People Open Up About Their Prodigious Revenge Stories
23. I Put The Adult In Time Out
“One of the things that just really irritates me is when drivers drive slow in the fast lane, think 65 when everyone else is going 75, and then speed up when you try to pass them.
I drive a KIA Stinger quite a bit, it has a good amount of horsepower and torque (almost 400). When someone drives really slow then tries to speed up and stop me from enjoying my day, I get in front of them and then find another vehicle also going really slow and then set a timer.
I pace the slower vehicle making the jerk wait behind me until my 2-minute timer goes off.
It’s been a while since I did this but back in the mid-2000s I was driving from Killeen to Dallas and this guy was going criminally slow. Until I got in position to pass him. Then he went full speed ahead to try and stop me. He succeeded and it was about 2 minutes until I could make it past him.
This time I was prepared and got over even though he sped up. Then I found a semi in the right lane on this 2 lane road and put that jerk on timeout for 5 minutes. We were going 45 mph. For 5 minutes. After 5 minutes exactly I drove off and never saw him again.
It was one of the most gratifying experiences ever because you could tell he was angry. Slamming his hands on the wheel, tailgating, aggressive pacing.”
22. I Seek Petty Revenge For Those Who Cannot Seek It For Themselves
“I watch a young boy sometimes for his parents. I know the family well and they drop the kid off at my house on the way out for an evening, shopping, whatever. Friends of the family so not a business, just a to be nice kind of thing. I have a big yard with a pond and woods, essentially a paradise for a kid to play in.
He catches frogs, builds forts, whatever.
Last summer he picked a bundle of dead dandelions, put them in a pile, and proceeded to whack them with a big stick, basically like hitting a golf ball with a club. This was on the far side of the property downwind from my neighbor near the property line. The old bat comes scampering across her yard and starts SHOUTING at this little kid.
Not asking him to stop, not correcting him, not teaching him, etc. Like verbally abusing the little guy because she was scared of weeds suddenly popping up.
Last weekend I was at Home Depot and saw their birdfeeders. I bought the cheapest one they had with a big bag of seed and set it up on my shed which is about ten feet from her garden. She should have a nice patch of millet to weed next year. The speed she moves, I think it should keep her occupied most of the summer. Enjoy that. Don’t yell at little kids.”
21. Bully Me Into Quitting? I'll Shut The Entire School Down
“I’ve always been a shy person, and I grew up in a large, urban area. In high school, I had friends, but we were the nerdy type and thought of as losers. I was one of two girls in our core friend group of four kids. Of course, we eventually went out with the guys in our group. The youngest in our group was one of the boys, ‘Doug,’ in ninth grade, and the oldest was a boy, ‘Clayton,’ in eleventh.
The other girl (‘Sarah’) and I were in tenth. I went out with Doug all through high school, for which I was relentlessly teased by people outside of our group because he’s a bit more than a year younger than me. Sarah and Clayton married in college, and are still happily married five years later. Doug and I, for our part, got married once he finished college, and we have been married almost four years.
We have a one-year-old daughter, ‘Raquelle.’
Both Doug and Clayton eventually got careers in IT. Sarah and Clayton have their own, one-year-old daughter, ‘Amber.’ Sarah has a small but thriving home business selling refurbished furniture on eBay, that she and Clayton find on weekends.
The reason I give so much backstory is that our friend group is pretty isolated. Chalk it up to years of bullying, being made fun of, excluded, you name it.
It happened to all four of us in school, even in primary and middle school. Even now, in my later twenties, I don’t really have close friends besides Sarah, Clayton, and of course my husband Doug who is my best friend. This is true, even though we moved all the way to the Midwest for Doug’s career (we’re still close enough and well off enough so that we can regularly fly out to see our friends and vice versa).
Doug makes more than enough money to support all three of us on his salary alone, especially in our state, and always says it’s okay if I am a stay-at-home mom.
However, in this new environment, I thought I might have a fresh start. To work on being more outgoing, as it were. No one in my new town knew me from when I was a kid, and a total reject.
Doug’s father passed away, and so his mother lives with us and has generously helped take care of Raquelle. We all talked it over, and agreed I could go back to college to get a teaching certification for my bachelor’s degree (math). Fast forward just a few months, and thanks to an accelerated program and shortage of maths teachers in my area, I got my teaching license quite quickly and easily.
I also made a few new friends in the teaching program, which helped my self-esteem.
So, I put out my resume and within just a few short weeks, I get hired at an independent studies charter school. I was looking to get hired at a regular high school, but whatever. It was a credit recovery school. Basically, the idea was that kids who washed out of the regular school district or couldn’t succeed there for whatever reason could try to succeed in our setting.
We hosted grades nine through twelve. Students would make appointments and come in on their own time, meet independently with teachers, be given assignments and projects, and basically earn a legit high school diploma eventually.
I knew it was kind of weird to go back to a place (high school) where I never fit in, but I thought it would be totally different from the perspective of an adult.
The school was one large classroom the size of a basketball court, with administrative offices, science labs, even an exercise room for PE all around the perimeter. About fifty student desks were lined around the center of the room in rows, and around these desks were about a dozen teacher desks. Generally, we’d have two teachers per subject area (ie, two English, two math, two histories, etc.), and we each had our own roster of students and ensured that they visited all teachers for whose subjects they owed credits.
Although the school officially had over two hundred students on the various rosters, there were rarely more than ten or so students in the school at any one time, due to different appointments throughout the day.
That meant that there was tons of downtime where the teachers would just shoot the breeze with one another. The school had a female principal, a male vice principal, and a male counselor.
The other math teacher was male, both English teachers were female, both science teachers were male, the PE teacher was male, the art teacher was female, and the history teachers were one male and one female. There was also a male computer teacher and a female music teacher, both of whom came in once a week.
I could see right away from day one that all the teachers were good friends with one another.
That’s not a bad thing at all. Lunch is at noon every day and the school shuts down for a whole hour. Typically, the other teachers would all go out to lunch with one another, or break off into twos and threes. I didn’t really know anyone so I didn’t take offense to anyone not inviting me to go to lunch with them. I thought, well, maybe give it a few weeks and it will change.
I had that old feeling from when I was a kid, of being rejected. Still, I was the new person, so I tried not to take it personally. Besides, forming relationships, colleagues included, is a two-way street and I could reach out, too. Til then, it was lunch at the desk. Sometimes I’d facetime hubby, who usually had lunch at that time, too, but I was proud of him for making friends at his own work and tried to minimize taking up his time.
I didn’t really focus on that too much, though, and just did my job. Students tended to like me and after just a few weeks it became noticeable that my students made more appointments to see me than other teachers’ students made to see them. Every time a student finished a project or assignment for a teacher, whatever the subject, they would turn it into their ‘main’ teacher, the one who had the student on their main roster.
It soon became clear that students on my roster were finishing their assignments and graduating at a faster rate than my peers. I didn’t plan for this to happen; it just turned out that way.
Over time, holidays would pass and our school would have mandated social and team-building functions (ie, potluck in the breakroom, etc.). It seems like I was making progress socially. I was always positive and nice to my peers and would be myself around them, try to tell them about me, and learn about them.
