People Talk About Their Hefty Revenge Stories
15. Tamper With Our Mailbox? Get Hit In The Face
“I grew up on a rural road in Idaho. Our mailbox sat out at the end of the driveway, and it was placed there with strict adherence to USPS regulations. 4″x4” wood post, steel mailbox, located about four feet off the road with gravel put down for the postal lady to drive up and deliver the mail. Even being four feet off the road, we still had hundreds of incidents where somebody would hit our mailbox – farm equipment, distracted drivers, vandals with baseball bats or deer cages deliberately running it over.
It seemed like every two weeks, we were either replacing the mailbox, re-digging the hole for the post, or both. Finally, one of my brothers came up with the brilliant idea of welding a steel pipe into an old car wheel and placing the mailbox on the top. That way if a combine came through and knocked it over, we could just stand it back up and only replace the mailbox itself if it was smashed beyond use.
Great solution, we thought.
Out south of us, there was a family I’m calling the Pickles. Dad had been the star quarterback in high school, Mom had been the head cheerleader, and they had six miserable kids who lived and breathed sports. Dad sold off his dairy herd during a government milk-reduction program, so now he was shilling mangosteen juice through an MLM. Practices for their various teams were held at all hours, so we could count on them driving through at just about any time of day.
My brothers and I were okay at sports, generally, but leaned much more towards academic pursuits. I don’t know if it was because we refused to buy their juice, or embarrassed them in the classroom, but there was bad blood from the outset.
So, each and every day, as the Pickle family drove past in their custom conversion van, either Mom or Dad would stop on the road in front of our house and direct one of the kids to knock over our mailbox.
We occasionally saw them, but most times we didn’t. And, if the mail lady comes with the mail and your mailbox is on the ground, she keeps going. We were going one or two weeks at a time with no mail – bills, checks, ads, everything. One evening I overheard Mom and Dad out in the kitchen discussing the situation. Mom asked, ‘Do we turn them loose?’ Dad answered with ‘We’ve talked to them until we’re blue in the face, we know it’s them, and they won’t stop I think it’s our last option.’ So, the parents came out into the living room and summarized the problem for us, and asked if we could think of a viable option.
I was mostly off at college at this point, but my brothers went to work on the problem. They scavenged several yards of steel pipe, an aluminum scoop shovel, old trampoline springs, and a tractor innertube, and built a low-profile catapult. With some fine-tuning, they got it strong enough to fling a ten-pound weight a good thirty feet. Their original idea was to arm it with rocks and broken glass, but Mom drew the line and said they couldn’t do anything to cause serious injury – but whatever they did could be just as foul and nasty as what they had been doing to us.
They rose to the occasion. The brothers were raising sheep for 4-H, so they headed out into the pasture with a five-gallon bucket and loaded up every nugget of sheep poop they could find. Sour milk from the dairy down the road – into the bucket. Grandparents treated us to the buffet dinner in town – the brothers saved up every fried shrimp shell from their plates and dropped them all into the bucket.
They found a jar of expired Limburger cheese at the grocery store – they offered the manager 25 cents for it, and the contents went into the bucket. Carp got stranded in the irrigation canal that ran through our property when they drained the water at the end of harvest – they headed down with a pitchfork and put a few dead fish into the bucket.
Rotten potatoes from the cellar, rancid bacon grease from the kitchen, moldy leftovers, and even a liberal spray of their own ‘creative juices’ went into the bucket. They stirred everything up with a canoe paddle and left the bucket under the dryer vent for a couple of weeks, so the warm steam would get everything cooking and fermenting properly. Eventually, the bucket was emitting a faint steam vapor, so they knew everything was ready.
The catapult itself was built with a rotational trigger – if a weight on the end of the trigger was removed, a section of pipe would rotate and the catapult would fire. So, they hauled the catapult out to the side of the road and hid it in the thick grass. The mailbox base itself went onto the trigger, and the contents of the 5-gallon bucket went into a paper grocery bag and were tucked onto the scoop shovel throwing arm.
Everything was set, so my brothers all headed into the house to watch cartoons.
I so wish I could have been there to watch, but we heard second and third-hand from multiple sources what had transpired. Dad was driving, Mom was in the front passenger seat, and the six kids were all in the back coming home from an evening basketball tournament. As they reached our driveway, Dad stopped the van and told one of the kids to get out and knock over our mailbox.
When he did, the trigger rotated, the shovel released, and five gallons of steaming sheep poop, shrimp shells, rotten eggs, Limburger cheese, dead carp, rancid bacon grease, and rotten potatoes all went flying from the grass, through the open side door of the custom conversion van, and SPLAT! against the far wall of the van. Dad started screaming ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’ The kid blubbered ‘I don’t know! It just did that all of a sudden!’ Mom yelled at the kid to get back in the van, where he had to sit in a wet seat covered in rotting carp skin.
Multiple washes didn’t help the smell. The juices had soaked down into the carpets, penetrated the HVAC vents in the back, and worked their way into the cloth seats. Even scrapping the carpet and seats didn’t help, so they ended up selling the van at a significant loss. We’d get nasty looks from parents and kids both every time we saw them around, and even a few threats of what they were going to do to us.
We’d just stand there and ask ‘What are you planning to do? Call the cops? Tell them you were tampering with our mailbox when you got hit? If you’d left it alone, nothing would have EVER happened to you.’ And, Mom sat at church just a little bit straighter, knowing that she could count on her sons to dispense justice when needed, and nobody else was likely to mess with us.”
14. Sergeant's Revenge Lives On
“So I have a friend that we’ll call John. His grandfather is a Korean War and Vietnam War veteran. He served as an infantryman in the United States Marine Corps for over 20 years. He’s very proud of his service, and his son and grandson, my friend John, have all followed in his footsteps and served as infantrymen in the Marine Corps proudly.
So John’s grandfather, who we will call Gunny, retired to a Southwestern State that is very hot and covered in cactus.
He was widowed and wanted to live closer to his son and grandson. He bought a home in a community that had an HOA. After he moved in he hung his USMC flag and the American flag outside his home with pride like he had done in his home back East.
Shortly thereafter he was told that he could not hang his USMC flag because it was against HOA regulations.
He even went to a meeting to see if he could get an exemption for military Flags since American flags were allowed. The HOA said he could not fly the flag outside but he was more than welcome to keep it in his home or garage. Gunny, to his credit, decided to go ahead and handle it in a civilized way.
Now Gunny is a perfect example of a gruff old veteran.
And that USMC flag that he flew was older than his grandson who had just gotten out of the Marine Corps. Gunny asked John if he could invite some of his veteran buddies over for a barbecue and a little Think Tank session.
Including Gunny, John, and John’s father, there were 12 of us there. Gunny tells us that he has a plan and he needs our help.
He hands us the HOA handbook and tells us that he wants to give them the incentive to change their minds about his flag and he’d like our help to do it. After a couple of hours of brainstorming, we come up with a plan to encourage the HOA board to allow a military flag to be flown.
We put together a plan to go ahead and show our military pride to the entire neighborhood.
Now the HOA rules say that he can have anything he wants in his garage, and he can keep his garage door open as long as the garage is being used. In addition, the HOA rules say that there is a quiet ordinance from 10 p.m. till 6 a.m. every night. Keep this in mind.
So John and John’s father get every veteran they know, including me, to join in Operation Pride.
