People Contribute Their Most-Liked Revenge Story
12. Too Bad You Didn't Read The Fine Print
“I am the landlord of some apartments in the city. I sign the lease agreements, and go over the basics with tenants, although they don’t usually want me to spend hours delving into the fine print.
99% of the time, it’s a breeze, and everything is fine.
One lady, let’s call her Karen, had been paying her rent via a new bank account and new checks for the last several months.
All of a sudden, we got several chargeback fees on our account– she had put a stop payment on the checks, and closed the account. I immediately called her.
Me: ‘Hey, Karen, it looks like your checks bounced for the last few months. I just wanted to make sure everything is ok.’
Karen: ‘Oh no! I promise I’ll get this fixed.’
Me: ‘Ok. You’ve been a good tenant in the past, so I’ll give you a month.’ Needless to say, a month passed, and she didn’t pay.
So I called her again.
Me: ‘Hey, Karen, we still haven’t received payment, so I’m afraid we’ll have to file for eviction.’
Karen: ‘Oh god no, I’m an old woman, I can’t afford to be evicted. I’m trying so hard to pay! Can you give me another shot?’
Me: ‘As long as you pay before the court date, the eviction doesn’t have to go through.’
The court date arrives, and guess who hasn’t paid yet.
At court, the judge rules for a 24-hour notice to vacate. Karen, in tears, comes up to me afterward.
Karen: ‘Can you please give me another chance? I can’t afford to go anywhere else.’
Me: ‘I’m sorry, Karen, but the only way I could do that is if you paid off the debt, signed a new lease agreement, plus a first month’s rent, plus a new security deposit.
And I don’t think that’s going to happen. Goodbye.’
So I left, and I thought that was that. My maintenance guy would come in in a few days to do the inspection and clean up, and then we’d put it on the market. He shows up a few days later, and there’s a problem… they’re still there. So I call the sheriff, to schedule a set-out. A problem, though.
According to the sheriff, the 24-hour notice was no longer valid, as we had struck up a deal afterward, so the court had reversed the eviction decision. I had no recollection of having decided that this would happen.
I called the court, and they informed me that the eviction was no longer valid, as apparently, I told the sheriff that I was giving her more time, invalidating the decision, etc.
What happened was that Karen had called the sheriff, and told him that the court had reversed the decision, because of a non-existent deal. She had then called the court and told them that the sheriff could not evict her, as I had waived the notice. And she had used my words- twisting my denial of an extension into a deal.
I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I sent Karen a copy of a new lease agreement, asking for the debts, in addition to rent for a first month, and a new security deposit. Her lawyer then contacted me – yes, she had the riches to hire a lawyer, somehow – informing me that, in fact, her old lease agreement was still valid, as my ‘deal’ (you know, the one that would require a NEW lease agreement) invalidated the eviction decision.
So I filed for eviction, on the grounds that she had not paid for several months now, 5 to be exact, and therefore had invalidated her old lease agreement.
And then, I read her old lease agreement. I already know these contracts pretty well, but as I said, I don’t usually delve into the minutiae. This time, I did. We show up at court. Karen has her lawyer.
Karen is bursting, grinning like a fool, like she’s won the lottery. Her lawyer looks fairly happy as well. The judge asks me to speak.
Me: ‘I would like Karen to leave the apartments, but she is refusing, despite the fact that according to the court’s last decision, she should have left over a month ago now.’
Judge: ‘And, Miss Karen?’
Lawyer: ‘Miss Karen cannot be ejected from her home without a new notice.
Yes, she has not yet paid past due rent, however, she and the Landlord struck up a deal, giving her the time she needed to pay via verbal agreement. This deal made directly after the last court date invalidated the last decision, so Miss Karen will require a new decision, and therefore, a new notice before she can rightfully be evicted from her home. Until then, her lease agreement is still valid (insert legal crap)
Judge: ‘And Landlord? What do you have to say?’
Me: ‘Well, your honor, I have to agree.
They have made a very, very compelling argument. Karen and I did indeed make a deal, giving her the time she needed to pay.
And yes, her old lease agreement is still valid, I guess. Well, according to the terms of the still valid lease, there are some additional things that the court needs to be aware of, that I’d like to go over for clarification. I’m sure you have a copy, your honor?’
Judge: ‘Yes, I do.’
Me: ‘And you have a copy, Lawyer?’
Lawyer: ‘Yes, I do.’
Well, your honor, if you look at section 4, subsection A, on page 2, you will see that after 10 days of nonpayment, a late fee of $100 is applied. If you continue reading to subsection B, you will see that after 15 days of nonpayment, additional late fees of $10 per day are applied, until full payment is rendered.
If you continue to subsection C, you will see that failed payments necessitate a chargeback fee of $50 per failed payment.
If you will continue, your honor, to page 4, section 7, subsection F, you’ll see that if a tenant is in any way responsible for a loss of rent, including leaving an apartment in less than move-in ready condition, failed payments, or, lastly, refusal to vacate in the case of an eviction, the tenant is responsible for payment of said loss of rent, in addition to any other debts owed.
In addition, on page 8, section 14, subsection A, you’ll note that the tenant is responsible for any and all legal fees resultant from the eviction process, including attorney’s fees, such as for the attorney I hired to help me review this lease agreement.
Finally, on page 10, the last page, section 17, subsection B, you will see that the tenant is responsible for all HVAC services rendered on their unit.
As we sent in a company to fix the unit in Karen’s apartment at her request, we have the invoice here for the replacement unit- in addition to the totals for all of the fees listed.
At this point, the lawyer has gone completely pale- it’s clear that he was more concerned that I would fight the whole ‘deal’ thing, than the terms of the lease he thought he’d have to fight to keep valid.
Karen looks utterly shell-shocked, her mouth slightly agape, like a child confused by a game of peek-a-boo. The judge, meanwhile, is completely unfazed, until I hand her the invoice, alongside my maths, a spreadsheet, and a piece of paper with the total debt owed circled and highlighted at the bottom of the page. Her eyes widen to the size of her mouth, as her jaw dropped with an audible gasp.
Me: ‘As you can see, your honor, the total owed is in excess of $16,000. I will happily accept the payment in the form of a cashier’s check. I’d hate to have to charge yet another $50 fee for failed payment, should another personal check bounce.’
Judge: ‘Lawyer, do you have anything to say?’
At this point, the lawyer looks like he’s about to pass out.
Karen seems to have stopped breathing.
The judge remains silent for a moment and then collects herself.
Judge:’ I’m afraid you’ll have to address that matter of debt in a different court than this one, Landlord. We are here only to judge whether Miss Karen is to be evicted from her home today.’
Me: ‘Oh, if she wants to stay, I’d be happy to let her. As long as she agrees to continue to abide by the terms of the lease agreement, specifically those clauses outlined above.
And pays the debt owed today.’
Judge: ‘I’m going to rule for a 24-hour notice to vacate unless Miss Karen can produce payment at this moment.’
Karen sits, still, quiet, speechless even.
Her lawyer is eyeing the window, I like to think contemplating his decisions in life that led him to this point. Maybe thinking about jumping, I don’t know.
Judge: ‘Right, a 24-hour notice to vacate. And, Landlord?’
Judge: ‘You’ll want to file those charges in small claims court… or a higher court, if it exceeds the amount that you can legally pursue in small claims.’
Me: ‘Already filed, your honor.’
The case has now been resolved, and needless to say, I got a fairly significant bonus, in addition to a slight raise.”
11. I'll Tattle On Both Of You For Your Thieving Ways
“I worked at a popular, high-end clothing store while I was in graduate school (I’m an engineer).
I won’t name the brand, but it’s the sort that charges $50 for a pair of male boxer briefs, $200 for a lady’s fancy bra, $400 or more for a pair of jeans, $1,000 or more for those skinny suits that hip guys wear to their job, where the hems of their pants reveal that they’re wearing loafers without socks.
The clothes there weren’t really my style but the starting pay was two dollars higher than minimum wage and higher than most of the other, surrounding stores. This was at a rich people shopping center, where lots of people who shop there are wannabe celebrities and constant selfie-takers.
I was surprised to get hired there but was relieved that I wouldn’t have to really do customer service, as I worked only in the stock room.
I’d put out clothes on the shelves and racks before and after closing, and also arrange everything in the back to make it organized. I was also trained so that in emergency situations I could cover register if we were short-handed so that the regular associates could go on break.
I was hardly seen by customers, but I still had to wear the clothes the store sold, to promote the image of the company.
I didn’t, thankfully, have to wear the dainty little suits, but I did sport the jeans and other casual things we sold.
It was a job. I didn’t love it and I didn’t hate it. I just worked, took my pay, went to school, and went home. At least that’s the way it was for two months.
After those two months, “Jessica” began to work during the same hours as me.
She was about my age (I was 22), no more than maybe twenty-five, tops. She didn’t work in the stock room (it was just me back there, with one or two other college guys), but worked the front. She wasn’t the manager or even a supervisor, but she SWORE she was in charge of me.
She made it known to everyone, even customers, that she graduated with an associates degree in fashion marketing from FIDM.
