People Spill Their Pocket-Sized Revenge Stories
20. Threaten My Dog? I'll Tow Your Truck
Nobody threatens anyone’s pet dog.
“I lived in an apartment complex for most of my time at university. At the start of year three, I got a dog, a young Belgian Malinois (high energy breed). There was a nice path around the apartment complex I’d take her on for her walks, and on one of those walks, she slipped through her collar and got away from me.
She darted into one of the stairwells and scared a woman. I caught up with her, leashed her up, and the woman reamed me out for a minute, and I can’t blame her, but after she said her piece, I apologized and went on my way, pretty much dropping my mind from the topic.
At least two months later, I’m on my walk with my dog, and a rather nice truck (Ram 2500 dually, probably $40k+) stops beside me.
I usually walk with headphones in, so when the guy rolls down his window I take them out. He starts yelling at me about how my dog scared his wife and I need to keep better control of her, keep her on the leash, so forth. Since I basically forgot the prior incident, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn’t gonna listen to him.
I pop my headphones in and start walking. He backs the truck up, puts it in park, and starts yelling at me some more, about 15 yards away.
But this time, he’s also threatening me and my dog. He’s saying things like “Man, I’ll hurt you and your dog, I don’t even care!” I’ve never been threatened like that before. That said, I’m a young guy on the slimmer side, and he probably thought I wouldn’t have much of a spine.
I tell him he needs to just leave me alone, to get in his truck and go, that’s pretty much my only response to everything he’s saying.
Well, a maintenance worker for the complex is working about 60 feet away, and he’s watching everything that’s going on. I ask him to call the police while the guy is yelling at me. After I repeat it a few more times, the worker gets on the phone, and the guy goes to get in his truck.
But, before he does, he says, “Aight, I know where you live; I know where you’re at.”
I go inside, file a report with the complex to see if they have the truck registered with them, and they don’t. I decide to leave it at that.
Over the next month, this guy stalks me all over the complex when I’m on my walks, tailing me in his truck.
After the first time, I decided to call the cops (non-emergency) to file a report about the first incident and the stalking. Luckily, his truck was there while the cop was taking the report and was able to get the plate and, presumably, the guy’s ID from that. I explain to the cop I just want it on record in case anything happens and that I don’t want trouble, but I do carry and I’m not gonna change my habits out of fear.
As a case and point of the stalking, one time I got locked out of my apartment, so while I was waiting in the bed of my truck for a roommate to return, he parked a few spaces down, watched me, and left about 5 minutes later without doing anything. Another time, I was at the complex ‘dog park,’ basically half an acre fenced in, and he just parked in the road and watched me and my dog.
Finally, I had enough. One night, while on a walk with my dog, I check his truck for the complex sticker that allows people to park inside the gate. Guests can park inside the gate during the day but have to be in guest parking outside the gate at night because parking is sparse. Every night, a tow company comes and checks every vehicle for a sticker, and if they don’t have one, it gets towed.
Usually, the guys do a pretty lazy job of it, but that night I met the tow-man on his round and pointed out the truck. He thanked me, because that’s a $250 payday for him, and he goes on his way. About 20 minutes later, I see the guy yelling at the tow-man, and shortly after, the tow-man leaves, truck in tow.
I actually saw the truck get towed twice after that, so I’m pretty content with the guy paying his dues.”
19. Pay Me In Only Coins? Let's Take Our Time Now
“I occasionally deliver pizza as a part-time job.
There is a customer who tends to pay with a big bag of change. I don’t mean a bag full of quarters, I mean a bag full of dimes, nickels, and pennies. Since his meal typically costs about $20, the bag usually weighs several pounds. It is a total pain to count out all of the change, so typically drivers will just assume that he has the correct amount and leave.
Usually, he has just enough or maybe a few cents over. I don’t think it is an innocent thing either, as he usually gives the bag of change with a huge grin.
It is such a pain, that most of the drivers know his address by heart and avoid going to his house if at all possible.
I was having a bad night, and by the luck of the draw got this dude’s house.
I remembered reading a post on petty revenge involving someone paying in a checkout line with a bag of change, and I knew I could use a similar method to take my frustration out on this guy in the pettiest way possible.
I pulled up to his house and left the pizza in the car. I rang the doorbell, and when he answered, I saw the large bag of change in his hand that I knew would be there.
He asked where his pizza was, and I said ‘New policy, sir. Gotta count it out before we can give out the pizza.’
So I sat down on his doorstep and started to count out all of the change. At one point, I even asked if he could turn on his porchlight because I was having a hard time seeing. He did end up sitting there while I counted out the entire bag of change, even though it took about ten minutes.
He ended up being about a dollar over, so I started picking up pennies to give him his change back when he said that I could keep the rest as a tip.
When I gave him his pizza, he sheepishly told me sorry and then shut the door.
The whole situation was incredibly awkward, and to my knowledge, he hasn’t ordered pizza from us in a while. Oh well.”
Another User Comments:
“I would have counted that out like The Count, “one penny, eh, eh, eh! Two penny, eh, eh eh!”” PMmeYourHopes-Dreams
18. Be Rude To Fast Food Employees? You're Not Getting A Cookie
“This story happened about a year ago when I was working at an unnamed sandwich chain restaurant that was located in a very small tourist town, and the petty revenge was done by my coworker on my behalf.
The majority of the customers were regulars who worked nearby, and it was really slow when there wasn’t a high school sporting event or people going to the lake for summer.
Because it was usually slow, we were told to only prep limited ingredients, which were usually gone or very low by the end of the night.
Limited ingredients weren’t much of a problem since people were usually okay with waiting until we prepped more.. until now. It was about 9:45 pm, and we close at 10 pm. I was manning the store while my coworker was on his lunch in the back of the restaurant.
Suddenly, a rather old man (EM) walks in and by judging his demeanor, I can tell I’m in for a treat. I wash my hands and put on a pair of gloves before walking over to help him.
Our exchange went as follows:
Me: Hello sir, welcome to (restaurant). How can I help you?
EM: Yes, I would like one of your rotisserie chicken sandwiches.
Me: I apologize, sir, we ran out of rotisserie chicken earlier.
I can go check if we have some more thawed in the back, and it will only take a moment to prep.
EM: -sighs and crosses his arms- Seriously? No, I don’t have time for that. I guess I will have a steak sandwich.
Me: … I apologize, sir, we are also out of steak. Again, I can go check if we have more-
EM: -scoffs and rolls his eyes- Are you SERIOUS? You have one job, and you can’t even do that.
I GUESS I will go for my last resort… Do you have any meatballs?
(I check, and thank god we have meatballs, but only for a 6 inch.)
Me: Yes, but we only have enough for a 6-inch sub. If you would like a footlong, I could quickly heat some up-
EM: -somehow sighs even harder than before- You ONLY have enough for a 6 inch?! What kind of establishment is CONSTANTLY out of ingredients? Give me the 6 inch, I GUESS.
I do my absolute best to keep my customer service smile and cheery voice, but I was absolutely dying inside, and my coworker (who is VISIBLY angry) has now come to listen in on what’s happening. I got the guy his bread, scooped the meatballs on with as much sauce that would fit, topped it with cheese, and toasted it. He made sure to sigh and roll his eyes at every opportunity as I was finishing up his food.
He says he wants it to go, so I wrap up the incredible sauce sandwich and ring him up. Then another conversation ensues after he sees the total:
EM: Aren’t you going to give me my food for free?
Me: … I’m sorry?
EM: Well, I didn’t get the sandwich I wanted, and you took FOREVER (maybe 5 minutes tops) to make it! I should get my food for free!
Me: I’m sorry, I am not authorized to give away food for free.
EM: -looks at the cookie cabinet that has one single double chocolate cookie- Well, you could have at LEAST offered me a free cookie for all the trouble you’ve caused me! It’s just good business practice!
Me: … I apologize, sir, but I can not give away free cookies unless they are from yesterday’s batch. (The cookies from the previous batch were not considered “fresh” and were usually written off anyway.)
EM: Well then, I will be speaking to the owner of the store since I know him personally! -he pays and goes to SIT IN THE LOBBY with his food to eat-
Now for the petty revenge…
After I finish the transaction, a young construction worker (C) who occasionally stops by after a job walks in and waits patiently while I wash and glove up again.
At this point, it’s about 9:55 pm, and I had shooed my coworker off to go finish his lunch since he only has 5 minutes left.
Me: Hello, what can I get for you today?
C: Yeah, can I get a footlong steak sandwich?
Me: Sure thing, but I will have to go see if we have any thawed in the back. Give me just one moment!
C waits patiently while I prep a new container of steak, and it only takes about 30-45 seconds.
(My coworker and I are in the back room crap-talking EM because he was still incredibly heated about me being degraded like that) before I’m back on the line. I finish up his sandwich as fast as I can, and just as I start wrapping it up, my coworker clocks back on and says he can ring him up.
I saw the mischief on his face and knew exactly what was going to happen.