Starting on a Monday, several of us gather outside Gunny’s home. And at 6 a.m. sharp, we play Reveille over a boombox. We even stand information and do calisthenics right there on his front yard loudly counting off as though it were boot camp. Those of us who can, because several of us have bad knees including myself, go for a run or jog information up and down the streets of the neighborhood singing Jodies.
Gunny even taught us a very colorful one called Napalm Sticks to Kids.
The rest of the day, we all take turns hanging out in his garage where he has proudly displayed a nice collection of military flags, many donated by us. Included are the traditional Branch Flags but also the more colorful Death from Above, Kill Them First and Let God Sort it Out, and a few other less politically correct flags.
While we were in the garage, we needed to be doing something. So John and I chipped in and bought one of those punching dummies that look like a person. You know the ones that you fill with sand or water and then punch. Well wouldn’t you know it, Gunny allowed us to do bayonet practice in his garage with the dummy. All day there was at least one of us in there yelling ‘Kill! Kill! Kill!’ while stabbing that poor dummy.
Gunny even let those who didn’t have their own rifle and bayonet borrow one of his old M1s to practice. It was like holding history.
When we weren’t taking our frustration out on the dummy, we did some weightlifting in the garage, practiced some hand-to-hand combat techniques, and had traditional military lectures. Some of these lectures included how best to stab a person with a knife and how to project your voice when on the Parade ground.
This would continue until 10 pm. The next day it started all over again. We did this for over a week. Gunny seemed to enjoy having the company of some veterans at his house all day and we got a pretty good workout and some great memories. Gunny even shared with us some stories from his time in Korea and Vietnam. A lot of us ended up sharing War Stories.
Some, including myself, even took the gatherings as an opportunity to vent some of our struggles with PTSD.
The group became not just about getting revenge on the HOA, but about supporting each other. The cops were called twice on us, but there was nothing they could do since we weren’t breaking the law. Bayonet practice in your garage and working out are not crimes. After 8 days of fun with Gunny, the HOA sent him a letter stating that he was free to fly his USMC flag outside his house.
With that, our daily meetups were no longer needed. But a lot of us have grown close to Gunny over that week and each other at our meetings. Depending on the day and the time of day, there were anywhere from 3 to 18 of us at that house at any given time. Veterans of Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, Afghanistan, and Iraq. It meant a lot to us to spend time with each other like this.
Gunny set it up so that on the last Sunday of every month, we were all welcome to come to his place for a barbecue and a bonding session.
This tradition was kept alive for 18 months until Gunny died. Every one of us attended his funeral. The day of the funeral we all gathered outside his house at 6 a.m., played revelry, and went on a jog up and down the street singing Jodies in his honor. That old USMC flag still flys at John’s father’s house proudly. This was 14 years ago, but I remember like it was yesterday.”
13. Find My Mother’s Beloved Fur Baby And Won’t Give It Back? Oh That Just Won’t Do!
“Many years ago now, I gave my mother a Chihuahua puppy for Mother’s Day after her 18-year-old Akita passed away. This little dog (who I only spent $400 on – this is relevant later), let’s call him Mickey, was my mother’s baby, & they did EVERYTHING together. When he was about three years old, while my mom was at work, a workman accidentally let him run out the door & he disappeared.
We searched for months for him. I spent several hundred dollars for a pet finder. We put up posters at all the vets and ads in the paper. Basically, we did everything we possibly could to find him, but with no luck.
Seven months after he went missing, I went to pick up my two dogs from a groomer/doggy daycare. As I was writing the check to pay them, my son and his friend were watching the dogs in the play area, and I heard my son exclaim, ‘Mama, there’s grandma Susie’s dog!’ Mickey had a very unique marking on his back that looked like a silhouette of a Mickey Mouse head, so I absolutely knew it was him, & when I said his name, he ran to the gate and jumped up trying to get to me.
I got so excited because I THOUGHT my mom’s long nightmare was over, and through happy tears told the owner he was my mother’s dog who had gone missing, and I was so happy to find him because mom was grieving herself to death: she even slept with the bedtime toy that he loved so much. Well, imagine my heartache, anger & frustration when one of the groomers, let’s call her Jerk, said it was HER dog.
Then the owner of the place & Jerk proceeded to scream at me and tell me I was wrong, but if it actually was my mother’s dog, that we should just be ‘glad that he wasn’t dead,’ and Jerk said she would NOT give him back. They were so nasty to me, they literally forced me out of the shop and threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave.
I was heartbroken, frustrated, but more importantly, I was determined to get my mother’s fur baby back no matter what I had to do! After I told mom I’d seen him, she raced over to the shop, but they had removed Mickey from the daycare area, and wouldn’t allow her to see him, then they called the police on her (even though she’d only asked to see him, not take him).
After this, I was a woman on a righteous mission, so this is the beginning of my revenge. Jerk wouldn’t give me her name, so I hired a private detective to find out who she was, and once I got her name and address, I hired a lawyer & filed a lawsuit. Now keep in mind, my mother didn’t see him that day, so she went from being afraid to hoping it was him, to knowing her baby was alive but with someone else, & it all was driving her to distraction.
Grief was overwhelming her every day, to the point where she couldn’t work and she cried constantly, so I was sincerely worried for my mother’s health.
Deciding I wanted to try to drum up some support for our situation & to encourage my mother to fight, we even went to the local press and they did a story about us in the paper. (It can probably still be found on the web if you had our real names.)
At any rate, it took a few months, but we finally got our first court schedule.
Jerk showed up, but without the dog, & because of this, our case was the talk of the courthouse, because the judge actually had to SUBPOENA THE DOG to get Jerk to bring him! A few days later, I was sitting next to my mother in the courtroom when Jerk walked in holding Mickey. Now keep in mind, until that moment, my mother hadn’t laid eyes on him for nearly a year, and no matter how much I insisted it was definitely Mickey, I saw, until that moment, she was too afraid of hoping it was.
When she saw him, she grabbed my hand & gasped his name… it was almost like she had been jolted with electricity & her heart started to beat truly for the first time since Mickey went missing. This just made me more determined to do whatever I had to do to get him back.
When our case was called, we provided a TON of evidence that Mickey belonged to us, including his registration papers, vet records & photos.
When my mother took the stand, she quietly but forcefully spoke of how deeply she loved him, how much he enriched her life & gave her purpose, and how she understood why Jerk wouldn’t want to give him back because he was such a loving dog, but she explained he was that way because she (my mom) had poured her heart and soul into loving him.
When it was Jerk’s turn, she took the stand holding the dog & had put a T-shirt on him to try & hide the Mickey Mouse silhouette marking on his back. Well, the judge wasn’t stupid, & when he asked to hold Mickey, he simply lifted the shirt to reveal the marking that was clearly shown in the 50+photos we had brought with us (she had none!)
After Jerk talked a bit about how she’d grown attached to Mickey, the judge sent her back to her seat & addressed the courtroom.
My mom & I held our breath, truly afraid of what he might say, and he started by saying he understood this was a difficult situation & it was obvious both parties loved the dog (mom had a death grip on my hand at this point), but it was his job to make difficult decisions. He then said, in his smooth old country judge southern accent, that it was obvious to him the dog in our photos was the same dog he was currently holding, & that he was (in these exact words) ‘Giving the dog back to the plaintiff (my mom).’ When Jerk’s lawyer heard this, she immediately popped up & stated: ‘We will be appealing this decision & request that the dog remains with Jerk until after the appeal process.’ To this, the judge replied (again, in his wonderful slow southern way, & his exact words are forever burned into my heart & brain), ‘Well you can appeal if you want to, but I’m givin’ the dog back to the plaintiff.’ My mom & I broke down in relieved & grateful tears as Jerk glared daggers at us.
