People Slip Us Their Major Revenge Stories
24. Try To Lower My Wage? We'll Quit Right Before You Need Us The Most
“The pub I worked at changed hands over the time I was at university for a semester. When I came back, I worked a shift the week before Christmas. A couple of days later, we all had a team meeting with the new big boss, who was a prize one jerk. After the meeting, he rang me instead of talking to me personally and basically said that “I’m not going to pay you the wage you were on previously; I’m going to pay you minimum wage like everyone else who works for me” (this was a difference of about 4 bucks per hour, so pretty significant).
Bearing in mind, I’d worked here for almost 3 years, averaging around 50 hours a week on my gap year for my previous employer, and had worked my way up to a more senior position. I’d put a heck of a lot of hours in.
When I told him that he couldn’t do that because I’d already worked a shift on the understanding that my working agreement had stayed the same, he said, “I can do whatever I want because you’re on a zero-hour contract, mate.” So I told him to find someone to cover my remaining shifts, which he happily agreed to.
Little did he know that I was down to work the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day shifts, the busiest shifts in the British pub calendar. I handed in my notice that evening, knowing full well he wasn’t going to find anyone to cover those shifts, let alone someone with the competency and experience as me (I’d done the Christmas day shift 3 times previously, and it’s MANIC).
Adding salt to the wound, my sister, who was also down for the same shifts as me, handed her notice in with immediate effect 3 days before Christmas, so we really left them in the crapper.
According to friends and regulars, it was a catastrophe on Christmas Day with queues out the door and people leaving due to the lack of service.
A conservative estimate of losses is easily $2,600 over those two shifts, probably more, all because he was a greedy jerk who liked to exploit his workers.”
23. Steal My Woman? Good Luck Getting A Job At Any Nearby Fire Department
Leave a permanent scar on him, and he’ll do the same to you.
“So I began to suspect my wife was being unfaithful to me with her coworker. I confronted both and was told I was being a jealous husband. They were just best friends, and I needed to understand that.
So, I befriended him. Became his workout partner and learned everything I could about him. Invited him to my dinner table even though I knew he was getting with my wife.
Physical violence was often considered, but neither he nor she was worth me spending a life sentence in prison for. I played dumb…
He was a bodybuilder and took steroids. He wasn’t incredibly bright and just barely got through college. He was working minimal-paying jobs while he worked on his true desire. He was applying for the Fire Fighter School in our major metro city. If accepted, it would be a lifetime job for him and a career he had dreamed about since childhood.
He talked often during our workout sessions about how much it meant to him.
Without revealing too much about myself, I have countless EMS and fire department contacts through my career in healthcare. He also knew I was knowledgeable about medicine. Then he started to ask questions about steroids. I made sure to give him just enough info to have him want to ask me more. I then made sure he started emailing me his steroid questions.
Ironically, he used an account that even had his full name in the address.
After a private investigator confirmed the affair, I moved my plan into action. So when I was financially/legally ready to leave my wife, I made sure to get in touch with several of the FD officers that sat on the Candidate Review Board. I provided them with the emails showing one of their candidates was using an illegal substance and had lied about it during the interview process.
He was in the second round of interviews at the time and was slated to be part of the incoming class as he had done very well supposedly.
Needless to say, he was rejected. I used my contacts in the EMS community to make sure he would never be accepted to a major fire department within a 200-mile radius.
He and my wife took my dream of marriage from me, so I took something from them that had just as a profound effect.
He’s currently working dead-end jobs, probably still wondering why he can not get accepted to firefighter schools.”
22. Go Into Karen Mode On An Airplane? I'll Prevent You From Reclining Your Seat
“I was on an overnight flight a few years back from Chicago to Frankfurt (roughly 8 hours). We are all settled in our seats, and the boarding process was really smooth, setting the scene – it was calm.
All of a sudden, this woman and her children come stomping down the aisle, and she was in full Karen mode. They do the suitcase juggle, get it all stored, and start sorting their seats – she’s right in front of me on the aisle, her two kids are sharing her row, & her last kid was in my row in a window seat.
She immediately is concerned with getting shuteye and starts looking for alternative sitting situations. Mind you, she is in a freaking huff like the world was ending. She grabbed a flight attendant and inquired about the empty row behind me (we were at the back of the plane) & asked if she could sleep there. The flight attendant (bless their heart) explains that’s where they sleep during the flight and that she could not have it.
She wasn’t having it and actually tried to tear down the curtain and sneak back there. They obviously caught her. Then she tried to coerce her kid in my row to switch seats with her because she needed the window to sleep!
At this point, I’m over the entertainment, and this girl is freaking annoying, so I gently jam my huge water bottle in the joint of her seat because…
screw it; she sucks, and I’m not giving her the ability to recline into my space. Once she admitted defeat, she tried to recline only to be stuck in an upright position. She thrashed for a good 5 minutes, called over the attendants who immediately realized what I had done, and we just winked at each other not saying a peep.
I still laugh about it randomly. Singlehandedly the crappiest thing I’ve ever done to someone.”
21. Take As Long As I Need? Of Course I Will
He should have been more careful with his wording.
“When I was 16, I got a job at Walmart as a stocker. I was used to hard labor in the sun, so working in AC stocking shelves seemed a step up at first.
That particular Walmart had 4 stockers and a stockman. The difference being that stockers only stock shelves and unload the truck. Their prime directive is to keep product where it belongs.
The stockman position was a janitor that stocked shelves when there wasn’t anything to clean. They were required to clean bathrooms, clean soft lines, the vestibule, etc. Well, the stockman at this store was a total mess up. He consistently didn’t do anything right. So they decided that since I was a new hire, they’d promote him to stocker and bump me to stockman. I was unhappy with this but I endured.
On top of this, they constantly decided to violate labor laws with me. They’d keep me past closing on school nights. I would work over 40 hours, sometimes they’d ask me to clock out first so I wouldn’t get overtime. They basically preyed on a 16-year-old. I grew really tired of this and angry.
So the Thanksgiving sale started (Black Friday), which was huge at the time because that was the first day that store allowed Lay-Away for the Christmas Holiday.
It was the busiest day of the year. My county was very impoverished and EVERYONE put things on layaway. The store’s entire attic was dedicated to Lay-Away and they even had extra trailers hauled out back to hold more Lay-away stock. I had worked until midnight the night before and had to open and basically haul heavy loads ALL DAY LONG with one other stocker, understaffed as usual, and it was a Sisyphean task.
When my lunch break came up, my manager grabbed me and looked me in the eyes while holding my shoulders, and said to me, ‘take as long as you need.’
What they meant was ‘You don’t get a full break today. Eat as quickly as possible and violate more laws by coming directly back to work.’
What I did was: drove to a hamburger joint and ordered three burgers and took them to my grandma’s house down the street, pigged out, and took a three-hour nap.
The manager was screaming furious at me when I got back and I played dumb as ever and just said, ‘you told me to take as long as I needed! I thought I was being rewarded for a good job!’
She couldn’t say what she really meant because it was illegal and it totally screwed them that I did that.”
20. Be A Horrible General Manager? I'll Get You To Resign
“So I worked for a really lousy general manager at a popular chicken fast food restaurant for a while whose behavior included hanging up notes threatening to fire everybody every other day, screwing up basic tasks that could get us a serious health code violation, failing to order the necessary inventory, and accusing me of whatever happened to be making her mad at the time.
So I quit about 10 months in because while I really enjoyed the work, and I loved almost everybody there, her influence was just too negative.
On my last day, my coworkers and the other managers got together and handed me a German chocolate cake and a card that everybody except the general manager had signed.
After I quit, I never really felt satisfied with having let her walk all over me like she did. I regularly worked 16-hour days almost entirely by myself, ran across town to other locations without compensation for gas, and would stick around off the clock if someone made a mess while I was calling for a ride home.
All without a thank you and sometimes with extra complaining on top. At one point, she told me I was going to be a manager, only to string me along for several months saying, “We just don’t have any spots open.” Two weeks after I resigned, the guy who got hired after me became a shift supervisor.
So one afternoon, I was texting a friend who still worked there at the time, and the general manager’s behavior had gotten even worse.
He told me she had started scheduling herself three days out of the week and forcing everyone else to pick up her slack, and that when she was there, she was almost always intoxicated. Once upon a time, she came stumbling in, before sitting down in the office and unceremoniously peeing herself. She made a 16-year-old employee go to her house and bring a fresh pair of jeans.