They were being nice to me, too, at least to my face, so I thought I was finally fitting in. One day, however, the principal called me into her office to tell me that someone had told her that I was smug and antisocial and that it wasn’t good for the school environment for teachers to ‘bully’ one another. I was flabbergasted and of course, my initial reaction was to ask who told her this, but the principal said it was confidential, and to just ‘work on being nicer.’ I didn’t want to seem intransigent or defiant, so I apologized for hurting anyone’s feelings but also pointed out that I was trying my very best to fit in, and I had been working there the shortest compare to everyone else, so of course I didn’t want to overstep.
I also pointed out that students on my roster were graduating at a good pace (I didn’t throw shade at any of my colleagues). My principal agreed with me on this and praised me heartily. The vice-principal happened to be walking by, and he overheard the principal praising me. He too threw in the comment that I was an exemplary teacher, the students were praising me in private to him, and that the school had ‘big plans’ for me, especially since we were on pace to outperform another independent study charter school a few miles away, which competed for the same state funding.
This pleased me of course and took the edge off the butthurt of people telling the principal I was not nice. A small (maybe big) red flag was that they told me that students graduating meant massive funding for our school, funds which the regular district didn’t want the charter school to have. And, that if all teachers could ‘get more students to turn in work,’ we all might get bonuses.
I mean, all that is good, but both of them spoke about student graduation only in terms of how it could benefit our own pocketbooks.
Ever since I started working at the school, what had originally been five students, ten at the most working in the classroom at a time became twenty or more (almost every one of them a kid on my roster) every day hanging out for hours and hours doing their work in our quiet classroom environment.
I thought this was great because this meant they could graduate sooner and get on with their lives.
Gradually, however, I noticed that some of my peers looked resentful when the classroom was so full. I strongly suspect this is because they had grown accustomed to having long stretches of time to simply mess about online at their desks, playing with their smartphones, and gossiping. Our school had a policy that unless you were on a break, you had to be at your desk and make yourself available to grade student work in your subject area.
They didn’t like grading my student’s work, because eventually, ‘credit’ for that student graduating would go to me, their main teacher. I certainly didn’t mind grading work from students who were on other teachers’ rosters. That’s the whole point of our job. Gradually, I came to realize that the school didn’t focus so much on actually teaching the students anything and making sure that their diploma actually meant something, then just rubber-stamping their work and saying it was satisfactory, using the fact that we were licensed, credentialed professionals as an official backup.
Really, any reasonably intelligent adult (or even kid) could do the type of work some of my colleagues were actually doing.
What would happen was, say, a kid on my roster is behind five credits in English if he wants to graduate. I would then send him to the English teacher to request a packet of English work. The kid would do the work, give it to the English teacher to grade, she would sign off on it, I would input the grade on my computer, and the kid would be one credit closer to graduation.
It soon became clear to me that the teachers weren’t even actually looking at the packets before giving them a grade, really just pulling grades out of their butts. I would never dream of doing that on any student’s math work. That’s the way they’d grade for me, but they’d do it in a slow way, so as to reduce the speed of students graduating from my roster.
As in, they’d let piles of my students’ work sit on their desk ungraded, while they played Clash of Clans at their desk.
I never said anything, and was always polite and friendly to them, even though I knew at least one of them had badmouthed me to the principal. Needless to say, even months into my new job, I wasn’t making friends with my coworkers. I was nice to them, and it seemed at face value that they at least respected me on a professional level, at least to my face, so I’d accept that for the time being.
The big switch came when the principal actually singled me out at a staff meeting as an exemplary teacher. She said that I had come from (big city) and have succeeded to an amazing degree and that I had set a record for how many students were graduating high school on my roster. From that point on, I sensed that people were being cold to me.
It felt a lot like high school, except unlike high school where other girls would openly mock me as a tall skinny no-butt giraffe, adults did it in colder ways.
On rare occasions where the whole classroom was empty, or if I’d run into groups of them in the breakroom, they would talk about all these fun things they did together after work, or talk about the big party they were all going to have at such and such venue, and how everyone was invited.
Well, I didn’t really mind, actually. I wasn’t going to let them being petty ruin the good feeling I had from helping students and feeling like I was making a difference. I was still very nice to everyone and kept up my positive attitude. Inside I felt SO bad and so left out, however. I didn’t tell my husband about basically being shunned at work, and instead, I focused just on my success in getting students to graduate.
Anyway, some of my students would actually quietly complain to me that ‘Miss So and So doesn’t even grade our work.’ I’d NEVER badmouth my coworkers, especially to the kids (it’s important to have a united front of course), but on the sly, I’d separate those work packets that were clearly not graded properly and look them over myself as best I could. Although I was only licensed to teach math, if, say, a history packet seemed incomplete, and yet had a ‘B + nice work’ on the cover, I’d sort of quietly, as diplomatically as I could, staple a new cover sheet to it, ask the student to finish it for real, and submit it again to the teacher.
I’d make sure the student asked the teacher to grade it in front of him or her as he or she was eager to see the results of all their hard work. Although the teachers HATED it when my kids did this, I did make sure my students’ work was as legitimately graded as possible. Somewhat surprisingly, students appreciated my determination that they didn’t slack their way through what was obviously a trashy school.
When it came to other teachers’ students coming to me with math packets, I did the professional thing and actually went over the packets, and gave the tests and quizzes as prescribed in the employee handbook for our school and as is mandated by our state. The other teachers didn’t like this, I guess because they were used to teachers just rubberstamping the work as passing, regardless of whether or not it was competently done.
Invariably, teachers preferred to send their ‘math’ kids to the other teacher, because he had no problem just breezing through the packets as if they were flipbooks and assigning whatever grade he dreamed of. However, even though for him to just scribble ‘C+, please show work for each equation’ on packet covers took no time at all and he could go back to searching up profiles on mingling sites (I found out eventually that he was already married), he resented the fact that he ‘graded’ perhaps twenty math packets in one day, whereas I graded maybe five because I graded them and assigned the tests and everything, which of course took time.
Eventually, other teachers began to grumble, too, how I was taking too long to grade their kids’ packets and thus slowing down their students’ graduations, whereas mine were graduating relatively faster.
I began to hear rumors that kids only came to see me, especially the boys, because they had crushes on me. Naturally, the rumors eventually spread that I actually WAS abusing the kids. Other rumors spread that I was unqualified to be a math teacher, what was a woman doing being a math teacher anyway, I was just trying to hook up with young studs, all sorts of nonsense.
Still, more rumors spread that I was manipulating my graduation rates and that it was all fraud somehow. My husband Doug had actually come to see me on a couple of occasions at the school to go with me to doctor’s appointments, so the staff knew what he looked like.
One day I had my phone out on my desk when Clayton called to tell me the news that he and Sarah were coming to visit next month.
Unfortunately for my reputation at that school, Clayton’s contact avatar showed hugely on my phone screen when he called in the middle of the day, and one of my busybody coworkers happened to be walking by my desk, saw my phone, and made a face of barely concealed contempt.
Needless to say, rumors soon spread that I was being unfaithful to Doug with some other young man, along with all the high schoolers who I supposedly worked with off the clock.
Still, I tried to grind it out.
But, I would plan my revenge, too, if it came to that. I’m mature, but I’m not above getting even. I went through twelve years of misery growing up. I’d be damned if I resigned myself to a lifetime of misery, as a grownup.
I flatter myself that I was at least sort of cool in college. Heh.
The first thing I did was let my principal know what was going on.
