People Exhibit Their Exasperating Revenge
14. Initiate A Witch Hunt To Try To Get Rid Of Me? I'll Tell The Mayor
“I worked a government job in a town hall for a couple of years. I’m gay and that became an issue at my workplace very early on due to what my boss and HR would later describe (in writing) as a “rough work environment” and blame me for being “too sensitive.” This because there was a lot of poking fun around the office, but also a good deal revolving around me and my sexuality.
This was a daily mental strain for me and I eventually told my boss about it. He who is typically a passive boss that enables this kind of work culture responded with a knee-jerk reaction and scolded several colleagues. This only resulted in me being alienated by my colleagues and they soon gradually distanced themselves away from me. Doing my job became impossible because some colleagues wouldn’t cooperate, didn’t share vital information leading me to make critical errors and being blamed for it by my boss.
My boss knew about the situation and told me that others had told him they didn’t want to work with me because I wasn’t good at my job and that he (being back to his regular passive self) simply accepted their wishes.
When I confronted him with the way he handled the situation he made the excuse that this was a new situation for him, that the problem was not as bad as he thought and that he overreacted, but what is done is done.
Since the gay jokes technically had stopped he figured the problem had been resolved and that this was a whole other issue that I was trying to blame my colleagues for. Despite saying (and putting in writing) that we just have to accept that some colleagues don’t want to work with me, it’s entirely my fault for lacking knowledge on areas that are their responsibility. In cases where it was apparent that the colleague was at fault for not cooperating, the boss told me to best keep my distance and delegate the task to someone else they could work with.
Sensing this could only go downhill I had joined a union and it was around this time I got them involved. After explaining the situation to a contract in the union we had a meeting with a work relations woman who worked in the same building, and after hearing my story she recommended that I file an internal complaint. I did and that’s when the workforce executioner entered the poop show.
The complaint went to the HR manager. We have a new meeting (me, union lady, work relations lady and HR manager). I explain the whole situation again, everyone in the room was very supportive and understanding. So then, the HR manager conducts her own internal investigation where she basically just has a meeting with my boss and then another meeting with everyone excluding me where she straight out asks if they think I’m the problem or their boss.
She writes a report that in short says that my colleagues have said the workplace became worse after I joined the team, that the scolding from my boss made things more difficult though they unanimously agree I’m the problem and can’t do my job. She also writes that every colleague must watch me closely and log every tiny mistake in the system and finally that maybe I should look for another job.
My side of the story, including documented conversations between me and my boss isn’t mentioned in the report at all. The report is also signed by the (backstabbing) work relations woman who recommended I complain in the first place. The report is sent to me and my boss, but my boss also immediately forwards the report to the entire department because as he put it “they have a right to know the whole story” and totally not as a “we need to get rid of this guy”.
So now that HR, my boss, and the work relations lady have worked hard to completely obliterated the tiny reputation I had in the department. I call in sick the next day, get an appointment with my doctor, and am off on sick leave. I talk to the union rep who says this is clearly retaliation from the management, it’s illegal and sadly far from the first time she’s seen this.
She explains that she will write a formal complaint to the HR manager and demand an apology or else they will take further action. I’ve honestly run out of patience at this point, it seems no matter how bad it gets it’s still not bad enough for the union to take any real action.
So this is when I finally wise up a little and decide to not be a pawn that just reacts to their bureaucratic theater and actually act for myself.
I know I don’t want to stay on sick leave, nor do I ever want to go back working for those psychopaths. So with nothing of value to lose, I figure I make my exit with a hail mary.
I let the union rep write her complaint which is very formal and direct, it describes the investigation presented in the report as very weak and that actions were done by the management that are legally and morally questionable.
I get a copy of the complaint from the union. Rather than wait for HR to respond to the complaint, I write my own internal email explaining my situation, attach the complaint and other damning documents, and send it directly to the mayor. I ask for his help, though there is also the implication that he is the only thing standing between the city and a nightmare lawsuit
Early the next morning I get a response.
The mayor is appalled by my email and assures me that he will take the matter directly to the city director and together they will decide what to do. They soon launch a new investigation. This time it’s an external investigation, led by a lawyer they regularly hire. The lawyer puts together a committee consisting of him, a woman from another union, and the director’s assistant (so not entirely an external investigation).
They look over all the documents I sent the mayor and have separate interviews with me (accompanied by a union rep), my boss, the HR manager, and a colleague that has to denounce that he’s a homophobe – as if being diagnosed with homophobia is the only way his behavior is considered discriminatory.
After a few weeks, they give their report which is sent to the director, the mayor, and me.
It is a very carefully formulated report, sadly it concludes that the leadership has done what can be expected, though right after in stark contrast it says “all decisions made by the leadership in their original report must stop immediately”. Despite the anticlimactic report from a lawyer, my union rep believes it is still in our favor and even though it doesn’t say it outright there is an insinuation of guilt written between the lines.
I don’t hear from the mayor or the director again. Instead, I’m called to another meeting with my boss and the HR manager to discuss the report. I bring my contact from the union with me who has explained to me that she is prepared to negotiate terms for my resignation. We go to the meeting. The report is on the table in front of them, they seem to have developed tunnel vision as they’re only interested in addressing the one part that says “leadership has done what can be expected”.
Though bizarrely I still get a forced apology from the HR manager about how poorly she managed the investigation, yet still stands by it somehow. They talk as if they’re on a different planet, not admitting to any fault despite just apologizing and having a report in their hands from a lawyer that says to stop what they’re doing immediately.
HR manager proceeds to put on her compassionate act.
Says this isn’t good for my mental health, they’re open to solutions but it’s probably in my best interest to resign. The director has authorized them to give me the generous deal of a six months salary after my resignation. The deal however is far from good enough and thankfully my contact in the union is a tough negotiator. I barely have to say anything while the negotiation goes on for another hour and the two bosses slowly get more and more frustrated until finally, they give in.
They agree to pay a monthly salary after my resignation which roughly amounts to $40K total, in addition to $2000 as a symbolic gesture for damages (which is a formal admission of guilt). My boss also has to write a recommendation letter which has to be approved by me. Finally, they want to include in the signed agreement that the legal conflict between me and them is hereby concluded and that I can’t sue them over this in the future.
I sign the agreement and am officially happily unemployed.
Forward a couple of months to now. I’m currently studying for a bachelor’s degree. I don’t have to worry about income for a good while longer and will likely apply for an interest-free student loan when I’m poor enough to qualify.
I still think about what happened, and I often wonder what would’ve happened had I taken the whole city to court.
I’m sometimes tempted to hire a lawyer to test if the agreement actually stops me from filing a suit or not. I feel like even though I was compensated, I lost my (bad) job while the people responsible kept theirs. They can go on pretending they did nothing wrong while sweeping all their ugliness under the rug. The city will never run out of funds and will simply pay to get out of the next inevitable blunder.
On the other hand, my job wasn’t really a loss to say it mildly and I am glad I didn’t have to go through a long and stressful lawsuit. But as long as my story remains ignored my sense of retribution isn’t really satisfied – though maybe it never can be either way. I wish I could show people how bad it really is behind closed doors in city hall, and the pigs they allow to reside within.
I also don’t want my name associated if the story got out. I have a pile of confidential documents that reveal their true ugly faces but can’t share them due to an NDA. I did however go as far as to forward documents and a complaint to a governmental labor authority, though I have no idea if anything came of it.
If you made it all the way through, I thank you for reading and would love to read your thoughts and maybe similar experiences.
I just want to also emphasize that my life and mental health have improved tremendously since I left that building for the very last time and that I am lucky to have my partner, friends, and family who supported me all the way through this nightmare.
Lastly, to anyone who might read this and feel like they’re in a similar situation. Don’t wait for it to get better, just look for another job and get out of there ASAP. Don’t let it devolve into what I went through. Send a complaint if you want to, but make sure you leave soon afterward. And never trust anyone in the workplace just because they act sympathetic. They’re not on your side unless you’re directly paying them to support you.”
13. Complain About Parking? How About I Get You A Fine For Overgrown Hedges?!
Since you want to be the nit-picky one, they’ll show you what nit-picky really is.
“I live in a small close which has another small close leading off it. I sometimes park my fully liveried work van (VW Caddy which is the size of a VW Golf) in the other close which I technically don’t live in if there is no parking available in the part where my house is.
It is only 10 meters or so away and I can still see it from my house.
There is a family that lives on the corner that doesn’t like people parking where I park because it is opposite of their driveway and causes them a bit of extra effort to get their car on and off the driveway. If I’m not parked there, someone else will. This is completely normal, legal, and socially acceptable in the UK where roads are smaller and parking is more limited, also cars are smaller here than in other countries.