Coworker: Sir, would you like one free cookie with your meal since there was a delay in making your sandwich? We only have one left, but it’s the least I could do to thank you for your patience.
C: Oh, sure, thank you!
I smile brightly, pack up the cookie, and place it in the bag with his sandwich.
After C leaves, EM comes up to the counter looking FURIOUS and demands an explanation all the while I opt to start cleaning up the line, so I could watch this glorious moment unfold. My coworker cheerily informs EM that since the store was closing in less than one minute, the cookie was going to be thrown out anyway and asked that EM leave the store, so we could close the lobby.
EM storms out of the store going off about bad business practice, never to be seen again. Neither of us got in trouble.
I truly miss that coworker.”
17. Karen Demands To Speak To The Manager, Gets Banned From The Store Instead
Looks like the customer isn’t always right!
“I worked as a mid-level manager in a supermarket chain years back. It was before “Karen” was a thing, but this lady is definitely a Karen.
Regular customer, a middle-aged woman, always being super annoying and entitled when she was in the store alone and really sweet and nice when she was in the store with her family.
We talked about Karen a lot.
Whenever she came into the store, everyone would flee. Only the poor cashier was left in the store and Karen would demand the cashier come help her, no matter the number of customers in line.
It was back in the day before all those silly “the customer is always right” and “always greet every customer” rules made robots out of supermarket employees. We did of course try to help customers as much as we could, despite being a low price market.
One day during flu season, we had a couple of employees call in sick. Noone in the store, no one to fill up shelves.. Just me and one other employee working the register. Karen came in the store, and you could see by the way she walked, that she had a really bad day at work and needed to vent, before going home to play super-mom.
Needless to say, I was a bit under pressure having no employees and a half-empty store. So when Karen asked for help, I just politely said, “I’m sorry, I simply can’t help you right now. We had a couple of employees call in sick, so we are a bit under-staffed.” Karen asked the other cashier for help, who said the same. Karen then turned to me, asking to “speak to the manager..”
I told her I was it.
She didn’t believe me. “A manager can’t be a cashier..” She pretty much told me that a real manager would never sink to the low levels of a cashier…..
I don’t mind people telling me I’m an idiot. But don’t talk bad about my employees. I told her once again we couldn’t spare the manpower to help her.
She went ballistic yelling and screaming that she wanted to talk to the manager.
I once again told her that I was it.
Karen walked away, and I thought that was it. But oh no, she walked straight past the employees only sign into the storage. You know. The storage with direct access to the office. The office with the safe full of cash (it was back in the day where cash was king). The office with all the security cameras and override for the alarm system.
I went flying after her, leaving 10 people in line.
I told her in a pretty firm voice to get out. She refused. She wanted to talk to the manager.
I told Karen to get out or I would have to call the police. Karen told me to do so.
I told Karen that she was to consider herself banned from not only this store but from all other stores of the same chain and the chains under the same umbrella corporation (roughly 50% of all supermarket chains in the country).
Karen told me, “You can’t do that!”
I proceeded to dial the number to the police on my awesome Nokia phone with Snake, pushed the dial button, and put the phone to my ear… Only then did she realize her problems and flew out of the store, yelling and screaming to other customers not to shop here. The other customers just laughed at her and told her to behave.
We didn’t see Karen for the rest of the week.
Here’s the petty revenge part. It was the only cheap supermarket in town. And Karen always used to come with her family on weekends. Being Karen, it’s kinda embarrassing to come home and tell your family that you can’t shop at the local supermarket anymore. So Karen of course showed up Saturday with her family. She was hiding a bit and had a hoodie on, but I noticed her right away.
I made sure to always randomly appear out of nowhere next to Karen. Every time she went to a new aisle, she would see me standing there filling up stuff on the shelves.
Needless to say. Karen never misbehaved again.
From that Saturday on, Karen always behaved when she came to the store..”
16. Be An Entitled Passenger? Enjoy My Stinkies
“I’m a flight attendant for a premier us air carrier, and this past Weds I was working a flight from New Orleans to NYC.
We were stationed in New Orleans overnight on Tuesday, as in Fat Tuesday, so I had two of my friends come to meet me from Denver (where I’m based out of) and we had A LOT of fun.
Come the next morning, I’m not feeling so great.
And the hangover continues well into the afternoon, to the point that I’m almost running late for my pre-board because I can’t get off the pot. P.S. for any boys out there that think that your friends don’t puke or poop—sorry to burst your bubble, but we get hit with Montezuma’s revenge just as bad as frat guys do.
Anyways, we get to boarding, and this passenger keeps complaining that she was supposed to get a first-class upgrade but there wasn’t one available so she wanted us to move her to a different flight that had one, which is not something we can do.
She’s being overall unpleasant about the whole thing, and in general reeks of your typical stuck-up Long Island girl. You know the type. (Or maybe you’re lucky enough not to).
Her unpleasantness continues through boarding, at which point I see her being extremely rude to the people in her row. She basically bullies them into giving her the aisle seat, even though she had paid for an economy ticket, which with my airline, almost guarantees you a middle seat.
Then, the final straw. We’re preparing for takeoff, and she’s not in her seat. She’s in the bathroom, doing god knows what, and making the whole plane wait because we can’t take off until everyone’s seated.
So I decided to give her the stinkiest smelliest flight of her life…
Yes. I continuously crop dusted this witch for the next 3 hours. I farted on her almost every single time I made my rounds through the cabin.
I must’ve gassed her 7 or 8 times before we landed. I caught her wincing, complaining, pinching her nose and wafting the air around her.
It was a complete success each time.
– These were some of the absolutely worst farts I’ve ever had in my entire life. Like room clearing, vomit-inducing stinkers.
– The 3rd time I ripped on her, I was bent over “assisting” the passenger across the aisle, and could practically feel the side of this witch’s head on my butt, so I guaran-freaking-tee she could feel my fart on her face.
– While most of these were of the SBD variety, the 2nd to the last one was actually a bit of a rumbler at the end, and I know she heard it and had to have known she had just been farted on.
Which means the last time I did it, she had to know not just she was getting farted on, but that it was being done intentionally.
So yea, if you’re a stuck-up brat flying coach, you better be kind to the staff and fellow passengers, otherwise, you may end up on the wrong end of some smelly justice.”
15. Play Your Son's Friend Instead Of Me? I'll Get The Scholarship He Was Wanting
“This happened a long time ago, but I was recently reminded of this and thought I should share. It’s pretty long.
I grew up in Central Pennsylvania where youth baseball was pretty big. Turns out, I was a very good baseball player, enough so that I was the only freshman to make my high school varsity team.
Mostly everyone who played high school ball would also play in the summer.
For high school students in central PA, there were two options for the after-school season. Most played in the summer league, which had teams for every little town in the county. There was also a traveling team that played all over the state, which was invite-only.
By the end of my sophomore year, I had earned the starting second base position on my high school team. Now, I lived in one town and attended the only Catholic high school in the area, which was the next town over.
Since this was the case for a lot of students in my high school, my teammates and I found ourselves playing for different teams during the summer. I played on a team with all the same guys I played Little League with, so it was no problem, and even though all of these guys went to my rival high school, I was cool with all of them.
A few games into the summer season, it was clear I was better than the starting second baseman, who also happened to start for the rival high school (we’ll call him Thad). I won the position and started until the end of the season when I took a baseball to the eye during practice and was out until high school season started again the following spring.
Spring came and I had a great junior season with my high school team so much so that I unexpectedly started hearing from college coaches. I joined my summer team with the expectation I would retain my starting spot or at least have a chance to compete again. Only, we had a new coach… Coach Dan. He was notorious in the community for being a crazy baseball coach.
I remember him getting kicked out of a minor league game (ages 8-9) while coaching against us years before. He was also incredibly outspoken in his hatred of my high school, holding the false belief that we recruited the best athletes from all over the area. This was laughably inaccurate, because for the most part, minus a few exceptions, my school was really bad at sports.
To make matters worse, Coach Dan’s son was on the team and so was his best friend, Thad. Predictably, Thad has anointed the starter at second base, and Coach Dan pulled the old little league move with me, sticking me in right field on the few occasions I would actually get to play.
I decided to talk to him man to man and just explain that I was the starter the previous season, and I at least expected to have a chance to start there.
This did not go well, as the coach really wanted to flex his muscles and told me he was in charge now, and nothing from last year mattered. I pleaded, pointing out that I had hoped to get a scholarship, and that I needed the practice, to no avail. It got heated, and he said in a snarky manner, “Why don’t you go play in another town?” knowing that wasn’t an option for me.
So, I quit.
My high school coach, who was also my history teacher, caught wind of this as the school year was ending. Knowing that I was a budding talent, and he needed me to get practice before my senior season, he pulled some strings and got me an invite to the traveling team. I heard Coach Dan lost his mind when he heard this, as he has tried unsuccessfully to get his son an invite.