My plan was if she addressed the bullying at a future meeting and put an end to it, then hey, I wouldn’t even need to get revenge. I’d just go back to doing my job and minding my own business. I was kind of hoping the principal would back me up, as up until now, aside from the red flag about being obsessed with the school getting tuition fees and not with students learning anything, she seemed friendly enough if a bit detached from her school’s day to day operations.
I told her that students would tell me quietly that Mr. So and So or Ms. What’s Her Name told them that I was going out with a student or being unfaithful to my husband. More than one kid would tell me these kinds of things. I knew my kids weren’t trolling me as over the months I’d established a good rapport with all of them.
The principal basically gaslights me and tells me I’m being paranoid. ‘It’s a high school,’ she says, ‘in high schools there are rumors. It’s part of the territory.’ Yeah, I reply, but the rumors are usually from students, not adults. She doesn’t really address this, other than to tell me that I needed to grow up and not let petty things like supposed rumors bother me.
She tells me to ‘be the bigger person.’
I should have mentioned that I had brought my cellphone in with me, and had been recording the principal’s responses to what I had been saying. This was good for the case I was building, because, as if on cue, the vice principal comes walking by once again, ‘World’s Greatest Chad’ coffee mug in hand. ‘Oh hey, Mr. Vice Principal Dude, come in really quick!’
I thought the Principal was going to tell him about my concerns about the rumors that I was basically both an adulterer and also trying to go to jail for having illicit fun with minors.
But no, instead principal and vice-principal complain to me that I am being too thorough in my grading of math work from students on other teachers’ rosters. I explain that I’m trying to do my job according to the employee handbook they themselves had given me, and according to the two-day training seminar (standard for all teachers of independent studies schools where I live) they had mandated I attend before my first day of employment.
They tell me that I needed to ‘play ball’ and that our task was to get these kids out the door with that diploma in hand. I counter with, what good is a diploma if they don’t actually know any history or how to read or how to use the scientific method or whatever. The principal actually calls me a ‘pretentious, wannabe female Jaime Escalante’ (famous calculus teacher).
They both strongly encourage me to use my ‘professional judgment’ (ie, place my teaching license in jeopardy) by assigning passing marks to work that is clearly not passing. I get all of this on record, and I make sure to email a backup copy of the mp3 to my outside email address.
Our school plays it slick when it comes to the school board inspecting our paperwork.
Whenever the principal knows the state is coming for an inspection of our packets (an audit, they like to call it), they have each of us take extra special care to grade about three or four packets in our subject area very thoroughly. These packets are placed in a file cabinet in the middle of the classroom, so as to imply they represent our average work.
All other packets with trashy grades on them go in these other file cabinets in the back, that the school never invites the inspectors to look at. We tend to empty out students’ folders into these file cabinets after they graduate. The school had a policy that once a packet was three months old, we only had to retain the cover with the teacher grades and comments to save cabinet space, thereby destroying evidence that the actual packet behind the cover was never actually done properly.
The phony cabinet in the middle of the classroom represented ‘active work.’
The only two sorts of friends I made at the school were the music teacher and computer teacher, who taught small labs only once a week, and both of whom had other, full-time jobs and were married (not to each other) and had families. The music teacher taught at a local community college and did the charter school just as a side hustle, and the computer guy consulted and made six figures.
I, therefore, didn’t feel too much guilt about what I was going to do. Still, I quietly hinted at my plan to both of them on the day they came to campus, and both of them were like, ‘do it!’
After the principal and vice-principal (and the counselor too, who also ‘just so happened to be walking by’) all encouraged me to basically commit academic fraud, I thought, screw ’em.
I also suspected and later confirmed they had a secret buzzer system to surreptitiously call one another from their desks, which is why they always happened to be available at the same time when necessary or convenient.
I snuck toward the filing area where all of our bogus student work credits were stored, and day by day over a period of three months took video of hundreds of packet covers, all of them labeled with academic grades, teacher comments, and teacher signatures.
I of course also continued the videos to show page after page of blank work and incomplete work, nonsensical work… English packets especially were rife with ridiculous gibberish, sometimes even mocking the teachers, like, ‘Ms. English teacher lady is a witch and she doesn’t even grade our work LOL!’ and the cover would have Ms. English teacher lady’s signature along with ‘A+, fantastic! You are such a talented writer!’
Sure enough, after three months, the secretary (who was also kind of snooty and played on her smartphone and uploaded selfies to social media all day even though she was like fifty-five) shredded mountains of bogus work and filed only the covers.
Throughout this whole time, I’d been slyly walking about the classroom in such a way that other teachers would think I wasn’t trying to look at them or what was on their computer, and I’d catch video of them on social media or shopping on eBay, while they have a student interviewing right in front of them, what the actual heck.
At home one day I asked Doug how to do a remote microphone that I could control from far away.
He’s like, what for, are you trying to be James Bond? But he’s so smart and it’s child’s play for him, so he personally rigs one for me at work. Basically, it’s like a wireless mic that isn’t a detectable Bluetooth, and he sets up a way for me to turn it on and off from far away. I’m like, that’s awesome, can I have ten? He smiles but he asks no questions because he’s awesome like that.
The next day, he has a dozen of them. I want it so that there’s no way for my devices to appear when the other teachers turn on their Bluetooth earpieces.
I’m always the first at work because my coworkers tend to be irresponsible bums, so even though everyone is supposed to be at their desks by 8:00 am, most of them drift in at 8:10, 8:20, and so on.
I’m there at 7:30 just in case. I know the code of how to get in on the keyless entry side door, let myself in, and slip a mic beneath everyone’s desk. Each mic has this mini watch battery that’s supposed to last quite a long time. I bring the old smartphone that I don’t use anymore and make sure it has a huuuuuuuuuge capacity SD card that my husband got for me installed.
I connect it as wireless audio input for the mics. I then hit record, and every day for two weeks I hear the teachers, most of whom are wearing Bluetooth headsets ever since it became uncool to yell gossip across the room, talking trash all day long. Totally unrelated to work. Saying the most inappropriate things about other teachers, the principal, even the kids. Of course, these teachers are too stupid to simply text one another if they really want to sneak around and talk trash.
To them, the Bluetooth thing is easier.
It stung, but I knew I struck gold when I heard them spreading false rumors about me, calling me a witch, a pretentious, big city loser with no friends, they’d definitely get me fired. They’d also talk about how they didn’t grade and just pretended to, that they were so glad that they could sit all day instead of teaching in the district, how it was a cushy job, how they were tricking state inspectors during audits.
Every day, during my lonely lunches, when they all went off to, I dunno, Applebee’s? I loaded the previous day’s MP3s into my real phone and edited out the dead air and kept all the good stuff. I then emailed these as separate, dated files to my outside email address.
This whole time, I continued to grade as normal, and take my time doing my job CORRECTLY.
I knew I was going to pull the trigger soon anyway, but the last straw came when my latest student finished her last credit (coincidentally, a math one that I graded thoroughly) and now had enough credits to graduate. Every time a student graduates, we’re supposed to blow party horns and give them a little congratulations trophy, and they’d get their diploma in the mail a week or two later.
Students had the option of attending schoolwide, formal graduation at the end of the school year in June if they had graduated anytime during that year from September onward. Most tended however to go right into the workforce or to the local junior college or state school.
So, I blow my little party horn for this girl, and everyone in the classroom, students, and teachers, claps enthusiastically.
The girl’s mom and dad and little brother come that day to the classroom and insisted on having a photo with me and they all gave me a big hug. Later, I reviewed the audio recordings of that day, and when the girl graduated, other teachers said really mean things about her and her family, a lot of it totally racist (this family was Hispanic; all the teachers and admin, including me, are White).
