People Recount Their Marvelous Revenge Stories
19. Don't Pay Your Bill? Get Your Car Crushed
“This took place in the early 2000s when my dad was a master mechanic who can literally work on any car foreign or domestic. He’s teaching me right now, and it’s an honor to learn from him. He’s always run his own independent repair shop for almost as long as I can remember. And he told me this story recently.
So this guy comes in with a pretty nice Chrysler convertible to get his transmission fixed.
He had to remove the transmission, disassemble, and rebuild it. Pretty long process but it’s no problem. After a day’s work, he calls the customer up, says his car is ready, and reminds him of the agreed-upon price of about $1,200. The guy said he could only pay $600 then, and he’d have to get back to him on the rest. Now, this isn’t out of the ordinary.
Where we live, most people aren’t exactly wealthy. And my dad’s a nice guy. He single-handedly supported 4 kids and a wife, so we weren’t exactly rich. It’s not uncommon for people to pay in installments. He doesn’t charge interest or fees or anything. Just tries to do what’s right.
The guy pays half his bill, and with the promise of paying the remaining amount in a few weeks, he leaves with his car.
About 2 months pass, however, and the guy hasn’t paid. Hadn’t even contacted my dad about any issues or to say something like he lost his job or something. So my dad calls him up and asks when he thinks he’ll be able to pay the rest of his bill, and I kid you not. This is how the convo went:
Dad: hey, I was wondering when you’ll be able to pay the rest of your bill?
Yeah. About that, I’m not paying it.
Dad: (surprised) what? Is something wrong with the car? If something went wrong, I’ll take care of it!
Guy: no-no! The car runs great! I’m just not gonna pay you.
Dad: …WHAT? WHY??
Guy: Well I have the car now, so I don’t see any reason to pay you.
They went back and forth a bit before my dad realized it was pointless and decided to enact some sweet sweet revenge.
He calls up a local towing company and gives them the guy’s address, license plate, and car description, and tells them to tow the vehicle to the county recycling center. He then calls up the recycling center and says ‘Hey. You’re gonna be getting a Chrysler convertible license plate XXXXX from ____ towing. When it gets there, I want you guys to crush and recycle it.’ And so, they DO.
The car was crushed and recycled.
The next day, the guy shows up at my dad’s business FURIOUS and with the state patrol. My dad explains the entire story, and the cops tell the guy that technically, the vehicle was moved, not stolen, the recycling center received recyclable goods, and not stolen property, and now the car no longer exists, as it’s been recycled, and thus was not a criminal manner, but a civil one.
So the guy sues my dad and once again, my dad explains the entire story, and AMAZINGLY, the judge says the same thing as the troopers and DISMISSED. It sounds almost unbelievable because it just seems so illegal, but if a judge rules in his favor, it’s gotta have some merit by a technicality or something. Granted this was maybe 15 years ago, so the laws could have changed since. But god damn. The guy gets his car crushed simply because he CHOSE not to pay the remaining repair bill and wanted to take advantage of someone’s kindness.”
18. Too Lazy To Use The Stairs? I'll Waste Your Time
“I’m in the UK and live in a small block of flats so most delivery drivers can’t be bothered to walk up the stairs to drop things at front doors so they just dump them in the stairwell.
I totally get it’s a pain but we keep getting stuff stolen as anyone walking past can grab stuff, so there’s a big sign asking people not to leave items there as it’s not safe/secure.
So there’s the same driver from one company that just dumps the items there regardless (they have to take pictures to prove it got delivered and in the back of the photo you can even see the sign saying please don’t leave them there).
So anyway the petty part is I can choose to get items delivered to my home or to a local store for collection, so I’ve now started doing sending them to a store I shop in weekly.
It’s the same driver (the app says who was driving for them to be rated) but instead of a short flight of stairs, he now needs to find somewhere to park, go to a good ins area, go through the pain of booking in a parcel with an actual person that’ll take way longer and more energy than climbing a flight of stairs.
It’s petty but a) screw him and b) my parcels are no longer are at risk of being stolen.”
17. Loan Shark Gave Him A $500 Christmas Gift
“Kevin needed a place to stay, and my friend needed someone to help pay the rent, so he moved in. Apart from a few minor dietary habits, such as walking around the house drinking chocolate milk from a 2L bottle and not putting it back in the fridge as the sour smell slowly grows, it seemed to be fine.
In the meantime, he wasn’t getting what he considered an adequate wage from taxi driving (which is fair), so he got a job at a bakery.
But then he decided to go the whole hog and started gambling online. He had a system, you see.
But the system still needed refining. A lot. He was shoveling funds into it, and still not getting a return. But to ask him, he was just a few days away from getting the big jackpot. But he didn’t have the funds to make it work. So he borrowed from a loan shark.
We didn’t know about this part.
So he lost those funds too. Didn’t tell anyone. Had no way of paying it back. Went to my friend and said, ‘Oh, I might be moving out in the next few weeks.’
My friend said, ‘Sure.’ It wasn’t a big deal, and he figured he’d be able to just tighten his belt a little.
The next morning, after my friend went to work, Kevin went around to the power and phone companies and had everything cut off, and got the bond for each of them back.
Then he grabbed his pre-packed bags and vanished down south.
My friend gets home, everything’s turned off. Everything in the fridge is either spoiled or well on the way there. He has to run around, get everything reconnected, restock the fridge, and cover rent that month. Not a happy camper.
So then, a few days later, he gets a knock on the door. ‘Are you Kevin?’ These are big guys, wearing white shirts with ties.
Very polite, but they’re ripped and he can see the tatts through the white material. He’s fully aware of who and what they are, and he’s able to start making a guess as to why they’re there.
He invites them in, proves that he’s not Kevin, then shows them documentation of what Kevin pulled on him. They’re sympathetic, and on the way out one of them gives him a card.
‘If you ever find out where he’s gone, give us a call.’
He puts the card on the fridge.
A few months later, Kevin calls from where he’s vanished to, asking for his share of the rental bond. Never mind that he never put any into it in the first place. So my friend says, ‘Sure. Where can I mail it to?’
Kevin rattles off an address.
‘No worries. It’ll be on your doorstep before you know it.’
My friend hangs up, takes the card off the fridge, and makes a call. ‘So, you wanted to know where Kevin was?’
That Christmas, he got a card from the loan shark with $500 in it.”
16. Unjustly Fire Me? I'll Take Your Company Down
“I’m a 34yr old F, who has always been a bit of a tomboy. I like cars, sports, and reptiles. When I was 25 I wanted a career change, and finally followed my dream of working in an auto repair shop (as a painter), like my father always did. To start my education I needed to already have a job at an auto repair shop as an intern.
So I searched and called a lot of companies to see if they had spots. There were literally several companies that laughed at me because ‘there’s no place for a woman on the work floor.’ Disheartened I tried one final company, who said he’d ‘take a chance with me’. I was thrilled. I was promised lots of opportunities to learn and a steady job after graduation.
I started a week later, and the first 2 weeks were awesome. I learned a lot, and was promised even more opportunities, he promised I would have 2-3 hours a week of private time with the resident painter for practice. Soon after though it went downhill. The owner had bid on a contract with a large city in our country to restore underground containers. I had to sand them down, put sealant on the edges and prepare them for painting.
Tedious work, but I did it diligently. The promised practice time never happened.
After a while, all I did, day in day out, 8 hours a day was sand down underground containers. By the end of the day, my hands and wrists were numb from the vibrations. This by the way is illegal, you’re not allowed to sand with a pneumatic sanding machine for more than 4 hours a day (in my country, as it causes severe wrist and hand issues).
After several months the contract with the city ended, and I hoped my promised practice time would come. But no, it didn’t. I was given jobs that had nothing to do with my education. I was told to do jobs that a contractor should do. Like putting rebar in front of the windows, repairing the sliding doors, repairing walls, and other small things. Basically, nothing to do with my desire to become a painter.
After 6 months of doing literally nothing that I could count to my education, my boss called me into his office. He told me he was ‘fed up with my attitude’, he ‘made a mistake hiring me’. I was fired, on the spot. I was heartbroken and cried the whole way home. I didn’t get it, I put 110% into my job, working hard, always on time, staying late if needed, and never complained.
I didn’t understand what happened and was pretty down for a while. However, several days later I found out I was pregnant, which helped me get over my ‘downness’. (we had been trying for over a year so we were ecstatic!)
When the time came that my final paycheck should come in, nothing happened. A week after it normally came in, I called, but was told to not ‘complain’ and it would be ‘transferred shortly’.
2 weeks later, still nothing. Called again and got a very irate boss on the line, cursing at me and calling me things I will not repeat here. I was fed up, and contacted my lawyer.
In my country, there are apparently a few laws that my boss broke, without me even knowing about them. First, you’re not allowed to fire somebody without reasonable cause, you need to document bad behavior, and give the employee a write-up.