(Talking to you, Americans!)
As a result of this, they regularly phone my work to complain about the van parking there. I only park here if the spaces outside my house are full which are usually occupied by people who live in the other close. They also phone other people’s companies to complain about people parking in that completely legal on-street parking. They never knock on doors to ask about cars parked there they just phone up to complain if the vehicles have the company details on them.
We all just ignore the complaints now, so it is just an inconvenience, but they still keep doing it; they must realize it is not working.
So just to clarify where I park the van is on the opposite side of the road. I’m not actually blocking the driveway IN ANY WAY AT ALL. It just makes it slightly less convenient for them to drive on and off their driveway.
It is a completely legal parking space. In the UK in residential areas, unless the local government put them in place, there are usually no parking restrictions. Anyone can park there as long as there are no restrictions and the vehicle is taxed, insured, MOT’d, and not causing an obstruction. The idiots on the corner just complain to companies because they can and they are over possessive about the road outside their property.
They never complain face to face to people if cars are parked there.
This family’s house has a border with the entrance to the road and the bushes have become very overgrown recently as they do every year. They never cut them despite being asked by multiple people who live in the close because they think the council should cut them even though they are part of their garden and it is their responsibility to cut them back.
My revenge is this. I started complaining every week on the app Fixmystreet. Because the hedges are obstructing the road the council came out to inspect and I happened to be in when the council did the inspection and spoke to the guy. Turns out they have had multiple letters and warnings about this over the years and have ignored them all. Because of council cuts, they haven’t had the resources to deal with it for the past few years but because I complained and the hedges are obstructing the road the council is obliged to act.
They sent a warning which said the owners have 28 days to cut the hedge or the council will arrange it and send them a bill. It would cost about £300 for them to have it done themselves but the council will charge $2,700 because of the admin and legal costs if they have to do it. Of course, they just ignored it, and the council workers turned up with chainsaws and cut it all back.
I wasn’t in when it happened but my neighbor said the wife in the house went crazy at the workers who just ignored her. Then the police turned up who spoke to the council workers who showed the police the paperwork which they then explained to the woman and she went into her house.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see the aftermath, but I reckon they are very mad.
There have been other issues with this family that I am not putting here. They are known to be unreasonable. They have caused problems for other neighbors; they are the archetypal “Karen” family especially the mother. My neighbors all agree with me and are more than happy that these people have finally had some comeuppance, no one else has any problem with parking on this road apart from them, the rest of us are adults and share. If you are going to pick holes and be rude, please do something else with your day!”
12. Fired For Being Late? Better Hope I Don't Report You
“I was working at a corporate sports bar at the time. Barely over minimum wage, no insurance, no raises, no future. New store management came in, and it was clear that they were “cleaning house” (I.E. firing all of the old staff to hire their people). Somewhat standard, labor laws in my area allow firing for almost any reason.
I had been down that road before. I needed a paycheck until I found a new job, so I played by their new rules.
I did every stupid thing they said. I saw other, more dedicated people fall by the wayside. Eventually, management needed a corporate policy violation to fire me.
Finally, one day, they changed the time clock an hour ahead and fired me for being one hour “late” to work. OK, fair play, 100% legal anyways (they paid for the total number of hours worked), they were just fabricating the lateness for company policy.
After finding that they were fighting my unemployment claim, I filed a formal complaint with the liquor bureau in my state. Their clock said that I was an hour “late,” therefore their official paperwork said that they were selling stuff an hour after the last call. Hundreds per violation, plus automatic license suspension after X violations, and every bar transaction for that hour was a possible violation.
I QUICKLY got corporate attention. My last check was double-checked for hours of accuracy and overnighted to my front door. Cashier’s check, not standard payroll. I eventually signed a form saying that they were not selling after hours and they would stop filing frivolous appeals against my unemployment benefits.
The GM was replaced 2 months after I left, and they had repeated staffing problems trying to fill my shoes.
Corporate still gives me a stellar job reference to this day.
For clarity’s sake, this wasn’t daylight savings time, but it was the early 2000s when nearly all computer systems did not play nicely with each other. For example, for daylight savings time each location would root in (# prompt at least) and change the store’s server clocks ahead or behind 1 hour before the business day began…or every system from payroll to card processing pooped themselves and corporate hated them for a while.
They could not change the clocks mid-day, they could only change it before the workday and could not alter the clocks again until close of business.
They also did not pay me any extra, they only overnighted my final check to me instead of waiting 2 weeks and stopped filing appeals to my already-approved unemployment benefits; because I told the regional manager they were putting me in a tight spot financially.
The liquor law specifically stated that the official clock in the state main office would be considered the official clock. Legally, no violation actually occurred. I told the clerk at the liquor office the same story, and she still asked me to file a complaint so they could officially verify the story.
They also got my contact info, but never called or wrote to me.
A regional boss wanted that signed form not for legal reasons or license compliance, but for internal company reasons. Upper management wanted heads to roll if anything actually risked their liquor license; but since the GM just chose a dumb way to try to validate my termination, I took my unemployment benefits and considered the matter closed.”
11. Watch Out, She May Just Take Over Your Business
“This is a long tale. It is also a textbook case of why you don’t abuse loyal associates.
My spouse was the second person hired at a consulting company in a very specialized industry. In her 15 years with the firm, it grew to a respectable three office (8-10 employees at each location) entity. She and the owner grew the business on the contacts, expertise, and presentation of my wife.
To the extent that my wife’s abilities and education were the main reason new business came through the door. Over the years her scope of responsibility grew so that the owner was basically 75% absent and mostly unaware of day-to-day activity. As he got more and more removed from the business, he would make overtures that he would eventually retire and sell her the business. He was so dependent on her income-generating that he took out a life insurance policy on her.
I did not involve myself too much, but at a major industry dinner party I attended with her, he introduced my wife to the table as “My girl Friday” basically a secretary (which was weird). Over the years she tried to get an agreement in place to buy the firm, even if it was years away. He always delayed and made promises but never followed through.
I told her “this guy doesn’t respect you or your contribution, he will never sell you the business because there is no reason to, he can make more by stringing you along, and essentially: You are the business, why would he sell it to you?”
One day out of the blue, my wife received a raise and bonus (a very minor amount) and a contract that included a non-compete, non-disclosure agreement.
After reading it, she realized that the owner was trying to lock her down from leaving for another firm (she had been getting feelers from other companies). To make things even more suspicious, she received a call from a competitor who said they were in the final stages of due diligence and they wanted to meet her. The jerk was selling the company and didn’t think to tell her or ask if she was interested in buying it.
She ignored the agreement and there were no other agreements in place. She was totally free.
My wife is extremely loyal, she has missed so many special days working for this guy, stuck around when they were wobbly, even skipped paychecks when there were tough financial times. She was furious, the absolute maddest I’ve ever seen her. We discussed starting her own firm and I asked “how much business is contractually obligated to stay there if you leave?” It turned out that most agreements were either handshakes or 30 days at will.
I also asked how many would leave with you? She said about 75% including her biggest source of revenue who didn’t even know the owner.
In a very short time, my wife took a 3-week vacation (she had months of unused time). During which time she rented an office (in the same building!) and made all the arrangements to set up a new shop. She agreed to leave any and all company property behind and do her best to give the old company no obvious ammo for litigation.
She called her clients and said, “I’m leaving, if you want to look into relocating your account with my new company, you’ll need to quit the old one before we can discuss it.” Most understood the implication.
While she was on vacation, she received a panicked call from her boss “We lost XYZ company, do you know anything about it?” She said “I’m sorry, but I just sent you an email, I’ve resigned.
All my keys and company stuff are on my desk. Buh Bye.”
The new firm took basically 90% of the business and seamlessly transitioned into the same company as it was before, but with a new owner. Even most of the office staff would come aboard.
Within a year her old company closed down except for the small office her old boss ran, she sees him once in a while and he just scowls at her.”
10. Refuse To Pay Me For The 6 Jobs I Work? I'm DONE
You’ll regret this forever.
“This happened two years ago.
I was twenty and a recent university dropout. I needed a year to empty my head, recover from imminent burnout, and earn a bit to help support my single mom and my younger sister (who’d just given birth with no father in the picture). I was a very insecure person at the time. I really wanted to work, but without a degree, life sucks… until I got contacted by Mr.
Mr. B found me on a federal website for job applicants, where I was registered.