The judge then removed the T-shirt and collar from Mickey & handed them back to Jerk, gave Mickey to the bailiff, and said: ‘I want to see if the dog remembers the plaintiff.’ All eyes were on my mother as she made her way from the bench seats into the aisle, where she stood quietly about 35 feet away, while Jerk stood much closer, about 5 feet from where the bailiff held Mickey.
At this point, the bailiff leaned down, gently put Mickey on the floor, & as soon as his little feet hit the ground, without so much as even glancing at Jerk, ran as fast his little legs could carry him straight to my mother & literally jumped into her arms, immediately bathing her face in precious doggy kisses. I don’t think I have ever seen my mother so happy, & even the judge & bailiff were grinning for all they were worth.
I also saw quite a few people in the gallery wiping away happy tears.
You would think this joyous show of affection at their reunion would prove to even Jerk herself that this dog belonged with my mother… But alas, she did indeed appeal & even tried to say, with absolutely NO evidence (or truth) whatsoever, that Mickey had been abused by us. Also, during the trial, Jerk admitted to finding him THE SAME DAY he went missing, & even though he had a collar with tags, & even though she admitted to seeing our ‘lost dog’ ad in the paper, she had chosen to keep him because ‘he was so adorable & she wanted a dog.’ After Jerk said how attached she’d become to the dog & how much she missed him now that he was back with us, the judge told her it was her own fault she’d gotten attached, because she ‘could’ve returned him the same day she found him!’
Anyway, after several months of litigation, two trials, a lot of hard work & $17,000 in lawyers fees to get back our precious $400 dog, the chancery court judge also ruled in our favor, so Mickey was home to stay & that horrible Jerk has been taught not to mess with someone who’s willing to go to the mat (& go broke) for those she loves! My Revenge was complete.
Several years later, my mother became very ill, so she & Mickey moved in with me & my family, & they remained inseparable for many years until my mother’s death. After that he was MY baby, until last year when he got cancer, so we had to let him go just one month shy of his 19th birthday. Suffice to say he was loved throughout all of his life & is greatly missed.
Had Jerk been nice & and returned Mickey to us, we would have happily allowed her to see him & maybe even have let him spend the night with her sometimes (also rewarded her for finding him), but since she was unreasonable, she wound up with nothing in the end. I also found out that after the last trial Jerk lost her job because she lied to the groomer about how she got Mickey, the owner of the business then realized Jerk had ripped her off for thousands of dollars of grooming equipment. Last I heard, Jerk was actually in police custody for that theft.”
12. Residence Hall Director Gets Fired
“So, this all happened my second year in college in the states. I was an RA (Residents Assistant) and my job was to help students adjust to college life in the dorms and maintain order (by writing up residents who broke the rules). I really enjoyed my time as an RA and made tons of lifelong friends over that year. Our boss (the RD Resident Director) was the crazy Feminist that sided with all the females of the building (it was a coed building).
She once told me I was wrong for not liking the Wonder Woman movie. It’s not that I didn’t like its message, I just didn’t like the movie, I’m allowed to not like things? Right?
Enough with the background. I have not been a super devout catholic since I got to college, (I went to a catholic grade school and a catholic high school), but I always go to ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent and the day where you get ashes marked on your forehead.
It’s always been a day I look forward to and haven’t missed going to mass since I can remember. Being in college a lot of the days tend to blend so I wake up this Wednesday and see a text from my mom saying, hey don’t forget to get your ashes. So I’m like cool, start looking up the local church times and see that I’ve already missed the 8 am service, and there is a 5 pm and 7 pm service later.
Score! I have an exam at 5 pm so obviously, I need to go to the 7 pm service. Unfortunately, our staff meetings are also at 7 pm on Wednesdays. I’m thinking no big deal I’m in the clear I’ll just miss the staff meeting and my friends will fill me in on what I miss? Right? Wrong. I text my RD telling her I will be missing the meeting for church.
I immediately get a response saying no you cannot miss this meeting it’s REALLY important. And instantly I start stressing out over how I’m going to make it to my test, church, and somehow the staff meeting as well. Well after a few conversations of her telling me I can’t miss this meeting or I’ll be in trouble I cave and just go to my exam and the staff meeting.
I arrive at the meeting to see that two other girls were not there. It is weird but not unusual for our group to trickle in after it starts for various reasons. I’m already upset and irritated that we are waiting for these two girls to show up because this just shows that I could have been late and she probably would have waited for me.
About 15 later they show up… with ASHES on their foreheads… I am fuming at this point, throw my fake AirPods in, hood up and check out of the meeting just ANGRY. My friends could all tell and were apparently lowkey scared about what I might say/do. The meeting ends and she starts chatting with all of us and I just get my stuff and leave.
I am beyond annoyed. I spend the rest of my evening in my room with the door locked. Sorry residents it’s my time to be angry and alone.
The next day I am adamant that I’m going to chew her out. I text her saying we need to meet and when is she free. She gives me a time after my last class and I’m all set for my confrontation.
Before this, my older brother calls out of the blue. Somehow my friends contacted him and told him I might do something stupid, I am crying and angry talking to him about all the crazy and outlandish things I want to say/ do. After 20 min we end the call with him talking me down off the ledge of anger.
I get into my meeting and express how utterly angry I am at her for telling me I couldn’t go to my RELIGIOUS event.
After I’m done yelling/ranting at her about how mad I am, she has the audacity to say ‘Hindsight’s 20-20.’ SERIOUSLY NO NO NO after hearing that I rip the door open (her office is right across from the front desk) and say loudly ‘you’re going to regret saying that’ in front of two other RAs who I wasn’t super close with and multiple residents walking by the desk and the lobby.
After the meeting I coasted through the rest of the semester with no problem, I stopped doing any and all work that was ‘required’ for our job to the extent of not even filling out my timecard. Up to this point, I had saved all conversations regarding the Ash Wednesday incident. As soon as I was checked out of the building, I started my revenge.
I started by saying I should have come forward earlier about this but feared I’d lose my job and needed it to get through college.
I shared all the texts that we exchanged that stated how important the meeting was and I was ‘not allowed to miss it or there would be consequences’ and how her saying this broke the FIRST AMENDMENT of freedom of religion. After I finished I sent the email to her boss, her boss’s boss, the chancellor, the vice-chancellor, and anyone else I could find related to her through the school’s websites, basically just all the other RD’s which was about 10.
I told them if she wasn’t terminated, we would be taking the school to court over this whole thing. My uncle is a lawyer and said it would be an easy case if it got that far.
We never heard much from them aside from the ‘thanks for informing us, we will look into it’ that most people give to these kinds of emails.
When I got back to campus the next fall I still had friends in res life and they told me she wasn’t fired but that they had an extra supervisor now, they also implemented a mandatory religious training meeting for all of Res Life.