So my senior season came along, and I had a heck of a start, earning the newspaper’s player of the week twice in the first three weeks. I had some partial scholarship offers on the table at small schools, but I really had my heart set on a state school that had not extended me an offer, but had a major I really liked. Again, my coach reached out on my behalf, and after scouting me for a few weeks, I suddenly had an offer.
I had heard through the grapevine that Coach Dan’s son had an offer from the same school and was planning on attending. Turns out, that Thad was also hoping to get a scholarship offer from the school, but it hadn’t happened. No one realized I had essentially taken his spot.
Back to the revenge part… Our rival high school was good, expected to compete for the state title in Hershey.
But my high school team was surprisingly good my senior year as well. We made it all the way to the district championship against, you guessed it, our rival school, with a trip to the state playoffs on the line. To make it interesting, Coach Dan was in his first season as their coach. Despite our great season, it would be said our rivals were huge favorites.
They had two seniors and two juniors who would go on to play D1 (my offer was a D2 school). Miraculously, we found ourselves leading in the bottom of the last inning, thanks in no small part to my 4-4 day with 5 RBI’s. We ended up winning when I turned an unassisted triple play, made possible by a base-running gaffe by Thad.
We won! We celebrated.
And then we shook their hands. Only Coach Dan was absent, refusing to come out of the dugout. This fact was not lost on my coach, who in the middle of the field, gave me the game ball. Loud enough for everyone to hear, he openly chastised the “previous coaches who didn’t believe in OP” and then glared in the direction of their dugout. Coach Dan was already angry from the outcome of the game and arguing with the umps over how it ended, and I thought this was going to make his head explode.
Me, being the jerk that I am, decided to take it a step further. I walked over to the dugout, where many of their players were crying, and Coach Dan was still fuming from the loss. He barked, “What do you want?!”
I told him, “I just want you to know this ball is going in a case, and every time I look at it, it’s going to remind me of this day, of beating you, and the look on your face.”
He blew up, face in the chainlink fence separating us, yelling and cursing at me.
I just stood there and laughed.
When I realized he was just making a fool of himself he tried to dismiss me, saying something to the effect of, “If I never see you again; it will be too soon.”
He left me the perfect opening to happily inform him that I had been offered a scholarship to the same college as his son. Armed with the knowledge that Thad was still waiting for an offer, obviously dependent upon what their other recruits decided, I let him know, loud enough for the whole dugout and fans sitting nearby to hear, that Thad shouldn’t expect to get that offer.
In no way did I think Thad’s offer hung on whether or not I decided to take mine, but I played it off that way.
In a perfect series of events, just as I was spilling this news, Thad’s dad, who was also Coach Dan’s best friend, approached the dugout and heard everything I said. He lost his mind. Unbeknownst to me, or anyone really, Coach Dan had been telling Thad and his parents that he was pulling strings to get him a scholarship, that Thad and coach’s son were essentially a package, and that his scholarship was basically a done deal. In reality, his son had a scholarship and Thad didn’t, and an offer wasn’t coming. Apparently, this blew up their friendship. Neither Coach Dan’s kid nor Thad ended up coming to my college.”
14. Refuse To Put Me On Drumline? I'll Play Your Solo For A Year
“This is a long one so strap in.
Before high school, I went to a middle school that focuses largely on creative arts and music. I was in love with drums (and pretty much any percussive instrument) before I turned 10 years old, so I took the percussion program to better myself. There were a lot of try-hards in that class so I had to practice very often to stay relevant to our instructor, and it worked out nicely for me.
Fast forward to two weeks before my first year of high school, a very different school than my middle school. The music program was good and decently funded, but the band directors were worn out and you could tell they didn’t care much about your abilities. To my understanding, all I had to do was perform my most complex marching snare solo and a couple of warm-ups and I’d be on the drumline for that marching season.
The chances of any of y’all knowing it are pretty slim, but the solo is called Pratt Falls, and I performed it PERFECTLY. I figured, “Hey, if I can perform a class 1 solo as a freshman, they’ll understand how serious I am about this.” The band director pulls me into his office and tells me it was fantastic and that he looks forward to teaching me.
After a seamlessly flawless “audition,” I was told that roles in the drumline were chosen before the summer even started and that I was sadly out of luck. I thought about quitting that day because percussionists who don’t make the cut are sent to the pit. The pit is that front row of concert percussion instruments (keyboards, cymbals, bass drums, congas, etc.), and it is vital to almost every marching show, but nobody in the pit gives a darn because they just wanted to make the drumline.
I stuck with it for a month, repulsed by the constant stream of technique, and parts cut out for the drumline so that they could sound barely decent. I already had no friends since I moved away to a new school, so I made it a goal for that school year to give that whole band the business.
I started printing off the drum line’s music and learning it, one of the senior DI playing marching tenors caught me in a practice room with a marching snare and started critiquing everything from rudiments to tempo.
I said something along the lines of, “So, you’ll critique the only one practicing the music, but you won’t critique your drumline for stumbling all over the practice lot playing 1/3rd of their parts?” and he went about his day telling people I was trying to compete with the drumline.
This is where it gets good.
Of the 12 people in drumline that year, 4 came up to me asking for a little competition.
Keep in mind I’m only a little over a month into my freshman year, and these upper-classmen really think I’m just full of poop. A junior wanted to see if I could keep up with his solo, so I said sure and he pulls out the sheet music. This dude then pulls out my 6th-grade snare solo, “Diddles R’ Us.” I outplay him in double time, and that’s that.
The next guy is a junior on the snare line and he wants to see if I can play tenors, so he pulls out a solo he played last year called “Double-crossed.” At this point, I’m just laughing because now I believe all schools have the same solo books because I also played that solo last year. Same result, and the other two bass players just call me some names and walk away.
A couple of months pass and I really wanna get my message across to the band director, so I find out that he also played percussion throughout high school and college, meaning he had to play at least 1 insane snare solo for his degree in music. Turns out that solo was “Tornado” by Mitch Markovich. I asked him if he had any sheet music for it, and he stated, “You’ve got a few more years before you’re capable of that one.
I spent 3 semesters in college getting that one down.” Naturally, I bought the sheet music online for like $13 and started practicing right away.
Fast forward again to mid-November of that same year, solo/percussion ensemble is here and anybody who gives a darn is working on their solos/ensembles. We make our way to the performance rooms and the band director comes up to me asking if I really chose his graduation solo for a measly freshman solo medal.
I say “yup” and go about my solo performance. I got a 1, but this was region, and I didn’t care. You could literally stand there and sneeze for 2 minutes and the judge will give you a 1 at region.
Then February comes, I had the solo down and I just practiced the little things: stick heights, backhands, inverted Swiss army triplets, how fast can I possibly single roll, that kinda stuff.
State solo/ensemble is here, and I practically threw away my freshman year to make this dude suffer, all because I wanted to be on the drumline. I have my dad drive me to UT Austin for the solo performance (because only myself and 2 others qualified for state, whereas there are usually 20-30 to make a school bus justifiable) and I meet with the judges. I have this poop-eating grin on my face the whole time because they know the solo and they commend me over and over for trying it as a freshman; my ego was above the moon that day.
I finally perform – an entire year led to this moment and I’ve got adrenaline fueling my single hand 130bpm 16th flams, I’m sweating enough to fill the fountain outside and I feel like I’m about to experience spontaneous human combustion. When I finish, I look at my sticks and I understand the solo in-depth, “These sticks look like they’ve been through a tornado” and walk out to wait for results.
When they’re posted, I see it, my name, on the second line of the first out of 10 pages needed.
I got a 2. All that practice, all the possible friendships I threw away to practice, for a 2. I was torn, embarrassed, and even depressed for the weekend – until I realized I had just played one of the hardest solos ever written for my instrument, and I got the second to best score as a freshman at state.
I go to school the next week and I’m called into the band director’s office as soon as I walk in. “OP, you’ve proved your point. I haven’t seen your leadership skills so I can’t make you DI, and don’t bother taking my time during drumline auditions. What do you want to play next year?””
13. Be A Jerk Of A Stepsister? Have A Crappy Birthday
“When I was 12, my mom got married to a halfway decent guy. He’s not bad, but he’s not great either, but he made my mom happy and that’s all that I cared about.
In fact, I cared so much about her happiness that I was willing to endure 6 years of living under the same roof as his self-obsessed, obnoxious, spoiled daughter, Amy. The entire time we lived together, she would project all of her insecurities onto me in the form of insults.
Being young and wildly insecure about myself, these daily insults truly cut me to the core and just continued the cycle of crippling insecurity.
When I started ‘talking to’ a boy for the first time, Kyle, she all of a sudden developed an intense infatuation with him and told me I was forbidden from communicating with him from then on.
I was insecure but I was not a pushover.