I suppose it’s a big deal but I was thinking girl if you’re a college graduate why are you bragging about it as if it has something to do with you folding jeans and ringing people up at the register? She talked like she was fashion expert and in the ‘fashion industry,’ and would talk about the New York or Paris fashion weeks in a familiar way that implied that she just got off the plane after attending these events personally.
You know the type, the kind that talks about famous fashion designers by their first name as if they knew them.
Well, she always criticized the way I wore the jeans because I didn’t tuck in my T-shirt like the mannequin, or that I work Chuck Taylors on my feet instead of the little leather Sperry Topsiders knockoffs we sold for $300.
We were given a clothing allowance as employees.
As a stock person, I was allowed three complete outfits for free, everything from tops to underwear, to socks, and pants (but no shoes). If I wanted more and it was specifically for wearing at the store, I could mark it as a ‘uniform purchase’ and have the price deducted from my check a little at a time.
This was advantageous because they wouldn’t charge you tax for them, and charge you only a third of the retail price.
Uniform Purchase was distinctly separate from ‘Store Discount,’ for which we also received a percentage off, but it wasn’t the incredible 66% discount we got for uniform purchases.
Jessica would snicker at me when I took over register for someone, shake her head or roll her eyes at me as if I looked really ugly. I’m always thinking, whatever girl, you wannabe model you aren’t even hot and you’re not the boss, who are you? But I held my tongue.
She’d also complain if I was supposedly not fast enough in grabbing a size medium from the back because a customer is requesting the dress and all we have on the floor are smalls and larges.
She’d trash me to the customer and when I showed up would sarcastically say ‘finally!’ and turn to the customer with a ‘see what I have to put up with?’ expression.
She was especially mean if any customers got chatty with me and treated me with respect. And if those customers were female and were getting flirty with me, Jessica would be a total jerk.
The real manager, Paula (about thirty-five), had their own issues to deal with beyond petty bickering between a stockboy and an entry-level sales associate with delusions of ‘Project Runway’ grandeur. The assistant manager, another fashion industry wannabe named ‘Heather,’ was just like Jessica, but thankfully I hardly interacted with her.
According to my coworkers, Heather was just as bad as Jessica. Except, Heather had keyholder privileges which meant she was one step above being just as worthless as the rest of us. She looked to be in her late twenties.
Even though I didn’t plan on making this store my career, and even though Jessica didn’t bother me THAT much, I thought it won’t hurt to get this witch fired.
To her face, I’d just smile and act like I was following her orders happily, or didn’t mind when she would point at me rudely, or snap her fingers at me like she was calling a dog.
Jessica would always hear a directive from one of the managers, and then go around telling the other employees what to do, as if they didn’t have ears. She’d try to act as if it was HER directive.
Her coworkers who were the same ‘rank’ as her would sometimes vent to me about how Jessica acted like she was in charge when in some cases she had even less time in the company than other employees on the floor. I noticed that when I arranged clothes in back especially big-ticket, desirable clothes that were seen in magazines in our company’s advertisement campaigns, she’d ‘order’ me to set aside things in her size.
I’d do it because it’s my job to set aside things if employees want to buy them outright at a discount or put it as a uniform purchase. Whenever an employee was on the register (really, a big Ipad with a change drawer beneath), you could tap in a code and the register would show a rundown of every non-customer transaction that employees performed that day, and with a few more keystrokes, their transactions over MANY days.
The managers knew this code, of course, and I’ll assume Jessica knew the code too because Heather shared the code with her.
The code pretty much unlocked all the register’s managerial functions.
I WASN’T supposed to know the code, but I did, because there’s a mirror on the wall behind the register, and I was re-stocking paper handbags behind Heather when I saw her tap in her four-digit code.
She assumed I was stupid and didn’t understand the incredibly complex wizardry that is a two-year-old, low-end spec iPad.
I knew Jessica was getting rung up for ‘uniform purchases’ when she should have been getting rung up for the regular employee discount. She assumed that when I set aside all those expensive items for her, that I was too dumb to know what she was doing, just because I might have something of a mouth breather countenance, unfortunately.
Even if I look on the surface like a fugitive from the trailer park, something told me Jessica wasn’t going to be using $800 heels, a $500 dress, and $1200 motorcycle jacket while working at the store.
And anyway, I asked around. No one saw Jessica wearing any of the truly fancy clothes she bought at our store at what the other employees assumed was simply a regular employee discount.
I thought maybe she was being honest, too. It WAS possible, after all, because I didn’t always work with her. Maybe she wore evening dresses to work on her other shifts? Whatever, I decided to make sure.
One time when everyone was busy doing other stuff and the store had to resort to putting me on the register, I typed in Heather’s code and pulled up Jessica’s purchases.
As I suspected, she had bought thousands of dollars worth of our store’s best items but put them all as ‘uniform purchases’ and not at her regular discount.
So I swiped ‘print’ and the register switches from the regular tape to the 8.5″x11″ printer beneath the counter, and a complete rundown of all of Jessica’s purchases come out. I highlight all the most expensive items that she was charged for ‘uniform purchase’ (such as, her $1200 jacket would only be $300, and even that was tax-free and she got to pay it little by little).
I knew that my manager, Paula, wasn’t exactly a nuclear physicist and she was more interested in moving up the chain of command so that she could have a job higher than store manager in the company. So as long as her store’s sales numbers looked good, she didn’t care what her assistant Heather did. Except, if it was a violation of company policy that might reflect badly on her.
I knew Heather was in on Jessica’s scam because you’re not allowed to ring yourself up at the store, you have to have someone else do it, and none of the other associates would want to conspire with her for fear of getting fired or worse.
To make sure, I printed HEATHER’s purchase history too. I didn’t see Heather as often as I saw Jessica, but I could also see really glaring red flags on her purchase report.
Like, she bought a $900 nightclub dress as a uniform purchase, which I’m quite sure she never wore to work. I did the same highlighting on suspicious items as I did with Jessica’s.
Then, because none of this was REALLY my business, I was just a part-time butthole who worked in the stockroom, after all, I waited for the most fun opportunity to lower the boom. Jessica got on the little Bluetooth earpiece that she wears on the sales floor that she thinks makes her look like a VIP, and says, ‘OP, I’m going to need XXX in a size small, customer waiting, get the lead out.’ So I bring the item, and Jessica says I’m ‘not passing muster.’ I thought wow Jessica you sounded really 1940s there, you wannabe pinup girl LOL.
After the customer leaves, Jessica says, ‘I’m going to need you to go on a trash run and sweep out the receiving bay. And I need you to cover Annie’s lunch.’ I laugh and tell her, ‘Who died and made you supervisor, you freaking burnout?’ She looks like she was the goddamned Crypt Keeper for a second and that she wanted to punch me, before she remembered that I’m 6’2″ and outweigh her by a hundred pounds.
She hisses, ‘You are SO fired, you freaking geek. Heather’s going to hear about this.’ I tell her, ‘Screw you, I’m going to lunch.’ And I clock out and leave.
When I come back, I see Jessica immediately get on her little earpiece.
Before I even reach the stock room, Heather is there, and the manager Paula intercepts me.
Paula says to a nearby worker, ‘Annie, can you cover register? We have an urgent matter to deal with.’
I know I’m supposed to be fired, which is why, during my lunch, I went to the copy place and made PDF scans of the printouts I made for Jessica and Heather.
I had all the corporate bigshots’ emails. They were in the new hire handbook all of us get when we start working. I saved a draft to each but didn’t hit SEND yet.
I had the printouts as attachments. In the BODY of my email, I described exactly what had been going on. I did send ONE email. And that was to Paula the manager, herself. But I didn’t press SEND until we were on our way to the employee break room.
Paula tells me, ‘OP, Heather sent me a text that says you were verbally abusive to Jessica. Heather herself says that Jessica has complained to her on numerous occasions that you are a substandard employee, and only Heather’s own, personal kindness has prevented her, as your supervisor, from presenting your name to me for termination. I came in myself, on my day off I might add, to see if you have anything to say in order to save your job.’
It’s been a couple of years so of course, that can’t be exactly what she said, but it was something typical and rehearsed and faux-professional that any low-level boss would say when trying to sound important.
I said I didn’t have anything to say in my defense, and that in fact, I quit. Jessica and Heather looked surprised, but then Jessica started smiling. She had won, she thought.
Paula looked disappointed, and said, ‘I’m very sorry to hear you say that.
At least for me, you’ve always done your job well. You may collect your last–‘ ‘Oh, but before I go, I think you should look at these printouts.
I know you don’t spend a lot of time studying this stuff, but I thought you might find it interesting. It’s the last three months of Jessica’s and Heather’s employee purchases. Notice how they always ring each other up and notice all that stuff they’re claiming to use as uniforms. Thousand dollar evening dresses? Stiletto heels? Fascinating… Anyway, if you have any trouble understanding it, I explained it in an email I sent to your cellphone.
You should have it already if you check. I have the same email ready to go to Dan and Pam and Kimberly and Victor and Kevin because I thought they’d get a kick out of it, too, but I haven’t sent it in yet. I was hoping you could look it over and email me back when you’re ready, I mean if you want me to edit anything.
After all, you ARE the manager, and I assumed you had your suspicions about these two disgusting THIEVES already since it’s your job to keep on top of things.’ I turned to Heather.