It just so happened both the music teacher and computer guy were on campus that day. So, in true ‘Half Baked’ fashion, at the end of the day when the classroom was empty of students and teachers had the last five minutes to close down their computers, I walked from teacher to teacher, purse and other small belongings in hand, saying ‘screw you, screw you, screw you, (pass by computer guy) ‘you’re cool, (pass by music lady) you’re cool, screw you, screw you, screw you…’
I walk into the principal’s office while the other teachers are still in shock.
She’s at her desk, and I know where her little buzzer button is beneath the desk (the computer guy told me about it because he was the one who installed it) and said, ‘I’m quitting. I don’t want to be part of your criminal school.’ And just in case the buzzer was just a buzzer and not also a speaker, I pressed the PA button on her wall and said, ‘Ms.
OP is quitting today because you’re all a bunch of hateful, unprofessional, mean-spirited jerks, except Mr. Computer and Ms. Music; you’re cool.’
I decided to finally take my darling Doug up on his offer for me to be a stay-at-home mom. And I’m cool with mother in law. She can stay.
I emailed our school district’s superintendent, our city’s mayor, state governor, the entire school board, and our local newspaper with all the files of photos, audio, and video I had taken, along with a terse, one-page summary of what had been going on.
Within weeks, every single one of the teachers and administrators, except the computer lab guy and music lady, who I made special effort to prove had participated in no wrongdoing) had been fired and had their credentials at least suspended, and in most cases revoked outright. Only innocent parties like custodial staff and the like emerged with their reputations unscathed. All of the teachers who worked at that school and had been named in the school board’s inquiry as having participated in fraudulent practices were blacklisted from teaching there, or anywhere.
After a few weeks of initial turmoil, all students currently enrolled at the school were, due to parental pressure, allowed to keep their existing credit completion status. Students who had already graduated did not have their diplomas rescinded. All students were given vouchers to enroll at the competing, independent charter school down the road.
My own, former school was shut down and stayed abandoned for a couple of months, but eventually turned into an electronics store.
All the other stuff happened within a month of my quitting.
But I told my hubby about it on the very day I came home.
His eyes lit up like Christmas and the raging justice he developed was so hard that I was knocked up with our second child even before my back hit the mattress.
Clayton and Sarah thought it was pretty LOL. I’ve since made new friends around town to go along with Computer Guy and Music Lady and college friends, especially with other moms. Doug is killing it at work and is thinking of starting his own company.”
20. Target Me Multiple Times? I'll Steal Your Stuff
“Before Rockstar decided to make a GTA game with multiplayer, back in the 2010s, users made a multiplayer mod for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. There were actually two: Multi Theft Auto and Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas Multiplayer. In fact, not only did Rockstar borrow a lot of the concepts and gameplay from these fan-made multiplayer mods, but FiveM also borrowed from the classic mods as well.
And in the mods, there were multiple types of gameplays, including RP, zombies, and, one of the more common, Cops and Robbers (think of the same kind of gameplay for the regular GTA Online in GTAV, minus the ability to play cops and a few extra features).
So, I had recently graduated from college and had been trying to find work during the regular week (and having difficulty doing so).
On Saturday and Sunday, I would stay in my apartment and play games to pass the time until I could get back to pounding the pavement to find work. It was a great stress relief. I had GTA: SA and had discovered the multiplayer mod. After installing it, I began to play it and enjoyed it. After a while, I joined a Cops and Robbers server and had started doing some of the things (such as stealing cars and selling them, much like in GTAO) and robbing stores and running from the police (also like in GTAO, except the police were controlled by other real players).
On this particular server, you had to register with a website that displayed your profile (this will become important later), and some people formed ‘gangs’ in the server I went to but allowed single players to do what they can without much interference. I had met a member of one gang and I had helped him out on a task (which was to hunt down and kill a player, similar to the Hits you can place on other players in GTAO).
After helping him, he thought I was pretty cool and we decided to form an allegiance (me being an independent ‘contractor’ and his gang). He actually messaged the other players in his gang to tell them about the alliance we’ve formed. I got off that night and got back the next day. And then, I started getting targeted by a player who was a member of the group.
Despite me telling him that I had an alliance with his group, and even speaking with a member who was online the night before to tell him, he kept targeting me.
After the tenth time he killed me, I decided I had enough. So, I pulled up his profile on the website while I was still on. You see, the thing about the profile is that it shows ‘businesses’ you can purchase (the same businesses capable of being robbed), as well as houses.
You see, like GTAO, you can purchase houses to spawn in. But, unlike GTAO, you can break into and rob the place, which often gives you a sum, depending on how much a user ‘stores’ there. He had three houses. So, I started targeting the two nearest me. The first one was in Los Santos, and it was a bust. The second one was in Las Venturas, which was also a bust.
Now, one of the things that happen is that if a user has a house and hasn’t purchased an alarm (which would keep users from trying to break in and notify the owner of any attempts), a person can break in and then start a burglary (which would also inform the user). After the first two didn’t get me anything, the player put out in open chat: ‘Ha! Ha! I haven’t used those places in a long time! And they were empty!’ This fueled my resolve a lot more, and I found the third location he owned: a farmhouse.
When I tried to break in, the alarm went off. So, I had to run, as he placed a hit on me. And I ended up repeating this a few more times, as I knew there was a chance that the game would allow me into the house without the alarm (it’s a small percentage chance, but it is possible). After 14 times, the player told me, ‘Just give it up, man! You’re not gonna break in!’ And I decided to try again.
The fifteenth time turned out to be where my luck came into play. I got into the farmhouse without the alarm going off and letting the user know. He had no idea I got inside until I initiated the burglary. Now, the thing about burglaries, is that you have to wait five minutes before you can leave the house. Meaning, if you leave before the countdown is up, you get nothing.
I stayed near the doorway so that once the countdown was done, I could turn around and walk out. I was ready and expecting him to arrive before I could complete my task. In the remaining 10 seconds, I saw him spawn into the house in front of me. I thought I was done. However, he ran off into the house. He must have thought I ran farther into the house to start the robbery and was hiding until the counter was done.
He didn’t even realize I was behind him when he spawned in. The time finished and I got the loot he stored there: $200 million! I turned around and headed out before he could realize I was there.
Now, during my attempts at breaking in and failing, I would spawn in Los Santos, head to the airport, and take one of the choppers that spawned there. And I would then use it to get to the farm and set down outside of the house so that I could get back in if I needed to.
As soon as I got out of his house, I ran to the chopper, climbed in, and took off.
He set another bounty on me, but it didn’t matter. I flew to San Fierro, landed at where boats spawn and I took one. I managed to keep from being killed by other players until the timer on the bounty ran out. The player got into open chat and cursed me out, begging me to return what I took because what I had taken wasn’t his, but his gang’s.
I told him tough luck.
After an hour or so, the gang member I played with the night before showed up online, and I contacted him right away, telling him what had happened and what I did. His response: ‘I’m sorry that guy broke our truce. He’s always been an idiot.’ I accepted his apology and told him that if he and the jerk met me at the bank, I was more than willing to give the funds back.