When I didn’t listen to her demands, she took it a step further and told Kyle I had ongoing relationships with several other boys (untrue), which he unfortunately believed. I was completely crushed. She then swooped in and took every opportunity to rub it in my face that she ‘won’ him (i.e. inviting him to my birthday parties at home, inviting me out with her only to later reveal I would be third-wheeling, making him compliment me and then gloating about how she had such a nice partner, etc.).
This sort of thing happened countless times, not with just boys but with friends and even workplaces! They ended up seeing each other for two years and, although they had a nasty breakup, Kyle and I remained on good terms, which drove her up the wall. She would constantly ask me, “Oh, did you guys get intimate behind my back yet?’ while claiming to have moved on already.
When we finally graduated high school (we were in the same year), I could not be happier to move out and go to college. While I was finally living the life I wanted without her toxicity, she went to 2 different unaccredited schools, both of which she dropped out of after 1 semester at each.
Eventually, she moved back in with our parents in our hometown and fell into her old ways again (assuming she had ever grown out of them).
On the eve of her 19th birthday, she posted to social media about how her friends had gifted her a fake ID and raved about their plans to club hop for her birthday.
Even though I lived 500mi away, she still had to find some way to rub it in my face that I would be missing out on all the fun. I was invited to her birthday event page on social media, where she detailed all the extravagant and expensive things she planned for her special day.
We’re talking limo rental, VIP rooms at 2 of the biggest clubs in town, and even some photographer guy who would follow them like paparazzi. She made a public post on the event page where she tagged me and said, ‘It’s going to be amazing! Too bad you’ll miss out! HAHA. You’ll have to wait 2 years before you can experience any of this.’
It had been about a year since I had last seen or spoken to her.
By this point, I was at a much happier place with myself, emotionally. It took me a while to shake off the effects of her emotional abuse, but I did it and I wasn’t going to let her drag me back to those lows again.
But this post got me to reminisce about all the things that she had done to me in the past and I couldn’t help but feel a boiling rage inside.
Now, unbeknownst to her, Kyle had recently reconnected with me on social media. It was only friendly conversation catching up on each other’s lives until he suggested we meet up and have lunch (he went to another college an hour away). Lunch turned into us having an afternoon-long crap-talking-fest about Amy. He confessed that she was emotionally abusive to him during their relationship and the only time they didn’t fight was when I was in their company (which is why he didn’t mind me third-wheeling, apparently).
During this, he also confessed he had feelings for me but couldn’t forgive himself for letting Amy dangle him in front of me, because he knew that I had liked him. This guilt was apparently something he had been carrying for years and finally found the courage to apologize for now.
REVENGE: Here’s where we get petty. I convinced Kyle to alert his brother, who happened to be the marketing director for one of the clubs Amy had reserved a VIP room at for her upcoming birthday plans.
After he did that, I went home and called the limousine rental company and pretended to be a concerned parent and insisted no booze be available since several of the girls were underage.
They let me know that they were very appreciative of the notice. And then, I did a little digging and found out who the ‘paparazzi’ guy would be and called him to cancel his services for the event.
With her birthday coming up in just a couple of days, I sat back and waited to let the chips fall where they may, and it was better than I could have hoped for. When I asked about it a few days afterward, she was sure to screech every beautiful detail to me over the phone.
Since the limo did not provide them with booze, they stopped by a friend’s house to ‘pre-game’ and sneak in their own supply.
Once the driver noticed the gaggle of very intoxicated girls in his limo, he stopped and made them throw away all of the booze they snuck in. When they got to the first club, Kyle’s brother, who knew Amy as Kyle’s ex, confronted them at the door and told them there was no way in heck they were getting in. This was VERY upsetting to these groups of intoxicated girls and they all proceeded to make a huge scene, going so far as showing him Amy’s fake ID to ‘prove’ they were allowed in…except the name on the ID wasn’t hers.
Kyle’s brother, or ‘jerkface’ as Amy called him, had security forcibly remove them from the premises. As the cherry on top, he contacted his friends at the other clubs in town and warned them of Amy and her underage entourage, successfully banning her from every single dance club/bar in a 20mi radius. She didn’t even get a refund on the deposits for the VIP rooms. She’s lucky she wasn’t arrested, but she still plays victim to ‘horrible bad luck.'”
12. Hide Pizza From Everyone? We'll Leave You An Empty Box
I work at a pizza shop where it’s an unspoken rule if we get an extra pizza, it’s fair game for everyone to eat. You can only claim it at the end of the night.
There is a girl that is entitled (EG, we’ll call) that was being super negative and mean to everyone.
There are two other people in the back of the house. One is (Liam) and the other is (John).
We were at work last night, and it was a good night. Not super busy but not super slow, just the norm. Two people in the back of house worked doubles and were hungry, so we all were hoping for an extra pizza. I got on the oven to cut pizzas and take them up to the red rack (the rack is red and it’s just a place to put done orders) and noticed a large buffalo pizza sitting on the side.
I was confused because the order was done and ready to take up, so I asked one of the girls up front about it. She said she didn’t know anything about it.
Then Liam came back and said, “Guess whattttt… We got a large buffalo pizzaaaaa.” We were all super excited about this because a buffalo pizza is an amazing pizza that gets eaten in less than 5 minutes.
Since it was a large pizza, we could all have a piece, but it was too busy to eat, so we were going to wait until it got slower then dig into this amazing pizza.
Liam came back and said “EG” took a piece of the pizza and ate it over top of the rest of the pizza (Yes, the box was open and that’s disgusting). This is a big no for a couple of reasons.
Liam is a big germaphobe and won’t eat the pizza and I won’t eat this pizza because “EG” did this. Others didn’t hear about this, but it didn’t matter because “EG” took the pizza and hid it from everyone.
This made everyone mad, so we started to look for it. About 5 minutes later, Liam found the pizza hidden in a spot that’s not all that good.
It had its label (the label tells all the info about the pizza like who it belongs to, their phone number… etc.) and a DoorDash sticker on it. Liam and I started to plan what we were going to do. Liam said to take the pizza and hide it, but I had a better idea… I told him let’s print out another label, grab a DoorDash sticker, and slap them on a large empty pizza box.
And that’s exactly what we did. It was all set up; all we had to do was wait for the time to strike.
A little time later, and it was go time. I grabbed the decoy box and Liam watched my back. I switched the boxes out and everyone started to laugh as I ran to the back with the buffalo pizza trying not to be seen by “EG.” When I got to the back, Liam had the oven door open and I put it in.
It’s a gas oven that is like one at your house; it has the door on it that opens, but nobody knows that it opens. It also doesn’t have a window, so you can’t see inside of it. This makes it perfect for hiding things…even the owner of the pizza shop didn’t know it opened, and he worked there his entire life. Once the box was secured, we were excited because we just pranked “EG.”
Sometime later, Liam’s girl (who works there) came back with someone and asked where the pizza went.
We asked why and she told us that “EG” said that Aly could have the pizza. This made us feel bad and she said that we pranked the wrong person, so we threw away the decoy box and gave Aly the pizza.
Sometime later, Aly comes back and starts ranting to us calling “EG” terrible names. “EG” was now telling Aly that she could only have one piece of the pizza and not the whole thing, so Liam grabs the pizza, hands it to me, and I put it back in the oven.
Then I proceeded to print off the label and grab a DoorDash sticker, slap them on a new large box, and put it where she hid the pizza. I had to put this decoy box with nothing right under “EG’s” nose. She was about 7 feet away from me and one look to her left and “EG” would have seen me. The prank was back on and we were all excited again.
We started to do our daily cleaning tasks and clean the shop like normal. It was 9 PM, and the shop was officially closed, so I mopped, Liam finished the dishes, and our manager John was going over our cleaning list making sure it was all done when all of a sudden… BOOM, the decoy box was slammed. Footsteps from “EG” shoot around the shop as loud as can be.
She came back with the box open and ran up to John as Liam and I watched. She screamed at John and yelled at him demanding to know where “her pizza” was. He knew but just pulled the best poker face and said, “I don’t know” as he shrugged. “EG” then slammed the box on a table and stormed off (She was livid, and we were happy as can be).
I followed her and she left the building (she was off the clock) and as she left she tried to slam the door, but the main door doesn’t slam and she failed.
I talked to everyone up front and we were laughing at “EG.” Aly said, “I wish I still had that pizza” and I looked at her and said, “We still have it.” She followed me into the back and it felt good to let her have the pizza, but she only wanted one piece. So I gave the rest of it to one of our trainees who was also happy to get it.
This was fun to just make “EG” mad because the entire night she was just being a complete jerk to all of us. Plus she doesn’t know who did it so that’s even better.”
11. Think It's Ok To Show Kids "That?" I'll Get You Fired
“Quick background: I’m not a cosplayer myself, but I have plenty of friends who are and so I’m in an online community group with cosplay and gaming as its main focuses. I’m not active in it, but the group itself is 16K and constantly growing in size what is considered quite big for my country’s social media standards. No surprise though that more than half of the members are 13-17 year-old boys and girls.