As my friend was telling me this, I was typing it down in an email to the corporate office. I explained that I was a former employee and told them what I had experienced and what was still going on. They had somebody there the next morning to investigate.
It took a few weeks, but finally, the general manager just quietly resigned from corporate pressure.
Nobody got her a cake.”
19. Telling My Toxic Boss How I Really Feel About Him
Honesty is the best policy.
“I had a toxically awful boss for a few years. A control freak who never quite got where he wanted in life and displaced that frustration onto his employees. He’s a BA holder who through luck and serendipity, – not competence or intelligence – ended up mixing in with the upper echelons of an R01 Cancer Center (so, big research university), surrounded by PhDs or MDs.
So, a relatively unaccomplished man, surrounded by the pinnacle of academia – he’s spent his career watching people pass him. Normally, I’d have a lot of empathy for that, but not for Steve…
One of my favorite examples of his nonsense: We moved our lab while I worked there, and a few days after the move somebody needed to print something but the printer wasn’t set up yet.
So, as you do, they set up the printer (in a totally reasonable, unobtrusive spot). My boss FLIPPED HIS LID. Mass emails went out, there were meetings, and heated conversations for DAYS, all about this perceived violation of his authority (by a post-doc who actually didn’t work for him). When the dust was settled, and he had taken down the printer for a week or so (I think to make a point about who’s the boss), he finally set it up himself in the same place.
This is one example out of 1000. Literally. I worked there for 4 or 5 years, and it was a constant thing. He has stolen ideas from junior scientists and passed them off as his own. He routinely lies about his mess-ups and passes them on to other people. And his headphone policy? NOT ALLOWED. Too distracting, because he can’t ‘control what we’re listening to.’ Real quote.
(For non-lab rats: Absent safety concerns – which are real sometimes – headphones in the lab are a staple of a healthy working environment…)
So, when I finally left to go off to medical school, I sat him down, spent 5 or so minutes (which is a long time, if you think about it) taking him through all the specific reasons why I thought he was a jerk, and a horrible, ‘morally bereft’ person.
I ended the conversation by saying ‘you know you’re dying alone because of what I’m talking about, right? Because of how you treat people?’ It wasn’t my proudest moment – I started by trying to give earnest, relatively polite feedback (I didn’t lead with ‘morally bereft’), but he can’t take ANY kind of criticism, much less of the deeply personal sort, so it quickly devolved. By the end I just let my years of pent-up disgust and frustration flow out.
I think that last comment broke him a little, because he got kinda quiet / less defensive, and I eventually left…
This happened on a Monday, and my last day was that Friday. Best week ever. Freed from his abuse, I actually got quite a lot done in that week. (And had fun doing it!) At my going away party, he couldn’t even make eye contact. (Still showed up though, I think because he doesn’t have the social skills to manage questions about why he wasn’t there.)
Fast forward to a year or two after I left the lab: I find out he’s been demoted.
Stripped of his ‘Research Fellow’ designation because he pushed one of my former colleagues into a wall for persistently trying to do good science (vs. his nonsense – remember what I said about luck and serendipity? Yeah, he is not even a remotely competent scientist).
Fast forward a couple of months after that: I’m attending my old coworker’s Ph.D. defense (whose desk used to be right next to mine).
My old boss, of course, is there. I come in wearing my med-school fleece, and give him a chipper greeting: ‘Hey Steve, how ya doin? Nice to see you.’ I really lay it on, ya know? I struggle with depression and self-loathing like nobody’s business, but at that moment I exuded confidence and command. And he could see from my shirt (‘U of X Medical School’) that I was moving on to bigger and better things, and he was still stuck taking his insecurities out on the unlucky few subject to his power (fewer, now that he got demoted).
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so small as when he shook my hand. Normally, I empathize with people’s pain. I’m a softie – it’s why I went into medicine. But not this guy. Screw you, Steve, you deserve every bit of the bed you’ve made.”
18. Park Over The Handicap Line? I'll Dent Your Car With This Wheelchair
“Some years ago, my dad was left more or less helpless.
Between my mom and I, we did our best to take care of him, however, eventually, he needed to live in a nursing home because he required 24/7 care that was beyond us.
He hated it, but I’d take him out whenever I could, even if it was just to drive around for a while.
One day, my mom and I went to pick him up to take him to a medical appointment on the other side of town.
The parking lot of this professional building only had 1 handicap access space (which I’m pretty sure was against the bylaw, for the size of the place).
For those that don’t know, these spaces are often much wider than normal spaces to make it easier to maneuver wheelchairs and walkers, etc.
I pull into this spot, and I park as far over to the left as I can, so I can get my dad’s chair out of the back and help him into it.
It was a corner spot, and I literally had my wheels right against the curb.
About an hour later, we were coming out, and someone had parked in the spot to my right. But not only did they park too close to me, but almost half their car was also over the line and into the handicap space.
I did my best to try to work with it, but there was just no room.
The parking lot was busy and the weird layout made it dangerous to pull the car back to give us some room.
I ended up carrying my dad and putting him in the seat, all the while trying my best not to smack the car beside me with my own door.
But then I had to get the wheelchair in…
The only way it would fit into my car was folded up and put in through the rear door, and even then it was very tight.
My patience was running out as I was trying to wrestle that thing into my car. One of the wheelchair brakes let go while I was lifting it and it pinched my finger. There was much swearing.
That was the last straw. I said screw that guy’s car and stopped trying to be nice. I continued fighting that chair, smashing my door into his car, and smashing the chair into his car.
I got it in eventually, but not before leaving a couple of dents and a handful of nasty scratches on his passenger door. I refrained from stabbing his tires though, as much as I wanted to.”
17. Absolutely No Mayonnaise? How About YES!
“In high school, we had this librarian who all my friends seemed to love. He was young and geeky, but sassy as anything and had no problems tearing into the ‘popular’ kids who only went to the library to cut class. He was the tennis coach, the Magic Club sponsor, and filmed all the school’s events. Naturally, all us younger geeks looked up to him—a fellow nerd who had risen above and now got to scream at and give detentions to the people we most disliked.
Great teenager mentality.
This librarian (we’ll call him Mr. A) was on very good terms with all of my closest friends, but for some reason, he hated my guts. As in, would glare at me openly from across the room and snap something sarcastic or just downright mean anytime I asked a question. I was quiet, shy, a blatant nerd. I’d never so much as turned in a book past its due date.
So his animosity shocked me. Naturally, being a spiteful teenager, I grew to hate him as much as he did me. He was like my very own arch-nemesis. Maybe it was because I was on the swim team, and we’d surpassed the tennis team as the school’s most successful/winning sport. Maybe he just really hated my emo haircut. But he always made sure to sneer in my direction whenever I dared enter his domain.
Anyways, in the library, there was this one, odd rule that Mr. A had put into place. No mayonnaise. You could bring your lunch, your breakfast, heck — a full four-course meal. But no mayonnaise. If it was visible on a sandwich or anything of the like, he would demand you throw it out. By my senior year, I’d discovered via the ever-reliable high school grapevine that his hatred of the condiment stemmed from a bet in college, where he had been dared to eat an entire jar of mayo.
Apparently, he’d succeeded. Only to promptly vomit it up everywhere and swear off mayonnaise for the rest of his existence. At first, it just made me laugh, but then I got an idea. A wonderful, awful, very petty idea.
I drove to the store and bought the biggest jar of mayonnaise I could find. I dumped it, scrubbed the insides, and then painstakingly refilled it with vanilla pudding — you know, the super gooey, oozy kind.
The kind that comes in single snack packs that don’t even have to be refrigerated. It wasn’t the best tasting goop, but it was tolerable enough and had the exact color and consistency of mayonnaise.
The next day, I plopped my smug butt down at the library table that was directly in front of his desk. I pulled out the mayo jar and a big ol’ soup spoon, stared Mr.
A dead in the eye, and proceeded to eat straight from it. Massive, oozing, spoonfuls that would probably make even non-mayo-phobes gag. His face went white, then red. I could easily make out the veins popping in his temples, could see his throat working to swallow what was most certainly a massive bought of nausea. It took a sold thirty seconds for him to break free from his horrified trance to shriek at the top of his lungs, ‘GET OUT! GET OUT!’
So I took my jug and trudged out of there as slow as a snail on vacation, dripping ‘mayonnaise’ as I went and making as many God-awful slurping noises as I could. All the while poor Mr. A looked just about ready to faint. Or at the very least lose his breakfast.