After 2 write-ups you’re allowed to terminate. My boss never did this. Unlawful termination can end in a fine, and the employee has a right to get as many monthly pays as the employment contract would have continued if the employee wasn’t terminated. Which would mean I had a right to another 6 months of pay!
2nd, you must pay the final paycheck within a week of termination.
We were now going on week 4. After the 1st week, an employee is entitled to compensation of up to $112 per DAY for not receiving their paycheck. Meaning I was now entitled to at least $2360 extra pay.
My lawyer wrote up a letter to my boss, stating we would be pursuing my legal rights. He didn’t respond. A week later we send another letter, increasing the compensation for late payment as we went.
After a month of my lawyer not getting any response. Suddenly I received my pay. No compensation nothing, just basic pay. My lawyer recommended to go to small claims court, and so we did. Mind you, it takes about 3 months before you can appear before the court).
He didn’t even show up in court! But sent a statement through his lawyer, saying how I was a horrible employee blahblahblah.
However he had no proof whatsoever, but I DID. I had my performance reports from 1 month into employment and 4 months into employment. And they were stellar. The judge saw right through my boss’s lies and awarded me:
-6 months of pay ($13486)
-4 months of late payment compensation, this is because he didn’t pay the full amount my lawyer requested, as was my legal right. (about $13486)
-Legal fees (now about $3371)
I was paid the same week.
He was then also charged with a fine for violating employment laws. He had to pay 50k. This resulted in the employment bureau (this agency makes sure companies comply with employment laws etc) investigating the company. They discovered the building I worked at was unsafe. The foundation was unstable, walls were crumbling and tilting, he was told to make repairs or they would close him down within a month.
By accident, they discovered he was also manipulating his taxes. So the tax agency got involved.
He got charged with embezzlement and tax evasion for BOTH his companies. He had to pay back all taxes he evaded, plus a 100% fine. Coming to a staggering 250K over several years.
He didn’t have that kind of money, and after struggling for about 2 months, which resulted in him not paying his other employees, he went belly up.
Both businesses shut down, and the building I worked at even got demolished. 7 years later it’s still an empty plot, and if I ever feel put down by somebody, I take a short drive to that place. And it reminds me, people will sometimes get what they deserve.
My colleagues lost their jobs too, though they did encourage me to seek justice. They too were wronged by him.
First off he let them work in an unsafe environment, which he knew was unsafe. And after I left he asked his employees to work for free as he had ‘financial issues’ which were later proven to be untrue (at that point anyway lol). Most didn’t accept this and left the company, the ones who stayed did lose their job when he went belly up.
I kept in contact with most of them, 2 went into early retirement and are happily enjoying it.
Others have moved on and found better jobs within the week. I did feel guilty at first, but the result including my colleagues finding better employment made it worth it.
I did find another painting job for about 3 years, after which I got ill and am now waiting on a kidney transplant/also in a wheelchair. Genetics, not environmental.
The kid is doing fine, he’s 7 now. The sweet age of them being awesome and slightly annoying all at the same time haha.”
15. This Is Why You Should Be Nice To Your Bartender
“I had a guy come in and complain that our gin wasn’t refrigerated. He, let’s call him Mr. Jerktongue, and his friend took a seat at the bar in front of me… We had a chat about drinks, everything fairly casual, except you could sense that Mr. Jerktongue was a bit full of himself… it was a fairly fancy place…
He insisted that he could taste whether a cocktail or a gin and tonic was made on chilled gin before being mixed with ice and mixers…
I told him that it wouldn’t make much sense to assume that because it mixes with ice and the rest so the temperature of the gin wouldn’t have any noticeable effect.. (now I understand that technically since room temperature gin is warmer than ice it can have a faster diluting effect on the ice but mixers are most often chilled, and the quantities of the gin vs the mixers make the heat conversion absolutely minuscule.)
Jerktongue gets stubborn…
Now usually I wouldn’t really give much energy to semi-annoying guests.. happens a lot… but this guy… This particular guy just hit a nerve. The more I presented facts and examples, all with a professional smile, the more he became condescending, even called me an idiot indirectly… all while his friend is next to him and clearly a bit uncomfortable with Mr. Jerktongue’s behavior.
The friend tries to lighten the mood and looks very apologetic at me… I give an assuring look, that it was alright because I felt a plan mixing up…
I accept all the condescending nonsense… we happen to have the particular, somewhat, expensive gin he referred to through the ordeal, as a staple of quality and taste. (he’d told me countless times how that one is the only one he has at home and that nothing else would do).
I grab the bottle and fiddle with it to create a little tension of the unknown outcomes.
Cue the set-up…
‘I propose a challenge. I will chill one dose of gin, without diluting it, and make two otherwise identical gin and tonics for you. If you can taste the difference, you get both for free and another one for your friend… however… if you can’t taste the difference you pay for all three and throw in another one for me, so four in total.’
Almost offended by the challenge, yet close to rupturing of arrogance for the chance to prove me wrong, Mr.
Jerktongue accepts, even smacked his hand on the bar and everything.
I grab my trusty ol’ stirring glass (the name is self-explanatory but for those who need clarification this is a large glass meant specifically for stirring cocktails until properly diluted and chilled, from which you then pour the cocktail over into the appropriate glass.)
I grab two small, yet thin, plastic cups. Add ice cubes, crushed ice, and a little water to the stirring glass…
one plastic cup, in…
Gin in hand, I turn to Mr. Jerktongue to establish acceptance of the setup… Mr. Jerktongue accepts. The friend was very intrigued and could see that I was stirring things up.
(Now you might be wondering what kind of bar this was since I had so much time to mess around… it was early evening… not busy at all and we had several bar stations in the bar, so other guests could be served…
also our boss wanted us to talk to people and make sure they have a good and personal experience of the place. Now back to the story.)
I pour a double portion of gin in the plastic cup that went into the stirring glass… and an equal portion in the plastic cup next to the stirring glass.
I start stirring… I stir for a solid three minutes, counting on needing extra time to chill the cup and gin through the cup without getting diluted.
Mr. Jerktongue looks more and more confident the colder the cup looks.
I take out the cup, dry off the water from the outside so the two cups are indistinguishable… Mr. Jerktongue nods acceptingly.
I set up two glasses on the bar, ready to make two gin and tonics… The bar is quite tall, so I grab the two plastic cups and lower them outside of his line of sight and shuffle them between my hands to make it clear that he doesn’t know which is which…
he accepts the premise.
Under the edge of the bar, and out of sight, I grab another plastic cup and pour the same portion of gin in it…
I proceed to create the gin and tonics… ice in, gin from each cup into the respective glass, tonic, one slice of lemon, rosemary et, voila Mr. Jerktongue is served.. (of course, the chilled cup with gin is chilling under the bar still.)
He sips one…
nothing. Sips the other. Nothing but confused. Sips the first again… and then the second one again however this time he makes a grimace as if the second time around the gin and tonic tasted awful… Sips the first one again and proclaims how THAT is undoubtedly the chilled one…
Friend, like you dear reader, knows what’s up… or at least has enough of a suspicion that he’s already laughing through his teeth…
Mr. Jerkltongue’s already gloating. I use his confidence to act disappointed and make it look like he had won… friend suddenly not laughing so much… Both are hooked… (my plan had peaked. Time to land this thing.)
Mr. Jerktongue starts mocking and proceeds to ask for another gin and tonic for his friend…
I make it… And casually bring up the third and chilled cup and fill the third gin and tonic glass with it…
friend instantly understands and almost pees himself laughing.
Mr. Jerktongue at first confused looks at the three plastic cups on the bar top… one slightly different with some condensation on the outside… and then it lands… He realizes that the two he had tasted were absolutely identical and none of them were chilled.
The look that man gave me… he was humiliated by his own hand, in front of his friend and on top of that from some bartender half his age. I swear the temperature in the room went up by at least 10 degrees C.
Mr. Jerktongue only ever said two words to me, and I never saw him again…
14. Reminded A Karen That Gift Cards Don't Last Forever
“A few years ago I worked in a fancy upmarket clothing and dress shop in the capital of Scotland (you all know where that is, I’m sure!) Obviously, I can’t say the name of the company.
So I was the supervisor of my shop and I had a Manager and an Assistant Manager, they were pretty decent, (The manager was a bit, ahem, up and down but the assistant manager was pretty cool) who I answered to when they were in during the week.
I only worked 4 days a week and on Thursday evenings and Sundays I was the Manager in charge.
Now like most retail places we had a refund policy that was pretty clear and printed on the back of the receipt like 99% of places. Also, we had a dedicated customer service area of our website, again like most other companies. (I’m only pointing this out as I know in some countries it can differ and what we have here in the U.K.
might be different compared to, say, Japan or Mexico.)