Cool but not what I wanted to be done. I wanted her gone. After a follow-up email, I became the first person to find out that her contract was revoked and she was training her replacement unknowingly. Apparently, in February the school starts renewing contracts, and lo and behold hers wasn’t renewed and she immediately moved out and left because why wouldn’t she. Turns out she had gotten the same job at a different school in our state’s college system, so I kindly sent all of the RDs and all of that college’s res life higherups the same email I had sent my school’s people. They thanked me for the information, and I let it go because that jerk was gone and out of my life. Turns out her contract was not renewed at that school the following year and now she is out of a job. Can’t say that I care that she’s jobless.”
11. Put Our Company Into Debt? Your Vacation, Job, And Relationship Will Be Destroyed
“Our company is a tiny IT consultancy with four workers because there were only four of us, we all had multiple roles.
The jerk in question was our salesman/finance manager – he had full control over the company finances, we were apparently doing well, so everything was good.
He was also the type of person who initially was very likable, but after a week of working with him, you would realize that he was a smarmy and greedy jerk.
He was also a long-time friend of the company owner, which explains why he was given so much trust.
To start with, he would turn up at work at around lunchtime and have constant meetings using the company credit card, which were no more than him treating his friends to lunch. But due to his friendship with the owner and the fact that we were earning, this was overlooked.
Eventually, he decided to take his significant other on vacation. He was really into her, but she was very high maintenance and the relationship was very rocky. The vacation was designed to fix their relationship and impress her.
So, a few days into his vacation we need to quote someone for a few workstations and needed to find the relevant paperwork, so I took a look at the huge pile of paper on his desk.
I found the relevant paperwork, but I also found a letter demanding we pay our overdue rent, and then another demand and another. Then I found credit card bills detailing exactly how much he had been treating his significant other and friends on the company credit card.
So, I collected all of this information, walked into the owner’s office, and gave it all to him. He was almost in tears when he saw our true financial situation, we were screwed.
He phoned up the credit card company to check for recent payments and found that his vacation flights were also paid for with the company credit card, so the owner immediately had that card canceled.
A few days later, we had an emergency call from a foreign number – he was very confused because he just needed ‘to borrow a little amount from the company credit card’ in order to pay his hotel bill, but the card was being declined.
The result of that call was that he was told he was fired and that he won’t get any more funds from that card.
He had to beg his significant other for her credit card to pay for the hotel, she paid it but dumped him shortly afterward when she came to our company to find out what happened and realized what a jerk he had been.”
10. Old Jerk Doesn't Get To Meet Grandchild
“I come from a family, in which family is family no matter what they do, and that anything should always be forgiven and forgotten. My grandma and my mom are your classic emotional manipulators, but my grandma is the absolute worse. She has absolutely no empathy, is very cruel, and has a slick way of working her verbal jabs in and making them seem like no big deal.
I didn’t know her much as a kid but whenever my grandparents came to visit, she would single me out of my 7 siblings and treat me like trash… probably because of the two girls, I wasn’t ‘girly’ and she is very old fashioned, I don’t know.
When I was a pre-teen, my closest-in-age brother and I were sent to live with my grandparents for a few months due to some medical complications with my older sister.
While my brother and I were there, my grandma treated me like a slave. They had two couches and two guest beds, but I had to sleep on a dingy, old army cot while my brother got to sleep on one of the guest beds (my grandma slept on the other because of my grandpa’s sleep apnea machine keeping her up, and I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the couches.) I had to get up every morning and make breakfast for me and my older brother, and lunch for everyone later on in the day.
I had to make everyone’s beds, and clean the house every day. Even when the house was immaculate she would find ridiculous things for me to clean, like boxes of keepsakes that would just go back to the barn attic after I was done.
My brother and I were homeschooled at the time (ugh) and I struggled a lot. My grandparents both only passed 8th grade in the 50’s so they were no help, and instead of even trying, my grandmother berated me whenever I couldn’t understand something and asked my older brother for help.
She would tell me I was stupid, or not to interrupt him while he does his schoolwork. My brother pretty much got a free pass while we were there. He got to watch whatever he wanted on TV, including shows my parents would not have been okay with, he was allowed to play on their old Nintendo – I wasn’t because I was a girl and girls shouldn’t play video games (eye-roll) – and he even talked my grandma into bringing us to the skating rink every week…
I can’t skate, never have been able to, but my grandma would force the skates on my feet and toss me out into the rink. She would laugh when I would fall over repeatedly, and even other kids there would come up behind me, push me down, and call me names.
While we were staying there, I got extremely sick. I’m not sure with what, because my grandma refused to take me to the doctor, but I remember aching all over my body and having a fever so high that I had hallucinations.
While I was sick, I was still forced to sleep on the cot and do my daily chores. I was so relieved when we were able to go back home.
Flash forward to a few years, we ended up moving to the same area as my grandparents because my grandpa wasn’t doing well. He had retired and was beginning to have a second battle with cancer, and also Alzheimer’s.
This really broke my heart because my grandpa was my only escape while I lived with them, and was always a kind and gentle man. My grandma did absolutely nothing to help his condition over the years… instead she made it worse. A thing about Alzheimer’s is the less a person does, the more their mind depletes. Regular daily activities should be kept up, to help improve cognitive function.
My grandma slowly took away things that made my grandpa happy – gardening, yard work, his pets (she purposely let his cat outside where it got hit by a car and died, they live on a very busy road and the cat was not an outdoor cat), his carpentry, etc.
After his cancer was confirmed, and he wasn’t in a right mind, she refused to have him treated for it because it was just a ‘waste of money’ – from his retirement, she never worked a day in her life.
As my grandpa’s condition worsened, she put him into the cheapest nursing home around, where he was abused and neglected (my family documented it and have lawyers working on a case), she was aware of the abuse and neglect and refused to move him to a different nursing home, trying to save every penny she could. He eventually died there.
Around this time, I was an adult, had moved out of my parent’s house, was living with my husband, and was pregnant.
My grandma and my mom enlisted my husband to mow my grandma’s serval-acre-lawn every week, without pay, unless you consider every blade of grass being scrutinized, and no thank you as pay. She would literally draw a map of her yard and tell him how she wanted each section of grass to be cut… this was on top of us paying for gas to not only drive there but also to fill up her lawnmower – and even for my husband to fix the lawnmower if something went wrong.
With me being pregnant and him working full time, this was an unnecessary strain on our relationship. We were relieved when Fall came around and decided to never do a damn thing for her again.
Then came my baby shower… my mother-in-law was hosting, and my grandmother was invited. She not only was rude to my husband and made some back-handed comments to him about leaving poor-old-pregnant me at home without a vehicle, while he worked (we had just gotten a second vehicle that morning, so he was able to backfire her trashiness), but she also insulted my mother-in-law who spent the whole morning trying to make sure everything was perfect.
My mother-in-law cooked a full 3-course meal for my baby shower and my grandmother insulted her (wonderful) cooking to her face.
It was after that, and much discussion (trash talking really) between my husband and me, that we came to the agreement that my grandma would have absolutely nothing to do with our soon-to-come baby. We knew that at any given chance she would try to manipulate and control our child, as she has with every other child in the family.
Before I went into labor we discussed our plans to announce our daughter’s arrival to our families, old hag was not to be involved. She ended up hearing from my mom, and later on via social media. Thankfully she didn’t try to visit while we were still in the hospital, but as soon as we got home she was blowing up my phone, not with ‘when can I see the baby?’ but ‘I’ll be over later to see the baby.’ She never asks for anything, she demands and doesn’t even say thank you afterward…
Nonetheless, I got back to her and told her no. I gave the excuse that we needed to get settled in and that we weren’t ready for visitors (true, we didn’t have anyone over for the first two weeks) and that I would let her know when we are ready.