‘I borrowed your code. You know, the same one you loaned to Jessica. Hope you don’t mind. Later!’ Then I got up and left.
I had the pleasure of seeing Jessica’s and Heather’s smug expressions melt instantly to one of ‘ooooohhhhhhhh, crap…’ Later that afternoon, my phone was ringing.
It was Paula. She was practically crying, she at least sounds like she’s sobbing while she pleads, ‘OP, please, please don’t send those emails, I’ve fired Heather and Jessica. They’re DONE. And please don’t quit. What can I do to make this right? Please, OP, remember I was always nice to you, please don’t tell anyone about–‘ She’s right.
I have no beef with her. She HAS always been nice to me.
I’m kind of embarrassed. I tell Paula to relax, I’m not a snitch (against cool people, anyway) and not a blackmailer and I’m not out for her blood. ‘I already quit. And I’m keeping my mouth shut.’
A few days later, I showed up for my final check. I learned from one of the sales associates that corporate Loss Prevention was called in (our corporate office is only a few miles from the retail location) to interview both Heather and Jessica about their fraud.
Paula had used all her political and managerial dexterity to frame the situation in such a way that made it look as if she, as a responsible and observant manager, had discovered the employee dishonesty.
The narrative worked.
In lieu of arrest and heavy fines for what amounted to outright grand larceny, Jessica and Heather were simply fired, blacklisted from the store, and due to the store’s prominence, to say nothing of the cross-company word of mouth, blacklisted from working at any other prestigious fashion brands.
They were, of course, unable to use the company as a reference, and due to being fired for cause, could not file for unemployment.
Jessica’s fantasy of being a major player for ANY fashion label in any capacity is deader than Lenin. Paula was actually in the store that day and practically ran to me, hugging me to thank me for ‘keeping this scandal at a store level.
It’s been handled, I SWEAR.’ I told her no problem. What I didn’t tell her was that I never did delete those drafts. She offered me an incentive of free merchandise and again asked me to reconsider coming back as a stock person, even a sales associate. No thanks.
I’m going to look awfully silly in those dainty little suits at my super cool new job of working at Sizzler.
Same salary. Lateral career move LOL. It all ended okay. Paula ended up rising in the company so that she later found a desk at their head office. A year after the whole debacle I finished my degree, had a short stint as the night manager of Sizzler, but now I’m doing what I really want to do.
Except now at my job, guess what we have to wear.
Yeah. Dainty little suits. I wear socks, though.
The need for something nice to wear to work led me back to my old store where Paula was once manager. She didn’t work there anymore, but one phone call from a sales associate to her office (because I said I knew her) led to a nice chat and three suits at a generous discount. I refused to take at least one absolutely free, even though she offered.
That’s how I found out about her rise in the company.
She also told me that it came to light that Jessica and Heather had actually been reselling a lot of the clothes on eBay, at a markdown from the store but still at a huge profit for themselves.
The store found out because they offered to prosecute the two women less if they could return the items.
But too late, they admitted the items were resold at an online auction. Both Jessica and Heather were slapped with huge fines to avoid big girl jail. Paula and I are now social media friends. Those old email drafts? Deleted. I would have never torpedoed Heather and Jessica if they just left me alone to do my job in peace, and didn’t try to feel big and important at my expense.
I would have left them to live in their self-medicating lies, live and let live.
Other than some difficult customers, people like Heather and Jessica are what make working retail such a nightmare for so many. And that’s why I feel no guilt about destroying them. I’m sure Jessica had lots to talk about at that year’s Milan Fashion Week.”
Another User Comments:
“Great story. Decent co-workers can make crappy jobs bearable. Crappy co-workers can turn a dream gig into a nightmare.” Catacombs3
10. Kick My Sister-In-Law Out For Coming Out? I'll Force You To Sell Your House
“My sister-in-law came out as a trans woman when she was 18. My wonderful in-laws kicked her out of the house then and there. They told her to leave the house and threw her out at 8 PM with no dollars or even any documents and her father took the car keys from her too. She had to walk 8 miles to get to our place.
She was crying and we took her in.
This is horrible behavior but my husband and I would have just cut them off if it was all they did but they doubled down. They refused to hand over any of the documents and my brother-in-law had to go over and barge into their house to get them. They also cleaned up all the bills in a joint account; she had saved up 8K working part-time all through high school.
They took the bills and also sold her car which was in their name. They were trying to ruin her life as much as they could.
My father-in-law is a small-time businessman and his biggest account was supplying my employer. I had helped him get the contract and it was very lucrative for him. My employer was a family business and they treated long-term employees more like family than as employees.
I was talking to my boss about what happened. He told me that if I could find someone within 5% range of the price my father-in-law offered, they would make the switch. My father-in-law offered us really great rates, he was very good at his job but he had screwed up the contract because even though we always brought from him, we weren’t obligated to buy from him; we could switch suppliers anytime, but he got complacent and assumed we wouldn’t switch suppliers.
It took me six months of painful searching to find a supplier who could replace him and get us great rates. This was not a major part of my duties and I had to put in way more hours than normal to find the dang supplier, but when I did find them, I waited for a month before informing my boss. See, my in-laws had been planning to do a major renovation for a long time and it involved tearing down a major portion of their house.
I waited until the renovation work had truly started before informing my boss.
We started to get supplies from the new supplier the next month itself. It crushed his business. It screwed his unit economics and he had to scramble to find new customers. They ended having to sell their house to save the business and they didn’t get a good rate for it because the house was well half torn down when they sold it.
My in-laws did try to get bucks from my brother-in-law, but he told them to screw off.
My father-in-law is a decent businessman and he did crawl his way out of the hole they dug for themselves, but even 8 years later, they still haven’t bought a new house. I have heard they are still sour about what happened. I mean, I was just doing my job, and if they hadn’t just kicked her out, they would still have the house.”
9. Boot Me Out So You Can Move Him In? I Have A Creative Way Of Moving Out
This guy is a genius.
“I did this to an ex who asked me to move out while she was on a work trip and told me she was coming back with her new man. We were still together when she left.
I got these little noisemakers, battery-powered ones the size of a quarter that emit sounds at just the right volume that you aren’t sure if you really heard it, so quiet that two people could be sitting in an average-sized room, and while one can barely hear it, the other wouldn’t hear a thing.
They last ages and fit perfectly in light fixtures and in wall outlets. I got a box of 20 of them for like $100 on eBay and got so creative all over the house, her car, I even hid them in a boat her father got her (rich family and she grew up sailing).
Now, these little things make a noise at completely random intervals, could be minutes, could be hours, could take a whole day off.
They cycle noises like children laughing, a “dying breath” as they called it, a whistle, scratching noises, some other ones I can’t remember, but you get the idea. It was so unpredictable; it was near impossible for someone to just figure it out.
Months go by, I get a new place, get my life back up. Now we had a few friends in common and one of them I kept up with.
They were kinda sour about how she ended things, but they had grown up together and kept up the friendship, loosely talking and catching up on occasion. I never really asked about her, but one day we get to talking and he’s wanting to prank some friends on a camping trip so I tell him about the noisemakers.
As I’m telling him about them he slowly starts making this face, like he’s gradually losing his crap.
He’s got this huge grin on his face and asks me, “You put these in ex’s house didn’t you!?” And when I admit it, he starts laughing hysterically.
Turns out, her new man had only lasted a few months and had left telling her that he couldn’t handle whatever was going on with them and their mental states. Turns out for a while, they had both heard things and sometimes only one would hear them, which gave the illusion that something really screwed with them was going on in their heads at different times.
They couldn’t figure it out and eventually, he wanted out completely and having run down all the crazy list of crap people who are hearing voices would think ended it believing he had been infected with some brain worm the government was putting in injections or something like that.
It was amazing. I hadn’t expected to hear anything about it. I rode that train for weeks. When it went away, I got another hit of that high.
She moved out, told her parents she didn’t want the house, and to give it to her brother or sell it. Wouldn’t tell them why.
I always tell people who ask about her that I hold no grudge and don’t tell them the part where I totally screwed with her so bad I overshot the “got her back” stage and hit the blissful state of satisfaction with my work.
My wife knows this story by heart because it’s her favorite one to tell.”
8. Turn Into A Horrible Wife? I'll Give You A Legal Piledriver
A little nail to the coffin goes a long way.
“I, being in the U.S. Army, became attracted to a woman who I end up marrying. At first, she’s all I could ever ask for in a woman. Sweet, caring, one heck of a cuddler. Doesn’t really like video games like I do, but makes an effort to get into them so we can spend time together doing something we both enjoy.
Let’s call her Sheila. I met Sheila through one of the other soldiers I worked with, who we will call BB (Battle Buddy) since he was not at fault in this. It was in the middle of the week, and I had just gotten a work order finished up and was taking a quick break for a drink of water.
I heard BB asking a few other soldiers if they were open for a date for this coming weekend.
Long story short, BB had a female friend who was looking for a date for a movie that coming weekend. I offered to go with his friend (BIG mistake), and she and I hit it off rather well and continued to see each other. Months pass, it hasn’t been enough time for me to consider marriage yet, but she has some spontaneous ailments (seizures and they were legit) spring up out of nowhere.