He was looking for a manager to help manage his small hotel: a beautiful establishment with six lofts located in the heart of a medieval city (my city). I answered him immediately, saying that I had no prior experience with management and that my qualifications didn’t exactly lie in that area, but thank you very much for the consideration.
He answered back, saying ‘just come take a look and we’ll talk about it.’
The first thing I did was Google Mr. B. He had an architectural firm and was coaching a professional football (soccer) club, which is kind of a big deal in my little country. Secondly, I Googled the hotel. It was indeed really small and fairly new; an old underground mill transformed into six luxury lofts, but with the medieval style and feel kept intact.
I decided I had nothing to lose by simply visiting and hearing him out. I was extremely curious, too. Why me? Well, you can probably guess, but I couldn’t.
I was naïeve, terribly insecure, and in desperate need of a job, to prove to myself and to the world that I hadn’t taken a gap year for anything.
Long story short, I met with Mr. B that same week.
He was a short, business-like, fairly handsome man, friendly enough, didn’t sweat the little things, showed me around, and explained to me what he expected. It was a slow season so I’d have some time to learn the ropes.
Before I knew it I was employed. Mr. B made me three promises:
- a salary between €1400 and €3000 that would increase depending on the hotel’s (my) performance
- a job as a manager + receptionist, since the place was small enough to combine the two
- my own room in the hotel, so I wouldn’t have to commute daily
The work started immediately.
I was designing stickers to put on the doors, translating letters in German, French, and English, working with the booking software, making schedules for weeks to come… it was a rush, like nothing I’d ever done and I was loving the experience.
Finally Adult Life, Responsibility, a way to prove my worth!!! As business started to pick up and all lofts were opened for rent, I was soon working from six in the morning ‘till ten in the evening, doing administration until it was time for check-in, then checking people in, communicating with clients and suppliers, checking people out again, preparing rooms for the next visit, grocery shopping at the market nearby and preparing breakfast for clients, etc, etc..
I also had an old work phone that I couldn’t turn off under any circumstance. If clients called, I had to be accessible.
PHASE 1. REALIZATION
Soon inconsistencies started to rear their ugly heads:
1. There was only one cleaning lady for the whole hotel. She had a second job at another, bigger hotel, so I could never be certain if she’d be available. I realized I’d have to jump in to help with the cleaning.
I hadn’t been informed of that. I pressed my boss about this and he gave me the name of some girl who ‘cleaned his house sometimes’. Off the books.
2. Only then did I realize that I hadn’t signed a single piece of paper. He said he’d fix that as soon as possible. I didn’t push my luck since I was a new recruit and very eager to please.
3. The room he promised me (where I would be living) turned out to function as an office/supply room/washing room. In other words, the cleaning supplies were stashed there, as well as the washing machine, the keys, and documents for all the lofts, etc.. I would be living at work, literally. Also, there was no bed. I was to sleep on the floor.
4. Mr. B had disappeared from the face of the earth.
Or, well, he acted as he had. He lived in a luxury apartment only 5 minutes from the hotel, but he didn’t like to be contacted about ‘all the little things’.
5. I soon figured out there had been a reason some of the lofts only became accessible once I moved in as a manager. They weren’t finished. Some bathrooms needed extra insulation, one of the faucets made a horrible noise, locks needed fixing, cables and insulation were visible in some spots, wood clippings were raining down from some of the beams (I would later discover there were WOOD BUGS in the beams, something he hadn’t informed me about and that he’d left untreated for months! Guess how I found out…)
Mr. B started to ask little favors. Like could my mom fix some curtains for his daughter’s bedroom, or couldn’t my uncle help with the repairs in lofts 2, 3, and 4… all of it for a little price, if you catch my drift. I was the manager after all. I was supposed to fix that stuff. And if my family could do it for cheap…
At the same time, he managed my budget. This is understandable of course, but let me elaborate: managing a hotel costs quite a bit. The only funds he gave me were on a credit card that was constantly empty. Be that as it may, I did the best I could, saving by doing most of the washing and ironing myself (the laundry service he’d hired was extremely unreliable, but he didn’t want to change because it was cheap), being frugal with the food (every room had luxury coffee machines they were free to use and the coffee cost me a fortune), not making expensive phone calls, etc..
I handled huge amounts of funds coming in (most of the guests were rich people) but wasn’t allowed to go to the bank and put more on the hotel’s credit card.
Once we needed an extra mattress because more clients would be coming in than anticipated and they all wanted to stay in our biggest loft. I had already begged him for an extra foldable bed (the one he told me to use was so cheap it bent sideways if you put weight on it, so he reluctantly, after much begging, supplied me with a new one).
I drove all over the province on my day off, hunting for the best, cheapest mattress. I found an incredible one, bought it out of my own pocket, and informed my boss of the cost. I received a very angry e-mail, basically telling me I better watch what I spend…
8. As I became a more capable manager, Mr. B became more demanding. I have a friend with severe schizophrenia that I visit in prison from time to time.
You might know how harrowing a process it is to visit someone in prison. I had planned my visit meticulously to make sure I’d be back in time to relieve my sister who, with her little baby of a few months, was holding the fort for me, managing check-ins and phone calls. When I entered the waiting room, I had to turn off my work phone.
This was no big deal, seeing as the fixed phone at work would always ring first and my sister was there to pick it up.
When I exited the prison and jumped into my car to rush back to work, I had a few missed calls from my boss. I rang back, only to be cussed out for not picking up my phone. I hadn’t been at the hotel, either.
I told him my sis was there in my stead. He said he didn’t want to talk to my sis, he wanted to talk to me – insert berating tone, short, angry sentences, and a whole lot of guilt-tripping.
9. Furthermore, since the card was so often empty but rooms needed to be cleaned every day (by a group of off-the-books cleaning ladies that I’d rounded up left and right since I had no other choice) I was forced to pay these ladies out of my own pocket, which left me broke half the time.
10. Aside from hotel-related phone calls, Mr. B had started to connect some of his personal calls to my phone as well, namely, the ones he didn’t want to deal with himself, aka disgruntled companies asking for undue payments, creditors asking for his phone number and address, etc.. As he was my boss, I didn’t give these people his information. Occasionally, I got a call from a fancy pansy company in France, telling me it was time for Mr.
B’s bi-annual ordering of luxury wines.
11. The money didn’t come. My salary. My bread and butter.
12. Lots. More. Nonsense.
PHASE 2. DETERMINATION
Finally, I realized I needed to get out of this situation. Or rather, I’d known for a long time, but I had hoped things would settle, he’d give me my contract and I could start making demands. Pssssht, naw.
So I made plans:
1) The Turkish cleaning lady.
Since this woman had been at the hotel from the very beginning and was way more experienced than I was, she didn’t like me at first (understandable: I was a stupid youngling but still technically her boss). However, all it took was a few questions about her kids and a whole lot of admiration (not fake) for her cleaning skills, and she opened up to me like a floodgate.
I paid her more than Mr. B had told me to pay her (out of my own pocket) because she really was the most reliable person I worked with and she could clean a loft like nothing I’d ever seen. She taught me a lot. Soon she was loyal to ME instead of him. And once that happened, the little secrets started coming…
2) My Turkish cleaning lady told me about the girls who’d worked at the hotel before me (all young, non-white and inexperienced, just like me).
They’d all quit within the span of a month (there were six of them). I was the only one who had stuck around (probably because I lived with my mom so I wasn’t dependent on my salary to survive). I soon got hold of one of them. I visited her and did a cross-examination. She told me about Mr. B’s treatment, his refusal to make the job official, and how he still owed her quite a bit of income.
This was useful information because I now knew for sure that this guy wouldn’t give me my contract, ever. I still had hope because he’d found me through a federal channel, which at the time I took to mean that he wanted to do things the right way. FALLACY.
3) I had my family behind me. At this point, my uncle had done lots of big repairs (insulation, plumbing, fixing furniture, etc), my mom had worked on most of the curtains and some of the floorings, my sister was pulling FREE SHIFTS to help me carry the enormous workload that no person in their right mind would give to a single employee…Thing is, my family had only been keeping their mouths shut because they love me and want to support me.
I was a bookish, introverted, insecure, eager-to-please, little girl. My mom is a criminologist who works with very scary people on a daily basis. She knows a crook when she sees one. My uncle is the most brutally honest, short-tempered, intimidating repairman you’ve ever seen. He loves me, but he hates entitled little jerks who call themselves businessmen. My mom’s calm and collected powers of logic combined with my uncle’s brash ruthlessness was a death trap waiting to happen.
But that wasn’t all.