I waited for them to arrive and they both did. I went into the back and transferred the amount to the gang member I was on good terms with. He confirmed that the amount was handed back and we went back outside to see the jerk. The gang member I was good with thanked me, and I told him, ‘I’m willing to maintain the truce as long as jerks like him don’t break it again.’ And he agreed. The jerk was forced to apologize to me for what he did. My response was this: ‘I accept your apology. And there is a lesson here that I hope you have learned. And that lesson is this: Don’t mess with someone who has determination.’ And sure enough, the rest of the gang learned that lesson too, nicknaming me ‘The Determinator.'”
19. Woman Doesn't Want To Move Her Kids So She Deserves A Booger
“Many years ago I took a small gaggle of kids (4 preschoolers plus a baby) to see a new Disney movie. It was a weekday matinee so the theatre wasn’t crowded. We were seated on our row and I was nursing my youngest knowing that he would sleep through the whole movie if I kept still.
Shortly before the film started a grandmother with big hair (Southern style) came in with a few kids and sat down directly in front of one of my little ones, completely blocking his view and obstructing the view of the kids on either side of him.
I was very friendly and polite and asked if she wouldn’t mind scooting down a few seats. In the textbook example of snideness, she responded with ‘no, my kids are settled. If yours can’t see, they can move.’
Ok, the theatre is empty and she won’t move. My initial instinct was to plop down in front of her kids but that would lower me to her level and set a really bad example for all the young ones involved.
So I just directed my kids to hop up and move to the other side of me, no big deal.
Then as the lights went down, my son said ‘here Mommy’ and placed a record-sized booger in my hand. He’d never done that before and hasn’t since, but at the time, I considered it a gift from God.
Big Hair was sitting two seats down the row in front of me. I carefully placed, aimed, and flicked. Bulls Eye! Her hand went to her hair and patted around. She turned towards us but we were engrossed in the previews. The kids loved the movie… Little Mermaid if I remember correctly… but I was more entertained by the woman patting her hair every few minutes throughout the show.
I gave her the sweetest grin as we left.”
18. Grown Men Laughing At Young Girls? I Will Inconvenience You
“At my last retail job I was serving two teenage girls, it was a normal interaction and they were sweet and polite.
Next in the queue were two grown men who I noticed were snickering and pointing at the girls I was serving. I don’t know if it was their outfits or their looks (one had acne) but I knew it was malicious and I loathe rudeness, especially gross men making fun of girls.
I don’t even know if the girls noticed but once they were gone and I had rung the men’s products up they paid in full and needed about £20 in return – now this is only an act of tiny revenge but I pretended I didn’t have any notes or pound coins left and gave them a massive handful of small change. The guy was definitely annoyed as I counted 10ps and 20ps as slowly as I could.”
17. Won't Stop Tailgating? Here's A Big Splash
“I was driving on a road in central Oregon which was long and straight but had a 55 mph (about 90 kph) speed limit and no places to pass. There was a long line of us going about 60 mph (about 100 kph). Usually, people went faster on this road, but it had snowed and while the road was clear in the tire tracks the rest of the road was a little slick.
In central Oregon, the highway service would spread crushed volcanic rock on the roads for traction. The rock mixes with the snow, then as vehicles drive over it the snow/rock mixture melts into a slush/rock mixture and gets pushed to the side of the lanes.
So I was the last person in the line when a fairly new luxury car came zooming up behind me. He came so close to me I could not see much of his car in the rearview mirror.
There wasn’t anything I could do to help him out. I couldn’t go faster, there were ten other cars ahead of me. I couldn’t pass, it’s a no-passing zone. I couldn’t pull off because of the snow on the side of the road. I flashed my brake lights (not a brake check) but got no reaction. I varied my speed up and down for a while, but he stuck to me.
Finally, I was getting frustrated (which was his goal) so I let the car slip to the side of the lane. At 60 mph I produced a wonderful ‘rooster tail’ but made of the slush and volcanic rock mixture. His nice car was covered with the stuff, and it probably caused little scratches on all of his paint. After that, he made sure to keep a safe distance.”
16. I Only Give Truthful Answers To Kids
“I was a server in a restaurant during lunch one day when these two ladies came in with four kids, all under the age of eight. I was not particularly busy during that shift, so I was very attentive to the ladies and children throughout their meal. However, the ladies were busy trying to chat with each other and ignored the children, and were oblivious to the fact that their unsupervised children were misbehaving as unsupervised children often do.
In fact, whenever I passed by the table to see if I needed to be of any service, the kids would notice me, ask for a bunch of random things, which I would either politely bring them if possible, or I would politely suggest they ask their mother for permission first if it was something like a milkshake which would be an additional charge.
The ladies would never even make eye contact with me after they placed their order, so I would quietly refill their drinks when needed while they kept yapping on at each other while their kids were just getting rowdier and rowdier.
The restaurant was pretty empty as there was a big thunderstorm moving in, so it wasn’t really a big deal about the kids until the moms (who never even gave me any attention when I was at their table) started sending the kids on field trips around the restaurant to find me whenever they ‘needed’ something. Those of you who have ever been servers know that if you are already taking great care of a guest, but then the guest keeps sending kids around to find you in the kitchen or wherever to get extra napkins (hmmm… I just gave them a giant stack PLUS wet naps for all the kids) or some more bread (that’s interesting… the two baskets full on their table are still fresh), you are about to get a small tip from these people.
They are obviously trying to make me feel like I haven’t been taking care of them, and now that they’ve ‘had to send the kids to hunt her down’ they will feel justified in stiffing me on the tip. So even though I know it’s coming…
As the sky starts to look even eviler outside, the group finally leaves, and of course, they leave a giant mess everywhere.
Food is matted into the carpet under the table, mashed potatoes are smooshed into the upholstery, there are (ahem) three baskets full of untouched bread with another three baskets full of breadcrumbs all over the place, and I get to work immediately on cleaning up the mess. I’m using that old server motivation of ‘Maybe they left my tip somewhere underneath all this mess, so if I clean it up really fast I’m gonna find it!’
Well, one thing I DID find was a full set of keys; house keys, car keys, gym key card, work keys, I don’t know how many keys, but probably at least a dozen things were on that fob.
I stuck them in my apron pocket intending to turn them in to my manager. But by the time I got this exorcism-level mess cleaned up, I was pretty steamed about how those ladies had treated me and honestly, how they had treated their kids. Then about 45 minutes after they had left, one of the kids comes into the restaurant, soaked by the roaring thunderstorm that is now in full force, and asks, ‘Did my mommy leave her keys here?’ and I realized at that moment that this lady must have gotten a ride to lunch with the other one, and didn’t realize about the keys until she had gotten all the way home in the thunderstorm, and then had probably emptied her purse looking for them, then freaked out about where she had seen them last, and then realized she had left them at the restaurant! Then she needed to hitch a ride back to the restaurant in this godawful weather and had sent her poor kid into the roaring rain to collect the keys from inside.
So back to, ‘Did my mommy leave her keys here?’ I walked the kid over to the now perfectly clean table and pretended to look for the keys as I truthfully answered, ‘Well, I sure don’t see them!’
And as the kid quietly walked back outside into the storm, I silently walked back into the kitchen and dropped the keys into the most disgusting trash can I could find.”
15. Won't Replace My Broken Couch? Here Are Numerous Invoices
“So I bought a sleeper sofa from a popular furniture company 2 years ago. This company has a policy that if there is a manufacturing issue, they will replace the couch for free within a year of purchase.
Well, 8 months after I bought it I discovered that the sofa had been taking chunks out of my wood floor every time the bed was opened because the bed did not fit properly into the frame.