Since these only seemed to happen in her sleep, and my command wouldn’t let me stay off-post with her without being married… LIGHTBULB!
We got a courtroom wedding 2 weeks later. The added bonus? Not only could I stay with her while she slept to be ready in case of another episode, but my Tricare would fully cover her medical costs.
I was happy, she was happy, I got to tell my command, ‘Now you can’t stop me from staying with her,’ and we all lived happily ever after.
Except we didn’t. Things went well for a while, but after a bit, I started noticing things. Things like her needing to take her mother to the doctor’s office quite frequently (her mother was sickly, so I didn’t think much of it at first), or needing to head to the Walmart 1 town over because the one in our town didn’t have what she needed in stock.
Things like the car I bought and let her use was seen parked in a lot next to several different trailer parks in a month.
Well, as luck would have it, right as I started to get suspicious, I had to go to Korea.
So, sidelining the investigation until I was able to continue, I packed, kissed my wife goodbye, and let the Army send me where they wanted me.
I spent a year in Korea, then came down on orders for Texas. I went there. It was there that I found out exactly what was going on, courtesy of her mom, brother, and her aunt and uncle.
This woman was hooking up with multiple (not even kidding in the slightest) different men, most of them soldiers. Her excuse to her family was, “Frizzmaster (me) is gay, and doesn’t want to come out.
So, he’s pointing out the men I can sleep with since he knows that they’re clean.”
So, basically, this woman is using me as a paycheck and meal ticket and sleeping with everything with a pulse that happens to be male.
The icing on the cake is that 2 weeks after I get the good news, she calls me and confesses to being unfaithful to me – once.
The only reason she confessed? She was pregnant, and there was no way I could be the father, given that I was in a different state at the time….and the father was African American.
I am very much not African American, having been called ‘neon white’ on more than one occasion due to my Irish ancestry. So, there was no possible way this child would look like me, at all.
So, my wife felt the need to break the news to me before she had the baby because she could no longer hide it.
Well, things happened, I went back home (without her knowing) and removed my belongings from the house I bought, to keep her from selling them once she realized what I was about to do.
I started divorce proceedings.
This is revenge #1. I saw her PARTNER (not the baby’s father, new guy entirely) driving my car.
So, I enlisted the help of her aunt and uncle to get my car back. They pulled up behind him in a parking lot, got out and talked to him normally, at which time I waked up from the other side of the parking lot. Her uncle asked to see the keys, and upon receiving them, began taking the car key off of the ring, and waved me forward.
I walked up, took the car key from him, looked at the guy, and said, ‘Hi, my name is Frizzmaster, and this is my car. I’m taking it now.’ I waved him over to the sidewalk, removed everything from the car that didn’t have my name on it, left the items with him, then got in my car and drove off.
I found out later that day that he had packed everything and left her.
Apparently, he had been living in my house, eating my food, sleeping in my bed, and WEARING MY CLOTHES. Plus, she had been using the dollars I sent her every month to pay for his court costs and child support costs.
Well, months went by, our court date came up, and my lawyer recommended that I file for the sole use of the vehicle and the property since it was obvious that she had committed adultery and didn’t have a leg to stand on.
We go to court, she counter-files for the exact same, and since she refused to release the results of a paternity test, I get stonewalled.
The exact words used by the judge were, ‘I’m sorry, but without proof of paternity of the child, I cannot, in good conscience, approve either of these motions.’
So, we set a new date for a private hearing with the judge, and we wait.
Nearly 3 months go by, and the court date was finally near. I walked into the courthouse, met up with my lawyer (who had a demonic glint in his eye at the time, and I was about to find out why), went into the courtroom, and waited. 20 minutes later, Sheila walked in, shot me a dirty look (which I did my best to ignore), and sat down.
The judge came in 5 minutes later, the court was called to order, and the divorce trial commenced.
Here, I found out just what had given my lawyer the twinkle in his eye earlier on. He proceeded to ask Sheila a series of questions, including:
“Is my client the father of your child?”
“When was the child conceived?”
“Where was my client during the time at which your child was conceived?”
“Do you know who the father of your child is?”
“Have you received child support from the father of your child?”
Basically, he questioned her into a legal corner in which she either had to answer truthfully or lie and suffer the legal ramifications of perjury in the face of easily provable evidence.
She answered truthfully (lucky for her), and the court case continued. She presented her argument, littered with dirt she was trying to throw at me, insults to my person, questions about my orientation, and claims that I was having a relationship with her 18-year-old cousin.
I, falling back on my military training, simply sat up straight, folded my hands in front of me on the table, and stared at a spot on the wall slightly above the judges’ left shoulder.
I answered every question asked of me, offered no personal opinions, threw no dirt, and refused to sink to her level and question her preferences. Subsequently, she had a more and more confused look on her face as I refrained from bad-mouthing her like she was doing me, and the divorce trial went by rather fast.
At the conclusion of the trial, the judge looked over the paperwork submitted one last time, then looked to the both of us.
‘Are there any closing remarks or claims that need to be made?’ Sheila made one last parting swipe about me currently living with her aunt and uncle (I had rented my own apartment months ago, after finishing my military time and going back home), and I merely shook my head and resumed staring at the wall.
The judge took one last look over the papers, set them down, and spoke the greatest words I have ever heard in my life.
“Well, looking over the evidence and testimonies presented, there really is only one decision I can come to. Mr. Frizzmaster, I am approving your motions for the exclusive use of the vehicle and property, upon undeniable evidence of adultery. Mrs. Frizzmaster, the only one of your motions I am granting today is your request for a no-contact order, and that is more for Mr. Frizzmaster’s benefit than your own.
You seemed very combative and willing to cause him legal damage that he was not due, and your repeated attempts to over-talk me while I was reviewing the paperwork did not speak well of you.
You no longer have a claim to either the property or the vehicle, and will not contact Mr. Frizzmaster unless it is to have him clarify which items do not belong to you.”
Sheila had the audacity to work up a sniffle and ask the judge, “B…bbb…bbbut where do I go? What do I do for a place to live?”
The judge looked back at her and replied: ‘Well, Mrs. Frizzmaster, you have 30 days to figure that out, after which you will not set foot on that property again, or else you will be held in contempt of court.”
Another User Comments:
“You should record a youtube video of you reciting this monologue. It should be on the mandatory annual online training list.” Reddit user
7. Flirt With My Man In My Own House? Enjoy A Not-So-Comfortable Stay
“A while ago, one girl that was my roommate’s and partner’s friend was going to stay over off and on over the next month. But then she decided to move in on the couch (with my roommate and partner’s approval without me knowing), which I wasn’t happy with from the get-go, but oh well. She was going through hard times, and I was trying to be nice even though I thought she was being sketchy.
What annoyed me too was that she wanted my two cats to stay locked up in my bedroom cause she was allergic. They love the couches (they got cleaned I guess beforehand) and not being confined. They would get restless during the day and night and act out once in a while.
Well, I went through something traumatic (almost died) and wasn’t doing well. While I was in my bedroom that night, I came back from the hospital, and I could hear her flirting with my partner in the kitchen while he was getting me water.
Now I wasn’t in a sound mind, and I was angry beyond belief. So while they were gone the next day, I let my cats out and let them sleep on the couch. She’s not deathly allergic, just an annoying sneeze, watery eyes, stuffy nose, etc.
Let’s just say that although hearing people walking up and blowing their nose all night is annoying, but that made me extremely happy.
She left soon after. Not cause of the cats. But because she proved herself to be a lying, little witch and was trying to pit my man and roommate against each other.
I didn’t realize I needed to add so much detail…
So anyways regarding a lot of comments:
-I did confront my man. We had a big fight, and now we’re broken up.
-I confronted my roommate that I was uncomfortable with her there, and he kicked her out.
But also we were talking about what she was doing, and he realized she was feeding him lies about my man that made him not wanna be around my man, which caused tension.
-She was laid off work and couldn’t afford her rent anymore; that’s why I was trying to cut her slack. I think she moved in with her parents.
-The flirting: From what I heard (the walls are thin as crap here, so it’s not hard to overhear someone talking in the living room), she would laugh/giggle at every mundane thing he said.
Complemented his appearance and how nice he looked (multiple times); I assume she was showing him pics of her on her phone based on her saying, “Do I look good in this?” followed by, “Yea, I got the bikini on sale; it was a little small” or some crap along the lines of that. And something about, “We should definitely go (somewhere) sometime,” just them two. She also made sure he knew she was single. From my roommate’s side, he was told “he’s not my type, but I wouldn’t be upset if something happened…” and she would ask a lot of questions about my man. My roommate didn’t tell me this till after he kicked her out and I talked to him about it when I confronted him.”
6. Dealing With A Nightmare Boss
“So after finishing a design program in school, I quit my temp job in financial services and started to focus on design.
A couple of friends were at a small events company that also had their own TV show, a video game, and lifestyle TV show, and they needed someone to help out on the show and do some of the other design work around the studio so that they could focus on pre-production.
Sounded amazing, so I went into their offices sat with them for a chat and started the same day.
At first, all was good. The boss seemed okay. He asked me to get a coffee with him (Let’s call him Drake) and kind of probed my background. I went to film school, worked as a camera assist and dop for a while before switching my focus to motion design and 3D.