There’s been an ongoing debate in this group for almost a year now about what’s considered real cosplay. Bear with me, I swear it will add to the story later.
Imagine it like there’s a group of people who are creating character-based cosplays from movies and series and there’s another who’s, let’s say, a little racier. My opinion on this doesn’t matter now, but the second group is also known for posting not-safe-for-work stuff into this collective group without any warnings.
Sadly, the laws in my country aren’t advanced enough yet to make this illegal.
I’m from an old European country with great historical universities. Our school system is also quite traditional so it’s like everyone wants to go to these big named universities with full-tuition scholarships and the ones that are privately owned have to fight for their students. I happen to study at one of the oldest universities in our capital city.
This also will be important later.
So onto the story. One of my friends posted on her private page about this issue and I noticed a girl commenting that everyone should let them be. If anything, they should be glad that these cosplayers are giving kids an education about femininity.
My blood pressure went 0 to 100 in the few seconds of reading this. So I replied trying to contain my anger and simply telling her that: No, it isn’t normal for kids to be exposed to such things at such a young age.
I get that this is a cosplay group and she wants to share her content, but she should simply put a warning on it and everyone would shut up. At least then it would be the stupid kid clicking on it not her blatantly sharing it. And the fact that kids are exposed to such content easily at many media types doesn’t mean she should be willingly one of them!
She replied stating that we live in very different worlds.
She accepts and respects mine; I should also do so with her views cause this is also cosplay.
After this, I simply told her that: Yes, I live in a world where the innocence of children should be valued and parents needn’t expose their children to unnecessary things. And I see that she didn’t get my point cause I never said it isn’t cosplaying. I simply stated that it’s highly inappropriate for young audiences.
In her next reply, she went ballistic with the curses. It was quite entertaining. But amongst a lot of other stuff, she told me that I’m (25F) just a little inexperienced high school girl and I have no say in this.
Then the original post got removed by my friend cause she and her followers started to get super personal and vulgar with her and the goal wasn’t that.
Two days pass and I almost completely forgot about this interaction when I get the message from this friend that this woman kept messaging her through these two days and she’s so tired and done with this whole thing. I also got the screenshots.
Now in these private messages, she starts by telling this younger girl that she’s a leader at a foundation that is helping young adults who came from an unsecured household.
Then she states that she only wants good for her and she sees her as one of her mentored ones.
In the following two days, she managed to tell this visibly insecure girl that:
- No one loves her
- She deserves only hate and she hopes “it will teach her the lesson”
- She has mental problems and should seek professional help immediately cause of her views and approach (this one at least three times)
- They are clearly right cause there are more of them
- The way my friend isn’t changing her opinion is a sign of malice and idiocracy
- She will die alone hated by everyone
- And so on with some other smaller claims.
My friend was handling it quite well, but to be honest, I understand why she got eventually fed up.
To the obvious question of why she didn’t just block her: at the same time, her followers and friends were all ridiculing her and tagging her on hateful public posts and stories. She thought that maybe if she can stop Main Bully with reasoning the others will stop as well.
NOW TO THE REVENGE PART:
I can’t express how much I hate when someone goes after the insecure quiet one to feel dominant.
It wasn’t hard to find her job (she was stupid enough to use her real name on her cosplay page), and lo and behold, she’s a simple voluntary mentor at a nationwide university project at a small countryside privately owned university.
It took around 15 minutes to find the correct email addresses and type up a simple and short email about my concerns that she’s behaving this way while using her position at the university to back it up, bringing a bad reputation to the university.
Her behavior is also discouraging the young people she interacts with from this project and I just want to warn them before she hurts someone in need. I put every single address I could find from the project office and university as a recipient and sent it along with the screenshots of their private conversation and public comments with the sign-off of my name and university.
The nationwide project is also centrally hosted by my university.
It didn’t take 30 minutes and she got a call that she’s temporarily terminated. I know this because of the backlash and panic on her and her follower’s social media. The hysteria is still going on at this moment. Her defense is that “the screenshots are forged” and “I’m wanting to get her fired because I hate lewd cosplayers!” I want to see you convincing your bosses about that Sherlock.”
10. Fire Me From My Job? Listen To Cotton Eye Joe For Two Hours
“I had two jobs. One was at this country ice house… (in the middle of) nowhere outside of my city. This place was pretty small but was one of the few bars in a certain area, so it would get busy. A lot of good ole’ boys and oil field guys.
I worked the door, checked IDs and such, and usually broke up fights or kicked people out.
One night, some trouble happens between some regulars, and one guy tries to hit another guy with a pool stick.
I happened to get hit in the arm but got behind the guy and put him to sleep. The next day, the manager calls me to tell me I’m being let go. Apparently, the pool stick guy spends a lot of money, and me putting him to sleep left him bitter, so he called the owner.
Anyways, the bar has a nice fancy jukebox. If you have the app, you can just pick songs on your credit card, and they’ll play. If you hit play next on a song, even if they turn the jukebox off, it’ll play when it starts back up.
It’s also unskippable. With the master remote, you could skip a song, but they lost that remote, so they really can’t do much if someone plays a certain song they don’t like, and even if they unplug it, it’ll play no matter what when they turn it on.
Here’s my petty revenge:
The owner does inventory every Tuesday night. It also happens to be a busy night because they do pool tournaments and it usually gets packed. So, here I thought, I could probably just play the same song over and over and there’s nothing they can really do. I got twenty bucks in credits, and that usually gives you about 18 unskippable songs, plus more depending on if the app gifts you credits.
I picked a remix of Cotton Eye Joe that comes in at around 7 minutes a pop. Usually when the pool tournament started. Two hours of hearing the same song has killed their business on Tuesdays. Even if they unplug it, it’ll still play when they plug it back up.
I’ve been doing it for two months so far. Last I heard, they had to buy a new jukebox at a cost of $5,000. I’ll probably stop for a month then start again.”
9. Think You're So Above Me? I'll Put You In Your Place
“I am the location manager at a small ski/snowmobiling resort in Montana. My job is to make sure that all the different departments in the resort are running well. The time between February-April is our “off-season” meaning that we are only about 40% full. We lose a lot of our employees during this time because they make less income, so they go back to their hometowns.
To make up for this, I work in a lot of departments, helping out to cover scheduling gaps.
I’m hanging a welcome banner for a popular ski team, in our lobby near the front desk. A man approaches the front desk and says to me, “My name is Darren Jacobs.”
“Good Morning! How can I help you?”
He gives me a look and says, “Obviously I’m checking in. Why else would I be standing here?” He mumbles “idiot” under his breath.
Just then the front desk clerk comes around the corner to help the man. I nod to him and say, “It’s ok. I have this one.” He goes back to finishing breakfast. “I’m sorry, sir. Check-in isn’t until 3 PM. It is currently 7 am. Your room won’t be ready until then.”
His face turns red, and he starts saying that I should do it out of goodwill and that he’s a paying customer.
I smile a big smile, when he says, “Goodwill.” I can check him in, as we are less than half full, but I won’t check him in because he’s an entitled buttface. “I’m sure you’ll think of something!” I say with a big smile.
He goes into a long tirade. We are on a mountain, and the only business open this time of year. You need a hotel room key to get into any building, including restaurants.
“How the flip am I supposed to know when it’s 3 pm?! I’m on vacation!”
I pause, point to a clock in the lobby, and say, “It’s when the little hand is on the 3.”
I saw him several times that week. Walking past the front desk, or coming down to get towels. Every time I saw him, I put on my best smile and said, “Checking in?”
Bonus story: We lock the laundry room at night.
It reopens at 9 am because it’s next to a row of guest rooms. He told a housekeeper that he forgot his phone in there, and when she opened the door to help him, he started loading clothes into the washer, laughed at her, and left.
She went home for the night. He came down to the front desk demanding that we let him in so his clothes don’t mildew. “Housekeepers have the keys, sir. We don’t have keys to their areas.”
“I need my freaking clothes, or I’m going to sue you!”
I said in a deadpan voice, “Yes sir. I’ll send someone up to kick the door down, IMMEDIATELY.”
8. Wrongfully Accuse Me Of Theft? You'll Be The One With The Charges
Her lie unraveled right before her eyes.
“This happened when I was 16 in 2006. I was going to school in New Zealand. The next day I went back to Australia (my mum lived in NZ and my dad lived in Australia).
On my last day at that school (my last lesson of the day was art) I was about to start packing up when there was a knock at the door and a few minutes later my teacher asked me to go out into the hall.
I went out and there was a police officer standing there with a stern look on her face (clearly not a social visit).
PO: “Miss OP? I need you to come with me to the station.”
ME: (confused) “Um, why? Is there something wrong?”
PO: “We can discuss it when we get to the station.”
ME: (still not understanding what was going on) “Ok, but today’s my last day here and I need to pack my things and get some of my stuff from the office.”
PO: “That’s ok.
I can wait.”