Let me tell you a little something about my sis. She’s fierce. In high school, she was a super popular bombshell who got thrown out of two different schools for bad behavior and whom I witnessed cussing out a police officer on more than one occasion. Uhuh, that kind of delinquent. All of that changed when she got pregnant. She cleaned up her act in a spectacular way and is now working as a human rights advocate.
She’s also one of the best mothers I’ve ever seen. In any case, back then, when the mother things had only just started, she redirected her efforts towards her family. I guess she felt guilty for messing up my life for so long (I developed OCD because she used to stress me out so much – I’m fully cured now, though). She was helping me at the hotel because she knew I needed her in case things got bad.
4) Lastly, there was the thing that made ME angry. I’d been experiencing some difficulty with the administration of the hotel, mostly booking-related. When I went digging through emails and online payments, I noticed inconsistencies and eventually concluded that Mr. B was messing with my stuff. He was canceling services and contacting people behind my back, without telling me anything, leaving me to desperately search for bugs and fix last-minute bookings.
That’s when I snapped.
PHASE 3: REVENGE, FINALLY
I convinced the Turkish cleaning lady, as well as all the other cleaning ladies, to stop working at the hotel. The Turkish lady had better prospects anyway, but she hadn’t been sure about leaving. I asked her to keep it a secret. I would inform Mr. B.
I contacted the creditors who’d been bugging me for months, as well as the companies who were still waiting to be paid, and gave them Mr.
B’s phone number and home address. Because, you know… business is business
I wrote a very honest review of the hotel on one of the major booking sites, telling everyone all about those giant bugs in the ceiling…
I basically told my family they could be themselves now, I was quitting the hotel anyway.
So my mom sent the bill, my uncle made his phone calls and my sister, well…
I made sure the hotel was fully booked for the upcoming month (every year my city holds this huge street festival that people from all over Europe flock to, so that wasn’t too difficult.
I sent Mr. B an email saying I was quitting on Sunday. I was valiant enough to finish my work for the week. Oh, and the cleaning ladies would be quitting, too.
I gave the work phone to my sis, reclined in my seat, and listened to the beautiful conversation that unfolded when Mr. B called. My sister didn’t disappoint. She spared no expense.
I thought about reporting his shady antics to the police but decided against it (for my own sake, as well as the cleaning ladies).
I did report him to the federal service for employment and told them he was using their site to lure people into undeclared work against their will. The person I spoke to made sure our conversation was confidential. So no further legal action for me.
I was satisfied with the knowledge that on Monday morning, Mr. B would have to drop everything and rush to the hotel to serve his snotty guests, prepare breakfast, struggle with his faulty administration, receive complaints from cuckoo clients, write emails to his angry suppliers, do the washing, the ironing, the cooking, and the cleaning, and all the other stuff I had been doing for months, unpaid and underappreciated.
Thanks for making me a thousand times stronger, jerk.
I regret nothing.
PS: The hotel is no longer in business. Whoops.”
Another User Comments:
“I actually read it, and I’m impressed that you stuck with it for so long. I’m hoping that your self-confidence rose after this because you handled it well. He got what he deserved.” pinklavalamp
9. Re-serve Customers' Unfinished Soup? Your Restaurant Will Be Permanently Shut Down
“This revenge story happened in the 90s when I was working after school as a line cook/chef’s assistant at a Chinese restaurant.
The place specialized in noodle soups, with the main attraction being our soup stock. The owner used a much revered passed-down family recipe. It consisted of freshly cracked pork bones, fresh spices, and fresh vegetables all kept at a rolling boil for over 12 hours.
It had to be started the night before and the owner was very particular about the soup stock. If it ran out, then it ran out. He refused to be dishonest as some places do by adding water or powdered stock etc.
The owner himself was this really awesome, old Chinese gentleman. He had some incredible stories. For example, he enlisted into the Kuo Ming Tang (Chinese republic) Army in the 40s and worked as a chef for KMT officers during WWII.
He told us about how one time his Division’s HQ was overrun, and he had to escape on a pushbike ahead of the advancing Japanese Army. Eventually, when the Chinese Communist Party took over in the 50s, he was assigned to a steel factory to work for the rest of his life. He got the heck out and eventually made his way to the US as an asylum seeker.
I digress but my point is that he was an awesome guy and was a genuinely kind and considerate boss. He always made sure his employees were fed before the evening shift and let me study during quiet nights.
His son, on the other hand, was a real piece of work. This guy dropped out of college (his parents saved up for him to study medicine) after 2 years.
He floated in and out of jobs but mostly stayed unemployed, living with and off his parents well into his mid-30s. He eventually started working at the restaurant, nominally as the front-of-the-house manager but in reality, he did nothing but watch TV and take naps.
While I was only a line cook, the old man and I got along really well. He trusted me and would routinely get me to make the soup stock the night before under his supervision.
Sadly, the old man died after my 5th year working there. That’s when the son took over (the mother had passed years ago). The son had zero cooking experience but decided to take over as the chef. He didn’t like the idea of putting the soup on overnight (waste of gas) and instead got me to do the prep the night before and then would just switch the pot on himself in the morning.
He would also routinely add plain water to the soup when it got low so he could continue selling noodle soups.
The most incredible thing, however, was disgustingly, he got the wait staff to throw customers’ unfinished soups back into the stockpot for reuse. When I confronted him about it, he told me that it was no problem as the heat killed any germs and threatened to fire me if I said anything.
Not surprisingly customers started leaving as the food quality degraded. This caused the son to panic and cut even more costs. He fired most of the old staff and thus overworked the remaining. He couldn’t fire me because I was the only one left who knew how to do the soup.
He also stopped using quality ingredients and started to buy cheap pre-packaged staff in order to reduce my prep work hours.
After a few months of this, I got sick of his crap. As I was about to start college myself I told him that I was giving him my notice. He, of course, took this poorly and told me that I was a loser.
He told me not to bother coming in tomorrow, but I was to spend the remainder of my shift showing a recent hire how to do my job, stating that he would not issue my last check if I didn’t complete a thorough handover.
I laughed in his face and walked out on the spot, I didn’t bother chasing up my last check.
As a parting gift, I sent an email to our local Food Safety board, informing them of the poor sanitary practice of reusing leftover soups. I helpfully also enclosed a few photos that I had sneakily taken of the practice. The board sent inspectors the very next day and closed the restaurant (there were other issues such as unhygienic bathrooms, uncleaned eating utensils), he was issued a massive fine and a list of undertakings to carry out before it could be reopened.
The restaurant remained closed and was eventually sold off. I didn’t bother chasing up what happened to the son but I hope he has learned his lesson and done something productive with his life.”
Another User Comments:
“I’m glad his dad didn’t have to see how his son ruined the restaurant.
His dad lived the American dream and gave his son the best chance to live a great life, what a shame. Sadly, there are a lot of children like this.” durianisyum
8. Drive Long Nails Into Our Fence And Injure My Sister? We'll Ruin Your Garden
“This happened in the summer of 1974 when I was 4 yrs old.
When I was a kid, we had a next-door neighbor who was a total jerk.
Jerk was a 40 something woman who liked high heels (mules), big jewelry, lots of makeup and wore long, flowy kaftans in garish colors that did NOT flatter her. She had a big perm (remember. It’s the 70s), a HUGE butt, and was notorious in our neighborhood for being an entitled jerk.
Her favorite thing was to go onto neighbor’s landings – either early in the morning or late at night – and steal decorations and potted plants which she would then put in HER back garden.
She once even dug up someone’s small tree out of their front yard because (according to the neighbor) she felt it would LOOK BETTER in HER garden.
For the most part, she left my family alone – my family has a TAKE NO NONSENSE rep in the neighborhood and she knew it – only glare at me and my sibs when we played outside (she HATED kids).
Sadly, that didn’t last.
One day one of my sisters got badly sliced by a long nail when she went to pick flowers off the passionflower vine on the fence (important later).
Turned out Jerk had hammered dozens of long nails into OUR fence so she could hang potted plants she’d most likely stolen! The leaves on the vine had hidden them until my sister got sliced (She had to get a tetanus shot, which made her sick all day).
Mom was livid, so she went out and actually spent the rest of the day hammering each and every nail back out thru the fence and back into Jerk’s garden, causing many of the pots to fall and break (This is probably why she did what she did).
About a month later, my mom goes into our kitchen and sees a man in our yard!
She goes out and asked, ‘what are you doing?’
Guy tells her he was a gardener and had been hired to get rid of the vine on the fence.
Mom asked him who had hired him to do this.
‘The owner of the fence,’ he told her and gestured to Jerk’s house.
Mom told him (calmly, since none of this was his fault) that it WASN’T Jerk’s fence, and SHE was the owner.