This set off a lightbulb in his head and had me doing pre-production on the show. I brought in a friend to help produce and everything went forward.
I worked on the show for about a year and a half, the show itself was fun, I got flown to E3, PAX and pretty much every major local gaming and cosplay expo. Worked with a bunch of famous cosplayers and minor expo celebrities and had a great time doing it.
But during all this, I saw Drake slowly push me making jokes about me and the producer, inappropriate comments about our personal lives, angry outbursts for no real reason, the inability to reason or compromise, and later, saw how dodgy the business was.
Getting quotes from suppliers and then in the middle of the project calling and demanding they lower their quote or not be paid. Making behind the scenes deals with sponsors of the show to take marketing budgets put it into the show but then split the bucks with the marketing manager who made the deal, taking prizes that were intended as giveaways for the show and just selling the product on eBay to line his pockets.
All the while, I figured, I’ve been here a while, I see him burn people every day, but surely it won’t happen to me. He owes me more than that. I’m making this show for him, did the title sequence, the graphics package, secured sponsors, organized social media, shot the show, edited, mastered and delivered.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Things started getting worse, a bunch of big events were happening, and in addition to the show, I had to help out with the events work, I was burnt out but had a trip coming up, so had to stick it out until it was all paid for and over.
I had already decided I was going to leave for my trip and not return to the company. In the weeks before my leave, the major event happened and during the event, something with some location audio went wrong, it didn’t really have anything to do with me, but he grabbed me by the collar and told me if I didn’t fix it he would kill me.
That was my ‘whoa’ moment. This guy is actually a sociopath. I figured I needed to take some precautions to protect myself as I still had a week until I’d be leaving and then I was out. I started by packing all of my gear at the studio and getting it out of there. Each day I’d stay back late and pack as much as I could.
By this point, the whole show was operating on my equipment, my camera, my lenses, my sound equipment, my raids, my software licenses. So I got that all out. I then backed up every piece of correspondence I had from him, all my invoice emails, any requests in writing, any receipts, etc.
I got my last invoice in, and let him know that I was off and would see him when I got back (again no plans of going back, but best to keep that from him until my invoices were paid out).
On the day of my flight, he called me five or six times asking about footage from the major event. It was all stored on my drive but wasn’t scheduled to be cut down until well after my return. This was an insurance policy. Technically I signed no contract with him, so I owned that footage. I called him and said it’s not scheduled to be cut down yet, but it’s on the server, knowing he wouldn’t know how to check that anyway.
A week into my trip, I sent an email asking why my invoices hadn’t been paid yet. I had previously asked that they are prioritized given my holiday, and he agreed. I was met with an email from the troll he hired as an ‘events coordinator’ but really she was just the receptionist with a fancy title.
She stated that there was an ongoing police investigation, as I had clearly robbed the office before leaving.
All of the equipment was missing, drives, footage erased from the server (not true), etc. She included a police event number and said if I didn’t return all equipment and pay the company $5,000.00, they would be pressing charges against me. I laughed and fired back that all of the missing equipment is mine, but I’m happy to look over any receipts they have for it.
I immediately called the police and gave the officer the event number and asked what was going on. She explained that a woman (the office troll) came in and made claims that I had stolen from the business but had no evidence and was advised she would need to provide proof, but never returned to do so.
I told her about them demanding I pay up $5,000.00 or they’d press charges.
The police officer took a statement from me in case it went further as this was a clear case of extortion.
I just wanted out, and they were willing to go to these lengths to weasel me out of the salary I earned killing myself for them? I was angry, to say the least. And I knew enough about their business to destroy them.
Step 1, I immediately sent my unpaid invoices to a collections agency.
They straight away fired off a letter of demand, which informed Drake of my desire to seek the unpaid invoices as well as legal costs should it come to that via the legal system.
I got all of those backed-up emails together, that prove I was working on the days I invoiced them, and since my invoices are itemized by project, those emails should match with the specific projects I was working on.
Step 2, I start hitting him where it hurts. For starters their only software licenses were mine. Prior to my arrival, they were operating entirely on pirated software. I didn’t touch any of their software while doing work for them. 3D was handled on my own machines. We started doing post in the creative cloud and I left their pirated FCP licenses alone. So aside from uninstalling my own software and plugins from their machines, everything was back to the way it was before I left.
So I reported his company to the BSA (The Software Alliance) and was surprised when I heard back immediately. Drake was running 5 or so edit suites with pirated copies of Creative Suite, FCP, Microsoft Office, Maya, 3DS Max, etc. A lot of expensive software. The guy who emailed me back asked if he could call me and basically told me that they often have no way of knowing if a company is using pirated software so they really rely on tips such as mine to go after companies.
I forwarded him emails where I had advised Drake that we needed a specific piece of software and the cost involved and his responses where he would CC me in and ask the ‘IT guy’ to pirate the software.
This was pretty much all they needed to fully implicate Drake. The guy then asked me to let them know how many computers were in the office and I provided him with a map of Drake’s office, with locations for each computer and the server, and a list of all software on each machine.
Really easy to get this as I still had access to their servers and could remote into each computer.
Step 3, I discredit the business. I put out some business reviews on Google so that people would know what kind of shady operation Drake is running. I filed a copyright claim against their showreel since the entire reel was made up of projects I did for them and I never signed over those rights.
I commandeered a web player service they were using to host and monetize the TV show and removed each episode and deleted the account. I took over their Twitter page and posted info about how the company would rip off clients. I emailed a couple of major games expo’s who he had partnered with for both the events and TV show and let them know about how he would regularly have me alter footage to make it appear as though he was delivering on contractual obligations, (comp in twitch.tv logos to make it seem like he was live streaming events, add banners where there weren’t any, etc.).
Minor things, but things these companies were paying him to do. I even adjusted the “About Me” part of the website.
And it wasn’t very flattering.
Now I still had a friend working there, so I was informed of every reaction. Every time he shouted my name in anger I knew about it. The BSA fined him over $60,000. When Drake heard the news, he threw his iPhone against the glass wall in his office smashing it.
I received a very nice reward for turning him in. He held out on paying my invoices until the very end sending threatening emails the whole time and demanding that I pay him bucks for the trouble I’ve put him through. It went to court, I didn’t need to attend. I won the entirety of my invoices as well as the cost of taking him to court.
He basically paid for me to sue him.
That year was the last year for the show, likely had trouble getting sponsors after I emailed all of them about the way he was selling prizes on eBay and sent them a link to his eBay store page. He also no longer had involvement in some of the major gaming expos he’d previously done events work for, – those two losses would have cost him a few hundred grand a year.
The page on the website was up for months, when he found it, he again smashed his phone, this time though, he didn’t have a glass wall to break, as he had to move out of the very nice office with water views to a small crappy office in a strip mall.
I think he was having financial difficulties.
It was on this night that he called me intoxicated and threatened to kill me.
I celebrated his call by deleting all of the footage I had taken of that major event, the budget for the event was over a million dollars, and a lot of that footage was the only proof he had even done the event. Five camera operator’s footage, crane footage, drone footage of the venue, all recorded sound from mics, all gone. Knowing he’d never be able to get that back was great. Plus his threatening phone call along with the extortion attempts that were on file were enough to get a restraining order put out against him, and I cannot wait until he inevitably messes up and tries to do something again.”
5. Bully Learns Not To Mess With My Car
“When I was in high school, my first car was a cheap little Geo that I’d bought with change I’d saved working my butt off at the neighborhood pizza joint.
Obviously, it was nothing special, but it was mine and I was proud of it.
I lived in a very affluent suburb in the Midwest at the time though, and a majority of my peers drove much nicer cars — either daddy’s BMW or a BMW daddy bought for them.
I was a junior at the time, and there were a handful of bullies (seniors) who decided that because I drove a dated, inexpensive car, I deserved to be subjected to constant ridicule and harassment.
I was constantly being called ‘poor’ and laughed at for driving ‘such a cheap piece of crap.’ In reality, my family was actually decently well off.
My parents could’ve bought me a brand new Mercedes if they’d wanted, but they came from nothing and wanted me to earn my first car.
Let’s call the leader of this bullying group Tad. Tad was utterly obnoxious to almost everyone around him, but usually got away with it because he was A) attractive, B) a straight-A student, and C) a talented player on every sports team our high school offered.
The whole conflict started one day after school. I was in my little Geo, in the line of cars waiting to leave the parking lot.
Tad was in front of me, in his Audi A4.
When we were nearing the parking lot exit, Tad stopped to lean out the window and chat to some of his friends. I had to work at the pizzeria that day and was in a hurry, so being impatient, I sped around him. Tad must’ve interpreted my passing him as some sort of hostile affront to his ego, and sped up behind me.
After finally turning onto the main road, he stayed right on my bumper and followed me to work. When I got out of my car, he leaned out the window and called me some names. I ignored him and went into work.
When I got out of work 4 hours later, I found both of my mirrors broken. I didn’t have proof, but I knew it was Tad.
Luckily, my parents felt bad for me and paid for me to have them fixed that week.
Next week, however, came the straw that broke the camel’s back.