He later noticeably cut out my solo from the recording of our orchestra’s spring concert. But man was it worth it.”
Another User Comments:
“I was hoping you were going to smear him with it.” Bob Gee
16. Act Entitled Just Because You're The New Girl? I'll Give You A Piece Of My Mind
“In elementary school, we had a new kid come to our class halfway through the year. Before she arrived, the teacher announced to the class that we would be having a new student join us and that she expected us to treat her kindly and make her feel welcome.
The next day, the new girl arrived, and I immediately realized there was going to be a problem.
Because of what the teacher said, almost all the kids in the class were making an extra effort to be nice to her. Kids were sharing snacks and gel pens and erasers with her, but instead of being gracious, the new girl acted like this was how she deserved to be treated. She never said thank you and very quickly started demanding things.
By the second day, she had grown a huge head and was already treating some of my classmates like servants.
Kids were filling up her water bottle for her, and she couldn’t even be bothered to throw her own trash away. People were only being nice to her because the teacher had asked them to, but now they felt stuck and thought they had to keep serving her in order to make her feel included. It felt very unfair to me that she was abusing the situation like that, but I tried to ignore her.
On the third day, we were out at recess and I tried not to pay attention to her as she ran around the playground with her entourage. I had two very close friends and we were playing jump rope a ways away from the new girl. I could tell she was enjoying all the attention she was getting, and couldn’t settle on one activity. She would get to the swing sets and everyone would sigh in relief.
But then she would change her mind and head to the slides or the monkey bars, etc. She was enjoying being followed and served more than actually playing any games or using any of the equipment. I was annoyed but I figured as long as she stayed away from me I wouldn’t get involved.
Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. She soon walked up to our little group and demanded that we play jump rope with her.
I tried to avoid the situation by saying we were done with it, so she’d have to find someone else to play with, and gestured to my friends to walk away with me. The new girl started pouting and said I wasn’t being very nice, then told my two friends that she wanted to play with them instead. They were clearly uncomfortable but again; they felt like they had to play with her because of what the teacher said.
They picked up the jump rope and started swinging it for her while I stood off to the side fuming.
One of my friends asked the new girl if she could swing the rope for a bit so she could jump. The new girl refused and said that if they wanted to play with her then they had to do it the way she wanted. This was the final straw for me.
I grabbed the jump rope and ripped it from their hands, throwing it on the ground. I yelled at the new girl saying she was being a brat and that she needed to stop ordering my friends around since they were my friends, not hers. I grabbed my friends’ hands and practically dragged them away.
But it wasn’t over. I was sitting at a table with my friends explaining how I felt about the new girl and the situation we were in when one of my classmates walked up to me to tell me the new girl was crying in the bathroom.
This just made me even angrier since I was certain they were crocodile tears, and she was trying to make me feel bad. I stormed into the bathroom and confirmed she had been trying to manipulate the situation. I screamed at her even more, telling her how everyone really felt about her. I made sure she was aware that people were only being her friend because the teacher told them to, then I ripped into her about how I felt about her.
I was meaner than I needed to be, saying things like nobody really likes her and that everyone wishes she never came to the school. I screamed these things at her until her fake tears became real tears, then I walked myself to the principal’s office.
After that, she stopped ordering people around, and everyone else didn’t feel pressured to make her feel welcome. She made a couple of real friends and became a normal part of the class without all the extra attention. She was still a bit of a brat though.”
15. Misgrade My Tests The Whole Year? I'll Have A Chat With The Vice Principal
“In high school, my physics teacher and I didn’t see eye to eye. At. All.
This teacher’s idea of teaching was copying notes from an overhead projector or taking a test. This man had an entire set of transparency films. 3/4s of the note-taking class would be him switching the films on an overhead projector. Occasionally, he would rewrite one or do some little demonstration but generally was silent.
His tests were usually the same test year after year, with names whited out and a classmate’s name put in the spaces. We weren’t allowed to take the finished tests from class for obvious reasons. He was also a bit arrogant and would put on high point bonus questions that, in reality, most wouldn’t have a hope of answering.
Now, where we didn’t see eye to eye was his answer keys.
They were wrong. All the time. I used to question his tests every time we got one back. I would end up with a 70%, and I would show him where his answer key was wrong. Usually small errors but enough to make a major score difference. He also usually screwed up the bonus questions. I’d commonly ace his tests in the end, but he used to get mad.
So I started going over all of the other students’ tests while we were in there and helping kids get better scores.
One day, he snaps. I bring to his attention the boo-boos, and he starts flipping out, screaming, and yelling, ‘That’s it! That’s it! You take the score I’ve given you, and you deal with it!’ At that point, I stand up and know right then in my heart that I would have to sprint to make my point.
As soon as I stand up, he starts yelling louder, ‘If you walk out of this class with that, I’m going to fail you for the year!’ I was in a full sprint; I had to beat him to the office and into the room that the vice principal was in (Physics major himself) and beat the teacher by a reasonable amount. He chases me, yelling down the hallway all the way.
I made it to the vice principal’s office. He was in. I let myself in. He looked startled as I place the test on his desk. ‘He has been misgrading my tests all year.’ The vice-principal is about to speak when he pauses, seeing my teacher coming into the office. He sees me in the vice principal’s office, and he starts yelling. The vice-principal gave him this: ‘Another word, and you are fired NOW.’ He says to me, ‘Can you go back to the class? Let them know that the rest of the period is free.’ He pulls out his red pen and my test towards home.
I start walking past the teacher, and he starts yelling again, trying to pin me in the room without touching me. I slip by. I hear the vice-principal say, ‘Close the door.’
I get called down to the vice principal’s office a few hours later. He asks me for the whole story, writing down everything. The vice-principal says to me, ‘It was not acceptable how he treated you.
This is being dealt with. I’m not sure what the outcome will be, but I will ensure you that it won’t happen again. I will be reviewing all his tests to date. Oh, and congratulations. You did ace the test.’
I find out at the end of the day that he has been suspended without pay for two weeks. I was baffled why we hadn’t seen him for almost five weeks. I ask the vice principal. He says, ‘Oh, he has to rewrite his planner, submit his plans for the next month for what is to be taught, and his answer keys have to be proofed by me from now on.’
The teacher finally came back later that week, looking burnt out, and seemed to have a new respect for me.”
14. I Need To Show You Respect? Here's Some Respect For Ya
“I was at my work (I drive delivery for a pizza place) and I was ready to collect my tips and count out for the night. As my manager (let’s call him Max) was going through the cash bag to make sure everything was accounted for and put everything in the register an older gentleman walked in. This was a bit after closing time and the normal cashier had left early that night which was no big deal and due to Max being the best, he just took over for her.
This man was clearly a friend of Max’s father as he knew him and asked him how he was. They started to have a conversation as Max took his order. He had ordered a bottle of soda and since I was the only other person at the front of the house I got a bottle out of the fridge and placed it on the counter next to him, not wanting to interrupt their conversation and me not exactly being a social person not wanting to talk to anyone else that night.
This was apparently the wrong move as the man stopped mid-word and turned toward me. He wasn’t exactly yelling but he wasn’t quite either. He asked Max, ‘Is this boy new?’ And Max told him that I had worked there for about four months he just hasn’t seen me because I am helping in the kitchen (reaching high shelves, folding boxes, etc) or on deliveries. He then started turning to me ‘Boy when you hand something to someone you better say here you are SIR.
I’m not your father but if I was I’d beat some manners into your stupid teenage butt, now stand up straight, look me in the eyes and try this again, and this time try to have some consideration for decency and professionalism when serving me.’ As he shoved the bottle into my chest.
Behind him I saw Max look at me and signed sorry behind the man’s back, (we have a mostly deaf cook in the back so most people there know bits of ASL, enough to talk to him anyway, plus it’s useful for asking for things across the dining room or in the kitchen) but his signing gave me an idea.
Being tired from the day and done with the man I turned to him, stood up straight, looked him in the eye, and gave him his soda, I then signed, ‘here you are sir I apologize for the inconvenience and for my unprofessional manner, is there anything else I can do to help you.’ And stepped back with my arms behind my back at parade rest (I live in a military town) because it was the most professional look I could take.
The man lost all color on his face and looked back to Max, who was just standing there straight-faced and stoic. The man then looked behind him where the other dinners were all watching him, one table of regulars (people who know me) were trying their best not to laugh, his expression was priceless as he sat down at the far side of the restaurant and did his best not to look in my direction Max then finished counting me out and I left through the back.