It took 8 months for me to discover that this damage was happening as… well, I don’t move my couch often. Anyways, I submitted a claim to the company but was basically ignored for nearly 5 months. I would call weekly and they would tell me there was no claim (but somehow had all the pictures I submitted with the claim??), but they’d create a new one.
Eventually, I got through to a supervisor who said that since it’s been more than a year, they would not replace the couch… but I could invoice them for damage to the wood floor. So I did… and still am. Every month I invoice them for damage to my floor. The couch is still faulty, which means no matter how many times I fix the floor, it will be damaged again.
My apartment building doesn’t care as they are overcharging for the fix, and I don’t care because I’m not the one paying.
So far, an undisclosed furniture company has paid over $3,000 to fix the damages an $800 couch has made. I don’t know how long I can keep this up, but I am fully committed to keeping this couch for many years, for the sole purpose of screwing this company.
They’re a massive company, so I’m sure this is a chump change to them, but it sure makes me happy.
Also, I learned from the supervisor that this manufacturing defect is common in their sleeper sofas. He recommended I buy a new part… then pay them to fix it for me. They wanted me to pay them to fix the couch that they sent to me broken.”
14. I Pretended I Was Just A Fan
“So I was at a party. I was the artist host for the DJs at that event, but I was dancing to some of my fav DJs cause I had no work to do for one of the days (the event was 3 days). At the end of the set of a famous DJ I really like, he came closer to take pictures with people, so I figured I’d better act as a fan (without a badge or anything) and just went to the fence and tried to talk to him and take a picture.
I was waiting for my turn when this huge rude lady arrived, pushed me in a very rude way and stood upright in front of me at the fence, and started trying to pull the DJ to take a picture with him. If she hadn’t so rudely pushed me, I probably wouldn’t even have paid attention to it.
So I ‘knocked’ on her shoulder and told her that I was before her.
She started yelling something at me. I got annoyed and said to myself ‘Okay then..’, went away from the fence (but told a friend I was there with, to wait there), took out my event badge, and went behind the fence, i.e. backstage. Then went straight to the same DJ and took a picture and chatted with the DJ before the lady did. Called my friend to come to the fence since after I took my picture with the DJ, I asked him if he could take one with my friend too.
The lady was looking at me with a killer look, soo angry. I loved it, BUT WAIT, it’s NOT over.
Then she really wanted an autograph and was looking for someone with a marker or a pen and asked out loud ‘Who has a pen?’ I happened to have one and I gave it to her. She looked shocked when I gave it to her and guilty when she returned it.”
13. You Should Have A Sound System Permit
“At 7:30 AM, I was rudely awakened 15 minutes before my alarm by what sounded like someone shouting in our alley. Someone shouting in the alley isn’t exactly a rare occurrence, so I just pulled a pillow over my head and hoped it would stop soon and I could eke out another 15 minutes of sleep. After a few minutes, it became clear this was no ‘random person yelling for no reason at anything in particular,’ and I got out of bed, dressed, and went to find the source of the noise.
It turns out the store on the corner of our block was having a promotion for their loyalty program and had brought in people with microphones and an amplifier to shout at anyone passing by to sign up.
When I walked up, they boomed into their mics ‘and here we have someone eager to sign up for our loyalty program! What’s your name, sweetie?’ Into the mic, I said: ‘Can I see your sound system permit? You need one to amplify sound for commercial purposes.’ Them: ‘Oh, we have a spoil-sport here! What are you going to do now?’ Two calls, three emails, and 20 minutes later, I had our police district Commander telling them to shut the sound system off.
As they started to pack up the sound system, I walked up and said ‘and that’s what you get for waking me up before my alarm.’ They may have been displeased, but they probably won’t try it again without the proper permits (which wouldn’t have allowed them to amplify sound for a commercial promotion before 9 AM that close to a residential area).”
12. Engineer Can't Make A Laptop Start
“I worked with a very serious uptight guy who was also a profound screw-up. We were visiting an important client in Los Angeles to demonstrate our company’s software.
Winston was an engineer whose job was to show the client our software on an expensive UNIX laptop. The day before the sales call I checked in with Winston to make sure he had everything ready for the next day.
He assured me he did.
So we’re meeting with the client and Winston can’t get the goddam laptop to boot. The battery is dead and the AC adapter isn’t working. Winston gives up and starts showing the customer screenshots in a printed user manual. For a $500,000 opportunity!
I make a few jokes to ease the tension. Then I ask the client, ‘I’m sorry. Do you have a knife? I want to try something.’ I had noticed the AC adapter wasn’t plugging into the laptop properly, so I used the knife to trim back the plastic on it.
The adapter seated properly and a few moments later the laptop booted.
‘Just call me MacGyver,’ I said.
Apparently, Winston was pretty embarrassed that his engineering degree and fancy title at the company weren’t enough to enable him to start a $6000 laptop, but I could do it with a Swiss army knife.
The next day, a Friday, I got a call to come into the office early. I was summoned into the director’s office and informed that Winston had sent a company-wide email complaining about my ‘unprofessional conduct’ with the client.
(Apparently, it’s unprofessional to rescue a half-million-dollar account.) As a result, I got fired. So did my boss. Winston was a total jerk!
The next day, Saturday morning, I went back to the office with my son and my significant other, and as luck would have it, my keys and security code still worked. Winston’s coffee cup was in its usual place on his desk, about 1/3 full.
I unzipped and peed in it until it was about 3/4 full. (I knew he sometimes reheated old coffee in his mug, and I hoped and prayed he would do so Monday morning.) I also peed on his keyboard for good measure.
While I did that, my son and significant other rearranged the Christmas display in the lobby so the life-sized reindeer were in compromising positions.
Oh, and I also sued the company for wrongful discharge and won.”
11. I Broke Her Dreams Of Being A Painter
“A few weeks ago, I went to work at my dad’s painting business. He had somewhere acquired a young woman to work for him, her and her mother. I don’t mind someone who doesn’t have a clue what they are doing, but someone who won’t even TRY to listen to those who know when they give advice, who get all snooty and act like THEY are the ones who know what they are doing really aggravate me.
I suggested nicely that they stop using poles to paint because they were missing a lot of spots. All I got was attitude. So, that night, I took all the poles home with me.
The next day, she was very upset when she couldn’t find them. My dad told them that I might know where they were (he had told them that I didn’t want them to use the poles anymore because they were screwing up, which they just ignored and went ahead and used them again the day before this).
She came up and asked me in a totally disrespectful, aggressive tone where the poles were. I said ‘they were needed elsewhere,’ and walked away. (I should mention that she is stupid, bigoted, vapid, lazy, and has an infuriating high-pitched, whiny spoiled-brat little girl voice that makes me want to smack her when I hear her talking). A while later, I see something out of the corner of my eye while up on a ladder; I turn, and see her standing there; she had found a broom in the basement, and unscrewed the handle.
She was standing there, clearly saying ‘screw you, I don’t have to listen to you!’
A while later they went to start cleaning up (at about 4 o’clock, having stayed to work a whole four hours now). I just happened to be painting over the front door; as she walked under me, I just happened to be pulling a big, wet roller full of paint out of my bucket to paint above the door.