It was a Friday and I’d stayed late after school working on a history paper in the school library. I happened to get out right after the lacrosse team had finished up practice. When I came out to the parking lot, I saw Tad standing next to my car.
What was he doing? Taking a pee on the driver’s side door. Filled with rage, I ran after him but he managed to get to his car and peel out of the parking lot.
At home, feeling defeated as I washed his pee off my car, I decided revenge was in order. I didn’t know how, yet, but I knew an opportunity would come. And it did.
Two weeks later, word had spread around the school that this senior named Doug was having a big party the coming weekend. Doug was incredibly popular, and I knew Tad would be there. I also happened to know Tad would be driving his Audi there.
And I knew where Doug lived, and that most of the people, Tad included, would be staying the night.
I enrolled the help of my two closest friends, Ben, and Josh who both hated Tad just as much as I did, though for different reasons, and they were more than eager to lend their ‘help’ when I told them my scheme.
The night of the party, we waited until 4 AM when we knew the party would be dead and everyone would be sleeping. We showed up wearing all dark clothes and plastic gloves. We found Tad’s car, and much to our amazement (and glee), he’d left it unlocked.
We opened the doors and quietly went to work, trying to keep from laughing too loudly.
First, I peed into the air vents.
I got out, and Josh peed all over the leather driver’s seat. Then, it was Ben’s turn. Now, let me tell you, Ben is a disgusting human being. He’s a loud, funny guy, all smiles and laughter, but he’s also just gross. Constantly belching and farting. And it always smells so, so rancid when he does. He’s the type of dude who takes pride in that.
Ben pulls down his pants, and whispers, ‘I wonder if he’ll be able to tell I had Chinese food,’ squats next to the car, and proceeds to take a poop into his gloved hand.
The smell is immediately overwhelming and horrifyingly gruesome. It’s so potent you can taste it. Josh and I gag right away, frantically pulling our shirts over our noses and retreating from Ben’s vicinity.
Josh can’t take it, runs over to a tree, and pukes his guts out. Ben laughs and says, ‘Oh my god that is SICK, sorry!’ While we’re watching from a distance in both horror and amusement, Ben takes his warm gift and just starts smearing it everywhere.
All over the door handles, the steering wheel, the air vents, the radio knobs… He eventually starts gagging and coughing and retreats himself, but not before wiping himself with the lacrosse jersey Tad had left in the back seat.
We couldn’t stop laughing on the walk back to Josh’s house.
The following Monday there were a lot of whispers going around the school. Here’s what I eventually learned happened:
The morning after the party, Tad discovered the nightmare in his Audi, in front of everyone else who was leaving.
He went into a rage, but apparently, almost everyone thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.
When Tad’s parents discovered what happened to the car they’d purchased for their son, they also discovered Tad had been to a party and had been drinking. I guess his parents were not cool with it – they took away his car for the rest of the year and Tad was told he had to ride the bus for the remainder of the year.
His parents eventually gave him the car back several months later, but no one wanted to ride in “The poopmobile” because of what happened, and because he never got the smell completely out. Tad’s bullying surprisingly died down a bit after that. He didn’t mess with my car again.”
4. Steal My Husky Puppy? I'll Make You Lose Your Job
“I adopted a full-breed husky in the Pacific Northwest.
We named him Toby but after a while, he developed the name Real Big Toby. He wasn’t a huge husky or malamute but boy did he look beautiful and boy was his personality ‘really big.’ He had one blue eye and one brown eye which never failed to trip people out. On top of that, he was a huge ham, loved attention and would actually talk to you about how his day was going.
It got to the point where it was kind of stupid to put him on a leash. I would tell him to stay when I went into class for example, and he’d be passed out or getting the chicks to scratch his belly when I came out.
Every time. The dean of the college even knew him on a first-name basis and started to bring his dog into work after watching Real Big Toby do his thing.
At the time I lived in a mountain town, attended college and was an avid mountain biker so having a dog that would happily and easily do 30 miles in a day was cool. He would follow us everywhere we went. My mountain bike was my only source of transportation so we became very in tune with one another. He was a husky, after all, so you could tell when he ran that this was exactly what he was born to do.
Toby was such a super good boy. He listened, paid attention, and never left my side. He had a seat designated for him on the deck at the local coffee shop which meant you had to walk by him and try to resist giving him a scratch if you wanted to go inside. It got to the point where just about everyone in this fairly small town got to know Toby on a first-name basis.
Every once in a while on mountain bike runs we would get separated or Toby would just get sidetracked on the way down the hill. It was such a small town that, in the few times it happened, he was back with me by the end of the day.
The police all knew him from around town, the pound knew him so if anyone called they’d just give them my number.
One day it happened again. He got lost on the way down the hill. Only this time, he didn’t come back. No call. Nothing. For days. It got to the point where I started asking around town. If you’ve ever lived in a small town you know it’s hard to keep a secret. After about a week, a friend says he saw Toby and tracked the guy down and gave him my number.
He never called. After searching, trying to find this guy I finally got a breakthrough.
He worked at the college!
Now, I am aware of how stupid people can be when they receive an animal. Toby was RIPPED. You could see his muscles bulging out of his fur. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him because he was in excellent shape. I fed him mostly a raw diet and what kibble he did get was the best you could buy.
The first thing out of this guy’s mouth was to tell me that he’s keeping my dog. ‘You don’t take care of him. You don’t even feed him and he’s such a good dog. He will be better off with me,’ he said.
I became enraged.
Well, as I mentioned, he worked at the school I attended. I also mentioned the Dean hammed it up with Toby on a nearly daily basis.
I didn’t mention I had the Dean’s home number, though so a call Saturday morning resulted in Toby being returned to me later that day. This guy had the nerve to, along with Toby, bring me a 50lb bag of the crappiest store brand of dog food you could buy. ‘I bought you this so you could feed him.’ Rage.
Come to find out this guy was in charge of a research project for the school.
It was very easy to figure out where his office was. I went to his office with a plan for returning his food and chewing him out in front of his colleagues. He wasn’t at his desk so I did the most natural thing I could possibly do… I turned the 50lb bag of dog food upside down on his desk, computer, and stacks of papers to the point where it formed a perfect mountain on top of his keyboard.
Truly an awesome sight.
Knowing loose lips sink ships, I didn’t tell anyone but my close friends. The school brought misconduct charges against me.
The hearing was in front of a board of other students and staff and well ‘I don’t know what happened to the bag of dog food. I was telling the story to a bunch of guys and one of them asked me for the bag.
That’s the last I saw it. All charges were dropped.
The butthole that tried to steal Real Big Toby had it much much worse. 50 freaking pounds of dog food on top of your research project, as it turns out, doesn’t bode well with management. For reasons unknown, 2 days later he was fired from the college.
Not only did they fire him but put a restraining order on him and had to change the locks to the building.”
3. Sometimes The Truth Hurts... So I'm Gonna Tell You Anyway
“Ever since I can remember I have been completely and utterly under the thumb of my father.
All of us have been, us being me, my younger brother, little sister and my mother. My father is a raging jerk. A male chauvinist, over-the-top macho type of guy. And I’ve always been the victim because I didn’t really fit in with his image of ‘the ideal son.’ I was, for lack of a better word, a bit of a girly boy growing up.
I wanted nothing more than to dance and frolic around in dresses.
When I was four or five, my mother had this big box of dress-up clothes. She brought it down from the attic and I immediately picked out the prettiest, frilliest golden-colored dress I could find. I pranced around in it and declared myself a princess.
And that I was now a girl. This went on for a few months, but strictly during the day when my father was away at work.
I watched ballet videos with my mother, a soft-spoken and open-minded woman who worked part-time as a social worker in those days. I was happy. Careless.
My father was and is an authoritarian figure. He had himself legally emancipated at an early age just so he could join the army ahead of time. After three years in the army, he left as a lower-level officer and started a career as a seaman.
He was a captain when he and my mother met and had me. Later he left his naval career and became a traveling salesman.
Think Don Draper, if Don Draper was a 6’4” Western European man with curly greying hair and piercing blue eyes. I’ve always found him incredibly intimidating and I think my mother did too.
Anyway, long story short… he came home early one day. He saw me in my dress and told me in an icy cold voice, ‘Go and take that off.
After you take it off, go sit on the sofa.’
So, I took it off. Little hands trembling. Next, he summoned my mother into the room, and demanded to know, ‘what the heck she had been doing to his boy.’ I’ve never seen a person shrink so much so quickly. I myself was like a little tiny fly on the wall at this point, barely present.
He took the box with clothes up to the attic.
Put a lock on it and informed us that we were not to touch it “until my wife gives me a daughter.” It stayed there in the attic, untouched until my sister was born ten years later.
My father took more of an interest in my upbringing after this point. He took me to see navy ships, races, made me take a martial art. He seemed determined to “make a man out of me” and in some ways, he succeeded.
One thing he allowed me to do was keep my hair long. Knowing I was bullied at school for it and wanted at times to cut it off for that reason. He insisted I kept the long hair, face the bullies, and beat the crap out of them every time they called me a girl, to “show them how much of a girl I was.”
I did just that.
It toughened me up, in some way. But it also damaged me in other ways.