The refund policy was simple. If you bought something and didn’t like it then you had a standard 28 days to bring it back and get a full refund. If you were out of this time then we would not be able to give you a refund but we MAY be able to offer you an exchange of the same value.
If your item was faulty then we would refund it but again only within 28 days. Sale items had a 14-day refund policy. We also had the policy that items MUST be returned in a sellable condition so not worn UNLESS it was faulty.
As management we had the right to refuse a refund if we thought the item had been stolen, deliberately damaged, worn, and then returned with the tags on or was out with the time period.
So… enter KAREN who I will refer to now as troll face.
I was working in the shop with my fellow colleagues on Thursday and my manager had just finished for the evening. I was now in charge until 7 pm when we closed. Joy. It was a standard Thursday and we were decently busy. Then Karen entered and decided to ruin my day. Sliming her way into the store and up to the counter, she dropped a bag on the till.
Me: Hi! Welcome to (Company name) how can I help you today?
Trollface: I bought these tops and they are just not right. I’d like a refund, please.
Me: Oh I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask, is there anything wrong with them? Do you have your receipt, please?
Trollface: (Sighing as if the world is ending) Yes I just don’t think they are my style. Here is my receipt.
Me: (Looking at the receipt and checking the timestamp as I did with every other customer) Hmmm I’m so sorry but your receipt is behind by 3 weeks.
Trollface: (Sputtering and starting to look angry) And so? What does THAT mean?
Me: Unfortunately as you are past the 28 days for a refund I am unable to give you a refund. I can offer you an exchange but not a refund.
Trollface: That’s ridiculous, Where does it say that? I want a refund!!!
Me: (Inwardly dying as oh great, ANOTHER Karen) I understand that ma’am but it says on the back of your receipt what the policy is and it isn’t just a few days that you are passed, it’s 3 weeks. I’m very sorry but it IS company Policy.
Trollface: This is Unacceptable!!! I don’t have time to read those silly things!! You should tell us when we buy the items!! I.
WANT. A. REFUND. NOW!!!!
Me: Ma’am I understand your frustration but it’s our company policy and if I gave you a refund I’d have to do the same for every other customer who was past their return day. I’m sorry but I can only offer you an exchange.
Trollface: This is terrible. This is robbery!! THIS IS FRAUD. That’s it, I’m calling the police!!!!
I swear I am not lying.
She actually pulled out her phone and started to dial 999!!! This crazy woman thought that the police would help her get a £90 refund for 2 tops!!
Me: (Making strangled laugh/groan/gulping sound) Ma’am the police won’t be able to help. This isn’t fraud, I just cannot give you a refund… but as a goodwill gesture I can refund the funds onto a gift card (This is VERY important later on!!)
Trollface: (Putting her phone away and deigning to look at me) And what EXACTLY does that do?
Me: (still dying inside as I know my manager is going to chew me out for doing this) It means I can put the funds onto a gift card and you can use it online or in-store for purchases.
You would have 2 years to use it before it expired.
Trollface: Well I SUPPOSE if that’s all you’re willing to do for me after I spend SO MUCH in here!! That will HAVE TO DO WON’T IT??!!
So I put the funds onto a gift card for her, if anything it’ll shut her up and get her out of my shop. This whole time my colleague has been serving other customers besides me and everyone has been highly entertained by the diva I’m serving.
I finish up her transaction, she leaves (finally!) serves a few more customers, and then talks to my colleagues about it. We were just amazed about her attitude and her behavior and also it was in front of her little girl who was probably no more than 6 or 7.
Anyway, my manager and I spoke about it the next day and she was fine with it, she understood that sometimes you just have to do something that annoys you to keep the peace.
Trollface actually came back in with her older daughter that day and made a big scene of walking around the store saying loudly ‘Darling, is there anything you like in here? I do have this GIFT CARD to use!!’ and giving me the hairy eyeball. Fun.
Time for the petty revenge.
Cut to 2 1/2 years later. I have been away from work as I became pregnant and gave birth to my beautiful daughter in 2016.
I returned to work in March 2017 and 6 months later guess who I happened to meet at work… Trollface!! Joy!!
Now, do you remember what I told you about the gift card I gave her? Well I was serving her again and she didn’t seem to remember me… but man did I remember her. She returned an item… and shockingly it was still valid. Now she wanted to buy something else when she suddenly remembered she had a gift card for our store.
Trollface: Oh I have a gift card I can use to buy this. Can you check and see how much is on it? Thank you!
Me: (Unwrapping the receipt from around the gift card and biting my cheek as I see it’s her refund receipt from TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO) Ok Dokie. Let me just scan this and see… huh, that’s funny, there’s nothing on it.
Trollface: What?? NO, there should be something on it. I was told years ago that there was stuff on it and it would last FOREVER!!
NO WAY does a gift card last FOREVER. In most places, it’s 24 months.
Me: (Choking back my rising glee!!) I’m sorry but this gift card has expired. We only tell customers that they have 24 months to use them before they expire.
I can see on your receipt that you were given this gift card for a refund and you were served by… ME!
I swear I could have died laughing right then and there as her face was priceless. I just smiled at her in that ‘You really thought you could pull the wool over my eyes and I would do anything you want way.’ Nuh-uh. My shop.
Trollface: (Realising that she isn’t going to win) Oh. Oh well, tried anyway. You know it REALLY should be clearer that the gift card ONLY lasts 24 months. Or you should tell the customers when you give them it.
Me: (In the calmest and friendliest voice) Oh we do, I ALWAYS make sure to tell EVERY customer I serve about our policies and gift cards. It’s also on the back of your receipt.
And look…(I show her my name on the bottom of her old return receipt and smile at her) It was ME who served you… so I know I would have told you!
Trollface: (Very meekly and embarrassed) Oh, well, umm thanks. I have to… go. Goodbye!
She left that shop so quickly she would have put Usain Bolt to shame. The truly ironic thing is that after 24 months of non-use on a gift card the credit gets deducted back so the company gets their money back.
She could have easily come in to see us at any point to check the balance as when you do the 24-month countdown goes from the last used day for either a balance check or purchase. Yes, it was truly petty revenge, we ended up keeping her money after all and I had a warm fuzzy glow all the rest of my day and one great story to tell in the future.”
13. Don't Pay Enough? Get Your Own Pizza
“I worked for a tech support company out of high school as a supervisor, so every night we would order food from the local pizza place and I would call in the order and everyone would give me cash, I’d head over and pick it up. Everyone was great – if the menu said the small pizza was just under $5 people would give you $6 to cover the tax and tip.
I am not going to ring in 12 people’s orders 1 at a time and bring back pennies in change. So as I said everyone was good, but this one guy would always order a small cheese and it was $4.99 before tax/tip and he’d always just give me a 5 dollar bill.
One night I’d had enough, and I pushed his pizza aside and said ‘Can you ring up everything but this’, and they gladly did, and I paid.
The employee then rang up his pizza and with tax it was like 5.50-something. I looked at the 5’er in my hand and said in a mock sad tone: ‘Well it seems like he didn’t give me enough money, I guess he’ll be over shortly to get it himself.’
I got back to the office and everyone started grabbing their food when cheap says ‘Hey where’s my pizza?’ I went ‘oh ya here ya go’ giving him his 5 dollar bill, ‘you didn’t give me enough money, you’re going to have to go get it yourself’ and walked away. From that day forward oddly enough he gave me $6 for his order.”
12. Betray My Trust? I'll Frame You
“I (22) met a guy named ‘Ali’ through my best friend ‘Ahmed’. Ali seemed cool enough that we ended up hanging out a lot. When Ahmed (studying abroad) noticed me and Ali becoming closer (through social media) he warned me not to let my guard down because Ali isn’t how he seemed and that he will use me. I wish I had listened but I did not because I really thought Ali and I had become really good friends.
He was very respectful and seemed thoughtful.
Ali is a citizen of the country we live in (I’m not) and he made me feel really bad for him because of the stories he fed me over illegal substances. He told me stories about how his father abused him, his brother, and his mother. How they’re about to be homeless because his father (who lives alone) would not pay rent.
He was driving a really messed-up car. Once, I was telling him about the dark web and everything that goes through it, he cried and begged me to find someone on the dark web who’d buy his kidney so he can provide for his family. I was sad. It’s very bad luck for a citizen of this country to live almost below the poverty line. So I felt bad for him.
Since we met I was paying for everything: food, substances, booze. We were spending almost all day together. Whenever he mentioned a financial problem I never hesitated to help. I am a distance student with no job but my father is a very successful businessman and gives me (his only son) a hefty sum every month. My father is really cool and we’re like friends.
My father gets his substances and booze from his friend who lives near a border town and is heavily involved in smuggling.
Every six months my father receives the goodies and he pays upfront. His goodies are actually very expensive so 6 months’ worth is a lot. The reason my father gets six months’ worth at once is that a lot of western, African, and Asian businessmen visit him. And booze is something they all want. Now, Ali already knows all that.