On the way, Max told me that he had this coming and always acted like he should be the most important person in the room and he should always get service his way. He told me a couple of horror stories about him and how he got his way, including one where service was too slow at a fancy restaurant, and slapped a tray of someone else’s food out of the waiter’s hands because it wasn’t his.
Max even said that doing that to him was the highlight of his day.
At this point the man’s food was ready and the entire kitchen staff was around us listening to the story that just unfolded, they were chuckling about it as they knew this guy too, him having burst into the kitchen and demanding them to redo his whole table’s food because of a stray pineapple piece that had found its way onto his slice.
Hearing the hard times he has given my friends I asked if I could take his food to him, and walked over to his little chair of shame in the corner looking out the window. All the other customers stopped and watched me as I walked to him. He looked at me as I got close and said, ‘I didn’t realize the customers were watching but you should tell people if you’re mute (a freaking genius I know)’ to which I responded, ‘Oh I’m not I just wanted you to have some consideration for decency when being served.’ He was stunned silent and everyone in the dining area and kitchen were laughing as I walked out the front door and walked around the building to my car. Not sure if that stunt will get me in trouble when the boss hears about it but if so, worth it.
Update: he got super mad and tried to chase after me and grill me out again after about forty seconds but I was long gone, in his rush, he forgot the bottle under his chair.
Also, I still have a job.”
13. Treat A Great Worker Like Garbage? Don't Expect Me To Come In Tomorrow
“I’m self-employed but wanted to get out of the house a bit, so I took a seasonal job at JCPenney. I have extensive retail management experience, but they just needed a cashier. Cool. I did a few shifts, hated it, but bought new Christmas stuff to replace what I had left behind with my ex at deeply discounted prices. I was already thinking of just quitting (because it was peanuts compared to working for myself), but that day the management team presented me with an official name tag and acted like it was a huge deal.
I was scheduled to work 4-midnight on Thanksgiving and expected to be back at 8 am Black Friday. I was dressed in a black blazer and skirt combo, so completely professional. Immediately management chewed me out for not wearing a red shirt. Originally they had said they would provide one but never did. I told them I wasn’t spending an hour’s wages on a red shirt for a seasonal job, especially when other jobs usually provided me hundreds of dollars in clothes if a certain image was expected.
My tolerance for nonsense had already been exceeded and I wasn’t yet on the floor. I was asked to do go-backs, and I kept my section of the store immaculate while the rest looked horrible (the other seasonals were all high school girls with their first jobs, so not their fault). There was an abandoned cart full of stuff in my section, so I whisked it all back into place in just a minute.
Apparently, the lady who had abandoned it got angry and demanded to know who had taken her stuff, but it was so chaotic no one knew, and I said nothing. I just listened in passing as I grabbed the go-backs while she chewed out the manager but nothing could be done for her.
Toward the end of the night, I got put on register. These pillows were marked buy one, get them 50% off.
This younger guy wanted to purchase them and struggled to understand the deal. I explained, he understood. Cue his Kevin dad, who butted in and said he thinks the sign means buy one, get one free. I said he could visualize it like that if it helped him understand. So he then insisted in a real jerk way that if they returned one, that they would get a full refund.
I said no. He tried arguing with me about it, but I shut that nonsense down by walking over to the sign, pointing at it, and explaining in full detail why he was an idiot. I wasn’t nice, and I was openly hostile, which would have put me in hot water if I had actually planned to stay with this job, but already I had had the worst customers of any Black Friday I had worked.
I felt bad for the younger guy though, because he was definitely embarrassed.
So I was exhausted, ready to go home, and ready to just forget getting out of the house. Right at midnight, the other girl at the cash wrap starts doing a transaction for a Karen who was in the fitting room for the past half hour. I cash out my register (their cash out policy is the dumbest, most confusing nonsense I had ever seen, btw) because that’s my job.
Meanwhile, this girl starts doing a credit application. I said screw it and went to go clock out, because I had to be there early, and I already knew that girl, in particular, didn’t have to be back until afternoon. I had to wait to be let out of the locked building. I thought it was over.
The store manager approached and snapped at me about leaving behind the other girl.
Now, at every store I had worked at (again, extensive retail management experience), the policy had been to let non-management personnel leave on time if they had completed their work and they weren’t needed. I didn’t know of such a policy requiring me to stand there twiddling my thumbs because it wasn’t like they trained anybody on closing procedures, and I hadn’t worked a closing there yet.
She then made me stand there, still locked in, as she went back to her office to count money. I was fuming at that point. Another person on the management team walked by and gladly let me out, and she was chirpily telling me how great I had done that day and how happy they were to have me. I told her to not expect me back in the morning. She thought I was joking. If you know anything about retail, someone not showing up for Black Friday can throw everything off and ruin the momentum for the entire weekend.
Anyway, that management team is all losing their jobs and their store next month since that store is closing permanently. Oh well.”
12. Can't Stop Being A Big Bully? Enjoy Smelling Like Urine
“In 9th grade (around the age of 14 to 15), there was this guy who was a constant pain in the butt to everybody. I was friends with him towards the beginning of the term, but he just started to be a total jerk, so I stopped talking to him.
He was a 10th grader, and I was small for my age. We used computers basically every day and had unassigned seats, but I always sat in the same spot.
Soon, he started taking it. I showed up early one day, took my seat, and signed on to the computer. He shows up, we had wheely chairs, and he just pushes me out of the way. I go and sit a few seats away and wait for him to leave to go to the restroom or whatever. I press alt-f4 but not before searching up a bunch of bad things, like adult content and stuff like that.
Then he comes back. He gets angry at me cause he assumed I shut off his computer (he was right). I say I didn’t and even had a friend back me up.
He gets called down to the office the next day. Our school had some sort of child-friendly lock on it, so if you searched up bad terms, it would be sent to the office. He gets detention for 5 days.
He didn’t learn his lesson. Soon, he started unplugging computers and pressing alt-f4 any chance he got. Taking my chair, moving my stuff. Just being a bully. It wasn’t only towards me but to my friend and this girl he tried to get with that denied him. The older seniors and juniors he never messed with. But they all did subtle stuff to him cause they were sick of him.
He had tried to bully one of them, but the guy just stood up and had 6 inches on him, so he stopped.
So what did I do? I had been planning this for a while and told my plan to the older guys and everyone else. Our teacher never paid attention to anything; all he did was watch YouTube and leave to talk to other teachers.
This kid always left his backpack on the floor and kicked it into other people’s areas. We had 7 days of school left. Thursday and Friday, then the last week. I wouldn’t be there for the last week; I didn’t have to make up any tests, but he did. So my plan was enacted on Thursday.
I got some of the older guys to distract him, which they gladly did.
I took his bag. Went to the corner of the room. Also, the teacher wasn’t in the room. While in the corner, I opened the backpack. There were a few papers, but I took them out, so it wouldn’t be very obvious.
I peed in the backpack. My friend was dying cause he was like 10 feet away and heard me. I didn’t want to pee that much, but I had a lot and didn’t want to hold it in.
So I let it all flow. Just so you know, I had no water that day, only soda. So it definitely smelled like pee. I stopped and moved his backpack back where it was. Then sat down and waited. He didn’t notice all day. I also took pictures of the wet bag for proof.
Then on Friday, he brought his backpack in, and he smelled like pee. It was obvious, but he didn’t notice. Everyone laughed when he walked by. He had to use that for a week, and apparently, he never noticed.”
11. Manipulate People To Get Your Way? Good Luck Paying Rent On Your Own
“I had a “friend” who always used everyone who was around him all the time. He was on the surface a nice, funny guy, but he was an expert at manipulating people to get his will.
I don’t know how many nights I’ve been stuck in buttcrap nowhere in his “garage” to watch him slightly polish a car that has no engine and tires and refusing to drive me home (after insisting we wouldn’t be long), until like 2 am when I had to go to work at 5 am.
He did other stuff as well, like drive with illegal tires and trying to get everyone to “chip in to an eventual ticket since all of us were riding in his car.” He would also promise that I could count on him for a ride whenever I was intoxicated, then 3 hours later when I needed him to come get me, he would be intoxicated as well and would just be like, “Oh, sorry, I kinda forgot.” Yeah, sure…
Anyways, I knew he started working in our neighboring country, and I wanted to get myself a job there as well. So I made a plan to get him to be friends with me again after we had some “disagreement” regarding a lot of stuff, including an incident where he screwed me over big time.
