it goes into park and run over to my car.
There’s a note on the front of it from my dad’s mechanic friend stating the motor, transmission, and tires have all been sold to him for 150 bucks and that he’ll happily not only give me back the items but he’ll help me install them back into my car but that I have to work for him on my two days off for the next 4 weeks from 7 am to 7 pm.
I fall over crying obviously and after my dad laughs a bit tells me my first shift starts tomorrow. (It is further worth noting that my dad actually owned this vehicle and it was titled, tagged, and licensed in his name…so “technically” he could do whatever he wants with it.
He had just chosen to allow me to use the vehicle as mine.)
I would spend the next 4 weeks working with my dad’s mechanic friend on my days off. After two days of working, we’d bring a few pieces of my “car” back to the house and he’d teach me how to put these items back together, and slowly but surely, I learned to be my very own mini DIY garage mechanic.
Shortly after I lost my car, Roxy dumped me, and of all things, my dad took 6 months out of my life to teach me how to be a “somewhat” responsible adult. Oh, and the icing on the cake: soon as we had my car back together and running, my dad walked up to me and gave me an envelope with 450 bucks in it and a note that said, “Stop being a knucklehead.””