The poor guy was horrified. However, the damage was done. He’d already cut into the hardwood and roots and now our vine was a goner.
After the poor guy left (Jerk stiffed him, we found out later) mom went to Jerk’s house and confronted her.
That jerk didn’t even deny it – just laughed in my mom’s face and said, ‘I DID IT, SO WHAT? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!’ then sauntered back into her house.
She’d just messed with the WRONG family.
Two days later, Jerk went on a 2-week vacation with her husband (a butthole), to Cabo.
The day she left, my older siblings – along with a family friend – decided Jerk’s back garden needed ‘Improvements’. So they climbed the fence, went into her garden, dug up all the pretty flowers and small trees, carted them out (along with the stolen decorations), and replaced them with high pollen plants, quick-growing ivy, and lots and lots of poison oak and poison ivy, that they’d (carefully) dug up from a nearby state park (I was too young to help, sadly).
We then temporarily moved our 3 dogs into our back yard (neighbor was afraid of them despite the fact they were 2 Pomeranians and a small mutt). We also had a 9ft fence, which was too high for her or her husband’s fat butts to climb, so we knew our garden would be safe from her.
My family excitedly waited.
When Jerk got back and saw her ‘New and Improved’ garden, she threw the biggest, most epic tantrum and meltdown we’d ever seen.
It. Was. Spectacular! A whole class of sugared-up angered preschoolers couldn’t have thrown a bigger tantrum!
From the top of the fence, we all watched (Dad took the day off to see the FREAKOUT, as he put it) as Jerk screamed and ranted. Pulled her hair. Kicked the plants and threw anything she could get her hands-on, all the while cursing and screeching like she was getting a Chili Powder Enema!
Then she spotted all of us watching her.
She yelled and cursed at all of us (laughing) kids, coming to the (correct) conclusion we had done this to her precious garden. By this time all the surrounding neighbors were also watching, but she, of course, zeroed in on us.
Jerk then stormed over to our house and banged on our door until Mom opened the door (dad let her deal with it, as he was still laughing his butt off).
Jerk then DEMANDED my family to not only pull all those UGLY plants out, and to (of course) pay for new ones and plant them.
And to do it NOW! RIGHT NOW!!!
Our mom just looked at her, yawned, told her she had ZERO proof it was HER kids who’d done it (Mom knew. Even sat and watched with me as my siblings did it, laughing the whole time.
I think at one point my DAD even helped!).
Mom then reminded her she had STOLEN dozens of plants from the neighbors, had been caught blatantly stealing from their front gardens, yet was SURPRISED that SOMEONE had retaliated? Mom laughed, told her to screw off, and went back inside.
She ranted at us through the door for about an hour, till her voice (blessedly) gave out, then stomped back to her house.
She avoided us from then on and would give an angry glare to my mom whenever she saw her. Mom would just smile, give her the finger, and go about her business (she was intimidated by my dad and wouldn’t do anything when he was around, but dad worked a lot, so wasn’t there most of the time).
We donated most of the dug up plants to neighbors she’d stolen from and returned the stolen ornaments and decorations to their rightful owners (if we found them), but kept 2 rose bushes – which we planted by our back gate – a ceramic hearth cat (which I still have) and a glass and metal sun god decoration nobody claimed.
Jerk never did get rid of all the plants and didn’t realize it was poison oak she was pulling (barehanded!) until she (and her husband) got horrible rashes over 1/3 of their bodies and – I was told – in some very unfortunate places.”
7. Think It's Okay To Tell People To End Their Lives? I'll Make You Regret Living Yours
“So I found this guy a while back and have been sharing my story ever since.
I am not entirely proud of what I did to this man’s life, but I do think it was justified. I do think that sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.
This is the story of the time I ruined the life of an online troll. Now, this may sound extreme, however, I believe it was justified given the circumstance and nature of my encounter.
To understand how I found this individual, I need to take you back to 2015.
It was in 2015 that I would spend my days Googling pointless topics. One day, I decided to look up opinions on the meaning of life. I scrolled through various pages of search engine results until I came across the concept of Nihilism.
What is Nihilism? Nihilism interested me because it was unlike any other belief I found on my search for the meaning of life.
To put it simply, Nihilism is the belief that the world is meaningless. It is a pessimistic approach to life, which suggests that there is no point in life because nothing holds real relevance. Nihilism can make people believe existence does not matter therefore their actions do not either. Many people view Nihilism as a real belief that opposes our human nature to seek significance. I wanted to speak to a real-life Nihilist and hear their opinions on life.
What I found shocked me.
Upon discovering Nihilism, I joined several social media groups surrounding the topic. These groups were full of dark humor and memes that made fun of life and passing away. Comments such as “existence is misery” were common to see. In these groups, I came across a few genuine Nihilists. The community was predominantly made up of people who were depressed, or people who would see the humor in depression.
The Nihilist approach meant that depression was not important, because nothing is relevant. I found that the constant sharing of these kinds of dark, life-threatening memes meant that people become desensitized. People would believe that their existence is meaningless, which is not a good thought to have if you are dealing with genuine depression.
I spoke to one individual privately who said they did not want to live anymore.
They told me “the world is not real but my sadness is.” The world is not real, but my sadness is.
This made me realize that Nihilism and depression are a bad combination. I reassured this person and told them they were important. A few months later, I went to get in touch to see how they were getting on but I discovered that their social media account had vanished.
Fast forward to mid-2016 and I get a notification from one of the Nihilist groups.
It was someone seeking genuine advice. They said they were scared. Upon checking the comments of the post, I noticed one person giving them awful advice. The person giving the advice was the troll whose life I went on to ruin. I will refer to this troll as Nigel.
At the time, I thought that Nigel was being edgy for the sake of it but this was not the case.
I thought back to the time when I spoke to the person who told me their sadness was real but the world was not. The fact they had disappeared off social media gave me goosebumps. I assumed that the worse had happened and that this could become a reoccurring story in this group. There were many more damaging comments to other people by Nigel.
The First Warning
I realized that Nigel was not your ordinary troll and that I had to do something to stop him.
I created a fake profile to contact Nigel. At this time, I had no intention to ruin his life, I just wanted to stop him from ruining the lives of others. On my fake profile, I told him that I had seen his comments and that they could have a devastating effect.
He replied to tell me that he did not care.
From my understanding, Nigel had the belief that depression was a weakness to humanity.
It appeared he was on a mission to sift out the weak members of society. It was almost like he got a buzz from it, some weird kick that motivated him to do it that I could not understand. I warned Nigel that if continued, there would be repercussions.
He told me that he did not care and then blocked my fake profile. I logged into my genuine profile and checked for new posts by Nigel.
A day later, I saw that he was back to his old tricks. He was, yet again, giving self-destructive advice to another mentally tortured soul.
The Second Warning
Nigel had made a crucial mistake by not setting his social media profile to private. I was able to see every post that he had ever made, as well as the friends that he had.
Nigel was a family man and made it clear on social media how much his wife meant to him.
I decided that I would give Nigel his second warning. This time I would make it more personal. This time I wanted to put the fear into him. Within ten minutes, I was able to find Nigel’s home address. I decided that I would write a letter to his address. This letter was handwritten to add a personal touch.
On the envelope, I addressed the letter to his wife’s name so that he would not be able to simply brush it under the carpet.
The letter read the following –
“Your husband continues to give dangerous advice online and he must be stopped. Could you please let him know that this is his final warning? I will be watching.”
The letter was sent with the intention to make Nigel stop doing what he does.
I thought that this would be the only way that I could get through to him. The more I thought about it, the more I felt guilty that his wife may be living in fear.
This was something I did not take into consideration initially. My mission to stop Nigel clouded my thought, however, I knew this was necessary for the greater good.
The Final Blow
It had been a month since I wrote the letter and I had not seen a single post from Nigel.
I thought maybe I had finally got through to him, but I was wrong. Another month had passed and Nigel was back at it again.
I was disappointed, however, I was not prepared to give up. I reached out to the depressed victims to let them know they had my support. Nigel had to pay for his actions, but how?
I decided to take a deeper look into Nigel’s personal life. His use of the internet meant that his life was essentially an open book.
I was stunned when I discovered that he worked at a care home.
He was not someone I could trust in society to care for others. I knew I had to deliver the final blow.
Nigel’s Linkedin profile revealed that he was a senior member at a care home. This care home was reputable and risked their reputation by hiring him. I dug deep to pull out a barrage of screenshots I had of Nigel’s activity online.
After some contemplation, I decided that I would get in touch with the care home via their social media page.