Well, it’s been 5 months, and there has been plenty of talk about it amongst my family.
Apparently, she’s so hurt that she hasn’t seen the baby yet. She never will. Even if she does ‘see’ her at family events, she will never socialize with our daughter, hold her, or talk to her. For all I care, she can rot in a grave without ever meeting her. I don’t care that she’s living alone after my grandpa’s death, honestly, it’s what she deserves.
There is a lot more to the horrors of my grandma, this really just scratches the surface. She is also incredibly discriminatory, homophobic, and racist, along with many other disturbing qualities… like trying to control absolutely everything. She also refused to give my parents and siblings some of my grandpa’s items that were to be gifted to them via his will, especially if they had any monetary value to them, even though he left her very well off. Everything described here isn’t even the worst of what she’s done, including letting my grandpa be abused and neglected for months before dying alone.”
9. Reduced Your Employees' Salaries? Get Ready To Lose Them
“So in 2020, my mother was working in a private school. The staff was very friendly and cheerful in the school but the thing that sucked about the school was that the owner of the school was a pretty big businessman. He never gave an appointment letter to any employees and he used this thing to his advantage last year by reducing the salaries of all the employees that joined the school last year by 80% (my mother was in this group).
Since there was no written proof of their original salary, all the employees had to accept this nonsense. My family had debt and we really needed the funds (the year was going rough for us). Every employee who raised their voice was immediately fired and whoever tried to take the matter to court was dumbstruck because according to school they never worked there.
I was quite furious with this because my mother had to do a lot of work for very little pay and also I was a student in that same school a couple of years ago and a lot of nonsense was done to me too by the school management.
I was learning to do graphic design and I started doing freelance work on Upwork. I soon landed a pretty good project that paid me well, which helped reduce my family’s debt by almost 50%. Then at the start of the second term of school, which was a pretty busy time for the school, I told my mother to give in her resignation since there was no appointment letter or agreement, any employee could also quit at any point in time without giving notice.
My mother had to plan work and activities for 4 classes and since all the teachers of these 4 classes were dumb they couldn’t do anything on time. The school was starting the second term without any syllabus or activities for these 4 classes, and it was complete CHAOS.
The principal blew up my mother’s phone with messages telling her to come back to work and this was very unprofessional.
After a few months, I got to know from a friend of mine who was still studying in that school that since my mother was the most experienced and creative person in that field no one even close to my mother’s experience could be found. There weren’t even a lot of good candidates out there for the job to begin with. The school had to temporarily close the pre-primary section of the school and because of this, there was a big line of Entitled Karen Parents outside the principal’s office. My mother got a job in another school and these guys pay a decent salary and there is way less workload.”
8. Ruin My Mom's Happy Life? Here's A Reverse Card
“My Stepmom is one of the nicest people you could ever meet. She is also one of the strongest. Before she became my Stepmom, she was previously a single mom of two kids and survived and beat breast cancer. A few years after she and my dad had been together, she had her foot crushed by a forklift while she was at work.
She is now permanently handicapped and can no longer work paycheck jobs.
She was really scared that my dad was going to leave her because when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, her significant other had left her. My dad isn’t that type of guy and they both decided that they were the ones for each other.
My Stepmom just had surgery yesterday for her back and will have another one in 2 weeks. This is because when they originally operated on her foot, they messed up the first surgery and ended up damaging her back as well.
Despite all of this, my Stepmom is the happiest and most loving person. I could go on for days about how amazing this woman is. She is loved in the community she lives in and almost everyone knows her name. I am about as close to her as my real mother.
Now, cue Entitled Lady, who I will refer to as Jerk.
My Stepmom had just gone to the gym, while she can’t do traditional workouts, she really finds that swimming is nice and a good way to lose weight while not hurting herself.
She had been trying to lose weight and she has lost a lot in that week. She decided that she was going to reward herself a little and get a milkshake from a local dive.
My Stepmom parks in the handicap parking spot, as she can legally do, and has her order taken from her car. So far, today had been a really good day so she was even more upbeat and cheerful than usual.
Sadly, Jerk wanted to ruin that.
My Stepmom noticed a lady standing behind some bushes, almost like she was trying to hide from my Stepmom. My Stepmom has her window down and she is expecting her milkshake to be ready soon and hears something really chilling. It went something like this:
Jerk: ‘Yes, I would like to report a regular person parked in the handicap parking spot. The license plate is xxxxxxx.’
My Stepmom is shocked.
She takes a picture of the woman (very important later) and then goes outside to confront her. The lady sees her approaching her, my Stepmom using her cane to help her walk, and bolts it.
Like, seriously, you just ran away from a lady with a cane. Well, my Stepmom was like whatever, she was registered as disabled and the DMV shouldn’t have any trouble with a false accusation.
Sadly, she was wrong. As she got home, after enjoying her milkshake, she was called by multiple different agencies. I don’t know all of the details about this but I do know that my Stepmom was at risk for losing her car, disability checks (which she really needs since she can’t work) and that they are going to open an investigation on her possible disability fraud.
So, a normal person would be infuriated by this and would witch hunt the lady. My Stepmom wasn’t angry at all as she just doesn’t have it in her. She instead starts to get her evidence that she is disabled by calling her doctors and insurance to acquire physical proof. She was playing the defensive.
I know, I am not great at getting to the point but trust me when I say it is worth it.
When my Dad gets home from his job, he works in a prison, and sees my Stepmom in tears and with stacks of papers with her medical history on them, he becomes concerned.
My Dad is a very rational and often hard to upset man. After hearing this story, however, he loses it. He was probably angry for about 5 minutes until he started asking my Stepmom for more details.
This is where the revenge starts, even if sort of unintentionally.
Neither my Dad nor Stepmom knew anything about this lady but my Stepmom did have photos of her from earlier.
My Dad takes these photos and writes a huge post on social media describing what happened and my Stepmom’s past and how she did not deserve to have to go through this as well. Now, I said earlier that my Stepmom was very popular in the community.
This is because she organized charity events, would babysit for free, make blankets for homeless people and people in need, and was always there for a friend.
People banded together and told them who this lady was, some even posted her address which my Dad deleted from the post because that is just wrong, and was calling her out. Both of my parents thought this was it and that they had gotten even in a way that took the moral high ground.
But oh, this was just the beginning.
Two days later while my Dad is at work in his office, the sheriff from their community comes to see him. This was really weird since my Dad works out of town and in the middle of nowhere. (It’s a prison, there isn’t even an Applebee’s out near there.)
It turns out that the sheriff was Jerk’s husband.
So he is a sheriff.
You would expect him to be very respectful and appropriate. Ha, nope. He is as bad as his wife.
He starts yelling at my Dad and cursing him out. Claiming it’s my Dad’s fault that he and his family were getting death threats. My Dad never intended for the family to get death threats and he even tried to lean people away from this. Apparently, Jerk has had a very difficult 2 days.
She lost her job and even got excommunicated from her church. People had also been protesting outside of their houses and berating the two. Some people even went as far as to throw and break things. They even had their car stolen and vandalized, it had graffiti on it about how they weren’t handicapped enough.
Then the sheriff grabs my Dad’s shirt and claims he is going to press charges and have him thrown in this prison for something ridiculous like attempted assault.