Oh, woe and misfortune, a huge drizzle of paint went all over her bare head and back and neck (I guess no one told her the reason painters traditionally wear hats; if they had, I doubt she’d have listened to them). Oh dear, such a terrible accident! I have to give her credit, she didn’t say anything at all. Couldn’t have proved it was on purpose (not that I am admitting that it WAS or anything…) in any case.
I heard her kind of loudly saying something to her mother about how ‘hopefully it’ll wash out.’ Lucky for her it was latex, not oil, or she’d have to use paint thinner to clean it out! Latex just needs water.
The next day she was back at work (if you can call what she did ‘work’); the client was asking me if next time I was in the attic if I could take a look for something up there for him (it was not easy to access at ALL).
She walked past and said, ‘well, maybe while he’s up there he can look for those missing paint poles.’ Not sure, but I guess that was supposed to be a joke, even though it wasn’t funny, and didn’t make any sense, since it was pretty obvious that I knew exactly where they were. Too bad I’m no good at instant comebacks, but when I saw her again a few minutes later standing around watching everyone else work, I said ‘Hey, you know, you ought to take up a career as a comedian’ ‘Me?’ ‘Yeah, you’re definitely not likely to have one as a painter,’ and I walked off.
Maybe not a comic genius, but it felt good. I don’t like being rude to people, but this girl drove me over the edge. I’m glad to announce she has moved on to ‘work’ for another place now. When she approached my dad and said that she’d ‘consider staying on if she got a raise,’ it was all I could do to choke my derisive laugh back into a kind of snort/grunt. Yeah, don’t let the door hit you on the way out, ma’am!”
10. I Showed Them How The Work Is Done
“I used to work in the electronics section of a department store, which also included taking care of the photo area. One day I went into work, got clocked in, and not ten seconds after I had stepped out on the floor, a customer came running up to me asking if Sarah was working today. I told her I don’t know and was trying to add that I could find out, but ‘I don’t know’ was all the lady managed to process and it sent her into immediate apoplectic fits.
‘You don’t know?!’ she yelled at me. ‘How can you not know?! You work here, don’t you?!’
I calmly tried to explain to her that I had literally only gotten there a minute or two ago and that as a consequence, the only electronics employee I was absolutely certain was there at the time was myself, but she wanted none of it. ‘I’ll just go find someone who does know something!’ she said, then stormed off in a huff.
There was nobody at the electronics counter when I finally got there, but if the unduly angry lady had simply followed me over there, I could have checked the schedule to see if Sarah was on there and then called for her over the PA system. I get the feeling that still wouldn’t have been good enough for her. Oh well.
After checking the list of what needed to be done for the day, I went back to the photo area to make sure everything was going fine back there.
I did some routine checkups on the machinery and noticed that on the counter there was a red camera sitting on top of an envelope that had a name on the outside and a battery and memory card inside. I’m sure a lot of folks reading this can already guess who the camera belonged to.
Anyway, I finished up there and headed back out to electronics, and about five minutes later Melanie, the head of the photo department who had also only come in a short time before, comes up to me and says she’s got a customer that’s looking for a camera that was left with us to work on, and have I seen it? I look over at the customer in question and we of course immediately recognize each other.
‘Oh, I already talked to him!’ she blustered. ‘He doesn’t know anything!’
Instead of saying anything myself, I simply held up an index finger and then motioned for both of them to follow me. They do, though the customer does so under protest, muttering things like ‘I can’t believe we’re following him!’ and ‘This is a complete waste of time!’ just loud enough to be sure we could both hear her.
I left the two of them on the customer side of the photo counter, which was behind a slight partition so neither could see exactly what I was doing. Melanie watched with bemusement and the customer simply glared as I picked the camera and parts up, deftly put them back together, and then handed the whole thing over the partition, a wide, perfect smile on my face.
The look on her face as she took her camera back is one that will warm the deepest, darkest parts of my heart for the rest of my life.”
9. It's Nice To Feel Accepted, Isn't It?
“So my family has a close friend who for the sake of this story I will call Tom. Tom is about 66, very wise, kind, and caring. But, being 66 he is of a very different generation and, though he’s generally a great guy, has a kind of internalized homophobia. So we (my brother, dad, and I) were visiting with him and a couple of other friends, and randomly my gay friend Bram came up.
I don’t remember how, but this spiraled into a tense and awkwardly polite debate about gender identity, where I first learned about Tom’s homophobia. It took me by surprise because he is usually such a tolerant and non-judgemental person, so it took me a while to really get in my element, but it got increasingly tense as he talked about how at a Unitarian camp his son went to with Tom’s ex-wife he told his son to ‘stay away from’ a gender fluid person.
Eventually, my brother and I had to leave and did so abruptly so we didn’t have to continue this debate with Tom. He called us as we were driving away to say bye, which made it much less awkward. Eventually, he said something like ‘Thank you guys so much for being understanding, I really appreciate it.’ To which I said both coldly and cheerfully,
‘Yeah, it’s nice to feel accepted, isn’t it?’
He said nothing.
My brother looked at me with a look like ‘Damn did my little sister just say that?’ And my dad hastily wrapped up the conversation.
So yeah. That happened. Luckily it has not affected our relationship, but hopefully, it has stuck with him.”
8. I Added A Special Ingredient To Their Mouthwash
“I went back home for a funeral back in 2004. While I was home I met up with a friend of mine from my late adolescent years. I have always had high hopes for her. She was smart and very beautiful. Growing up she was like my kid sister. Nothing more. Nothing less. Unfortunately, she started running with the wrong crowd after I left. And she got involved with illegal substances.
She said how she wanted to get straight, but couldn’t because she couldn’t get away from the area.
I made her an offer. She could come and make a new start where I lived. I offered her a brand new turn-key life, where no one would know anything about her unless she told them. I did put a stipulation on things. The stipulation was if she came down and didn’t fly right, I would mess her little world up.
Wash my hands of her. And would cease to exist in my life.
She moved down. Things started off fair. I was skeptical.
Two weeks later her convicted significant other moved down. I was livid. But I just waited to see in which direction things were going to go bad. This was turning into a Jerry Springer Episode quickly.
Of course, there was theft. Lying. Breaking and entering throughout the neighborhood.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was my hot wings…
I ordered some hot wings to take with me to work. The jerk and her partner ate them. Not a problem. Here is where it gets AWESOME!
I ordered more hot wings the next day. I left them in my jeep during a hot Georgia day. Then I put them in my fridge at work. That night I ordered some Habanero powder.
And got some diet capsules.
While I’m waiting for the powder to come in, the wings are sitting there in my fridge at work. Getting ripe! The powder comes in and I proceed to take the capsules apart. Dump the good stuff out. Replace with habanero powder. Put pills back together. If you have never done that before, it’s a VERY tedious task. It took me about a week to do the capsules.
Wings were not ready at the two-week mark. Let’s give them another week….
About three weeks into it I took everything home. And came up with another random passive-aggressive idea as the icing on the cake. After all, I was annoyed!
I put the wings in the fridge. And the pills in my bedroom. I then went into their bathroom and urinated in their mouthwash. NOT a lot mind you! I was amazed at the bubbles and foam I created in that little bit of urine I added.
The next day I saw one wing had one bite out of it. I’m not sure if they swallowed that one bite. I don’t doubt she has any problems swallowing other substances.
Pills were missing but I never heard of any repercussions. What I DID hear every morning and night was them gargling with that mouth wash. And I just laid in bed and laughed until I cried myself to sleep.”