I got a job, and I got him to take me into the camper he had parked in the empty lot behind his place of work.
No electricity and no running water, so we had to use the kitchen and changing rooms at his workplace. This camper was locked behind a fence, and only he had the key, so basically, we (were more people) had to wait for him to “finish up” whatever bullcrap he was doing in the workshop every night, so we rarely got to bed before 1 am.
Oh yeah, he tried to get me to pay him $100 a month to sleep in that camper because “his dad wanted rent since it was his camper.”
I just told him exactly what he always told me when I asked him for stuff…
“Oh yeah, I’ll get to it later. I just need to check some things.”
Time went by, and he didn’t get his rent while we (4 of us) moved into a house. I did pay for myself there because it was one of the other guys who was on the lease. But here is where crap hit the fan big time.
He yelled at my sister for cooking food when he came home from work because “it was HIS time to use the kitchen.” She wasn’t using everything, so they could’ve easily shared…
but no. He literally yelled at her.
Also, winter got very cold, and you kinda need to heat a house… Well, not him, apparently. “You have to dress warmer; it’s freaking expensive here to use electric heating!” Says the guy who fell asleep with the heater on max and the TV blasting music all night, impossible to wake up because he was in a deep slumber (knocking on the locked door didn’t help).
He just laughed that away with a, “Whoops, well, mistakes happen.”
I struck up a plan because my sister and her partner didn’t want to live here anymore, so I started hunting for a different apartment while they set up to move homes. The thing was – we didn’t tell him. So, eventually, my sister’s partner got him to take over the lease because “he had some issues with a couple of tax things…” “Oh, no problem.” Score!
We all just moved out without saying a word, leaving him to pay rent he couldn’t afford, and we had no contract that said we had to pay for this.
I blocked his number and never heard from him again. The lease was about 3/4 of his salary, so he was basically broke for 2 months. Because of that, he had to give up the dream of getting a good-paying job in our neighboring country and had to move back home, getting a job that pays half of what he made here (which still was low).
It was a real jerk move, and nothing I would EVER actually go through with anyone else – but I was just so freaking fed up with this guy and his freaking privileged lifestyle of constantly manipulating and screwing others over. I overheard a couple of years later that he STILL tries to get into contact with me for the “$200 he owes me for living in the camper.” Also, everyone who knows him has told me it was an epic move.”
10. Can't Pay Rent Or Bills? It'll Catch Up To You Quickly
“About 20 years ago, I was a newly single bloke. The wife had run off with another bloke, and I had bought her share of the house.
I needed a hand paying the mortgage and figured $150 a week would cover half share in the mortgage and half of utilities. A friend was living in Sydney, about 900km away, and was looking at moving because he was living in a share house and hated the people in the house.
Jerk was working as an editor for a tech magazine and worked from home. I was one of his major contributors, and we got on really well over the years. Within an hour of me offering to share my place, he was packing up. He arrived two days later and settled in.
As it was a four-bed house, I suggested he use one bedroom for sleeping and one as his office.
He could use the bathroom as his own, as I had an ensuite, and we would share the kitchen, lounge, laundry, and so on. That on top of sharing cleaning and yard duties as well.
I had a pretty good internet plan, and as I used it extensively, I figured he could use that as much as he needed to do his work, which was his income.
So, the deal was accepted, and he got set up, moved in, and settled.
Come the first Friday, there was the $150 on my desk. That was the first and last payment I saw.
Stupid me let this go on for two years… as I had an income increase and then moved in with my new girl who lived 110 miles in the south. We had been seeing one another for a couple of months, and I had just been retrenched from a craphole with a megakaren for a boss, so I was relieved to go.
So I visited her place and simply realized I never, ever wanted to be away from her; I never went back to my house.
As Jerk had looked after the place, I told him what was going on… big mistake.
It was around this time I found out he was an addict, only because I guess I had never seen him sober.
The place was a mess.
The garden was let wild.
Lawn unmowed. Mold in the kitchen. Dog poop in a bag by the back door — because his dog couldn’t make it through the grass to poop and did it on the concrete…
He would put the poop in the bag, and as it went to powder, the dust blew in the door, into the kitchen, and to his rooms.
He was complaining he was always sick… couldn’t work… couldn’t do a thing.
Well… you are breathing in powdered dog poop because you are so pickled that you can’t get off your butt and work. No wonder you are sick, you idiot Jerk.
By now, he was $11,000 in arrears on his rent… And seeing the place look crap…
One day, I did a drive past. I was filming a story for a TV network and was in the area. He had been using my Mercedes S Class, which was my special weekend ride, as his daily ride and shopping cart.
How did I know? It was parked on the front lawn, with the windows down, filling with dust. His black Monaro was locked in the garage, next to another of my cars, a collectible Opel Calibra.
Needless to say, he was told not to drive the Benz and to put her in the garage, as the insurance policy did not have him listed as a driver, and if he crashed it, he would be paying the repairs.
Now, why was he using my Benz? Well… A couple of days later, I was working at a theatre in Melbourne (my main job… the TV news was a lucrative paying hobby). I got a call from Lion Finance asking if Jerk was there. The penny dropped. He was behind on his car payments, so much so the finance wanted to repo it, so, he locked it in the garage.
So now, he was drinking his income. Then I realized he was probably intoxicated when he was driving my Benz and putting others at risk.
I had a very nice chat with the guys from Lion Finance and gave them the address he was living at — as they only had his Sydney address. Mobile number, email address, as well as description….
I went back up to the house, to see what was happening, and ended up getting a guy in to cut and trim the messy front and back.
I had words with Jerk, saying basically get yourself in order as I was thinking of selling the place as I was happy where I was. The words went in one ear and out the other. He did nothing.
Then I realized I needed to up my game.
The Benz was relocated. Clothes and stuff relocated. At least that car was safe. The Calibra was safe. I got a guy to come in and do the yard.
Then I thought… hang on… I’m using an internet dongle for my stuff… and the house has the internet to the cable box.
Remember, Jerk would hardly surface from his office, as he watched videos on demand and did his magazine work.
I sent him an email (so he couldn’t say he never knew) saying the internet was to be switched off in a month. I knew I would never see the $12k, but I wanted him gone from the house, so comes the day, I switched the internet off and switched it on at my girl’s home.
Within seconds, I had a very upset Jerk on the phone. I laid it all out. He had a month’s notice to sort another provider. And I asked about a payment plan on the rent debt. He hung up.
As we had the weekend off, we went to my house for the weekend. We took the S class. Lo and behold, he was packing. As he couldn’t fit a lot in the car, he was freighting boxes to his new address, and they were marked with his new address and new phone number.
He left on the Monday, and boy, were we relieved. We tidied up, then came back the following weekend to clean up.
I noticed mold in the grout on the kitchen floor from the fridge and a trail back from his bedroom to his bed (which was mine) and under the bed to the mattress. We also noted the bed frame was broken. Yes. Two side rails, inch and a half by six inches.
Broken. What on Earth.
It took me eight hours to clean the bathroom he had used. A further 20 hours to clean the corridor and kitchen tiles and kitchen, let alone get tradies in to replace the oven — he had broken the door off. Replace the fridge door and the freezer door, and source new knobs for the gas stovetop, as he had melted them.
Total damages for the place, including clearing the yard mess were about $15k.
A few weeks later, Lion Finance rings.
“Got a pen and paper, handy?” I ask…
We monitored his social media page and the website, then noted that he moved from Queensland to South Australia…. Lion rings again… we give them his new address.
Six months later, he is now in West Australia in a nice town close to the bottle shop. It’s easy to track people when you know how and legally.
A month after he moved out and we had the place cleared, it’s pretty obvious I need to sell. Lots of bad memories and few good ones.
I approach the real estate firm. They do their thing, and 18 hours later, yes, 18 hours later, I had an offer too good to refuse.
Just think, Jerk, if you had paid your rent, paid your bills, paid your car loan, looked after the house, you would still be living in a place worth over half a million.
So… Lion Finance. Feel free to ring…”
9. Live A Double Life? I'll Put On A Dramatic Show
“In college, I lived with 5 other gay guys in a 6 bedroom house. It was known as The Gay House.
One fall afternoon, I got home from class to find my favorite roommate Josh crying in the kitchen. He had just found out that his partner Kevin was living a double life. They had been together for 3 months. Kevin came to our house parties and to movie nights, and we all thought he was a nice (cute) guy.