It should also be known, that at the time, my Dad worked at a female prison. My Dad just put on a sly grin and said:
‘I look forward to seeing your wife in here soon.’
The sheriff flips out and actually punches my Dad. My Dad said he would take a thousand punches from that sheriff if he could just see the look on his face again.
Later, my Dad presses charges against the sheriff for assault and harassment. Even before the trial happened, the sheriff ‘retired’ early without any benefits. My Dad later decides to drop charges though because through balancing work, court, and my Stepmom’s upcoming surgery he just can’t do it all. He was happy the jerk paid the price though because now neither had a job and both were practically ostracized all because my Stepmom wanted a milkshake.
Later, long after these events, they learned that the reason that my Stepmom had gotten all of those calls after the lady reported her was because she used her husband to pull some strings. She went so out of her way to hurt my Stepmom. Well, it doesn’t really matter now because when my Dad checked their social media page they had gotten a divorce. The husband had not posted anything in over 6 months and the Jerk was living from paycheck to paycheck while selling some products you would see on Dr. Oz.
The Jerk also made a post formally addressing what she did to my Stepmom and she only did it because she looked ‘too happy to be disabled.’ Yeah, because disabled people can’t be happy.
In the end, my Stepmom and Dad lived happily ever after. I mean, at least compared to those two nutjobs.”
7. Throw Carrots At Me? I'll Make You Not Walk Graduation
“So this story takes place in Middle School. This all started in the 6th grade, my few friends and I were sitting at lunch at a lonely table. There is a rule for lunch where you have to buy a healthy fruit or vegetable with your lunch at school so the most popular food was the carrots. Mostly the carrots were thrown out due to the fact that they tasted like plastic.
But some people had other motives. There was a gang of kids that were sitting across my table and started to throw carrots at us. One of the kids there was D. D was that typical bully that would make fun of you, push you around, just be a huge jerk in general. D would make it a mission to throw carrots at me and my friends every time at lunch.
Even if we moved tables he would sneak behind us and throw carrots. Well we told the teachers, they gave him a warning and it continued. Repeat that for the rest of middle school and now we are at the end of 8th grade I think April. Here was the original revenge I did.
I had enough with D’s stunts at this point so I thought of a classic prank of putting carrots into a friend’s locker.
Getting D’s locker combo was easy. We have an agenda pad that has all of our school info like username, password, and locker combo. The layout of the lunchroom was that the nearest trash bin was right by D’s table so every time that I went to toss my lunch I would memorize the locker combo. If you are curious about his combo, it was 16,6,16 at number 203 locker.
The last thing I needed was the carrots. I asked my friends, now about 10 people, to help me out. They hated D for the longest time so they agreed. so every time we had lunch we would get carrots and give them to me. Sometimes we would ask our other friends at the tables to have their carrots. Repeat that for like 2 months and lunch was going to end for the year so we have to start the revenge.
We all agreed that 2 of my friends would come during class with me (they had different classes than me so they could ask for the bathroom). We made sure that a teacher wasn’t there so we went to the locker with carrots in the bag and there were a lot of carrots. We dumped them in his locker. I never realized how many carrots we got but it piled up.
We closed the locker taking a photo and video and left. Of course, D got mad and started to shove the carrots away after he found out. His locker smelled and had an ant problem and destroyed the halls of school with carrots.
So not too long after that, we had a yearbook signing at our cafeteria with the whole 8th grade. The principal came on the mic and said that whoever put the carrots in the hallway would be in big trouble since the janitors had to clean up so much of it.
I had another idea when he said that. I could blame D for the carrot mess. Sooo I snitched, not my proudest moment but it worked. 8th-grade graduation came up and D’s name wasn’t called. Interesting… turns out that D got suspended and banned from walking graduation. I was very satisfied and ended middle school with a blast. D knew it was me but he couldn’t do anything so he would give me death glares in high school.”
6. Make Our Lives Miserable? I'll Hide The TV Remote
“So our apartment layout had a communal living room/kitchen in the center, with a bathroom on either side, and each bathroom connected to two bedrooms. In the middle of one spring semester, the housemate that I shared a bathroom with moved out and the complex management leased a new tenant to move into the space. That’s when we met her.
Because she was a filthy, horrible human being intent on inflicting misery on others, I’ll call her the Troll.
Now it’s true that any normal roommates will have small, trivial gripes about each other’s habits… But this was on another level. To be clear, the other 3 of us did not know each other when we moved in and there had never been any issues or drama leading up to the troll joining us. This shared trauma actually made us close.
So the troll moved in over my birthday weekend in March.
I remember making a little ‘family’ breakfast with the other housemates as a sort of birthday celebration, and we welcomed her to join us. Apparently, she had some background in law and had moved to the area after her father passed away to try and get her hands on the inheritance that was left to his widow. Besides that odd discussion, things were relatively normal the first few weeks.
She borrowed our things, we gave her rides (she had no car) and generally we were happy to be neighborly and make her feel welcome.
But it didn’t last long. Within a few weeks, she was calling the police on us for the smallest noises. She started speaking to us through nasty notes, despite us asking her to just speak to us directly. She stole our food, our kitchenware, and our bathroom items, and played innocent when we asked about them.
She made messes in the kitchen and left trash all over for us to clean up. She was also very physically unhygienic. I could write a full novel about everything that happened (and I’m even thinking of doing so) but for the sake of this story, I’ll just list some key issues.
- First incident: the troll called the police when one of the roommates had two friends in her room playing Monopoly (no, seriously.
It was board games).
- What we could see of her room was huge hoarder piles, including our stolen items stacked in; it’s possible she didn’t even know she had our stuff among all the trash.
- She never washed her hands after using the toilet.
- She didn’t flush the toilet. Once she even left a massive wad of pubes in the toilet so big it could have been a rat in the bowl.
- Once I slipped and nearly fell in a very greased-up shower, and noticed she’d started keeping a bottle of what looked like olive oil nearby.
She was either trying to kill me, or she was having long soaks in olive oil water.
- She stole the living room (communal) tv remote frequently, so that only she could watch it, and on her terms.
- She called the police because I was watching my own tv in my own room. They arrived and said they couldn’t hear anything either outside or in my room that was a problem.
After they left, I even went to the troll and apologized that my tv had disturbed her but also said calling the police was no way to solve such small issues, but she was having none of it.
- She demanded we be quiet when we were just sitting around talking. One of the girls was in a long-distance relationship and got this same reaction for having Skype calls with her significant other.
- I once had a friend over in the living room to work on a Spanish project.
The troll came in to announce she was going to bed, and I said goodnight. When we didn’t move, she demanded we needed to leave. To avoid causing a problem, we moved from the living room and went to sit on the floor in one of my other housemate’s rooms – on the complete other side of the apartment – to finish our project. An hour later, the police showed up anyway, saying that they had received a noise complaint about an (I QUOTE) ‘loud study party.’ When they went to her room to speak to her, she was asleep.
They left laughing about the ridiculousness of the call.
- When a smell started to waft from her filthy room and into our shared bathroom, I put an air freshener on the shared counter, and it too disappeared.
- She stole our food without asking. Even stole a tray of baked treats one of the girls had made, and days later we found the tins thrown down behind the laundry machine.
- One time, the three of us normal people were having lunch together in the living room, and she came in without a word and set down a voice recorder, and then left again.
- On another day, she locked both of the bathroom doors leading off of the communal living room so that none of us could access our bedrooms (the doors only locked from the inside).