I logged into the fake profile via a proxy and sent the screenshots. I did not believe that he was fit to be trusted with human life. A member of staff replied to say that the case had been handed over to the CEO.
A week later, Nigel was no longer on the company website and had also removed the care home from his Linkedin page.
It was clear that his actions had caused him to lose his job. Nigel’s relationship status had changed from “In a relationship” to “It’s complicated.”
In almost an instant, he had lost his job and damaged his relationship with his family. Nigel had completely stopped posting on social media and eventually shut his account. This guy’s life was turned upside down, and it all stemmed from his actions online.
I have comfort in knowing that he will never offer damaging advice again.
Everybody has the right to an opinion, but nobody has the right to prey on the vulnerable. Do I feel guilty? Of course, but then I remember all of those people that he sought to destroy. This man was in a position of care. What if my actions had saved the life of someone? It is these thoughts that make my guilt fade away.”
Another User Comments:
“Never feel bad for this! You probably saved a few lives! That is not the type of person you want to be a caretaker! Personally, I’m glad he lost his job!” FemaleVegeta25
6. Tell Me To Cover Up In My Own Yard? Check My Thighs Out
“So this is more of an annual revenge thing. About five years ago a greedy councilman put up 3 two-story apartments next door to our house.
One of these has a direct view of our pool area and a grouchy woman and her husband moved into it.
Anyhoot, as we have done in the fifteen summers before they got there, we all went for an afternoon swim. The woman was on her balcony and made a huge dramatic fuss about going back inside and closing her curtains.
She then screeched at her husband when he tried to go outside. It’s not like we were indecent or anything, just in our swimsuits.
We laughed about it and continued having a nice afternoon at the pool while she roasted inside.
A few days went by and I decided it was too hot to be inside and went for a dip. I was in the middle of uni and this was the only time I’d leave the house between assignments and tests.
Now, I do not have a body that stops traffic. I am a regular, plump human whose Dorito-loving habits have begun to show around the lower body area.
I take off my sarong and jump into the pool. After a few minutes, I sense someone watching me, look up and find a man on the balcony smoking and staring right at me. I make a bit of an aggressive “What?” gesture and he scurries back inside, only to return with the woman in tow.
The conversation went something along the lines of:
Her: Excuse me? Could you not swim when my son is out here smoking? He just lost his job and this is the time he’d normally smoke, and you’re out here without clothes and distracting him.
Me: Ew. He’s the age of my dad. He can smoke on your front balcony. And I’ve lived here for (at the time) 15 years so you can’t blame me for being here “without clothes.” Which I’m not, I’m swimming.
Her: I’m just asking you to be considerate okay?
At this point, the grown freaking man-baby was looking smug.
Me: If you don’t like it then move.
And I continued swimming. They stood there for another five minutes before once again going inside and closing the sliding patio doors and curtains.
Also, I was not “without clothes” or indecent. I wear full swimsuits because I’m a little insecure about my belly (see paragraph about the Doritos).
I told my parents and the next day my mom joined me in the pool to show them, and I quote, “What real traumatizing thighs look like.”
But that got me thinking though. I could make their summers a living nightmare if closing all their curtains was how they’d go about seeing us in the pool.
So now every summer, weather permitting, I go out and flash my thighs for a few hours in the afternoon and have them roast up in their apartment.
It’s been five years of this and I will continue doing this until the day I leave home.”
Another User Comments:
“I was hanging out laundry in my underwear, because why not, and my neighbours kids were bouncing on their trampoline and saw me and he mentioned it when I saw him in passing. To provide context, they’ve about developed their property into a double store monstrosity on our fence line, which will overlook the entirety of our backyard and through our back window. My response to him was “just imagine how much they’ll see once your house is built!”
Anyway it is my god given right to exist in the sun with barely any clothes on in my own backyard and nextdoors brats, who don’t even THANK ME FOR THROWING THEIR BALL BACK, will not take this away from me.” Ohmalley-thealliecat
5. Make Me Miserable For Two Years Straight? I'll Make Sure You Know How Much Better My Life Is
“I was in the army for a few years. I had been at my unit a whole month when the “good idea fairy” came up with the idea of combining our morning PT (workout) with SHARP training. Not the worst idea since SHARP training is usually done in long-winded PowerPoints that get briefed by some barely literate soldier. It usually has people falling asleep and missing the point entirely.
So the idea was, there’d be about 10 stations to rotate thru. You would flip some tires, learn about assault, then move to the next section of workouts and education. Again, This was not the worst idea ever just poorly executed.
One of the sections was for carry drills. We’ve all done these at basic training and there are several different ways to carry someone where one of the people has positive control of a rifle.
At no other point in the army have I ever seen a piggyback carry, until this particular day. No big freaking deal, just another dumb drill to do and get thru PT.
Big SSG(330lbs+) chooses me little PFC(175lbs) to be his partner. How does an E6 get so heavy you may ask? Well, when an infantryman gets moved from a company to s1 at HQ, it’s typically because he’s useless.
He was friends with his leadership and hadn’t had a record PT test or tape in years. He has no issues carrying me. I could not return the favor. I did make it through the hawes carry, the fireman’s carry, and whatever the other one was. I made it two steps into the piggyback carry and there was a pop and I dropped the SSG.
Later that morning it really hits me that I’m hurt and this wasn’t something to walk off.
Tell my leadership and they send me to medics. Medics don’t do anything except give me Motrin. Get back to my job and find SSG joking around with everyone that I don’t know how to do a piggyback carry. He’s saving face for being fat. I inform him that I’m hurt because of carrying him. He does some serious damage control by having his boss inform everyone that I’m faking an injury to get out of our upcoming deployment.
The deployment I volunteered to go on early so people with kids could spend more time with them.
Go back to the hospital to see a doctor who is under the impression I’m faking and trying to get out of a deployment. Is convinced I have a muscle strain and gives me a profile for 2 days…(in the military when you get hurt they give you a piece of paper called a profile that says what you can and can’t do until you are healed.) I respectfully explain to him that if this was the best case just a muscle strain, those took 6-9 weeks to heals and I’d need a longer profile since I was getting on a plane in a few days.
Heaven forbid any of you ever question a Physicians’ Assistant about their wealth of medical knowledge. He got upset with me and yelled a bit but at the end of the day I’m hurt, he just put me on profile and was in a hospital, he was never gonna do but talk big.
Deploy early. Get there and see medics already there. They feel my back and are like “feels like you have discs out.” They give me a 30-day profile and ask why I’m here.
30 days later see another healthcare provider from another battalion. Same things: feels my disc and is astonished. He helps me set up an appointment for an MRI. Word of my serious malingering (injury faking) has made its way up to the senior enlisted jerk in our battalion. He forces me to miss my appointment to drag me out into the field where my profile says I can’t be.
It’s a miserable experience where I’m ostracized and treated like dirt. Even my peers are hating me at this point, not because I’m faking but I’m not having to struggle as much as them with day-to-day misery even though I’m in pain and being treated like trash.
An older SSG notices my situation and takes a little pity on me. Tells me a backdoor way to get an MRI when we get back.
Eternally grateful for this man.
MRI results show 5 discs out, bow hips bowed out, and air bubbles forming in the absence of cartilage in my sacroiliac joints (it’s called Sacroiliac Joint Vacuum Phenomena. Sounds dope right?)
Medical Board initiated. It’s a much more streamlined process now but back then it took about 12-15 months and finished with a council of O5 and O6 medical professionals (Doctors) determining I should not just be medically separated but be retired for my injury.
That means “free healthcare” for life, a disability check every month where I can still work, I can use my G.I. Bill for college (the entire reason I joined), and a feather in my cap as Specialist Retired.
Not everyone found out how hurt I really was because it’s not like I was volunteering my medical information and I still took a lot of heat for the remaining time I was in the army.
I just took it in stride and bided my time.
THE ACTUAL PETTY REVENGE – Every Christmas I send Big SSG a message on social media wishing him a “Merry Christmas.” I don’t say anything else and he sees them but never replies. I know he looks at my page though because occasionally he’ll mention it to a mutual friend.
5 years later I work as a contractor making 6 times what I did as a specialist (not counting my disability).
I am almost done with college and several other training programs in my field. I’ve had 21 surgeries at this point but walk really well and aside from chronic pain have no real complaints. I’m out here doing my thing, smashing the occasional LTC (repping for my lower enlisted guys), having a great career and he’s still an E6 in the infantry.”
Another User Comments:
“I’ve seen this nonsense in the US Army as well.