Unbeknownst to me, Ali had a greedy plan devised all along.
He knew all the procedures involved during that transaction between my father and the smugglers. And he waited 6 months so he and his other friends can take stuff from them. He was definitely using me and he was really good at it. I had mentioned to him that I was thinking about throwing a party when the goodies arrive, he asked me the exact day and I told him without thinking.
And that faithful day arrived and he and his friends stalked our house until the refrigerated trailer arrived. Before they unloaded it, however, my friend and his crew of 6, masked, armed, and impersonating the police, raided our house. Cuffed two of my uncles, four of the smugglers and locked them in a room with 5 other clueless people who were in the house and the masked men made off with the funds and the trailer.
The locked-up people genuinely believed the police were searching the entire house so they sat quietly. They didn’t know ‘the police’ had already left. 2 hours later my sister got to an empty house and frantically called me. I was at a cafe smoking alone thinking my friend Ali was sleeping. When she called I drove home and started looking in every room and I found my terrified family and smugglers.
I asked what has happened and one of the smugglers instantly laughed and asked me if there were police outside to which I replied ‘no’; and then he cursed and said ‘the corrupt police stole the booze and substances.’ Since that was a common occurrence, usually with smaller amounts, we all thought that was just that. Crooked cops.
The tech-savvy person he is, my father has most of the house outfitted with high-tech surveillance.
I and my uncle started watching and that’s when I realized how good the sound system was. You can hear everything so clearly. I also noticed a very familiar body posture and gestures from one of the ‘officers’. I thought ‘could that be who I think he is?’ When I heard his voice (multiple times) I was dumbfounded and furious. I drove to his home and his car was not in the parking lot.
I called him and he answered acting as though he just woke up. I told him that ‘the police just robbed us’. He acted all concerned and I told him I’ll be at the cafe. Meanwhile, I called Ahmed and told him everything. He was not surprised at all, in fact, he told me he knew Ali and his friends have impersonated a police officer to rob foreigners.
He told me Ali had actually spent 6 months in prison a couple of years back for theft. I had no clue.
Anyways Ali came to the cafe, eager to hear what happened and congratulating me because it could have gone bad. I played along, I didn’t tell him anything. I never gave away the fact I knew everything. I was just thinking about how to possibly screw him over.
If I called the cops on him and his friends they’ll most definitely rat us out. They’re thieves. The stuff had to come from somewhere.
I decided to play the long game and think about what I could do to him, thoroughly. I also told my dad and he told me to never tell him that I knew it was him and to try and break contact with him.
Since he was a citizen and my father didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to himself because he’s got a business to protect, also my father never got involved directly with substances and booze, his bros would take the fall if anything was to happen.
My uncle, however, was concerned if they somehow mess up and get caught they’d still snitch so he asked me to find out where exactly they stashed the stuff.
After weighing my options I decided to buy a GPS tracking device and attached it to three of Ali’s and his friends’ cars. I found out the place where all three cars frequented at the same time and told my uncle. It turns out the house belongs to one of Ali’s friend’s cousin (Wasim) who happens to be a huge dealer. My uncle then approached Wasim’s friend about the goodies and the friend took him right to Wasim’s home.
That way my uncle confirmed probably all of the booze was inside. My uncle (26) then turned the table on them. He and his friends impersonated ‘secret police’ and raided Wasim’s home and took everything that was available. They also filled his car with everything he was selling and deliberately crashed his car on a highway and placed a passed-out Wasim in the driver’s seat. I don’t think he knew when exactly the real police caught up with him.
Well, my uncle’s great plan got me thinking about how I could finally get Ali! I was still angry at him.
Ali didn’t know that I was bi, that’s because you don’t talk about that kind of stuff around here. Anyways I met a guy (Angel) from north America (neither US nor Canada) in his final year studying as an international student. We hit it off and I started spending more time with him as I continued to distance myself from Ali.
Ali still had the funds he stole from us so he didn’t care much. His life basically is taking substances, smoking, eating, sleeping; repeat. He got that covered for a while.
Fast forward a year, my entire family, along with the family business moved to the neighboring country. I stayed behind with Angel as we were discussing moving to his country and I was seriously considering that.
Finally, when he graduated we decided to leave. Angel would first go and arrange everything before I joined him after a month. Out of the blue, I remembered about Ali. I barely saw him in the past 6 months by making up excuses like ‘I’m not in the country.’ Was I just gonna live without doing anything to him? No way, I thought to myself.
A plan came to my mind.
Just like how my uncle screwed Wasim by framing him, I wanted to do the same. I told Angel all about my plans. He thought the outcome could be too cruel. He is a very gentle person. Angel knew a little bit of the story but he never met Ali.
My plan was for Angel to rent a car a week before his departure. And a day before his departure, he parked it in front of a supermarket while the engine was running to get ‘something quickly.’ I then ‘stole’ the car.
The camera shows a well-disguised man speeding away. He called the police, reviewed the footage, and alerted the rental company. The rental company then gave him another car. Which he returned to the rental company’s airport branch the next day before departing home.
I hid the car I stole at a location cops would not go to look. I also hid a fairly large amount of substances and some cash under the trunk lid.
I put the keys on the front tire. Then I traveled the breadth and length of the Atlantic ocean to go be with my angel, Angel.
After overcoming jet lag and the confusion of time differences… I called Ali on Snapchat. And asked him ‘to please pick me and mom from the airport within an hour as my uncle couldn’t pick us up as something urgent came up at the last hour, but he has left a car at (location) and the key is on the front-left tire.’ Since Ali’s car is a mess, he didn’t offer to use his own.
He assured me ‘I had nothing to worry about.’
He picked up the nice BMW rental in less than 30 mins and he let me know. ‘I’ll see you at the airport’, were his last words.
I put the stuff under the trunk lid because airport security would always, without exception, lift the lid to check. I later learned that he got 5 years for being in the possession of a stolen vehicle and possession of the goodies with intent to distribute.”
11. Use My Email? I'll Use Your Points
“Someone on the opposite side of the globe has given my email as theirs to a makeup store they visit monthly. They pay for their products in-store but the receipt is emailed to me. I’ve tried canceling the account or changing email settings but the receipts keep coming. There’s no address or other contact details for this person. Only my email address.
I’m sick of this so I logged into their account and gave all of their built-up points to charity.
Maybe when they go to use them they’ll realize their address is wrong and change it.”
Another User Comments:
“I went through this with Bank of America. My email was accidentally added to a client profile, and I started getting his account info. I contacted Bank Of America to fix it….and for 3 years just kept on getting updates emailed to me. I finally got an email that confirmed the account owner’s new cell number, then called him.
Informed him I had his social security number, knew who his employer was, had access to the account he paid his mortgage from, and that he’d spent waaaay too much at Jared’s but congrats on your engagement or whatever.
He was livid. I literally had everything I needed to steal his identity and ruin his life, and his bank had just been HANDING it to me, despite my attempts to stop them. It still took him the better part of a week to get it all fixed.” malackey
10. Kick Me Out Of Church For No Reason? I'll Help The Deacon Mess With You
“About 6-7 years ago, I was a ministerial student at a conservative Christian college. I had attended the same ‘Bible-believing’ church since I was a small child. It was large, about 1,000 members, but not a megachurch.
This church had been an enormous part of my life for as long as I could remember. I played piano for youth choir, preached at the Children’s Church service (which was held in the church’s chapel at the same time as the adult service), drove the church bus to pick up ‘unchurched’ children, etc & ad infinitum.
I did all of this for free, not even getting reimbursed for expenses.
During my senior year in college, we got a new ‘Minister of Music, Education, And Youth’. This guy was as charming as an ice cream sundae with razor blades in it. I’ll call him Mr. Charming. All of the Deacons, and their wives, thought he walked on water.
He was an authoritarian jerk. In his first meeting with the church Youth Group, he announced that he had been hired to ‘Straighten out the youth group’.
One of his favorite sayings was, ‘When I tell my disciples jump, the only questions they get to ask are ‘How high’ and ‘How far’.’
The adults loved him and the youth hated him. Within a few weeks, half of the high school and college students, i.e., all of those without parents in the church, had quit coming to church.
Most Youth Directors would have gotten into trouble over this, but he had the audacity to proclaim, in front of the entire congregation in the Sunday morning worship service, that he had ‘eliminated all of the thorny ground from the Youth Group’ (a reference to the Parable of the Sower in the Bible), and the Pastor and all of the Deacons loved him for it.
He didn’t waste any time going after what he really wanted: the Pastor’s job. The pastor, whom I’ll call PastorT, was about 60 years old. Within a few weeks of Mr. Charming’s arrival, rumors started circulating about PastorT’s health (he was an avid runner and cyclist) and that he ‘just didn’t seem to be as mentally sharp as he used to be’ (he frequently quoted long Bible passages from the pulpit, entirely from memory without misstating a single word, sometimes in Greek or Hebrew).