By the time I went to college, I had grown into a pretty normal dude. I wasn’t gay, I wasn’t even a crossdresser although deep down inside I still had those urges. I tried desperately to fit in and be what he wanted me to be but… I also grew more and more resentful.
In college, I made a lot of different friends. Including some guys I met in an acting class we all took. One of them was pretty much your typical ‘flaming and fabulous’ type of guy. He was as over-the-top gay as my father was over-the-top straight. I told him one night when we’re drinking about my upbringing and my terrible father.
And my friend, let’s call him Paul, suggested I should ‘get back at him.’ I asked him how.
Basically, why not pretend like I wasn’t straight?
But not just, say it over the phone or something. Or even to my father’s face in person. No, much better… I’d hint for weeks in advance about ‘having met somebody’ and ‘being in a relationship.’ I’d say it was a girl. I would ask if I could bring ‘Paula’ over for dinner. At Christmas. When the whole family would be there.
And I’d arrive at the house with ‘Paul’ instead. So I did exactly that. I went to the house, at Christmas. Dressed to the nines. I told my father and mother that ‘Paula was caught up, she’s about to come. I’ll just open the door.’ So I sat down with my family. Cousins. Uncles, aunts. My grandparents, just as conservative as my father.
Waited a while. Heard the door and rushed to open it.
Walked into the living room where everyone was gathered and introduced Paul. My man. I’ve never seen a room go so quiet. People literally gasped for air. My sister, brother, and mother looked both scared and amused, but everyone else was in shock, my father seething… he just completely lost it. Right in front of everyone. Veins bulging in his neck to the point where they looked like they were about to pop.
He told me to leave. Ordered me, essentially. My grandparents urged him not to make a scene but he made one.
I just replied calmly how he should do it. Call the police and explain the situation to them. I knew he never would. He knew some of the officers well; it wasn’t a call he would be willing to make and it wasn’t a situation he was willing to explain.
I called his bluff and he just… sank. Like he shrank before my eyes. My mother and grandmother had to calm him down. He walked out of the room, defeated. I just stood there, not believing my own eyes. I finally felt free. He had scared me for so many years, terrified me, and now I could see him for the caricature he really was. It felt amazing.
Paul and I stayed the whole evening.
He played his part perfectly. He eventually managed to charm some of my aunts and even my grandmother, who told me unironically how she was glad, ‘I found such a delightful man,’ and that he reminded her of her favorite TV character, ‘Mr. Humphreys from “Are You Being Served?” such a doll!’ My father later came back to the room.
Sat in a corner, sulking, refusing to meet my gaze. He drank too much whiskey. My mother kept talking to him in a hushed tone of voice, and he kept making a ‘go away’ gesture with his hand.
I stayed away from home for a while. I’ve already explained to everyone how it had been a prank. How I had to make a point and get back at my father for how he had treated me.
Pretty much everyone sympathized. I didn’t lose anyone in my family over what happened. But my father lost a lot of respect in people’s eyes, I feel. He was always in control of things, he always directed the scene, but now he doesn’t anymore. I do my own thing. My sister does her own thing. He cannot order people around anymore. And I feel like a fool for letting him.
I can now wear whatever the heck I want to wear, enjoy whatever hobbies I want to enjoy and nothing changes. He threatened to disinherit me that night. He threatened a lot of things but in the end, something inside him just broke. All of my relationships since have been with women, and I have since married and had children of my own.
My younger brother came out as gay eventually, but by that time, my now aging father had mellowed down somewhat and as he already has grandchildren and his legacy is thus ‘secured,’ he didn’t seem to mind much. It helps that my brother is a muscular gymrat and that they can bond over sports, more than my father and I ever did. But whenever the sensitive subject comes up, my father is still incredibly awkward. I don’t think it will ever change. But I feel my ‘revenge’ has been pretty successful in the end.”
2. Getting Back At A Credit Card Fraud Perpetrator
“This story begins almost a year ago.
I received a call from an unknown number on my cell phone. It was an automated message to call an 888 number in regards to serving me papers. I knew right away this may have been a collection agency.
Googled the number and confirmed it.
Now I have to disclose I did have identity theft almost 20 years ago. To this day, I occasionally get calls from collection agencies trying to collect on some debt from 20+ years ago that was cleared.
Now most of the time when I get these calls, I ask for their address to send in a dispute letter including the accompanying data for proof that I had identity theft.
Granted, they should not be calling me, but they apologize and I don’t get another call. Plus, they usually mail me back and said they closed the account.
Well, I go to call this person and I got to say the call was interesting.
This woman answered and I gave her my information. She started rattling off a debt that was back in 1995. I let her finish and I told her that I had no knowledge and there was identity theft.
And as soon as I said that, she freaked out. She kept saying she knew the debt was mine and I’m going to pay. I kept telling her that I wanted to mail a letter.
But she flat out refused. When I told her I knew my rights, she said that I had the right to pay the debt.
She then said that she is going to put a lien on my ‘huge pretty house’ (her words) and she was describing the house to the letter.
She also said she is going to put a lien on my Lexus that she ‘sees’ in the driveway.
And she said that my gate in the front won’t stop the repossession. She then hung up.
Now, I knew better. All she did was get my info from public records and then saw my house on Google Street View. My guess is that she tried to push this intimidation on other people that know better.
So far it appeared to be a very disreputable company.
I also had phone recordings when I called in.
And they were legal as I asked her if phone calls can be recorded for quality control purposes. She said of course. And I said, ‘Thank you, I’ll take that as my consent.’
I would of just let this go and just say this lady was crazy. But I kept getting the automated phone calls and I couldn’t block them as they were unknown. I Googled the company and I thought they were in Ohio.
There were a couple of flags that led me to believe this was that the person who owned this company in Ohio was being indicted with charges as an attorney.
I placed a complaint with the Ohio Attorney General. They couldn’t find any information on what I was submitting. They did call the phone number I gave them and the attorney general told me they would stop from calling me.
But that is all the attorney general could do. I also complained to the Federal Consumer Finance Bureau who is supposed to be looking into these issues.
But they blew me off.
Well, three months later, I called this number. I had an idea of maybe pressing buttons when I called in to see if I could get more information about the company through the interactive voice response.
Well, that paid off. As soon as I pressed ‘0’, I got a different company name. I Googled that company and got tons of complaints. This led me to the company existing in NY. I complained to the attorney general of NY with all of my new info.
I did quite a bit of research over the next couple of weeks and found out a whole bunch of information, like the owner’s name.
I found out that the address where the company no longer received mail was at the owner’s address, their social media account, etc. I then got another one of those unknown phone calls.
But this time, it’s a different company. I’m sure you get what I am getting at – the company just keeps changing the name, but the parent company still calls.
I finally had enough of this.
I get a private investigator involved and they were quite satisfied with all the information I had so far. So I let him do his business. Well, he calls me back saying that this company isn’t even registered and it’s run by this one lady. I find out that the rude lady who I was talking to is the supposed owner, but not running a legitimate business.
I got a process server to file a claim in NY.
Granted, I think I could have done it where I was at. But I was heading up to that area in NY anyway as I had some family reasonably close. The problem was she was not able to be served. The house which she owned, she was not able to be served at. Either she was not there or was staying somewhere else.
Well, my private investigator started sending out friend requests to her and the people on her friend’s lists.
Her friends and then she accepted the social media request.
My private investigator found out that she was unfaithful to her man about a month ago since she posted that crap. The private investigator gave me an idea of trying to reach her man and if he can lead us to serve her, I will give him $500.
We did that and sure enough, we were finally able to serve this lady at her parent’s house about 20 miles from where she was at.
I fly up to NY and since it’s small claims, it’s just me and this lady. For some reason, her mother is there too, but she is not representing.
I give the judge all of my info I had over the months and how she broke the law.
She broke debt collection laws and made threats over the phone. After the judge heard all the trouble I had with these calls and how she hid her identity purposely, the judge gave me the maximum amount of $3,000.
In NY, small towns and villages are limited to $3,000. After the case, I heard her mother loudly whispering (but I heard it) ‘You better hope he doesn’t take your house.
Your great grandfather built this with his own bare hands.’
I was thinking, ‘Hmmm, it would be sweet revenge if I could actually put a lien on the house…’ Well lo and behold, I found out the house had a second mortgage attached to it.
With the property value of the house and if it sold, I wouldn’t end up getting the lien dollars since the secondary mortgage was almost as much as the house.
I was then contemplating how I was going to get the riches from this lady. My private investigator calls me five months later and said her house is going into foreclosure. I get a proxy to bid for me. But as in most foreclosure actions, the bank buys it back as an REO. I decided to send in a low ball offer to buy the house a couple of months later.
The bank accepted my offer.
My guess is that it’s a small town and trying to get the right market was an issue.
You may be wondering why I even bought this house? Well here’s why. This dumb bunny threatened to put a lien on my house with no merit. Well, guess what, I took her house! It was completely worth it. It didn’t cost me too much and I had the bucks.
The house is actually in decent shape, just a little small. Plus it will be a nice summer home when I go to visit my relatives. Oh, and I decided to rub in salt to the wound.
I sent a letter to her parent’s address letting them know I took the house. I told them that if their daughter wouldn’t be in the business of scamming people, they may not have lost the house.