He told us he was closeted because his filthy rich parents would have cut him off if he came out—it had happened to his older brother. Even though most of the house was fully out, we respected him and were sympathetic to his situation. We live in the Bible Belt, after all.
Turns out, “Kevin” was an alias. His real name was Brad, he was engaged to a chick (a cheerleader), and his best friends were a group of homophobic college Republicans who had no idea he was queer.
I probably could have forgiven him for all that (I’ve forgiven worse), but he was unthinkably cruel to Josh when he decided to break it off. Among other things, he laughed at Josh and told him he had just been using him, that he couldn’t stand being around his gay friends, and to never call him again. The lying jerk preyed on Josh and actually enjoyed using and hurting him.
Screw that. He needed to be confronted.
I’m 6 foot 6 and 220lbs. I’ve always taken my size for granted, knowing I’m not a likely gay-bash target (I used to dress up in campy/trash drag and show up to the local Rough Neck bar on “Ladies Drink Free” night and not give a crap). I went with Josh to confront the evil jerk, and as Josh and I walked up towards “Kevin’s” apartment that night, it was clear he was throwing a party.
It obviously wasn’t an ideal moment to confront him. That’s when my adult beverage-fueled stroke of evil genius kicked in.
We went back to the Gay House (home) and formulated a plan. Josh had several of “Kevin’s” scandalous pictures. He also had several articles of “Kevin’s” clothing. While one roommate was printing copies of those photos and another was creating a special website and registering a domain (and printing “invitations” to the site), I was dressing up in drag.
I had an old 80’s prom dress with blue sequins falling off. The ratty blonde wig was a leftover from a friend’s “Played-With/Worn-Out Barbie” costume, and I squeezed my feet into 6-inch heels that I found in size 16 women’s at the Payless shoe store 2 weeks prior. I painted myself with way too much makeup but didn’t shave my stubble and didn’t shave my legs or wear leggings.
We stuffed his clothes, the invitations, and the freshly-printed pics into a large purse, and I set off for the party, clutching a half-empty liter of Ketel One in one hand and the purse in the other, and made one stop at Walmart to buy a $20 fake wedding ring.
I deserve an Oscar for my performance that night. You should have seen the look on his face when a 7-foot drag queen barged in and stormed through his apartment screaming and crying.
The whole place just froze as I made my way past everyone and into the kitchen to find him and his fiancé standing by the back door staring at me in shock. I’m sure he didn’t recognize me.
I sobbed at the top of my lungs and begged him to come back to me, then started describing all the things I love about him. I’ve been a stage performer most of my life, so I understand projection.
I was loud. The whole party heard everything. My make-up smeared tears turned angry, and I started telling them all the vivid details of his romantic life. After several awkward moments of him pretending to have no idea who I was, his fiancé started questioning me. At that point, I pulled his clothes out of the purse and threw them at him. She immediately recognized them as his.
Then I pulled out the pics and handed them to her before I burst into uncontrollable sobbing and stormed out of the kitchen and through the living room partiers and toward the front door.
At the door, I stopped, took a long swig, then threw a giant stack of “party” invitations all over the place. They had the worst pic of all and the invitation was to some messed up website my roommate created to out “Kevin.” I don’t remember the URL, but it was funny.
(There were no pics on the site, but there was a forum for people to share different ways he lied to them and have general discussions about how much they hated him.) Before I walked out of the apartment, I spun around and dramatically removed and held up the fake wedding ring for everyone to see. I pointed at his fiancé on the other side of the apartment and said, “I see he gave YOU one of these too. SCREW YOU!” And I threw it out into the front yard and walked out.
Later that night, the roommates made sure to put a website invitation on every car in his apartment complex.
Nobody in the gay community saw or heard from that guy again, though there were several rumors, including one that he transferred to a crappier school far away.”
8. Don't Like Hearing My Toddler Learn How To Walk? I Hope You Like The Smell Of Deer Scent And Dog Poop
The fact that they knew the “disturbance” was just an innocent kid learning how to walk, yet still being hateful towards the sound, is beyond me.
“Lived in an apartment complex on the second floor. When my son began learning how to walk (~18 months), the downstairs neighbors would pound on the ceiling. (They were 2 couples, young 20s). I apologized but explained to them that we had bought a house and were moving in a few weeks, and it’s not like we weren’t going to allow our son to walk.
They had parties late, and we never complained. Mostly because we knew we were moving soon.
One afternoon, I’m at the computer, and my son is running around, and they start POUNDING on the ceiling. I had it. I stomped back with both feet. The guy proceeds to go to the front and lay on our door buzzer for at least 5 minutes before I decide to go confront him.
I meet the guy in the hallway, and I say, “You ringing my buzzer?” And he says, “Sorry, wrong apartment. There’s this little kid…” Just then, my wife comes down – holding my son – to stop me from doing something stupid, and the guy realizes my wife is not a single mom.
He says, “Shut that little brat up! Blah, blah blah” and goes towards his apartment door and steps just inside the threshold of his door.
I was livid.
For the next three weeks, they made our lives horrible. Banging on the ceiling at all hours of the night, making rude comments on their patio below, etc. We talked to the managers, but they wouldn’t do anything.
The day we finally closed, I spend all day & night moving, but first I went to Cabela’s and bought four bottles of deer mating scent. When the last box was packed, and the keys were in the manager’s box, I went into the underground parking structure and found their cars.
Using the 3″ scraper from my toolbox, I gently separated a door seal on each car and poured nearly a bottle into each one. Then I went to their apartment door and poured it all around the threshold.
Heading out of the parking garage, I saw a blue bag of dog poop by the dumpster. Unplanned, but this was my favorite part – I went to their 1st-floor patio and quietly pulled off the rack from their grill.
Picked out a good number of those fake lava charcoal rocks, one by one, and used the baggie to mash in the dog poop in the rest of the lava rocks. Then put the other lava rocks on top, and then the grill. A lava rock, dog poop sandwich if you will.
In retrospect, it may have been too much, but I still get angry thinking how anyone could be that ignorant and insensitive to the pitter-patter footsteps of a toddler. I still get satisfaction thinking about how obvious it must have been that I did it.”
Another User Comments:
“I don’t get it. Your kid was learning to walk. So how does that disturb the other residents?” whizzie
7. Can't Be A Decent Babysitter? I'll Escape
“Must have been around 4 or 5 years old. My mom would drop me off at what seemed like a decent babysitter’s house. The room that the front door opened up into was absolutely clean. However, when one was to explore beyond that, one would find the biggest mess of their life. Clothes everywhere, dirty carpets. Just really trashy. I don’t understand how my mom didn’t see this.
One day, I was over being babysat. During this time, I got in trouble for something or another and was sent to a room to be by myself. The culmination of being fed up with the conditions of said house, and the anger I had towards such sitter, I decided to do something about it. ESCAPE. The babysitter’s house was on a road that was perpendicular to the road my house was on.
Very close by, and this is in Phoenix, mind you. So, I wanna go home. I wanna get away from this witch lady. So I opened the window (so much for child locks), pushed the screen out, and jumped out into her front yard (3-4 foot drop). Freedom? Not yet. I knew I had to get away as I thought she could come snatch me up at any second being in that vicinity.
So I run towards my house, escaping the awful babysitter’s house. I’m running and running, and I get to the end of the street that was perpendicular to my house. At this point, I have to cross the street (35 MPH) to get to my house. So I look both ways just like my mom and dad had told me like a good boy and bolt across the street.
Arriving in my front yard, I proceed to go to my front door and open it. It’s locked, and nobody is home. Thus, the reason for me being at the babysitter’s. So I come up with a solution. There was a bathroom window in the backyard which I could only fit through with somebody lifting me up to go through it. (We would have to do this when somehow we locked the front door or couldn’t get the bathroom door open because it would stick really bad.) Realizing that I couldn’t reach the top, I began to think.
I got it! We had in our yard a little 3-4 foot diameter mini trampoline in our back yard that we would jump on. So, I brought the trampoline over to the window and lifted it up so that it was parallel to the wall and had the legs sticking out towards me. I managed to climb up enough to open the window and get inside the bathroom.
At this point, I was covered in pee throughout the whole process of getting into the house. After I changed my clothes, I decided to watch a movie. But first, I needed some food. Now at this age, my culinary skills weren’t exactly existent. I got some rice cakes and tried to eat those. Tasting… not the best, I got some shredded cheese from a bag and put some of that on top.