Worst of all, however, was the accusation that PastorT was ‘really too liberal’ for the church. In my denomination, it is the kiss of death to even be suspected of being a ‘liberal’.
None of these accusations made any sense, but people kept talking about them. I have no idea why PastorT didn’t find out. Or maybe he did find out and was just too scared to do anything about it.
In some denominations, like Catholic or Methodist, the denomination assigns pastors/priests. Not my church’s denomination. Each church ‘calls’ the minister. This guarantees that every pastor always walks a razor’s edge – the slightest slip and you’re out. You don’t even have to slip. Maybe you even do the right thing and it still offends enough people (it doesn’t take many, just a handful if they hate you enough).
Then you’re out. Or maybe, like PastorT, some creep just lies about you and gets your job. And, since the church often owns your house (the ‘parsonage’ or ‘manse’), your entire family is suddenly homeless and destitute.
Then I became a target. I still don’t know why.
A couple of months after starting to work for my church, Mr. Charming called me and informed me that my ‘services were no longer needed’ at Youth Choir, Children’s Church, Bus ministry, anywhere.
In fact, he said, he did not even want me to participate in any of these functions at all. Not even go to the Sunday Morning Worship Service.
I later found out that members of his family had been hired by the church, at very nice rates of pay, to perform these functions that I’d been doing for free. His wife got paid more for playing a beat-up piano at the one-hour Youth Choir rehearsal than the main Organist/Pianist got paid for playing for adult choir rehearsal plus Sunday mornings and Sunday evenings when the Youth Choir sang.
(The wife could barely pick out the notes on a piano. This lady radiated bitterness, resentment, and repressed anger. But she rarely said anything. She just sat there and glared, which was somehow even creepier than when she spoke.)
I was very hurt, emotionally, so I dropped by PastorT’s office and tearfully asked him what I’d done wrong. I couldn’t get a straight answer, except he told me that ‘People are saying things’ about me and that if I wanted to get a good recommendation from him to our denomination’s Ministers School, I’d ‘better shut up and do what you’re told’.
So, I started asking all of my church friends what people were ‘saying’ about me. Everyone said, ‘Well, I didn’t want to tell you, and I don’t believe it, but here’s what I heard’. According to the rumor mill, I had gotten my partner pregnant and forced her to have an abortion (I hadn’t even had a partner since Junior High) and I’d been arrested for possession of substances and my dad had had to pay a lot to hush it up (I didn’t even know what substances looked like).
There were other rumors, but you get the idea.
I did what PastorT told me to. I never darkened the door of that church again (except once, months later). It hurt so much. I’d devoted my life to that church since I was a little kid. But I had to have PastorT’s recommendation to get into the Minister’s School I wanted to go to, and the pain was unbearable just driving by there.
So I decided to keep my distance.
But I started thinking about Mr. Charming. Anyone who was that evil had to have a past, and it probably wasn’t a good one. I knew that, just before working for my church, he had worked at a large church, in the same denomination, in a small town about 50 miles away. That church was actually about twice the size of my church.
So he had moved from a big church to the same job at a smaller church. A bad career move? Running away from something? Ahhh… there was something rotten in Denmark. And it smelled like an opportunity for me.
As luck would have it, one of my uncles, and his family, lived in that same small town, although none of my family attended Mr. Charming’s former church.
So I called one of my cousins, told her my story, and enlisted her as a co-conspirator. I’ll call her Ann.
The next Sunday morning, Ann and I attended Sunday School and Morning Worship at Mr. Charming’s old church. Although Ann had never been a member of that church, it was a small town where everyone knew everyone, so she knew most of the people there. She started asking about Mr.
Charming and got an earful.
Every one of her friends said that Mr. Charming was a world-class creep. He would flirt with, and even make suggestive comments to, all of the girls in the Youth Group. (He was 40+ years old and had a wife and 3 children of his own.)
But, just like at my former church, the adults loved him because he ‘kept the youth in line.’
Our investigation went on for several weeks.
I kept a low profile so as not to arouse suspicion. Mostly, I just stood around, ate donuts, drank coffee, and talked about football.
Ann did most of the work because she knew so many people and it was perfectly natural for her to attend this church in her hometown, even if it was not the church she usually attended. After church was over, we would go to her house, have a delicious Sunday Lunch cooked by my aunt, and then write down everything we had learned.
By then, Ann’s whole family was in on my investigation. They were as angry as I was about the way I’d been treated, and our weekly report made an interesting lunchtime conversation.
Within a few weeks, I was sure that all I had to do was drive a few of these young ladies, and their parents (friends of my aunt & uncle), down to my old church, let them tell their stories to the parents of a few girls in the Youth Group, and Mr.
Charming would become Mr. Unemployed.
But it kept getting better and better, so Ann & I kept digging. And I really wanted to keep a low profile if I could, because I didn’t want to mess with PastorT any more than I had to. He knew a lot of people in the denomination, and he could easily ruin my ministerial career before it even started.
Finally, after a month or so, Ann grabbed me by the sleeve and said, ‘You’ve GOT to hear this’.
She introduced me to a well-dressed, very large guy, maybe 30-35 years old. I’ll call him Fred. We slipped off into a Sunday school room where we would not be overheard.
It turned out that Mr. Charming had had a multi-year affair with Fred’s wife. Fred had kept his cool when he found out, talked with a lawyer, and had spent months gathering evidence. Text messages, voice mails, emails, even photos and videos with Fred’s wife and Mr.
Charming in them. Mr. Charming would send the videos to Fred’s wife and they both would have a good time on screen while texting each other. Later, they would hook up the old-fashioned way and make more videos.
Finally, Fred confronted his wife. She denied everything, but the evidence was just too much. Fred told her he wanted a divorce, full custody of the children, their house, his retirement money, his business, her engagement & wedding rings, everything, even the dog.
She hired a lawyer, but laws and courts being what they are in this rural Bible Belt county, her lawyer told her that if the judge saw the videos, she’d be lucky if she ended up in a homeless shelter with all of her worldly possessions under her bunk in a garbage sack.
Then Fred turned his attention to Mr. Charming. Fred still sincerely loved his wife, and he was convinced that Mr.
Charming had deliberately ruined his marriage. Taking Mr. Charming to court, suing him for ‘loss of consortium’ and otherwise making him legally miserable would take too long.
This is the rural Deep South. Many people around here prefer a more direct approach. In rural counties, the police and any ”jury of your peers’ will probably include people who have known you since kindergarten. So, if you have good reasons for your actions and you aren’t too stupid about it, there are things that you can do…
Fred scheduled an appointment with Mr. Charming in his church office, who did not suspect a thing because Fred was a Deacon and his children were in the church Youth Group. Remember that I said Fred was big? 6 foot 6 inches at least, 300 pounds, and if there was an inch of fat on him, he hid it well. Looked like he could pull up a 100-foot oak tree by the roots without breaking a sweat.
Fred told me that he brought several friends with him, and, of course, the videos. One friend blocked the door. Another unplugged the phone. A third one stood behind Mr. Charming and ‘encouraged’ him to stay seated in his chair.
Fred made Mr. Charming watch about 10 minutes of one of the videos. Then calmly said, ‘I’m going to stand here and watch you pack up your stuff, then you’re going to walk out of this building and never show your face in this town again.
Or we’ll be back.’
Mr. Charming did as he was told. A month later, he had a new job at another church, my old church, and started ruining another whole set of lives, including mine.
Fred actually did not know where Mr. Charming had gone. He had been led to believe that Mr. Charming had moved out of state. He was surprised, gratified and angered, to learn that this scumbag was only 50 miles away.
This had all happened just a few months before. Fred was still deeply in love with his wife. They were getting counseling and he hoped that they could save his marriage.
But his hatred of Mr. Charming was still fulminating and had been re-ignited by my telling him that Mr. Charming was living & working less than an hour away from his wife. Like Mount Saint Helens a few minutes before the explosion.
He presented such a face of restrained rage and vindictiveness that it scared me, and I wasn’t even the one he was mad at.
The next day, Monday, I drove back up there and gave him a copy of the directory of my old church. It had home addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses for pretty much every member of the church. I showed him the pages that listed all of the Deacons and other church leaders.
And I marked some of the church’s major financial donors.
I explained my situation to PastorT and asked that my name not be mentioned. ‘No problem’, he said.
The next Sunday, I could not resist visiting my old church to see how things were going. Mr. Charming was nowhere to be seen, nor was any explanation given about what had happened to him.
One weird thing, though, PastorT looked super scared.
His voice, usually resonant, loud, and almost musically baritone, trembled during the whole sermon. I slipped in just before the service started and made a point of sitting in the very front row, center pew. The look on his face when he saw me was worth all of my trouble.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Fred had gotten right to work and done a very thorough job.