So I got the rest of my things and followed the police officer to her car. When I got in the car I asked if she could tell me what was going on and she told me there was a break-in earlier that day and my name was mentioned as a person that was there. I had been at school all day so it obviously wasn’t me.
When we arrived at the station I was put into an interview room while the officer left to fetch something. A few minutes later she came back in with another person; the person who’d told the police that I’d been the one at the break-in. My gut hit the floor as I recognized the girl. She would often hang around with me and my sister and her friends (she was a few years younger than me.
Needless to say, I was angry.
PO: “Hi OP. I would like for you both to tell your story of where you were today. Sally, you can start.”
Sally: “I went to my brother’s place at lunchtime and I saw OP was there stealing stuff. When she saw me she took off out the window. Then the police arrived.”
ME: (ready to strangle Sally) “I’ve been at school all day and I’ve got at least 20 people who can vouch for it.”
PO: “I’ll need the names of those people.”
I gave her the names of all the people I was with for most of the day, then looked at Sally and said: “If I was there, please tell the officer what color my school bag is.”
Sally: “It’s black.”
ME: (smug and satisfied) “Officer, please have a look at my school bag.
It’s white with Hello Kitty on the front. That’s the only one I own. And while you’re at it, please check Sally’s school bag if you haven’t already. On the bottom right side, you’ll find a small hole in the stitching. You will find some ‘extra special’ smoking stuff.” (even though I didn’t know Sally well, she was very vocal about her secret stashes and hiding places)
The look on Sally’s face changed from confident to terrified in a heartbeat.
If she was going to accuse me of something I didn’t do, I’m taking her down instead.
The rest of the story is a bit of a blur, but it turned out that Sally and her friends went to Sally’s brother’s house when he was at work, intending to steal from him. The police were called and when they arrived, Sally panicked and said that I was there and they were trying to get me to leave.
Sally’s lie backfired big time. She was charged with theft, break and enter, possession, and lying to a police officer.
I never saw her again after that but I hope she turned her life around.”
7. Complain About Me Being In The Front For Too Long? I'll Stay There The Rest Of My Shift
“This happened during my shift earlier today between myself and my coworker who we’ll call K.
I work in a retail electronics store. For some context, over the last year or two, we’ve been working toward eliminating departments and having employees walk around the store to help anyone who needs help. Another important note is that earlier this year, we started having an employee “host” which involves mostly directing customers, asking if they need help, and handing out masks.
Now K loves to talk about coworkers behind their backs, in fact, most of working with her involve listening to her complain about everyone else. This particular day had been incredibly slow, so I went up to the front to talk to my friend who was currently hosting since there wasn’t anything better to do. At some point, I go off to help a few customers, K takes the opportunity to come up to the front and complain to my friend about how much time I spend up there.
When I came back up, my friend told me that K not only complained to him about me, but she also mentioned that she needs to come up with a plan to get me to stay in my department where I belong.
Here’s where the fun starts. About two hours before the end of my shift, my friend goes to help his returning customer and asks me to cover hosting for him.
Half an hour later, my friend comes back up and the AP guy asks him to cover the AP desk while he takes his lunch. My friend and I are laughing about how K must be grumpy about me being up front for so long since she stopped responding to me on the mic when suddenly we hear K say over the mic, “OP, you need to have someone else cover the front and come back here.”
Figuring something was up since we were still very slow, I ask if there were customers needing help.
She evaded the question by stating they were all with customers. Since I wanted to make sure everyone was getting helped, I looked back but saw there was in fact no customers waiting, however, before I could respond to K, my friend stops me telling me he’ll handle it.
“K, OP is hosting while I cover for AP guy who is taking his lunch,” he informs her over the mic.
When AP guy gets back, my friend is about to take over hosting again, but I tell him he should take his break, which he happily agreed to. By the time he got back, I only had fifteen minutes left, ten of which I spent helping a customer near the front. With the last five minutes of my shift, I walked to the back, grabbed my water, and told K and the other coworker back there to have a good day as K glared at me.
I honestly would have gone back to “my” department and asked someone else to host if they actually needed me back there, but after K had been so rude to me, I was happy to be as far from her as I could.
Anyways, I don’t know if this is true revenge, but it was most certainly petty and definitely improved my day.”
6. Be A Terrible Landlord? I'll Pay Rent As Late As Possible
“When I made the next rent payment, I made a point to send her funds 10 minutes before the end of day cutoff on Chase bank. (They only allow me to do a certain amount via Zelle on any given day.) Then twenty minutes later, on the new business day, I made a second payment. I memoed them both the appropriate months too.
We’ve since had another argument where she threatened to evict us because I told her she was crazy.
She called us lazy, and I reminded her that not only do we work harder than she does, but she is just a landlord without a job right now relying on other people to pay her bills and she got super angry and said we need to move out. I told her I’m not moving out because her feelings were hurt and to go talk to her attorney about that.
Anyway. I’m condensing this terribly but long story short. She was texting me and in the time it took me to immediately reply (not even 2 minutes) she sent follow-ups sayings, “Excuse me. I’m talking to you, and I asked you a question.” This was while I was sitting on the toilet composing a response. So I told her what I thought about her, and as you can imagine, it didn’t go over well with her.
Moving forward to today.
It’s now been two months and she was here for some maintenance reasons and told us to make sure we paid rent and add on the extra for electric we had used, which more or less confirmed that she is not paying attention to finances too well as she does not think we have paid for September yet (which we did last month on the first).
So here’s where we are at right now.
We’ve paid one month ahead in rent and intend on paying one more month ahead doing the same late-night method as the last time. This will have us paid two full months ahead.
In addition, we live in Chicago and I did a lot of looking at tenancy laws and she never supplied us with a receipt for our security deposit.
Since she did not do that, and I’m guessing she spent that money (can’t prove it yet), we can request the receipt and address of the bank it is in at any time and if she can’t supply it, we could break our lease. We do like the place though, so we’re sitting on this for now. In addition, we’ve started tracking every time she’s threatened or tried to kick us out because even threatening to do so for no valid reason is a violation of tenancy laws in our city.
I’m not sure what the penalty is for it, but we’ve been documenting everything.
Part of Chicago law is that interest must be paid on any deposits on the year. Even if the interest is only 5 cents, if they don’t pay it, we can take her to court and get triple the deposit back as a penalty (our deposit back + 2x the deposit).
This time frame comes up in October, and remember we will be paid 2 months ahead in October.
(We signed a year and a half lease.)
October is when I drop the bomb. I’ll be stopping rent until January so she won’t get a rent payment from us for November or December. In October, I’m going to file for not putting our security deposit in a separate account for us AND for not paying the interest on the security deposit after a year. If I’m reading it correctly, they both can result in individual penalties and the penalties are the same for each.
So worst-case scenario, we’ll be getting an extra $3,560 from her violating the tenancy laws in our city, but possibly as much as $7,120. Then while having to pay that, she won’t have any rent payment coming from us for 90 days.
And this will all be coming in right during the holidays and Christmas.”
Another User Comments:
“It’s very, very smart of you to log all conversations. The more detail you can provide for each one, the better.
Screenshots of course and detailed written synopses for when you talk in person. Make sure to record the date and exact time, as well as any other context you can think of like specific location, tone of her voice, etc. You can never have too many details when dealing with something like this.
If it ever does end up in court and you bring a carefully organized binder filled with conversations and receipts, I can guarantee the judge will be willing to side with you on everything, provided of course you haven’t left any details out here.
I’ve dealt with eviction court myself, unfortunately, for similar issues. I know it’s different everywhere, but where I am (Minnesota), it seemed like the judges automatically went in looking to support the tenants over the landlords. Obviously, when a person didn’t pay rent and the landlord showed ample proof and that procedure was followed they won every time. In cases like this though, the judge almost never believed the landlord and will rule in favor of the tenant with less proof than you have. I won three months rent plus the return of the full deposit in my case, and even I admit I didn’t do a complete job of recording things.” big_duo3674
5. Think You Can Get Away With Being The School Jerk? I'll Make Sure You Get Detention
“I was the quiet kid in my sophomore year of high school. I was shy, I was anxious, and I never stood up for myself. I was always quiet and people that talked to me were usually pretty loud and opinionated. The only thing I really liked about myself was my art and I typically got good feedback on it when someone happened to catch me doodling, otherwise, I would hide my sketches.
There was a boy I knew that was kind of a jerk. People liked him because he had a sense of humor but I always thought he was mean. One day I saw him come into the library after school. I’m unsure if he was in a program or he had detention but it was about time for the final bus to pick up the late leavers.
Of course, when he sees me there he comes right up to me to check out whatever I was doing. His favorite thing to do was pester people while they were trying to work.
I had stayed after school to finish a project and my mother was going to pick me up later on. I finished my project a little early and started doodling. This guy was looking at some of my doodles and told me how I had no creativity and wasn’t going anywhere with my art.
I’ve always been sensitive to feedback and this really hurt. Strangely enough though, I was angrier than I was sad.