Right out of Basic Training I was in Combat Medic school and one of the other trainees was a woman that had fractured her hip and femur in Basic. She was on crutches and obviously had a profile.
One of the SFC (E7) running the class did mail call and had each person doing twenty push-ups to receive their mail if called. The woman on crutches received mail so he told her to get down and do push-ups or she wouldn’t get her mail.
She had tears in her eyes as she tried to do push-ups, but another trainee, SSG (E6), broke ranks and told her to get up. He snatched all of the mail from the SFC and told him to stop being an idiot because she obviously had a profile.
We were never asked to do push-ups for mail call again. That SFC remained a jerk in every other way possible, but that SSG was never bothered by him or anyone else. This single act by the SSG was very encouraging to me and the other privates that witnessed it.” CoderJoe1
4. Too Entitled To Leave A Private Parking Spot? Your Car Just Got Impounded Overseas
You’ll probably never see your car again!
“I have lived in an apartment complex in Lisbon, Portugal (where is important) for the last 4 years. If anyone’s from here, you’ll know parking is a nightmare. Fortunately, my building has a private garage. However, as is often the case, some parking places are more difficult to park in than others. I have one of the easier ones.
Last year I was offered a job abroad and took it.
Thought I’d be nice, parked my car at my parents where they have plenty of space, and left a notice in the building elevator that went along the lines of “I’m the owner of 3B and will be away for at least 6 months, feel free to use my parking spot.”
Ended up being away for longer, almost a year.
I came back to see my parking spot occupied (which was okay, since I offered for it to be used).
Put another notice in the elevator, this time to say I was back and would use the parking spot again. I gave it two days and picked my car up from my parents.
Went into my garage, and my space was still being used. I had to park somewhere on the street and decided to give it another day.
The day after, it was occupied again by the same car.
I asked a couple of neighbors, and figured out it belonged to a lady living 2 stories above me.
Went up to talk to her, and she immediately got defensive and said that her parking spot is very difficult for her to park in, and since I was away for longer then I had announced I lost the space (which is stupid logic, as the spots are bought with the apartment; it literally belongs to me).
She also told me I couldn’t use her parking space instead as she was using it for storage.
I went to the building admin, who said he’d talk to her. He did and came back shaking his head. Nothing.
I sent a registered letter telling her to stop using my space and giving her 48h to take her car elsewhere. The next day I saw the unopened letter in the garbage bin beside the mailboxes.
I ended up scouting my garage, waiting for her to leave, and would immediately park my car, hoping she’d take the hint. She didn’t, and we ended up doing this dance for a few weeks. Up until the day I came back to see my entire driver’s side keyed.
That was the final straw. I talked to a friend, who owns a towing company. We chose a Saturday morning (the last few weeks she hadn’t left home on Saturdays – I knew as I had been watching her car like a hawk – so I thought we’d have a good chance of her not noticing anything until everything was done) and towed her car.
The plan initially was to leave the car just down the road. But that felt too close and too easy. Then I thought about leaving it in a city about 15-minutes away, but it still didn’t feel quite right. My friend jokingly said, “Let’s leave it in Madrid” (FYI Madrid is in Spain, about 600km – 375 miles – away).
I knew he was joking, but Madrid did feel right.
I asked if he had enough time.
He had, so off we went.
Once we got to Madrid we went out for lunch, strolled around the city, and waited until it got dark and the streets empty. In the meantime, we had already decided on where to leave the car, handicapped parking close to a Police Station. And so we did. As a bonus, my friend also took both license plates off the car.
Then we drove back home.
It has been two weeks, and I haven’t seen her car since. One of these days I might leave a letter in her mailbox telling her to contact Madrid Police, but in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being able to use my parking whenever I want to.”
Another User Comments:
“Too bad the car didn’t end up in a lake somewhere with her in it… But I suppose this was a second-best option for dealing with her horribleness.” SiderealHaze
3. Enjoy Your Permanent Scar
“So this took place over 40 years ago, while my dad was in high school.
The first thing you should know was that my dad had to move around a lot. He moved to a new school almost every year. In 9 years (grade school – end of high school) he had been to 9 schools, 5 countries, and 3 continents.
Because of this, my dad was always the new kid, so he was bullied a lot.
Not just teasing bullying, but physical, violent bullying. And he was always ambushed by gangs of kids (3 or more) not just 1v1 fights.
So my dad had to learn to protect himself. He moved around too much to take martial arts classes, so instead, he just decided to become really strong. The way he would do this was by punching hard objects. He told me, that one time while he was in Jamaica he would harden his fists by punching a copper or brass (can’t remember which) bell that was in a building near his home every day after school for half an hour.
The result is that now my dad can punch through walls. I’ve seen him do it.
Anyway onto the revenge story.
One year in high school, when my dad was in England, there was this one kid, Jack, in his mechanical workshop class who would bully him all the time. He would call my dad racial slurs, spread rumors about him, taunt him, trip him, push him, and generally be a huge jerk.
However, whenever my dad tried to retaliate, the workshop’s teacher, Mr. Work, would tell my dad off and tell him to stop bullying Jack. There was literally one day where Jack called my dad a derogatory word at the top of his lungs so that everyone in the class could hear. When my dad threatened to punch Jack, Mr. Work stepped in and gave my dad DETENTION (!), for “threatening Jack for no reason”.
This continued for the whole year. Jack would do something to my dad, my dad would try to retaliate, and Mr. Work would punish my dad.
Then one day it all came to a head.
It was at the end of the year, the day before final projects were due for the final grade. My dad was using one of the saws to complete his project. What he was doing would take the rest of the class.
Jack also needed the saw, but my dad got there first and would need it for the rest of the class. So Jack was screwed if he didn’t get the saw. However, the workshop has an unofficial first come first serve rule, so Jack was out of luck.
Tbh it was Jack’s fault. He had been goofing around the whole 2 weeks the class had to finish the assignment.
He had left it to the last minute, and that’s why he needed the saw last minute.
So Jack, instead of trying to scramble to put together a last-minute project when he saw the saw was being used like a normal person, decided that my dad had no right to use the saw. He pushed my dad out of the way and tossed my dad’s project on the ground.
When my dad pushed him back and asked him what the heck he was doing, Jack got angry (because my dad retaliated?) and punched my dad in the face.
It is important to note that this was the first time all year that Mr. Work hadn’t stepped in to defend Jack. My dad thinks that Mr. Work wanted to see Jack beat my dad up, as my dad saw Mr.
Work just watching the fight play out from his desk, smirking the whole time.
My dad stumbled back from the punch, and he snapped. Jack was not a good fighter, he telegraphed that he was about to throw another punch.
My dad never let that happen. He unleashed all the anger that had built up over the year. My dad hit Jack with a WBA-worthy uppercut.
Jack literally went flying so far he practically grew wings! Jack traveled a good 4 or 5 feet backward and landed in a pile of scrap metal.
As for Mr. Work… the look on his face was priceless. He had let the fight between my dad and Jack happen because he thought my dad would be beaten up, but it resulted in Jack being scarred for life.
Mr. Work was later fired for allowing this fight to happen, and when my dad and a few of his friends told the principal how Mr. Work had overlooked all the bullying throughout the year.
Mr. Work was also almost sued by Jack’s family (not sure what exactly they were suing him for).
And it doesn’t end there!
My dad saw Jack in a grocery store 2 or 3 years back. When Jack saw my dad, he nearly peed his pants and tried to hide in the aisle. My dad decided to have some fun and chased Jack around the store.
Jack eventually hid in the bathroom and didn’t come out.”
2. Stingy Boss Gets His Big Ego Dropped
“Let’s call my butthole boss Eugene, since his stinginess reminds me of Eugene Krabs from SpongeBob Squarepants, except Krabs is nowhere near malicious.
In order to display the full satisfaction of this revenge, I will have to describe a few (but not limited) things Eugene did that entitles him to be a complete jackbutt.
For the context, Eugene owns a small company that provides artistic services of some sort and never hired full-timers (which I later learned was due to his stinginess).
Initially, when I saw the open part-time position, I thought it was ideal for me as I had external commitments, and needed some sort of income.
The job offers about 550USD per month (I don’t live in the US, this is a rough conversion), but only required me to clock in about 90 hours a month. It wasn’t a very good offer, but good enough for me as I considered myself to be an inexperienced infield.
Note that Eugene had seen my portfolio and knew my ability level before hiring me.
The first couple of months were fine, I worked the hours I was supposed to and got paid accordingly, occasionally extending my shift at my own time due to the nature of the work, but I didn’t mind.
I guess Eugene saw this as an advantage he could exploit later on during my employment.