The whole church had gotten multiple ‘anonymous’ emails with photos and videos of Mr. Charming and Fred’s wife in various… well… compromising positions and states of undress.
Deacons and major donors got emails plus Express Mail packages just for good measure. Mr. Charming and PastorT had been left out – they didn’t know anything until the phone calls started pouring in.
After the worship service, it did not take long for my church friends to figure out why I was there.
It was very gratifying. I was something of a hero, although I kept swearing that I had no idea what they were talking about.
Things continued to blow up in my former church for months afterward. Both PastorT and the pastor of Mr. Charming’s old church almost lost their jobs, because they had lied to my old church’s committee of Deacons, who had recommended hiring Mr. Charming, about why Mr.
Charming had left his old job. But somehow they managed to stay in the pulpits at their churches, although a lot of church members left my former church, which caused some financial problems.
There was talk of legal action for sending unsolicited adult videos to little old ladies and other people in the church. But nobody ever was able to prove that Fred did it. I don’t think they tried very hard.
After all, his wife was in the videos and photos. Both churches really REALLY did NOT want this to become a court case, because of Mr. Charming’s trysts, and the fact that he had spent years hooking up with a Deacon’s wife while he had unlimited, unsupervised access to dozens of church youth, would then become a matter of public record. So they hushed it up.
I never saw PastorT again. I had lost all of the love, trust, and respect that I had had for him, and I was sure that he had figured out that I was somehow connected to the whole fiasco. So my chances of having a preaching career in my denomination were precisely zero. By that time, being a pastor, like PastorT, was the last thing I wanted anyway.
I withdrew my application to minister’s school and eventually completed a Doctorate in Archaeology at a different grad school, Graduated With Honors, at a large, widely respected State University. I’ve been teaching at a large, public university in the Midwest of the USA, with summer gigs on archaeological digs in Europe (except this summer).
And I am very happy.
I had no idea what happened to Mr. Charming after he left my former church.
But it didn’t matter because I’d moved on to a new, happier, more meaningful, more enlightened life.
One last, very gratifying, event, THE REASON FOR THIS POST:
All that happened 6-7 years ago. Fast forward to last March. I went to pick up a friend at a large downtown urban bus station in the US. Everyone hates this place. Not only is it crowded, but it is also poorly maintained and filthy.
It smells like spoiled garbage mixed with diesel exhaust and seldom-cleaned public restrooms.
My friend’s bus was late. I stopped by the newsstand to get myself a soda and candy bar.
Who do you think was re-stocking the shelves?
I just sat across from the newsstand and enjoyed my drink and snack.
He recognized me, then turned away. I just sat and watched him, re-stocking shelves full of adult magazines and junk food.”
9. Abusive Husband Loses Everything He Has And Pays $100k
“My cousin had just met a wonderful person in Lebanon. He cared for her, loved her, and really treated her in a special caring way… or so we thought. One day she came in the middle of the night to my house, and then I saw her, with her son, both in rough shape. As it turns out, he just married her for her privileges as an Australian.
So when they got a son, she got pressured to handle the abuse and stay with him just so that she can see her son. And now this guy is gonna pay.
My family and I devised an elaborate plan to send the cousin and her son to Australia, where she has more custody rights over there, but we also had to help her get some funds to start her business there as well.
First, we went to the police, who said that they can’t arrest him because the cousin didn’t report him, but they didn’t mind us ‘taking care’ of him.
So later that night one of my cousins and I attacked him with bars of soap wrapped in a towel (no bruises or wounds) and we beat him until they broke. And after he went to the police station to report us, they laughed at him.
After he got out we warned him to leave Lebanon before we seriously hurt him. And after that confrontation, he got his wife, son, and 100 thousand dollars.
Here came the tricky part, we had to have incriminating evidence of his abuse to blackmail him (we can’t attack him in Australia), so after my aunt helped them get a house, she rigged a camera, and after she captured the abuse, my cousin took her son and 100 thousand dollars.
When the guy tried to confront her and take his son and money back to Lebanon, he was shown the incriminating footage and given an ultimatum, he either leaves Australia without divorcing the wife with the son and he might get persecuted, or he leaves Australia penniless, and he chose the latter.
When he made it back to Lebanon he slipped into heavy drinking, lost his money and his house due to his temper issues, lost his visa since his ex-wife reported him anyway, and is currently a homeless man.
I saw him while I was in the car in Lebanon (I’m currently stuck there)… And he looked so… empty, even when he saw me and recognized me, he didn’t react. And then I realized that I made him lose everything, even his Australian visa (got revoked), but then you realize that this man deserved it.
My cousin is currently running a restaurant with her new husband (who has a daughter) who is a truly amazing guy.”
8. Won't Let Me Take A Vacation? I'll Apply To Your Competitor
“I (30 F) worked for my dad when I was 16 as a sales rep. At 17 my 18-year-old friends were booking a holiday to Magaluf, my dad would not let me go as I was underage.
Being 17 and disgruntled, I handed in my notice and applied to one of Dad’s competitors. I got the job based on my experience and the previous accounts I had at Dad’s company.
It was a bold move and a big slap to my dad.
For 3 weeks when I worked I noticed my dad was really annoyed but later found the funny side. The whole family would make jokes about it, they still do.
It did cause some tension sometimes as we would try and steal each other’s customers lol. We always made up though, we were very close.
Over the years I’ve been promoted a bunch of times, I now run the biggest branch in the country.
I got a call this morning that the regional manager is retiring next year and I’m up for promotion so it’s mine if I want it. This is when things get a bit insane. I’ll also be the first female and youngest-ever RM this company has had. I’m proud of myself, I have 3 kids. I had my first child at 19 and have worked my butt off.
My dad was really proud of me in the end. He passed a few years ago but always joked that he was right to make me miss that holiday as I would not have left his company and worked as hard as I did. He was 100% correct.
We grew up in a rough area, this is where my parents are from and bought their first house.
We only moved from this area when my brother came out at 14, he was jumped and badly beaten by a group of boys.
I left school at 16 and was only really working with Dad until I found something else. I had helped at my Dad’s company since I was old enough to read numbers and make orders. I had to do jobs from 13 (delivering papers, mucking out stables, babysitting, sweeping hairdressers).
I rarely asked my parents for anything and when I did I would pay them back. I saved my money, that’s how I could afford the holiday, which I didn’t go on, I went the year after when I turned 18.
If the job had really impacted our relationship I would have left, being 17 I didn’t think this was going to be the start of my career. I was just feeling rebellious, it’s completely understandable why he didn’t want me to go. (I would not let my daughter go at 17 lol.) My dad and I had the best relationship right up till the end.”
7. Make My Trash Can Gross? I'll Make It Grosser
“I have one roommate who seems to not respect anyone’s belongings or personal items. He doesn’t clean after himself, doesn’t buy anything communal for the house (laundry detergent, dishes, soap, paper towels). In fact, all of the communal items in the house are the possession of myself and the other roommate who is currently away. We have determined some items such as dishes, the washer, and dryer, and the trash can be communal.
This dude is MESSY. I kept coming home from work to find food stuck to the countertops and my trash can covered in sticky liquids. The trash can is mine, and I don’t want to have to buy many new ones just because someone can’t clean after themself. After bleaching and scrubbing the trash can every week because of this issue and asking him to at least take the trash out when it was full to no avail, I was done.
Yesterday I came home to find it almost glued shut from liquids with a horrible smell. So, I emptied it and decided if nasty is what he wants, that’s what he can get. I did not put a bag in the trash can and filled it with expired milk, old kale, and other vegetables, and threw away dog poop in there. The smell is now AWFUL.
I look forward to him coming home and trying to do his work in the common areas. Oh wait – he can’t do his work anymore because the WiFi is also mine that I pay for.
He came home this morning and was stuck gagging and vomiting in the bathroom for about half an hour (he has a borderline phobia of animal waste). The smell doesn’t really bother me because I know it was my own doing. He still hasn’t said anything to me due to the previous fight. It hasn’t even been a day yet, so I am still waiting for anything climactic.”
6. Call Me In The Middle Of The Night? I'll Return The Favor
“Back in the late ’90s when house phones were still a thing, our phone kept ringing in the middle of the night after we moved to a new house and had to get a new telephone number. Unfortunately, I didn’t have caller ID.
This went on for months. I was always too sleepy and incoherent to ask for an explanation before the calling party hung up.
Finally, one night, there were two calls, and I was still awake for the second call, so I answered in a business-like fashion, rather than with a sleepy ‘Hello.’ The person on the other end was in a hurry to get in touch with someone other than me, but at least when I said ‘You have to tell me why people keep calling!’ they said ‘It’s in the main directory!’ before they hung up.