I hit on my side’s bathroom door but she ignored us. About a half-hour later, after we’d called for building maintenance to come and help us, she suddenly went out to the kitchen acting innocent and saying she didn’t hear the knocking.
Over this 3-month period of chaos (which felt like an eternity), I had multiple meetings with the complex property management and gave them thorough details of all the incidents.
They made a big charade of pretending like they would help but ultimately the creepy manager told me the best he could do was offer me a hug. A. HUG.
We felt helpless. I packed up all of my things that hadn’t gone ‘missing’ from the communal areas and locked them in my room. I took a caddy to the other girls’ half of the apartment when I needed to use the bathroom/shower.
And when I stopped using & cleaning that bathroom on my side, it grew noticeably filthy pretty instantly. Didn’t bother her. What did bother her was that I had also packed up all of my belongings from the kitchen, which was actually most of the stuff we’d all been sharing; the dishes, glasses, silverware, pots, pans, cleaning supplies, etc. Even the kitchen trash bin cost $30.
In return, I got a note telling me that I was a nasty person for hiding these items and that my dead grandparents would be ashamed of me.
After all the frustrating police calls, I went to the police station and asked to file a harassment report. I was told that I could not because in the troll’s mind all of the police calls were justified and necessary, so she was allowed to keep doing it if she wanted to.
After I left the station, I went back to my car, sat down, and just cried. I felt defeated.
We were college students, bound to be up at night studying and doing homework. We didn’t even drink or play music in the apartment; we went to friends’ houses for that. She had chosen to come live in student accommodation, despite not being a student herself (though evidently, it wasn’t a contractual requirement so they didn’t kick her out).
Pretty much all I could do was count down the days until I could leave. I had developed so much anxiety about the troll & the apartment that I stayed elsewhere as much as I could. I started to enter & leave home through my bedroom window to avoid having to see her. But despite these coping efforts, there was still about a month left on the lease by this point…
So having exhausted all mature options, I did what any stressed out (and quite frankly, annoyed) college student would do in this situation.
I exacted revenge with none other than that goddamned living room tv remote. One morning while she was still sleeping, as I was about to leave for the day, I decided to hide the remote in the back of one of the kitchen drawers. I found out from the other girls hours later just how perfectly this revenge played out. When she discovered the crime, she went into the other girls’ side of the apartment and hit on their doors screaming for the remote, which they of course didn’t have because I hadn’t told them what I’d done (plausible deniability and all that).
A short time later, one of the girls was in the shower and the troll went to the breaker box and shut off the power to their half of the apartment. The poor girl was screaming in the pitch-black shower! The troll was shouting at her and hitting on the doors so loudly that the housemate was actually scared she might get physically attacked, and had to call building security.
But alas, the troll’s tantrum continued. Next, the troll called the police and actually had the officers search our living room for this remote. They were literally digging through the couch cushions. After all of this, they even scolded her, saying that if they had to return to our apartment one more time, SOMEONE was going to get arrested. The next day I slipped it casually under some mail on the counter, and though we saw her using it, later on, we didn’t hear another word about it. And what do you know, she didn’t call the police again for the remaining few weeks we were there.
Oh, and in case there is any doubt, yes. She did have a Karen haircut. Of course she did.”
5. Make My Friends Miserable? Lose Your Job
“So I went to a boarding school in Illinois and each dorm had 1 or 2 dorm parents. This one is called Ashley, lovingly known as Bly. She hated me and made me miserable. She would choose favorites (not supposed to) that she gave special attention to.
For example, an ex-friend Maddie and I went to the mall to ‘watch a movie.’ If we do this we have to have the ticket proof.
Also, you were not allowed to do anything else. She convinced me not to actually watch the movie and we went shopping. We got caught and were taken in to get punished.
Now Maddie just got a tier 0, basically, you get an earlier curfew and that is pretty much it. I got roomed (stay in your room, you are not allowed out unless it is to go to class or do chores) for a week, formed (where you have to stay in your dorm, you are not to go outside at all) for 2 days and tier 0.
Just because she was choosing favorites.
Last year I was able to help convince people to let me go to dorm 5 (a really nice dorm). Before I did, I told Bly and she stopped what she was doing to give me and my parents a death glare.
Well after I left I heard from a friend that Bly was in charge of the recreations. She was putting people she liked on the good ones and the ones she hated on the worst.
Even if the kid signed up for one, she put him/her on one she didn’t ask for because that activity was too good for that person. I was furious. Even though I graduated and couldn’t afford to pay them a visit, I was able from the safety of my home to get her fired.
I told my friend to start getting kids to complain to their parents about this.
I also told him to start a protest with as many students as he could. Our plan was for them to sit around the busses and refuse to do anything else until she was fired. So they did. With the threat of lawsuits from the parents and the protests, they had no choice but to fire her in front of everyone. Lots of punishments for the students who protested basically just saying don’t ever do that again. When I heard back my friend thanked me profusely for my help. I was just happy I was able to stop that power-tripping witch.”
4. I Put My Abusive Lying Boss In His Place
“I used to be the top manager of a really large local restaurant. My boss (the owner) was a total jerk. He would talk to me very rudely and would appreciate the other guy in the same position as me a lot more. The two of them would always blame all the problems on me. Now, I was earning a good amount and I was really friendly with the staff here, so I put up with his rudeness for almost a full five years.
About a year after I started working there, the owner pulls me aside and tells me he’s opening two new locations. Great, I think, I’ll be in charge of my own location and not have to deal with him. Nope. This jerk literally HIRED A NEW GUY to run the new location, and of course, he gave his pal the other location, despite me working a lot harder than him.
I was so annoyed because, at this point, he is clearly singling me out for whatever reason. I confronted my boss about it one day, and he tells me I don’t ‘Discipline the staff’ enough for imperfections. I told him that first of all, the staff do a great job and the restaurant runs smoothly, and second of all, if I spoke to the staff as he spoke to me, they’d quit and no one would eat here.
He gets SUPER butt hurt and puts me on a probationary period.
A month later, I get fired for ‘general poor performance in the workplace’, which of course my boss refused to elaborate on. I called the other location, and my co-worker who ran it said that between him and me, he’s enjoying not being yelled at by the jerk, and he’s sorry. I said it’s whatever.
I call the boss the next day and ask him if he could please elaborate on why I’ve been fired. He laughs at me and says ‘Make me’ and I said that I can’t make him but any moral or logical human being would tell me. He then dares me to ‘do something’. Okay buddy, I’ll sure do something. I do a quick search online, hoping to find an embarrassing photo of him or something that can embarrass him a little bit.
What I found stunned me.
I found that he, a married man with three kids, has been seeing numerous other women behind his wife’s back. That might explain why I keep seeing him with random women in his office. At this point, I didn’t seek revenge, I wanted to tell his wife, whom I felt super bad for, that her husband is being unfaithful to her. I got in contact with her.
She was completely ruined because of this. She didn’t want to hurt her kids, but she had trouble forgiving him, and 3 months later she divorced him. At this point, his reputation is completely ruined, because everyone around him knows that he’s been seeing mistresses when he’s married with kids. The best is coming up though. The husband owns the house, but, all their property is owned in both her and her ex-husband’s name.
I advise her to sue. The court awarded her the restaurant. My ex-co-worker had a change of heart and was a lot kinder to the employees after this.