It is also important to note that Eugene would often ask about my well-being, how did I spend my weekends, etc. At this point in time, it all seemed like courtesy talk so I didn’t pay much attention to it. He would ask about my previous employment and my reason for leaving, which I answered honestly that their work system was unsuitable for me.
This will be important later.
Eugene gradually began to grow more impatient towards me, often blaming me for not being able to match up to his ability. Remember when I was inexperienced thus the pay rate? Eugene had over a decade of experience in this expertise and he expected me to be at his level when I was only 3 months in. The stress was intense and I began working longer hours just to keep up and produce work of the best quality I could.
I was under the belief that if I worked hard enough, my effort will speak. Even though this was only a part-time position, I overcommitted my time there and took pride in my work. My external commitments were barely scraping by. I was exhausted but thought I was doing a good job until Eugene “spoke” to me one day.
Eugene pulled me into his office and lectured me on my work etiquette, saying that I wasn’t putting in enough effort and he was considering letting me go.
At this point, I was beyond confused. Did he really not see the effort I put in? Was I delusional in thinking that I was actually doing well and my work had been improving? I tried speaking up but he quickly diverted the topic, telling me he knew the reason why my previous employer hated me. It was because I was lazy and uncommitted. To say I was in disbelief was an understatement.
Not only did I believe I did my best with every task handed to me, but Eugene had also registered my flaws during casual conversations and twisted my words to his advantage.
I had no idea how to react and simply asked him what was expected of me. He instantly replied that he would like me to double my hours working for him, at the same monthly pay rate.
His reasons? It’s my fault that I am not experienced enough to produce quality work, thus it should be under my own responsibility and time to make up for it. My external commitments didn’t matter, he said, as this job was my only source of income and should be kept as a priority.
It finally dawned to me that Eugene was a narcissistic sociopath who has only held conversations so that he could learn a person’s weaknesses for his manipulation.
Now, you will see that Eugene was not only a narcissist but also very stingy. Eugene is obsessed with maximizing his profits. Any business owner would love that, I agree, but Eugene is down to every cent in immoral and even possibly, illegal ways. He would sell a service to a client, and upon receiving the deposit, deliver something else.
He was smart enough to keep his contracts vague (for both clients AND employees) so that nobody could take legal actions against him.
More than often, his clients would be left to wits’ end as it would be too late and expensive to engage another vendor by the time they realized they had been scammed. Eugene would then demand another set of payments to deliver what he had originally promised, overcharging the client an average of 100% to 200% more than what was agreed. Eventually realizing that they’d been played, most people would be too exhausted to pursue further action and prayed for the project to be over so they didn’t have to deal with his antics anymore.
This inaction probably fed Eugene’s ego that he could get away playing dirty every time
So in my country, employers are required to pay a certain amount of tax for every local employee they hire. While it is not exactly tax, it is obligated by law and negligence will result in a hefty fine and possibly jail time.
These “taxes” are technically contributions for the employee’s retirement funds, which are payable by every employer.
An employer can deduct a certain percentage of the contributions from the employee’s wages. This law has its own complications since there are a certain group of people exempted from it, such as students or interns. Now, Eugene is the classic example of a narcissist who thinks that he is smarter than everyone else. He felt that he was smart enough to evade the law by drafting a contract with vague details to protect himself, and was deluded enough to believe that everyone would believe him as long as he sounded convincing.
In other words, he thought of people as sacks of potatoes with no opinion of their own. If anyone was to have a perspective, it had to be his way or the wrong way.
I stayed in Eugene’s company for about 4 months, before I felt too mentally overwhelmed. On the day that I left, I called in to check on my Contribution account, and just as I had expected, Eugene hadn’t paid a single cent over the past 4 months.
The officer on the other end of the line asked if I would like to report this as a case, guess my answer.
A week later, I received an update from the Contribution Board, saying that Eugene had disputed my case, claiming that I was only an intern and thus, exempted from the law. This jerk was playing dirty as a last attempt to steal from me.
As I had mentioned, Eugene thought of himself as a smart man, and probably felt that the officer would rule the case in his favor since he had world-class convincing skills and his vague “contract” would have protected him either way.
Fine, Eugene. So you think you can get away just like any other time. You must have gotten pretty confident by now. Well, not this time, Eugene.
I wrote a 2-page long email to the Contribution Board Officer, with every reason and evidence I can find on how am I not an intern like Eugene claimed. Knowing his antics, I went the extra mile to research all the exempted groups and wrote every possible reason on how am I NOT in the category.
Excessive? Yes. Worth it? YES.
I didn’t hear from the Officer for 2 weeks and when I finally did, he informed me that Eugene had agreed to pay my contributions.
Remember when I said employers are permitted to deduct a certain percentage from employees’ wages? Due to his negligence, Eugene could no longer do that and had to pay the full amount, on top of the fines incurred along with it. If he had dutifully abode by the law, it would have only cost him a third of what he had to pay.
So that’s a bit of tax for you, Eugene.
Now that I’ve gotten back what I was owed, I have decided to move on, but the story did not end there.
An ex-colleague of mine, NJ, who is still working for Eugene told me that during the 2 weeks I didn’t hear from the Officer, Eugene was busy fighting for his stand by giving every reason that I was an exempted individual. The officer, having seen my email, soon got tired of his nonsense and gave him a deadline to pay up or he’ll be brought to court.
NJ said he had never seen Eugene so defeated before. To top it off, it seemed like karma had finally caught up to him as he started losing more and more clients due to his unethical practices. The fine came to him when he had no clients that month so it was a very obvious dent in his bank account. Ultimately, it was not a huge amount, but knowing Eugene’s stinginess and ego, I think the damage was enough.”
1. Too Sinful For Church? You're Losing Your Job
What kind of pastor or preacher talks like this to someone, let alone, tries to get someone to STOP going to church?
“CONTEXT: I got kicked from a church because I was labeled an “unrepentant succubus,” I was too aggressive and uncooperative every time we discussed my pending ex-communication options, and how I was “too much for their church to handle, I was too sinful.”
I was seeing and sleeping with one of their own, I had family problems, and the dude I was seeing abused me three times.
From then on we had relationship problems (OF COURSE). But I loved him and wanted to keep the relationship going. He told the pastor I was “too attractive and he couldn’t help himself when I was around, that’s why he had his way with me, I was asking for it” and the pastor nodded to him and consoled him, then told me off calling me a horrible name and making it seem like it was all MY FAULT for being faithful and loving towards someone I cared about more than the air I breathe.
He said that because I was too attractive to be around “impressionable young men” (who were 2 years older than me), I was forced out.
They cut me off and said they would call the police on me if I ever returned. My revenge? Well…
I told everyone I knew what they did to me. Every single person in my hometown about their little “God-loving church.” From then on they were isolated.
That pastor’s name was locally known as the picky pastor, one who only picked and chose who was good enough for church and for god. Lots of people hated him because of me. Then I told EVERYONE I knew about my ex’s family, about how his mother was unfaithful to his father with a random guy, and how she never told her husband, ever. How the family has severe relationship problems and lets their daughter sleep around but locks their oldest son down with a chastity belt for kissing me.
How they consistently fight and scream about divorce, then yell at their kids for being horrible people. That family was heavily criticized by many people locally from then on.
My family is very influential and very well known in my hometown. My family talked trash to everyone they knew, and everyone they knew told everyone they knew, and so on so forth. So many people in that church were ridiculed.
Then I took it a step further and got human and social services to inspect their daycare facilities, only to find they violated a NUMBER of laws about regulating bathrooms. For one, they do not have walls around the toilets in the daycare center for BOTH SEXES. The toilets and sinks are completely open for everyone to see, both from outside looking in and just standing there.
These kids range from 5-9.
Human and Social services shut that part of the church off until they could afford to put walls in the bathroom for the children. They never did. After a while, since there was no daycare to watch those children, people stopped coming, and sooner or later due to other investigations, the church was shut down. The pastor lost his job, almost his ability to be a pastor because of the investigation, and I don’t know what he does now.
THEN about 6 months later, the dude “missed me” and “loved me”, so I took him back. I hated him, I hated him so much. But I wanted closure. Why did he treat me the way he did? Why did he take advantage of me at prom then call me all those things and leave me? Why? So I exploited his hormones and affection for answers, and once I had them all, I started to let my true colors show.
I would get angry at him, frustrated, call him oblivious and ignorant. Call him lousy and not a man. He got angry. I took him to the local college I attended and dumped him right there, in public. He made a fool of himself and has never shown his face outside his job or house since. I talked to some of his friends, apparently, I destroyed him.
I don’t care.”