Hmmm, there was a large employer near me, Freescale Semiconductor (it used to be part of Motorola and now it’s part of NXP, but then it was a private company.) So I found their main number, dialed it, and listened to the nighttime recording. It was a long list — ‘For blah-blah-blah, call xxx-yyyy. For blah-blippty-boo call zzz-abcd. For the Fab 25 Main Floor, call OP’s home number and wake his butt up.’
Or something like that.
Anyway, it was now 3:30 AM, and I was wide awake. This was during that brief moment when the web, home phones, and phonebooks coexisted. So, I got on the web, found out the name of the CEO of Freescale, found him in the phone book, got on the phone, and called and woke his butt up.
After I explained the situation, he mumbled something like ‘Couldn’t you call Freescale security and have them fix it?’
‘Well, I’m sure all of your wonderful employees whoever called me took it upon themselves to try to do that immediately after they realized that an error in your directory was causing them to wake up random strangers.
It seems unlikely your security would listen to me if they won’t even listen to your own people!’
‘Uhhhhhhhhh, well could you call my office in the morning?’
‘Sure, what’s the number?’
So I chatted with his secretary a few hours later, and she said she’d fix it. But, of course, that night I tested it again and it was still broken.
So I called his secretary back the next morning and factually explained that it wasn’t fixed yet and that every single time I got called in the middle of the night, her boss would as well.
The witch was dumb enough to ask ‘Why on earth would you do that??!?’ but smart enough to realize that she’d been adequately warned that her name would probably come up in any subsequent 3 AM conversation between me and her boss, and resourceful enough to get it fixed post-haste.”
5. Try For A Chess Victory Lap? Enjoy A Delay
“Playing on an online chess website is sometimes frustrating when matched with someone significantly better than you. There’s a button to ‘add time’ for the other player while doing short rounds (1 min each) and towards the end of a match sometimes people bash on a bunch of extra seconds even though they are already going to win – feels a bit like getting a rematch offer when you definitely don’t want one.
So, my response, wait out all that extra time while doing something else on another window. Enjoy your mild delay, showboater.”
4. Fool Me Twice? I'll Let The Whole World Know About You
“I met ‘Jane’ after amicably ending a long-term relationship. I didn’t think I’d want to go out with anyone again, but Jane and I really clicked and it was such a nice escape. We hung out as friends before moving on to seeing each other romantically, and within 6 months we had moved in together. I had long since gotten over my ex, and Jane and I were doing great and regularly talked about the future.
I was fairly socially awkward and only had a few good friends before meeting her, whereas she had a large circle of acquaintances and friends she introduced me to who became good friends of mine as well.
About a year into our relationship Jane informs me that she had a one-night stand with someone she had met at the bar. Begs for forgiveness, says she’s so sorry, that she wasn’t used to drinking, all the usual excuses.
Me not wanting to lose this relationship too, and having invested so much time thinking about my future with this girl, believes her. It wasn’t easy, and I ended up in therapy for my anxiety but we worked through it after a lot of talks and crying and long nights, gradually rebuilding trust after she reassured me regularly that I was the one for her and she was still committed to our relationship.
I confided in a few close mutual friends, who kept it to themselves. Everything seemed back on track, and I thought we healed.
Another year passes when I notice Jane seems off, she’s gone more often, more secretive about her phone, I’ll wake up to find her on the computer instead of in bed. Red flags flying. One weekend she tells me she’s going to her mother’s to help her with ‘spring cleaning.’ I don’t really get along with or speak to her mother.
Her mother is an incredibly religious woman who was already upset with Jane for living with me before marriage and a few other personal decisions on her end and feels as if she has control over her life due to financially supporting her, which is why I assume she figured it’d be a safe bet I wouldn’t talk to her mom. A few hours after she left, I called her a few times and it went right to voicemail, meaning her phone was off.
So I called her mother knowing she wouldn’t answer me and left a voicemail asking if Jane had made it to her house safely, it had been hours and I hadn’t heard from her. A few minutes pass and she calls me back, tells me that she called Jane and couldn’t get an answer, as I knew she wouldn’t. Started asking when she left, etcetera. I told her she left that morning to help her with spring cleaning.
This was news to her mother, who never spoke to her about that. Her worrying about Jane had her talking.
I sit there thinking about what I’ll tell Jane when she speaks to her mom and has time to think of an excuse. She gets home later that night and seems totally nonchalant. Turns out her phone is still off, so she hasn’t even gotten the calls from me or her mom yet.
Perfect. I ask her how her day went, she tells me how much she hates dusting (‘There was so much on the top of the cabinets!’) and how they had to carry stuff down to the basement (‘An elevator would have been nice!’), all that good stuff. I then decide to let her know I was aware she hadn’t been to her mom’s. Long story short, she admits to two-timing me again and had been since I had forgiven her for the first time.
While I was dealing with anxiety and insecurity, while she was reassuring me it would never happen again and I was the only one for her, while we talked about buying a place and all our goals, she was messing around with the same dude, mostly online but had met up with him every so often for quickies during the day.
I basically shut down entirely and went to stay with a friend and told Jane it was over.
The more I thought about it, the more my sadness turned to anger, and the stupider I felt for giving her a second chance. I had wasted two years of my life and made myself vulnerable to someone I fell in love with, who I thought loved me, and made a fool of me. Jane was inconsolable, calling me, my friend who I was staying with, texting and threatening to show up in hopes of ‘fixing it’.
She was on the verge of a breakdown, claiming she’d do anything, talk to therapists, give me total access to her accounts, anything she could do to make it right. To take back the past. Which is when I saw the opportunity to get back at her.
I told her I wanted to be able to forgive her, but big changes needed to happen in order for me to do that.
She jumped at the opportunity. I told her I needed to be sure she was serious about our future. First, I wanted to look at renting a bigger place, somewhere without ‘bad memories.’ We were month to month, so gave my landlord notice and asked her to go through the process of securing us a new lease elsewhere as I ‘couldn’t handle it’ right then. I then told her that if we’re going to learn to trust again, I want to start taking steps towards an engagement.
(‘I don’t want to focus on the past. If I do I’ll want to leave. I just want to focus on the future’) and the first step should be a joint account. That I still trust her with finances, to which she agreed. I deposited a few hundred into the account, told her I had spent the rest of my savings on paying 2 months’ advance rent to my buddy I was staying with and he’d give it back to me in installments since I’d be moving out sooner than planned.
Now that this was set up, I figured I wanted to ruin her social life. but I knew it would take some more plotting to do that.
So I told her to come back to our apartment. And we stayed there waiting until the end of the month. We cried together, she was overwhelmingly affectionate, let me watch her delete her social media pages, made me breakfast most days.
She was just ‘so sorry.’ I wanted to scream at her so badly, but instead, I’d ask for comfort and reassurance, and play the wounded animal. We had plenty of making up too (which is the only thing I feel slightly guilty about), she was sure to be extra adventurous for my sake, so when I asked if I could take some photos she was all for it.
During this time, I had been distant from our mutual friends, turning down invites and saying things like Jane wouldn’t want me to go, or asking a few one on one for advice for how do they handle it when their partner gets mad? ‘Does your partner ever break stuff or slap you? No no, Jane would never do that! I was just wondering.’ Then, shortly before we planned to move into the new place, I had cold feet.
Told her I didn’t think I could do it. That I just didn’t trust her. She was frantic, pleading with me not to leave again and begging for something she could do to fix it. So I told her I believed our social circle put her up to it. She swore up and down that no one had any idea. But I asked how could I believe her? She lied to me twice before, I don’t trust her around them.
That a fresh start means new people in our lives too. That I’d never feel comfortable again as these people I don’t know if I can trust were still around. I wore her down until she agreed to ghost them all.
But that wasn’t enough for me. I told her that I needed the bridge to be burnt because I don’t trust them. So I had her re-join and send a message to the group chat complaining about ‘fake friends, backstabbers’ and how she was better without them, then block them all.
She cried for a long time over that, but if it was what I needed to stay, she’d get over it. I had a bunch of messages from mutual friends asking what the heck, to which I told them it was complicated and I’d talk soon.
A few more days pass, and it’s time to move into the new place. We spend the day moving some things in, and Jane is practically giddy talking about our future plans.
I tell her to pick up anything she needs from her mom’s, and I’m going to get some stuff from my parents’ place and we’ll meet back at the apartment that night. As soon as she leaves, I call my friend and we pack up everything I had brought over and take it back to his place. Then I message my friends, telling them Jane had been abusive the last few months (lie) which is why I didn’t go out, and that the reason she had blocked them is because she thought I told them and that they were telling me to leave her.
I then went to the bank and drained our joint account, which had about $400 from me and about $3700 and some change from her. Then I sent an email to Jane’s mother claiming to be an angry ex who had access to my phone, including all those photos I took with Jane. ‘Just thought you should know what your daughter and that piece of work get up to.’ And lastly, I had my friend hit me in the eye twice, swelling it up, then blocked Jane and asked two of our mutual friends to meet up with me.