That’s when I had a good idea. Recently the school had implemented a security scanner like in airports that beep when someone walks out with a book they didn’t check out.
The guy had gone off to pester other people and left his backpack on the chair. I decided to take a book and stick it in his bag.
The librarian was really grumpy and I was sure he’d get a nice scolding and be sent on his way. That’s all I really wanted to get out of this little revenge.
Well after I snuck the book into his bag I noticed he still wasn’t paying attention and I opted to stick a couple more books into other parts of his bag. I checked and he didn’t notice.
I get up and head outside to wait for my mother and doodle in private, chuckling to myself at my little joke.
A little time passes and I see the final bus pull up.
A few kids hop on and it takes off without him. I figured that’s weird until two girls come outside laughing and ask me if I was ‘the one who did it.’ I was confused and asked them what happened.
They tell me that as everyone was leaving the library since it was closing for the day, a guy got stopped by the security system and the librarian was angry about it.
Turns out the guy said he must have left a book in his bag on accident and the library told him to be more careful and let him go. When he tried to leave again the security had gone off.
The librarian apparently gets red and stomps over to him and takes his backpack, dumping all of his things on the floor. When she sees all the extra books I had put in there he was taken to the office to get detention and ended up missing his bus. He also didn’t have a ride home for at least two hours since his mother worked late.
I told the girls I didn’t know anything about that and they went off into the parking lot still laughing. I kind of felt bad, I didn’t mean for him to get a detention. Later on, he told me that he knew it was me that put the books in his bag and he started leaving me alone after that.”
Another User Comments:
“Had a similar thing happen years ago.
Got sent by an agency to do phone work.
Found it was telesales which I hate, but I found out it was paid charity work so stuck with it.
I asked loads of questions about the charity that the managers seemed unhappy about.
After the fifth or sixth question, they asked me to leave and not come back with no explanation.
I spoke with the agency who were surprised to learn it was a charity as that was not what they were told.
Further checks were made, the sales staff were selling advertising space in a charity magazine that didn’t exist.
The managers pocketed the funds, the sales staff thought it was all genuine.
The company shut down and disappeared leaving their staff unpaid.
The manager later went to prison for another scam.” warmachine83uk
4. Not A Fan of My Driving? Hope Your Car Likes Slurpees As Much As I Do
“Back when I was a senior in high school around Christmas time my parents allowed me to skip school to go buy Christmas gifts and say off it for the day. I had my license so I was excited to just do my own thing that day. I head out to the mall in the other town and am having one of those really good days.
You know, where for no particular reason you are just happy and floating through the day. It was sunny out and not too cold. Just a perfect day. After I finished up at the mall I figured I would treat myself.
I got one of those big gulp Slurpees from 7/11. The almost gallon-looking cup that barely fits into any of your cup holders with the red shovel end straw of Mountain Dew Code Red.
Heck yes, this was continuing to be an awesome day. I needed to cross a bridge to get over the big river in our area and onto the highway I needed. The bridge had the outside lane closed midway through. I’m in the inside lane and need to get to the right turn lane at the end of the bridge. Before the closure, this lady in a nice BMW tries to speed up and cut in front of me before the lane closed.
I was like huh? This was dangerous as it is being all tight and everyone following close so I don’t let her in and she slides in behind of me cutting off the person behind me.
Whatever. I can see in my mirror she is waving her arms around and upset. As I pull into the right turn lane she pulls up next to me and rolls down her window.
All I see are animated movements and someone yelling. So I roll down my window. This old witch isn’t going to ruin my day. My initial plan is to just be overly nice to her. Bee-with-an-itchy people in a fit hate when you are super nice to them. But after I roll down my window I hear her breaking into a tirade against teenage drivers. ‘You kids should learn manners.’ ‘You kids shouldn’t be driving.’ ‘I’ll have you arrested!’ and just being a mean woman because I wouldn’t let her break the rules and cut everyone in line.
So I had a moment of brilliance. I reach over, grab my fully filled and bright red Slurpee and with my right arm, I sorta chucked it across my body. My initial plan was that it would hit her door or something and spill everywhere on her paint causing her to have to go to a car wash.
What actually happened turned out better than I could have imagined.
Now, remember she was leaning over into the passenger seat to yell at me. So as I chucked this tank of red sticky slushie out my window it didn’t hit her car door or any part of the outside. Instead, it sailed perfectly into her open window and exploded when it hit the headrest of her passenger seat. I’m talking bright red slushie exploding all over the nice tan leather interior, windshield, and best of all on the woman’s face.
The look of utter shock and awe on her face was absolutely incredible. She went from one moment being rude, mean, and authoritative to suddenly shocked and trying to process her situation.
I simply said, ‘Merry freaking Christmas’ and drove away. Those were the only words I spoke to her. Afterward, I felt kinda bad. I mean I didn’t mean to throw it IN her car but rather on it. That mess must have been a pain to get cleaned up. But after thinking about it a little more I was very happy that it turned out the way it did.”
3. Boss Thinks He Can Run A Cult? Get Destroyed With An E-mail
“Ok, I’m gonna write this up while I still have the adrenaline rush from hitting the button.
The previous job I had was working with an events construction company. Unfortunately, during the winter months, there aren’t very many events, so I was running dangerously close to flat broke due to the lack of work. I decided to start looking for another job with little to no experience required.
I had applied for a few admin jobs when I received an email saying I got invited to an interview. At this point, I wasn’t keeping track of what companies I had applied to, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t recognize the company name which I’m gonna call “Brainwashing & Manipulation Advertising Co.” for legal reasons, or B&M for short.
I searched through my internet history to see if I could find the application on any of the job websites I frequented, but I didn’t find anything.
But I thought, “Whatever; work is work. I may as well see what B&M’s about.”
During the first interview process, nothing really seemed weird. It felt like a normal interview with the only notable thing being that everyone applying for it was really young and all in their early and mid-20s. I usually interview quite well, so I was pretty confident that I had made it into the next interview, but when I received a callback, the guy who interviewed me continuously hinted at me not being invited back before finally telling me that I had passed into the next round of interviews.
After that call, I found myself going from not caring whether or not I had gotten the job to suddenly being really excited that I had made it through, which I thought was odd.
During the second interview, I was taken to “the field” by a team leader ‘Hannah’ to see what the work would actually consist of. During the train ride out, the business was explaining to me in a very much rushed manner, but essentially, it was being the guys who stand in shopping centers and get you to sign up a direct debit for charity.
It was commission meaning I wouldn’t be paid unless I signed anyone up.
This did put me off, but they told me about their special “training program” that guaranteed to teach me sales and marketing techniques that would successfully get me to sign people up.
I thought this would be a great chance to learn some transferable skills, make some income, and increase my confidence in approaching and talking to people since I usually was a quiet guy, so I took the job.
On my first training day, I realized I have never been in a place like this before. I was taken by Hannah to the “Impact room” or training room for “Atmosphere” or training. This is where I started to notice that they had a lot of odd terminology for pretty simple things, but I kinda brushed it off. The training room was blasting loud music, there were no chairs or desks, and there were whiteboards on every wall and a room full of highly excited and motivated early 20’s people in great-looking suits.
They told me that the music was to make it easier to focus on one person training you in the room instead of the 50-odd other people inside the room also talking, and everyone stood to maintain focus on the lessons. I was given the tour of the building, and they explained some of the things that they would be teaching me, and the weird bell hanging from the roof of in the middle of the training room which Hannah called the most important thing in the business.
Suddenly. the guy who interviewed me, ‘Joey.’ walks into the training room and shouts:
Joey: “HEY, GUYS!”
Entire room: “HEY, WHAT?”
Joey: “HEY, GUYS!”
Entire room: “HEY, WHAT?”
Joey: “HOW WE FEELING?”
Entire room: “RICH!”
My immediate thought was, what the actual flip was that? And Hannah explained that they did that to grab everyone’s attention for announcements and that afterward, everyone will shout the word J.U.I.C.E., which stood for Join Us In Creating Excitement.
It was a bit jarring for the first day, but the announcements were read out, and I was sent home for the day while the rest of the office went to the field.
So, my retraining began. (Yes, retraining is literally what they called it.) During the first 3 days, I only stayed in the office learning the sales techniques they used like “The law of averages,” S.E.E Factors, the Jones effect, the greed effect, the various systems they use, and finally, the script they made to pitch the charities.
Honestly, it was an overwhelming amount of work, but I didn’t mind since I was sent home whenever the office had broken up to go to the field, so I got plenty of rest.
Once I was fully trained, though, things got infinitely worse. The training meetings happened every day starting at 7:30, and I was told I was expected to be in. every. single. day. and work hard, so I could get promoted and move up the ranks, earning a ton.
At this point, I was sold on the idea of getting to “leadership,” so I agreed.
After the meeting, we would go to the field, which was basically anywhere where we were permitted to recruit for that particular charity, and then we would run around highly excited to everyone trying to sign them up to which the vast majority ignored us or insulted us. After the field, we were expected to go back to the office and review our day and relearn the techniques used in training, essentially working 12 to 13 hour days without being paid a penny if you didn’t get a sign-up.