Soon later, my ex-boss’s ex-wife met her new husband. They got married soon after. He’s a completely different man, and treats her much better than her last, and is a great father to her kids. She’s since had her 4th and 5th kids with him.
They are very happy. My ex-boss, on the other hand, just disappeared. He sold the house and broke off contact with anyone who hadn’t already disowned him. He appears to have moved out of state with a new identity. I hope he brought his five mistresses with him too. I, on the other hand, took up investing as a job, and now I happily balance my job with traveling the world.
My boss’s ex-wife and I are now great friends, and I’m one of her kids’ godfathers.
So there you have it, that’s why you don’t go behind your family’s back, be a jerk to your employees, or dare your employee to get revenge on you. Because maybe he will and it will make you lose your reputation. I don’t feel bad about it, he 100% deserved this for being such an evil jerk. I have no sympathy for people who lie. You don’t love your family if you go behind their back like that.”
3. Initiate A Witch Hunt 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 obliterate 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.”
2. The Servants Are Revolting
“In my third year at university, I got a job at a fancy hotel in town. It was a bed and breakfast in a Georgian building and they charged around £175-£225 a night for a 2 person room. I started as a housekeeper, working in the mornings cleaning the rooms and common areas. There were two international girls there who lived in and also worked there.
They left suddenly due to a family emergency (I should have thought this was suspicious, but they actually did come back so maybe it was legit), so there was suddenly an opening for 2 live-ins. I convinced my friend of 14 years, who I also lived with in our student house, to work there too so we would have somewhere to live after uni, and a job.
And then the problems started.
We moved into two underground rooms under the hotel. Another girl was living there who was 19 and worked at the hotel as well. Now, before we moved in, the hotel owners had seemed posh, eccentric, and a little odd, but were basically decent people. But as soon as we moved in, we were servants.
For starters, we had to answer the phone at night, as well as answer the door or the guest’s requests for help via the desk bell.
Do wasted idiots want pizza? Do people on the other side of the world want to book a room? Guest can’t be bothered to find their key in their bag? We had to get up. This would have been fine if we had been paid for this. We weren’t. We looked into it and found that we should be paid for whenever we ‘rose to do a duty’ and asked our employer about this, but they responded that their daughter was an employment lawyer, and we didn’t know what we were talking about.
Secondly, we had to leave the hotel via the main door if we wanted to go out as the back door was locked all the time. We couldn’t leave without being quizzed about where we were going and when we would be back, even on days we were not working. The 19-year-old had it especially bad as she came back once at 2 am and was essentially GROUNDED; not allowed to have anyone over or go out at night.
We noticed that the toilet we shared was always backing up and discovered that this was because it was a low flow toilet trying to flush everything UP to a ground-level pipe above us. We were blamed for these problems. One day I hung an empty clothes hanger on a light fitting while I was trying to sort something out and it SPARKED because the outside of the light fitting was LIVE.
I was blamed for ‘breaking the light’ even after I got an electrician working elsewhere in the building to check it out and he said I couldn’t have caused the issue.
At the end of our shifts, we had to ask to be dismissed, as opposed to the other staff who just left when their shift was over. If we didn’t the manager or owners would come down into our flat and demand we went back to work, even if the shift was over.
The manager stole our food and went into our flat without notice to do so.
We were also excluded from tips. In my first month I got a share of the tips, but subsequently was told I was ‘too new’ and that this had been ‘a mistake’ – I never got tips again even after several months.
So, I was feeling guilty for getting my friend into this and we agreed on a ‘3 strike’ system.
If 3 bad things happened in one day, we would quit. We often reached 2, but not 3.
Then the rota changed. We had been working 5 days with 2 off, but then it changed to 6 days on with only one-off. Unfortunately, I did not realize this as some of the sheets on the chart had been mixed up. So when I got up one day to take a lazy shower and watch tv in bed, I was not aware that I was meant to be working.
The owners sent another girl down to tell me and I came up to find out what was going on. The owners were LIVID, even after I said it was an accident and we realized the rota had gotten messed up. They asked if I was going to work now – but they were being so rude and the shift was almost over so I said…
no. No, I wasn’t going to work.
They got really angry, told me off, even though it was an honest mistake, and that we would be having a meeting about my ‘attitude’ the next morning. They acted like they had been for ages – like they could do anything, demand anything because we lived there, we had nowhere else to go. Only, we did have somewhere to go.
So, while my friend worked her shift. I packed up all our stuff. I was a bit worried but when she came down at lunch and saw what I was doing, she helped, and we eventually had everything packed and hidden away. (I think she was mad at them too because one night she got up to do something in the middle of the night, got locked out of our flat without her phone, and had to sleep in the dining room, and they still made her work the next day).
That evening, when the owners left for the day, I took several taxis to and from our student house (where we were still paying rent because our other friend lived there and it was covered by our loans anyway) and moved us out of the hotel.
Before we left we wrote ‘sorry for any inconvenience’ on the back of our contract and left it with our work aprons.
The next morning, waking up in our student house, we sat and waited, picturing their absolute fury when they went downstairs to get the two of us for our shift and found we weren’t there. It was an amazing feeling, knowing that we had escaped and they couldn’t do anything to us. We found out later that they panicked, because the third girl was visiting her mum, and demanded she come back early in case she had also done a runner.
I felt kind of bad that the others would have to cover our shift, but I had let it slip to the people we liked and they would get paid anyway.
The only downside was that my friend had forgotten to leave her keys, so we got a bunch of irate texts saying they would charge us with replacing the locks. We dropped them off and when the owner came out he was bright red, utterly ballistic.
He said he thought we were inconsiderate and immature, and, with the windows of this fancy hotel’s breakfast room all open, I called him a jerk as sweetly and loudly as I could. (Because I WAS immature, but also, kind of fearless, being 21 and having all that student loan in the bank).
In the end, it was a very stupid thing to do, we lost out on a week’s pay, plus obviously not getting a good reference, but I didn’t care. That night was the best.”
1. Mom Saved Product Reply Slips To Get Revenge
“So in the ’90s my parents owned a sewing shop in our town center, and after I came along they brought me to the shop with them pretty much every day. So I spent most of my early childhood hanging out in this shop.
One day when I was there a lady came into the shop and was talking to my Mum about something. I, being the annoying young child I was, was pestering my Mum and trying to get her attention.
The lady clearly didn’t like that, and she decided to try and tell me off. She got up in my face and started scolding me, shouting something along the lines of ‘Don’t you interrupt me when I’m talking!’ ‘Children should be seen and not heard!’ Etc.
Well, my Mum was pretty furious at that. But before she could kick her out the lady realized she messed up (or saw the look on my Mum’s face) and ran out of the shop.
Mum was not happy, and she wanted revenge.
Luckily, this lady had previously signed up for some kind of newsletter my parents sent out, so my Mum had her home address.
Back in those days, you would get these adverts for certain products (like garden ornaments or cheap jewelry and other stuff) in magazines or newspapers, where you filled in a reply slip with your address and other contact details, and they send you the product to see if you like it before you pay.
If you don’t like it you then send it back.
So, my Mum spent about six months saving up every single product reply slip she could get. Filled out the lady’s address on them, and then posted them all at once. She would have ended up with between 80-100 random items arriving at her house over a couple of days. And she would have to send each one back individually.
I still think my Mum is a total legend for this, and I’m sure she has lots of other revenge stories if the people want them.”