Perfection! I got my VHS movie playing and was eating my little snack when after a specific amount of time that I can’t remember, I see a car pull into my driveway. Not knowing who it was, I don’t answer the door. After seeing it was the witch lady, I hide. She knew I was there, and she wanted me to come back with her.
The rest after that is blurry.
But before she came to my house looking for me, my mom went to go pick me up from the babysitter’s house where I was supposed to be. Only to their surprise, I was nowhere to be found. Imagine the panic on my mom’s face when her child went missing. But then somehow my parents meet up with me after the wicked witch pulled into my driveway.
Now me being so young, I didn’t see anything, but I’m sure my mom let that witch how much she sucked and how she would never let her babysit me again. I’m sure more than that was said, but hey, I was like 4.
Of course, me being 4, I had no idea of how bad this would look for the babysitter. So in a sense, I was an evil genius.”
6. Can't Be Faithful To Me? You'll Wish I Never Did Your Laundry
Too harsh: yes or no?
“I did his laundry. Yup. Laundry.
All the signs were there. Hang up phone calls. This was before caller id, etc. Finally, there were blatant remarks about his side piece made to me, his wife.
I didn’t say anything. I did his laundry.
And rinsed every pair of tightie-whities in a heaping helping of bleach.
In case you’re not quite realizing what I mean and what it does.
I poured the bleach into the rinse water. After the spin cycle, I dried them. They looked clean. They smelled very clean. They were very white. He was pleased with my skills. And, soon, he was too red, raw, and swollen in his private region to even think about doing the dirty. He was probably worried to death he had some terrible disease. She probably broke up with him and ran to get herself checked.
I just stayed and did laundry.
Soon he healed, and for a while, he behaved. Things were good. Then he stepped out again. I didn’t accuse. I didn’t cry. I didn’t hide in bushes trying to catch him in the act. I did laundry.
Soon, his sack was swollen and raw. He had a hard, hot, sweaty job, and the bleach did a number on him. He and his side chick weren’t having fun anymore.
Maybe they were wondering who gave who what. I really don’t think the woman got red or raw, but the shape of HIS area probably scared them both.
It was a mystery to me; MY region was fine.
Eventually, he learned he just felt better and was safer at home.
Eventually, I got sick of the game and got a divorce.”
Another User Comments:
“I don’t think I would do this, in fact, I did nothing.
I was very tempted to just throw her mattress out and set it on fire. She was living in my house as a paying guest for around 3 weeks before I became completely sure that this was no innocent ‘friendship.’ I just asked my ex to take me on a drive, as I did not want to discuss this at home with the kids nearby. Once we were parked in a parking lot, I told my ex that I refused to have his mistress in my house and that she had a week to find alternate housing.
If she overstayed, I would be completely rude then.
My ex told me that I had a nasty mind, how could I even think of anything like that, blah, blah… I just looked back and said, ‘Ask her to get out.’ So she stays for 5 days before she finds another place and doesn’t have the guts to look me in the eyes, and then left. She left behind a cheap folding mattress, on which my ex slept for the next few months, just to make his point – I never knew what exactly it was.
After two more years when nothing changed, I moved out with my children. I spent those two years getting information on my visa status (I live in a foreign country), the process of getting a divorce, and getting a job. I was fired after one year at my previous job (just when I was planning to move out) because they were downsizing.
I do not know if I am right or wrong.
I just feel that if I could not live with a person for whatever reason; it is better to just move out and get a divorce. I would rather not deliberately harm someone unless I am defending myself or my kids from an attack on my/their person. But that is just my way, sadly now, all that unspoken angst has left me with fibromyalgia. I am now trying to put all that behind me and get well.” Malathy Garewal
5. Don't Like The Restaurant We Picked? Too Bad
“Let me start off by saying I love my mom….not a big fan of my dad (basically because he’s a jerk to everyone without providing anything for anyone).
My parent’s generation is disgustingly traditional and my dad is the one that ALWAYS picks where we’re going to eat for family events. He does it in this really passive-aggressive way too where he acts like he doesn’t care where we go.
Then when the rest of us decide on a restaurant, he says no, and then suggests we go to the restaurant of his choosing (usually one of the same 5 places….this has been going on for YEARS). IMPORTANT: My brother and I are in full swing in our careers while the parents are on the tail end (dad has already retired). This means that my brother and/or I have been picking up the tab at family dinners for the past few years since we have more disposable income.
About a month ago, my brother and I were discussing where we should take the family for Mother’s Day. As always, we joked around how our dad was just going to overrule us and pick the same place again…but then it hit me. This isn’t FATHER’S DAY, it’s MOTHER’S DAY. On top of that, my dad’s top 5 restaurants were meat/bbq-centric and my mom was a pescatarian (this means that she doesn’t eat meat, but will eat and LOVES seafood).
That means my mom usually has a very tiny selection of foods to select from and usually ends up with her sadly eating a salad of some sort while the rest of us feast on crazy amounts of beef and pork main dishes.
I scour Yelp and find this very upscale seafood restaurant with great reviews. It’s perfect! Like clockwork, my dad protests and says we should go to one of his favorite restaurants.
I quickly respond that it’s MOTHER’S DAY and not FATHER’S DAY. He also mentioned that it looked way too expensive and I said he’s not paying anyway. My mom also seemed very excited to check out this new seafood restaurant, so his complaints were ignored.
The day arrives and it’s PERFECT. My mom absolutely loves it and spent a considerable amount of time taking photos of the gourmet foods and raving about how great it tastes.
As an added bonus, my dad complained about EVERYTHING there. He hated the food (ticked me off by asking the server at a 5-star restaurant to bring him hot sauce and proceed to dunk everything the chef meticulously cooked/flavored into the hot sauce…even stuff my mom hadn’t even tasted yet). He hated the ambiance and said it was way too loud. He hated that the servers only spoke English (my parents are Korean immigrants, so my dad loved going to Korean restaurants where he could easily boss the servers around). He hated that it was so far (only a 20-minute drive, but he preferred his 10-minute drive to Koreatown). He hated the booze (he had to settle for whiskey as opposed to the Korean Soju he loved).
Now it’s time for my brother and me to book a restaurant for father’s day….Guess where I made reservations?”
4. If You Won't Do Your Job, I'll Quit
“Over a decade ago (I feel old now) I was an overnight maintenance cleaner at a certain fast-food establishment. This was before they changed to being open 24 hours. My job was fairly simple. I started my shift at 11 pm and worked until 7 am. I was not allocated any break time though I was told to take a break when I had a few minutes and grab some leftover food and make something during the night at no cost to myself.
This usually ended up being a few pieces of chicken or a sandwich.
I had done previous work for previous stores from the same chain before so I knew how to get the job done reasonably quick. I had to clean off the grills, the friers, and the rest of the back end. The customer area was the job of the rest of the staff. I knew most of the management staff and had for many years and was on decent terms with them.
From 11 until 12 I would assist the kitchen and start some of the cleaning/dishes, 12-4 do the majority of the heavy clean-up work, 4-5 finish cleaning the floors, and begin breakfast prep from 5-6. The drive-through opened at 6 and the opening manager started right at 6. This was always a tight fit but they would come up at 6 and customers would already be lined up at the drive-through and the cash was not in the register yet.
This is important for later.
Everything was fairly straightforward and easy except for the friers. I had to drain them every night, wipe out and clean the inside, and clean out the grease catcher underneath (I forget the name of it) which then cycled back into the friers for reuse. It was a good yet simple filtration system to help keep the oil as clean as possible and help get the most out of it.
It was a messy job but fairly easy to do if you did it fairly quickly since you could clean it out quickly as it was still hot. The grease and oil would come out rather easily. The problem was if you did not clean it out right after you used it then it would not only weigh a lot but it would take a good 15 plus minutes to clean out each one and there were four of them.
If you did them right away, they would take 4 maybe 5 minutes to clean up.
On top of all of that, I was expected to add a few extra things to my cleaning list each night. As an example, one night I was asked to scrub down all the walls in the back in addition to everything else I was working on. It took me a few days to complete but I managed to get it all done.
The same woman, let’s call her LM for Lazy Manager, started her shift at 7 am every morning Monday to Friday and ran the breakfast shift. She was one of those managers that were set in her ways, was going to be there for life, and did not always come in smelling that great. She was also very lazy and only did the bare minimum required for her job.