The aim was to make $125 in commission sign-ups and ring the bell. Unless you got those sign-ups you needed, you were shamed. Initially, this came off as a light-hearted joke and a positive environment, but I started to notice cracks in the facade.
No one in the office got more than 4 hours of sleep per night, and there were coffee and smoking addictions throughout the office, and worst of all, there was a constantly forced sense of positivity regardless of the circumstances.
Have you been walking in the rain for 8 hours straight and haven’t eaten? Don’t think about it. Have you not signed anyone up in a week and can’t afford travel? Don’t worry about it; we’ll loan you the funds.
Just keep up the positive vibes. Just worry about your pitch (what you’re selling), your pace (how fast you’re selling it), and your attitude.
On top of all that, you were constantly expected to network with other people in similar companies that do well in their sales.
It was an extremely cult-like environment, and I wasn’t the only one who recognized it, but we all thought if it’s for the sake of progress and success, what harm could it do…?
After a week, I was exhausted, and I had barely 3 people signed up that week. That left me spending significantly more than I was making and asking my sister to loan me the funds to work just so I could get good enough at sales to earn a living and finally receive the future of riches and financial freedom that they promised every single morning in those meetings.
On that day, I started hearing from the others in the group that my numbers weren’t good enough and that I had to believe more in the system and work harder or attitudes in the office would change towards me, and I would be left behind. This triggered an anxiety attack, and I ended up sobbing on the phone to my sister about how exhausted I was and how I was terrified of losing everything I had put into the job.
The next morning, I tried to explain to my boss about the anxiety attack I had and how the work environment here was very stressful, but he deflected saying there are people who had tougher situations to deal with who still find success because they remained positive and persevered.
He also said he was glad I had those panic attacks because if I could make it past them, it would show I had the makings of a leader.
Again, I bought into the nonsense and thought that if I could just overcome that, I could make it to the next stage, and so I slaved away for another week exhausted.
Things took a turning point when I was on the Field with Hannah and a person she approached mentioned the company Credico, and all of a sudden, she avoided him like the plague. Later that day when we got back to the office, we were shown a speech by someone who was successful in the business, and on the podium he stood in front of was the name CREDICO in big bold letters.
So, I went home and looked it up finding a documentary on YouTube.
I. Was. Furious. Basically, everything I had experienced from the past 3 weeks was described to a T in that video. From the day I walked into the office, they were emotionally manipulating me and conditioning me to do work ungodly amounts of work for basically pocket change on the chance to make a fortune in the future.
I didn’t want to believe it, but the video explained everything I had questions about and more, whereas whenever I had asked questions about the business to anyone who was in it, I was shut out and told to “get to leadership to find out.”
I wasn’t the only one this information was restricted from.
I met so many new people joining that had amazing hopes, dreams, and ambition that this company was farming to make funds off of.
One girl I spoke to was thinking about quitting med school to work at B&M full time. One guy was an ex-homeless junkie who was trying hard to turn his life around and be a good father. A lot of people were fresh out of uni and were trying to launch their careers.
This was the tipping point for me. I knew that if I had spoken to the managers about it, they would brush it under the carpet and ignore it.
So, I thought, whatever; I’m not working there tomorrow, and people had the right to decide the truth for themselves.
So, I pull up the vast list of people I was told to network with and forwarded the documentary to everyone on the list to see what happened…
Then my phone blew up with messages from everyone from the bottom in sales all the way up to the owners.
I very obviously got fired, but it was worth it because half the office quit right then and there. The schadenfreude was delicious.
To give you a better picture of what it was like there, let me tell you about Super Challenge Fridays.
So, every Friday the sales guys at the bottom are encouraged to challenge each other to who could make the most profit in a day.
At first, I wasn’t confident enough to dish out a challenge, but ‘Joey’ egged me on to do it, and in the end, I challenged one of the other leaders who was training me, and another new recruit was egged on to challenge me, so I ended up with 2 matches.
The base penalty is a public apology from the losers to the winners. But it got a bit hectic after that… Someone challenged another for a chance to shave off their man bun.
Another challenge was for the loser to get their eyebrow shaven off, and that was just the beginning…
On that day, I was put on a lottery charity campaign. This immediately put me on the back foot since signing someone up on a lottery campaign pays less than half of the regular direct debit campaigns, which the other 2 people I was against were both on. This meant to make $140.03 profit and ring the bell, they would have to get 4 sign-ups whereas I would have to get 10.
Of course, being new and not great at sales yet, I lost both challenges. The losers were made to get on their knees and read a pre-written script essentially praising the winners and asking their forgiveness for challenging the winners. The one guy who was too proud to admit he lost and do the same punishment was pressured into a corner and forced to read the script while the crowd booed him and recorded it. I think I’ve still got a recording on my phone somewhere.”
2. Yell While I'm Taking An Exam? Deal With My Noise Next
An eye for an eye…
I’m a freshman at an amazing university, and sadly, I had to leave my amazing student apartment and go back to my parents’ apartment because my mom wanted the family to be together. The student apartment I have is located pretty close to the campus, and it takes me about 10 minutes to reach the campus.
The reason my parents rented me that place was because my parents’ apartment is on the other side of the city, and with the different times the classes start, my mom didn’t want me to struggle with transportation.
Due to recent circumstances, I packed most of my stuff and went back to my parents’ apartment to stay there until life turns back to normal.
It was almost time for my midterm exams. We had online classes, and our midterms were online too.
I’m an English Language Teaching degree student, and one of the classes I take is Oral Communication Skills. For the midterm of that class, the professor divided us into groups and wanted us to send him a group presentation.
My friends and I chose our presentation material and had set up a video call to record the exam assignment.
We were making fairly decent progress until I heard our next-door neighbor talking very loudly. I was on the balcony because I didn’t have a desk in my room. (We had taken it to my student apartment. Also, the balcony is not an open balcony.) I thought, “No big deal.
It’s not too loud” and continued with my exam. But, then, the kids decided to have a screaming match. I think they were fighting over a toy. And the bee with an itch was not even trying to stop them.
I was panicked because if the screaming could be heard in the recording, it would affect our performance, and all group members would receive a lower score, and there was no way I was going to let this witch ruin my exam.
So, I asked my friends to stop the recording. Then I banged on the wall as hard as I could, so hard that I felt like I broke my hands. The noise didn’t stop. So, I banged harder and harder, and finally, the noise stopped for some time.
I went back to the video call and told my friends that I was ready. We recorded our assignment without any disturbances and then submitted it.
After the assignment was done, I told my mom what happened. She was LIVID! She was gonna confront the bee with an itch, but I told her that I had a plan. I went back to the balcony and turned the sound of my laptop up to the highest level. Then I played the loudest music and noises I could find.
The next day, I did the same thing by using my iPad.
I placed it super close to the wall that divided our doors and let my playlist play on the highest volume.
It went on for a few more days, and I finally stopped. And would you look at that? I never heard a single noise ever again.
That was not the only time though. Every time she opened her front door, her kids screamed like demons who got splashed with holy water. She never told them to stop. So, I always opened my door a bit and let out the highest scream sound effect through the speaker of my iPad.
As for the other neighbors, they never complained about my revenge because they were sick of that witch as well.
And the main reason I resorted to this method was because of the ignorance of this terrible person.”
1. Be A Demanding Customer? Hope You Like Toilet Water
“I worked in restaurants during college in various roles from 2003-06. Server, drink slinger, in the kitchen, etc.
I once picked up a catering shift for an event of a few hundred people. We had a few bars set up and a handful of food stations with people at each location to serve the guests.
The rest of us were to keep the place clean by walking around and picking up glasses, plates, and trash.
We were NOT supposed to serve drinks or food as that was handled by the people at their respective stations.
As I was walking around tidying up, a man physically grabbed me by my arm (I’m a tall male) and proceeded to demand a glass of water. I calmly told him that I wasn’t allowed to serve guests food or drink. He squeezed my arm harder and told me to get him water and said, ‘Why don’t you understand what I’m asking? It’s quite simple.’
The attendant at the counter serving drinks, 10 feet away, was watching this happen.
I loudly asked him if he had any water for the man and he said, ‘Nope, no water.’ I told the man there wasn’t any water and I’m sorry. He wouldn’t accept this and told me ‘You can go find water and I will stand here and wait.’
I went to the bar, grabbed a glass of ice, had another server watch my back as I scooped water out of the toilet.
I put the glass on a tray, added a paper napkin, lime slice, and a straw before going back to the man. I handed him the water and apologized for the inconvenience.
I watched as he drank the glass of water. He handed me the empty glass and told me, ‘See, that wasn’t so hard?!’ I told him I know where to get him water if he wanted more later on.
Turns out he was the man that paid for us to be at the event and owned the venue. Screw that guy.”