And just like that, it was over. I told them how Jane had become mentally and physically abusive over the past few months after I caught her with another man. I showed them the screenshots of her chats with this guy. I told them I had kept quiet to keep the peace, how she lashed out at all of them when she thought they had been helping me behind her back.
How it was so out of character. How she threw a remote at me and swelled my eye when we were moving, and that’s when I knew I needed to leave. Jane showed up at my friend’s house looking for me, while he told her I had moved and would call the cops if she showed up again while I hid upstairs. Heard how she frantically tried to find me to figure out what was happening and reached out to our mutual friends to make amends and tell them it was all my idea, only to discover the ones I had been talking to and subtly alluding to being abused for weeks as well as the ones who remembered me coming to them after the first time she lied, and the ones who had seen my eye had passed along the information to her entire social circle and she was met with threats, insults and being ghosted by everyone she knew.
How she told the last mutual friend she spoke to before he ghosted her that her mother had said she’d ‘pray for her’ and cut her off financially for living ‘an unhealthy lifestyle’ until she can ‘smarten up’ after seeing the photos, which she can’t prove I’ve ever sent as her mother certainly wouldn’t have kept them, and that she’s severely depressed. She’s trapped in a 6-month lease with zero money, no friends to rely on, and no one to help her stay afloat aside from maybe her former fling should she run to him.
I’ll be using her to cover the rent on a new apartment for myself, and bought my friend a nice gift for being my accomplice in this. I plan to stay in therapy, both to get over this and to work through my feelings and how low I stooped to get revenge, as I don’t want to carry this negativity with me in the future. After that, I plan to re-learn how to be single and enjoy life on my own, with the friends I inherited to keep me company.”
3. The Cents War
“Sometimes I have to go to a supermarket/ convenience store where the guy is quite unfriendly.
I get that I pay extra for the convenience/odd opening hours, but what really annoys me is how he prices everything with 3.99, 5.99, or 1.99 stickers, for example, but writes 4, 6, or 2 on the register.
I mean, either use the .99 prices to trick people into thinking that items are cheaper than they are, or use .00 prices.
You can’t have both. Pick a lane!
Also, where I live, you pay for the plastic bags, around 10 cents each. You should ask for the bags beforehand so you pay them in the total.
When I have someone behind me in the queue, I sometimes pretend to be on a phone or distracted, and then when he does the total, or after I pay, I apologize for the distraction and ask for a bag.
They normally give it for free so it doesn’t block the queue more by doing whatever stuff they have to do in the register to edit the final price to add 10 cents.
So I just secretly (until now) enjoy his grumpy face giving me a 10 cents bag for free. I know he is annoyed internally, otherwise, he wouldn’t be adding 0.01 cents on each scanned item.
It’s not a big win, his plastic bags are ugly. Yet I wonder if one can be pettier than this.”
Another User Comments:
“Before bags were charged, I went to buy milk from the convenience store near my home. The price was $2.99, but the cashier always asked for $3.00. For whatever reason, it bothered me that I was always paying 1 cent extra. I went one day with exactly 2.99. I got the milk, went up to the register. She said, $3.00. I said, $2.99! She said, $3.00, but I gave her $2.99. She glared at me and put the plastic bag on the counter and refused to bag the milk for daring to challenge her. I guess bagging it myself was a ‘punishment.'” Booksandfood1
2. Betray Me? I'll Ruin Your Life For Every Body You Touch
“Ronnie was a serial two-timer throughout high school – but he was more than that. He was manipulative. He would blow through relationships, typically 4 at a time. They would only ever last a week to a couple of months before the girls would catch him with another woman. He’d proceed to leak their private photos or spill their secrets and move on to a new demographic of women.
He was charismatic and scapegoated his problems onto his dying father. It didn’t matter anyhow – he would destroy the victim’s reputation until they weren’t trusted, anyways.
Despite this, I was in love. I was his sidepiece through it all. Morally, I knew it was wrong but I had never been in love before. Besides – he wasn’t lying to me like the other girls. He was honest about the fact he was unfaithful.
I was special. I stuck it out.
Two years later and he’s fallen in love with me, too. Or so I thought. He vowed to give up messing around, even gave up a lot of things just to have me love him back. I accepted it. We planned to marry. He was always so smart about his manipulation. When friends blocked me randomly or called me abusive, I thought it was just a misunderstanding.
When people began to become aware of deep, personal secrets – I thought maybe I had slipped up during a conversation. No one ever told me Ronnie had called me abusive or a liar. I never knew he accused me of being the things he secretly was.
He would insult me late at night, before bed, and then claim he didn’t remember in the morning. He would slip sly comments into our talks, just enough to make me doubt myself but never question him.
He was a master at gaslighting until I hated myself and only wanted to please him. I was head over heels in love, despite all of it. He would casually slap me – never when I was upset, but when I said things he didn’t like. He would slap me across the face and I would be too shocked to speak. He followed it up by laughing and playing it off as okay to do, or a joke, so I wouldn’t fight back.
If I expressed it was wrong or told anyone, he said I was misunderstanding a ‘playful tap.’
Halfway through our relationship, I followed work to another state and maintained a long-distance relationship with him. It was my dream. I wanted so badly to stay. But after 8 months, I gave up my home, my pets and my job to move a thousand miles across the country to live with him again.
I had literally nothing and was absolutely penniless. Three months after this, I caught him with another woman. He had asked a girl out via a second Twitter account. I was hurt, but ultimately it wasn’t so bad so I forgave him.
The seed of doubt was already planted, however. Two months later, I snooped through his phone and noticed he had several Reddit accounts saved to Chrome.
I vaguely recalled he used Reddit to view adult videos before, and I got a bad feeling in my stomach. I began guessing his common email/password combos. I got 5 hits total.
There were more than I expected. I figured maybe he was lying about not watching adult videos (which is not a big deal to me) but for 6 months he had been using these accounts to two-time me using hookup and adult subreddits.
I confronted him. He screamed, telling me he had already apologized to me for sneaking behind my back a few months ago and I needed to quit making him sad. That he had already said sorry and I wasn’t going to get anything else. He explained that he had continued to have affairs because he feared I would leave and he wanted a second option.
I spent a week and a half sobbing.
I had nothing but this man and I had never been good enough for him. I was destroyed. He screamed at me nearly every day, telling me my crying was annoying, that my depression made him uncomfortable. Telling my friends I was guilt-tripping him over something that ‘didn’t happen.’
Finally, I snapped. I had wasted all of my high school and early adult years with a man who did nothing but walk all over me.
I went back to Reddit and counted every person he had flirted with or exchanged messages with. I began to voice record every conversation. Screenshot every text.
Next, I downloaded apps. For every girl he sneaked around with, I slept with a guy behind his back. When we went out with friends, I began to act sadder and sadder and slowly dropped in conversation about how Ronnie had been yelling at me the night before and that it had upset me.
I began to vent to his friends and show them every screenshot.
Then I emailed his mother, his grandparents, and his work voice recordings of him screaming at me. I asked his boss if his company supported domestic violence. I cried to his mother and she held me as I vented my frustrations, explaining how she had been two-timed by Ronnie’s father.
Ronnie began to scapegoat again. He told me he was sick in the head and his depression was causing him to act like that.
I knew he was attempting to gaslight me.
When we were young, I was so in love with him that I saved almost every photo and text he had sent me to a OneDrive. I found all the times he had admitted to leaking private photos, infidelity, and ruining girls’ lives. I got in contact with each of the girls, making one big group chat and sending them every bit of evidence I could find.
These were then posted all over social media.
He had dreams of getting into politics. I joined every political group in our area and pretended to be interested in joining. I befriended the members and casually dropped into a conversation about how Ronnie had lied to me and verbally abused me and ruined other people’s lives… They would inquire more. I would vent and show them the mountain of evidence I had collected.
Ronnie was still unaware I had done it. He spent the night screaming and crying, about how no one liked him and he wasn’t sure why. He had lost his job. His friends and family wouldn’t speak to him, he was being publicly shamed on social media and his political group had ousted him. I finally dropped it onto him that I had done it and I was leaving.
During all this, I had secretly removed what little I had from his bank account and contacted distant relatives, and asked for a place to stay. I was leaving. He didn’t have anything left to abuse or manipulate.”
1. Let's See Who's Got The Louder Volume
“I was pooping in a public bathroom, playing a fantasy strategy game on my iPad. I heard someone walk in, so I quickly turned the volume off so I wouldn’t awkwardly bother him with the music. Well, he sits down in the next stall and turns on some sports commentary show on his phone’s speaker. So I cranked up the epic soundtrack to full volume for the remainder of my sitting. Pretty sure it was loud enough that he couldn’t hear his show, or at least it was pretty distracting. Behold my fiery rage, you pathetic caveman!”