One of those things that she was required to do was clean out the friers after breakfast but before lunch to ensure that the items going in there had the best possible quality. She drained the friers out but never wiped them down and never cleaned out the grease catcher underneath. This meant that I had to do it that night and it meant that I had to spend an extra hour doing that before I started the rest of my shift.
I brought it up to her a few times and let her know that it was slowing down my evenings, and each time she assured me that she would find someone to clean it out the next morning, but never did. I think in the time I was at this store I came in with it clean maybe two or three times over the span of 3 months.
After a month I brought it up with the head manager and she told me she would speak to LM, but again nothing changed. I am a fairly easy-going person but this was really getting to me after a while.
3 months in and I come in one evening and the store is a particular mess. A football team (North American football) had come into the establishment and the entire staff was enthralled with them meaning nothing was cleaned or even started.
And, you guessed it, the grease catcher was not cleaned out. On a normal closing night, the kitchen has someone cleaning up for about 3 hours prior to when I get there as part of their normal closing procedures. This night, nothing was even started.
I brought it up with the closing manager and was kindly told that I would just need to work harder and perhaps forgo any potential breaks but could do it! (Go me!) I asked if I could have some help for 30 minutes to at least get started (I arrived 30 minutes earlier to get a quick bite and the closing staff was still on) but was told that they were all too busy (autographs).
Because I just wanted to get out of there, I started early and by midnight everyone else had left leaving me with a nightmare to clean up. I was halfway through the closing staff’s cleaning when I thought about looking under the friers to see if they had been used or cleaned out. Turns out they had been used, and not just used, but the manager that morning had the grease dumped into it but NOT cycled it back into the fryer.
Instead, she let it sit in there and used brand new grease in all the friers. This meant that not only was there solid grease in the catchers, which now weighed over 50 lbs each, but that I needed to dispose of this grease, clean it all out, and complete the rest of the overnight maintenance while still finishing the closing shift’s mess. This was a good two hours of work
Needless to say, I was fuming.
I went into the backroom to sit and took a breather. After a short while, I went back to the dishes and continued to clean up the closing shift’s mess. After an hour or so, I went back to the friers, took one last look at the mess, and calmly walked to the front counter. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote in big letters ‘If you won’t do your job, I won’t do mine.
I quit,’ and walked out. It was around 1:30 but the time I had left the restaurant knowing full well the next manager would not be in until 6 am, right at open, and with the place not clean, they would not be able to open until it was.
I heard through a friend that they did not open until almost 8 and had five people trying to rush clean. They even called in people early to cover.
To get my final cheque, I had a meeting/questioning period a week later asking why I did it, going over my surveillance footage of that night, explaining that I would never be allowed to ever work for that organization again.”
3. Call Me Horrible Names? I'll Buy Out The Jacket You Want
“I used to work in retail. One night a customer asked me when a jacket would be discounted. I told her that I couldn’t say for sure because we weren’t told when certain items would be reduced in price. She called me a dumb jerk and an idiot and asked me to put it on hold for 24 hours in case it got discounted overnight. I think it’s also worth noting that she claimed to be a social media influencer with over 5000 followers and she said she’d lose ‘deals’ if she didn’t get the jacket.
Also, she was racist toward the store’s security guard, who happens to be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
I put the jacket aside for her but not before doing a system search and finding out that there were only three left in this size in the entire country (I live in New Zealand, so not a particularly big country).
Fast forward 24 hours and she hasn’t come to pick up the jacket.
I was feeling extra petty and had had a particularly bad day the day before so exactly 24 hours after I put it aside for her I decided to buy it. I browsed around the store for a while before going to pay, and of course, Karen was up there at the checkouts. If she had been ranting at my colleague about the jacket I would have given it to her to save another from the wrath of Karen but she was going on about the car park and appeared to have forgotten about the jacket.
Once I got to the car I went online and bought the other jacket before driving to the other side of town and buying the third and last one in the country (it was near the end of the season so chances are there weren’t going to be anymore).
The whole thing cost more money than I would’ve liked, but I stopped a Karen from getting her way for once so I don’t regret it.”
2. Embezzle From My Paycheck? Get A Big Fat Loogie In Your Quesadilla
“I worked in the kitchen at a yacht club as my first job when I was 16. During the summers, I also taught a sailing camp for kids before my kitchen shifts, often having to use the locker room showers to rinse off and get straight to cooking once the boats were docked. I was working 12+ hour days for weeks, usually without any break between sailing and cooking.
During one particular summer, I noticed that my paychecks were coming up a few hundred dollars short. When I confronted the owner about it, he wouldn’t believe me until I pulled out a calculator to show him the math. After assuring me that it had to have been a mistake, I find out that the summer camp director (let’s call her Karen) was offering significant discounts to her friends who signed their kids up for the sailing camp.
Karen, a very wealthy white woman, was straight-up stealing funds from a teenage, minimum-wage employee.
So fast forward to my last day (I even had the decency to put in two weeks instead of just walking out), I’m saying goodbye to my coworkers and we’re all cleaning the kitchen to close down for the night when lo and behold Karen walks in. She plays dumb, acting like she didn’t know we were closing, and looks at me and asks, ‘How about one more quesadilla before you leave us?’ I could feel my blood start to boil, and just as I was about to lose it, I got an idea…
Now during my entire 4 years working in the kitchen, I NEVER messed around with anyone’s food…until this moment.
After she walks out, my coworkers just stare in disbelief as I start making her stupid quesadilla. They’re asking me why I didn’t chew her out, it was my last day after all, but I tell them I have a surprise for her. After finishing her quesadilla, I stand back and hock the biggest loogie imaginable – making sure every bit of it is spread throughout her quesadilla. When I took it out to her, I dropped it on the table and watched as she looked at her snot-riddled food in disgust. Shouldn’t have taken my funds, jerk.”
1. Tell Me About Your Plans Of Stealing? I'll Be The One To Steal And Blame It On You
“I worked in a kiosk at the mall one time somewhere in Kansas. I had just recently moved there and got the job. It was a temporary kiosk, only around for seasonal distribution. What I would do is sell bracelets to the public by stopping and annoying them with demonstrations & such. $30 a pop for these bracelets was hard as heck to sell, but I managed to do so.
After every night (I was usually the closer), I would put what I made into an envelope and write the day on the front. About every two weeks, my boss (call him Mo) came to collect the envelopes.
After a month, the shop was about to close. I had the devil’s advocate whispering in my ear to take the envelopes the entire time I worked there but thought there were too many risks in getting caught.
I was going to move out of Kansas since things weren’t working out but didn’t know when I was going to take off. I’m working one night whenever a co-worker shows up at the kiosk as I’m thinking about the envelopes. He & I weren’t the best of friends, and he was acting strange when he came up. It was then when he asked me if I wanted to make a quick 50 bucks.
He asked me to take a 100 out of the register, and we could split it. I thought for a second, and then said, “Are you being serious right now?” He looked at me with serious eyes, and then my thoughts raced.
“No man, I can’t do that to Mo. That’s messed up.”
After work that night, I called Mo to let him know that my co-worker had come up with the idea of trying to take funds from the register.
He said that he appreciated me telling him that and said he’d call me back. When I never got a call back, I shrugged it off.
The next day (Tuesday), I came in, and Mo was there waiting for me. He hadn’t opened the kiosk up and told me to come with him. He led me back to his car and talked to me in there. He said that over the next few days, I should watch my co-worker and see if he tries to steal anything.
He also tells me that his trust in me skyrocketed and will help me out with anything I need. (Keep in mind, pay period was every other Sunday.)
I watched my coworker never steal anything but formulated a plot in my head to make away with all the contents in the register. Co-worker and I worked together all throughout the week with Mo coming on Friday. On Thursday when I closed down, I stole every envelope in the register.
Mo came in on Friday and noticed they were all gone. I told him that I must have missed him taking them all, and he believed me. He called the police and had them surround the kiosk inconspicuously. When my co-worker came in, they planned to arrest him there on spot.
My heart was pounding when the coworker came to the kiosk. I had taken the envelopes; I thought, ‘What if Mo is messing with me and saw I took them? What if cameras were pointed at me blah blah blah,’ and I was sweating like no other.
But no. The cops surrounded and arrested my co-worker for stealing. Took his backpack and everything. I was relieved and could put in the final part of my plan.
I asked Mo for my check early, stating the reason that my rent was already past due. He smiled, whipped his checkbook out, and gave me my whole check + a bonus for helping him catch a thief. He told me he’d see me at work tomorrow.
I left Friday night after cashing the check, a whole $600 richer.”