I also go to find out that the Attorney General of NY is now investigating this lady. I hope they throw the book at her! Not going to mention the collection agency, but if you stopped getting phone calls from them, you’re welcome!”
Another User Comments:
“My wife’s identity was stolen a few years ago, and the thieves opened up a credit card in her name and started buying ridiculously expensive 4K TVs and iPads and whatnot and having them shipped to some really shady apartment in South (or was it West?) Chicago.
I had to work hard to get the address of the place, but considering it was an apartment in a high-crime neighborhood nowhere near where I live, I figured it wouldn’t go far.
I gave all the info I had to my local police, and that was the last I’ve heard of it. No more credit cards have been opened using my wife’s info in over a year, but we still worry. Once your SSN is out there, you can’t get it back.” thisisnotdan
1. When A Divorce Works Out As Planned
This must have been so satisfying.
“Started a few years ago. I thought we were happy. We were your usual suburban professional couple. Financially secure, healthy, good love life, two kids (14f and 9m at the time).
I thought we had a healthy social life.
We were going through one of your typical married couple rough patches. Both of us were working long hours, not spending enough time together, we were going through some developmental problems with my son and tensions in the house were running a little high.
I noticed that she was spending a lot more time on her phone texting with her ‘girly friends.’ I didn’t think much of it. I started making a much more concerted effort to get out of work when I could, help around the house and be more emotionally available.
But over the course of a few weeks, the gulf just kept getting wider.
I ended up accidentally finding some messages when I charged up an old iPad for my son to use.
Her FB messenger was still logged in and there were a lot of highly questionable messages with a guy from her hometown who I will call JimBobCooter or JBC for short.
The messages weren’t completely inappropriate, but I could tell there were quite a few missing based on the times and context of the messages.
I made a mental note to keep an eye on this and went about trying to fix things up.
The next day, after I took the day off to knock out some projects that I thought would make her happy, and left her some sweet notes reminding her how much I appreciated her. She was once again in the corner of the living room ‘texting her girls.’
I took the boy’s iPad to the office, opened up FB messenger and watched in real-time as my wife tore me down.
She and JBC were making fun of me. All of my flaws, insecurities, and secrets I entrusted to my partner were now fodder for her and JBC. Not only that, but while they weren’t outright sending explicit pictures, there was a suggestive undertone to the whole conversation, especially when she was bashing my performance in the sack.
I managed to take some screenshots but missed a good bit of the messages because as the conversation were unfolding she was deleting them.
I wasn’t emotionally capable of confronting her.
I stayed in the office until she was asleep and had a few drinks.
I took off the next day and spent some time soul searching, drinking and trying to figure out what to do.
The wife came home and wanted to know what was wrong. I just copped out and told her I had a bad day. A couple of minutes later, I was watching the iPad as the train wreck kept unfolding.
So began a couple of solid weeks of taking screenshots, drinking, and detaching myself from the relationship.
I knew there was no going back from this. The messages were now overtly explicit with my wife completely into it, and JBC was sprinkling in ‘I love you’s.’
I consulted a lawyer, got my options, and started moving forward.
Here’s where everything got absolutely surreal. Watching the messages, I found out JBC was coming to town to spend a weekend of quality time with my wife in a pretty nice hotel.
I was missing a good bit of the info, they must have had a phone conversation about it at some point, but I was able to infer enough to get the when and where.
The next day, the wife is buttering me up and wanting to take a spa weekend with the girls to relax and when she gets back, we can really focus on our marriage.
I go with it all the way. It’s the greatest idea she’s ever had, and I’ll do anything to get us back on track.
I get with the lawyer and have him draft a strong separation agreement stating that she would move out, she would get weekend visitation, no child support in the interim until the divorce is final.
Then I sit through the most agonizing two weeks of my life.
After all this, most of my feelings for her are completely gone, and I’m just seething with anger as I’ve never felt before.
D-day arrives. I take the day off work. I withdraw half of any money in any accounts we are joint on, leave her half alone. I had already redirected my paycheck to a new bank. I close our market account and get a cashier’s check for her half and deposit my half in my new account.
I stop at Office Max and print out about 75 pages of FB messenger screenshots, and I kill time because I don’t want to be at home.
She texts me that she’s taking off and that she loves me. I tell her to have fun.
I show up to the hotel at about 8:30 and call the wife’s phone from the lobby. It goes straight to voicemail. They are probably already at it, whatever.
I walk up to the front desk and ask if I can use the phone to be connected to JBC’s room.
It rings three times and he picks up.
Me: ‘JBC, can you send my wife down to the lobby, please?’
JBC: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro.’
Me: Ok then. I guess I’ll have to call Mrs. JBC and get her down here (totally a bluff – I knew he was married, and I knew her first name but that was it)’
JBC: (Inaudible, shuffling, panic)
Me: ‘You got five minutes.
Not even two minutes later my wife comes walking out of the elevator looking a little flustered.
I sit her down in the corner of the lobby.
Her: Starts spewing bullcrap saying it’s not what it seems, etc..
Me: ‘I’m not here to argue. The things that are said in this pile of papers are what’s going on. The only way I’m not giving a copy of this to our daughter, your parents and emailing it to everyone we know, is if you move out immediately.
(Wife was very prideful. Our daughter was going through a rebellious teen phase and her knowing probably would have forever killed their relationship. Wife was also her parent’s golden child and she always worried about what they thought of her. I didn’t have much leverage and shame was my only card to play. Also, her professional life is built up around her image, so I knew she would protect that at all costs.)
Her: Sniffle, mumble, inaudible.
Me: ‘This is a check for half of the market account. I’ve withdrawn my half of the change from all the other joint accounts. You should have more than enough to get a place.’
She starts to cry a little.
I could almost see the different thoughts and waves of emotions going through her, but now was the time to keep pressing.
Me: ‘Here is a separation agreement that I think is more than fair considering what’s going on.
I’m going to need you to look this over, sign it, and leave it at the house when you get your stuff. Do you want to look through these screenshots?’
Me: ‘Ok. Go have fun with JBC. Do not come back to the house or I’m going to send this (holds up a ream of screenshots) to everyone.’
I bounce out of the lobby, and I can hear her start to have a breakdown.
I get to the car, drive off to a parking lot and have my own crying rage fit. Previously, I would have cried in front of her and yelled and whatnot but I managed to get my crap together enough to pull it off.
I don’t know what she did that night or over the weekend. She texted and called over and over wanting to talk. I just turned the phone off and by the time Monday afternoon rolled around, there were movers getting her stuff and she delivered the agreement.
I let her have a talk with the kiddos basically saying mommy and daddy need some time apart, we still love you, etc etc. Standard divorce talk.
After a week, she wants to have a real talk for the first time. I oblige because I’ve already got my crap together and I’ve got an idea of what I want, but I should hear her out.
She’s so sorry.
She wants another chance. She wants her family back. She’ll do anything. She’s on her knees crying into my lap.
I have no intention of ever taking her back.
I tell her she needs to set up marriage counseling on her own at a time that works for me. I tell her that I can’t live with her, but she should be around the children to try to maintain a relationship with them.
So, starts our new normal of her coming over the house, cooking and having dinner with the kids three nights a week (she always saved me a plate, I made myself scarce), her cleaning the house and doing the kids laundry then heading back to her place.
We went to counseling. It consisted of her working through her issues with the therapist trying to figure out why she did it, her begging for forgiveness, and me stoically playing the victim.
I was never going to give her another chance. All I wanted to do was kill time, establish myself as the primary caregiver to the kids, and establish her as not having residency in the house.
After a few months, I go to my own therapist and get diagnosed with depression and PTSD.
I ask my work if it’s possible to go to part-time for the foreseeable future to deal with personal issues, and it’s no big deal.
After six months of therapy, I told her that I couldn’t forgive her right now and that I wanted an amicable divorce, but she is still the love of my life and maybe someday we could give it another try. She was devastated but agreed to the divorce if I promised to try again someday.
Once the divorce was filed I needed the kids to want to stay with me.
I left a google search for ‘How to survive your wife’s infidelity’ up on the shared PC at home, and I left some printed-out infidelity articles not so hidden in the kitchen. My daughter found them and came to me crying. I told her she wasn’t supposed to find those, that mom made a mistake, that mom still loves her, and that I would always be here for her.
My daughter who used to hold my wife in such high regard now wouldn’t talk to her without screaming, and it crushed her.
Not surprisingly when the court needed statements from the kids a few months later, little brother followed big sister’s lead and they both wanted to stay with Dad in the house they grew up in.
When the divorce was finalized, I got the house (had to buy out some of her equity, but that’s ok).
I got primary custody of the kids. I got awarded generous child support due to the difference in our incomes due to me working part-time.
Now for the last two years, I’ve gotten to live in the house with my kids, work part-time, get the now ex to subsidize it for me, and when she takes the kids over the weekends I get to have my fun with Cinderellas and some FWBs I’ve cultivated.
In the eyes of my kids, I’m the patron saint of fatherhood for taking the high road and always being there.
In the eyes of my ex, I’m the one that got away, the one that she will always pine for, and I get the bonus of having her come over to play whenever I want it by dangling that carrot of maybe getting back together. But that is never going to happen.”