7. Won't Apologize? I Won't Help You
“When I was working as a cashier at the furniture store, I was dealing with all sorts of people. One woman was extremely rude to me and kept saying mean things like I didn’t know what I was doing (granted I was overqualified for the job and it was my first week there). All I said to her was: I don’t care if I get fired but I won’t let you speak to me that way. You need to apologize before I can help you! She muttered some sort of apology and we kept going. After she left I noticed my manager standing behind my back chuckling. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t get fired. Later I found out that the woman was mean to everyone and I was the first person to say anything.”
6. Be A Jerk To My Friend? Say Bye-Bye To Your Life Here
“I was born in the states but my family is immigrants. My dad worked his butt off to become a US citizen working 3 jobs riding a bike to work cuz he couldn’t afford a car. He and his dad saved all the money so they could get the rest of the family here. I say this because I understand the struggles immigrants face coming here.
Starting a new life without any support. I would never do this to someone actually trying to better their life. This piece of work though didn’t deserve to be here.
The story is about my best friend’s significant other. He lived with her in her family’s house renting a room. Driving her car to work and using her cell phone, which her parents paid for. She was 19 at the time.
I was about 21. I was working at a club with my significant other. I worked really late and I had two kids. I asked my best friend if she could come over and watch them while they slept. Basically, just come hang out at my place. My son was about 6-7 yrs old, the little one was less than a year old at the time.
She asked if she could have people over, so she wasn’t bored. I said sure I don’t mind. I asked that she just not throw any parties. We laughed as she agreed. Everything was fine when we got back. I thanked her and she left. Later that night I saw a cup with smoke ashes in it. So I text my friend and ask her if someone smoked in the house.
(I’m a smoker but because my son is really little and the older one had asthma, I didn’t smoke in the house. I went outside.) The reply I received didn’t make any sense. She asked what kind it is. I said I don’t know. In my mind, I’m like there were only two other people here. How could you not know if one of them smoked inside? She’s not a smoker so I knew it wasn’t her.
I started receiving more questions instead of a yes or no answer. The replies also didn’t make much sense. It was broken English and stupid spelling mistakes. By this point, I knew I wasn’t talking to her. Instead, it was her man. He was trying to fool me so I would tell him who she was here with.
I never liked him. Not for any specific reason he just rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning.
They have been together for about a year or two. By this point, I knew he was a piece of work. I really disliked him because of how he treated her. He was controlling, and abusive. I didn’t see her as much anymore because I had gotten into an argument with him at her house earlier that year. We all wanted to go out to a friend’s place.
He didn’t. He said she couldn’t go either. She wanted to but he said no. I told her we were leaving. It was really late but this jerk made a big deal about it. He decided it was a good idea to wake her dad. So her dad would force her to stay home. This annoyed me because he has no respect. He lives in their home and he can’t even let her dad sleep.
Besides she was an adult, not to mention her dad never cared if she was going anywhere with me. Her parents knew if she was with me she was safe. After that minor blow-up. I decided not to be around him. I wouldn’t be able to hide my contempt for him. This is why she didn’t come over to watch my kids with him. I didn’t understand why she stayed with him.
I put up with him for my friend. I knew if I was around he wouldn’t dare to mistreat her in front of me.
Back to the texts. He’s pretending to be her and I tell him I know it’s him and talk trash. He then said he was going to come over. Shoot up my house with my kids still inside. I basically laughed to myself, I didn’t believe him.
I replied with a threat to get him deported. I got in touch with a mutual friend of mine and my best friend. She knew more about him. She told me he had a warrant out for his arrest. The cops had gone to pick him up one day. But they didn’t find him. The family hid him. He hid next door. My best friend’s neighbor was her grandma.
I didn’t know any of that. I also didn’t know his full legal name. She gave me everything I needed. I told her what I was going to do and not to tell our friend.
I called the cops and gave them his location. Everything they needed to know so they wouldn’t miss him. They actually picked him up the same night. I then called ICE. He was put on an ICE hold.
He couldn’t get bailed out of jail now. Once in custody, the only way he was getting out was when he reached Mexico. I felt bad for my friend and their daughter. I knew she would probably never see him. But I believe I did her a favor. I ended up telling her what I did not long after. I didn’t want her to find out through someone else and get even more upset with me.
It’s been so long since then. She never said she was mad about it. I’m sure she was though in the beginning. In the end, I did her a favor. Her life has completely changed in a good way. Her daughter has a better father now. Someone who takes care of both of them.
Jerkhead lost everything he owned. Lost his girl, side chick, and was arrested and deported. He also lost any chance of having any real relationship with his daughter. I did hear that he came back but took about 10 years. Their daughter was less than a year old. She’s about 13 now. I believe he’s met her once since all this happened. He got to see the great life she has without him in her life.”
5. Petty Customer Wants The Jacket Off The Mannequin
“Years ago I worked at Abercrombie. I know, don’t judge. I was a manager at one of the more successful stores in the company, we were in a very high-end mall called King of Prussia, just outside of Philadelphia. As is the case in any retail store you get people, in this case, mostly parents of spoiled rich kids, who wanted something we didn’t have in stock and would insult the managers as if we had any control as to what was delivered to the store.
During Christmas time one year, there was a very popular denim jacket that had been pretty difficult to find after Thanksgiving. This was about a week before Christmas, so we had been telling people much to their dismay that the jacket was sold out. I was used to the insults about how much of an idiot I was at this point. But this lady took the cake.
Towards the end of the night, one of our reps came over to me, and she looked terrified. I said what’s up, and she said, this lady is being really rude, and can you help her.
So I walk over to the ladies’ section. This lady is standing at our table, looking at a mannequin with the jacket on it. I ask her if I can help her and if she could get down.
She says I want this jacket it is my daughter’s size and you are going to sell it to me. I say politely that we don’t sell clothes off the mannequins as is the policy of the company. She doesn’t take that well. So I say, ‘Here’s the thing. In order to get that jacket on the mannequin, first, we cover it in hair spray to make sure it’s rigid.
Then we use pins all over the place to keep its structure in place, and lastly, we typically pull and stretch the garment to look as good as it does on the mannequin. I’ll be happy to sell this to you. But it’s far from your daughter’s size anymore. Would you like me to take it off?’ She looked at me, and shook her head, and walked out of the store.”
4. Boss Doesn't Like Us Getting Sworn At
“I work for a boat company that ferries people to an island. I am a reservation agent for this company.
One day, a very angry man called our office and I answered the phone, unfortunately. This is the conversation:
Me: Place of employment, how can I help you?
Jerk: I have tickets for the boat…
Me: (short pause) Okay, would you like to make a reservation?
Jerk: Yes. (angrily)
Me: Okay! When do you want to go?
(It was Friday)
Me: Okay, let me check our availability…
We are full, you won’t be able to get out there till Tuesday.
Jerk: That’s ridiculous. I have a reservation.
Me: Oh okay, if you have a reservation were you wanting to check on it instead of making another?
Jerk: Why else would I call? (sighs)
Me: What’s your reservation number?
Me: That’s your order number for the third-party broker site we sell discounted tickets through. Do you have your reservation number from us? It’s six digits long and has a three at the beginning.
Jerk: This is ridiculous. No!
Me: Let’s find it then, what’s your last name?
(I then search in the next two months for a Berber, I can’t find it and I try various typos.)
Me: I am sorry sir, we don’t have your reservation and I checked for the next two months. Unless you can find your reservation number then you can’t go tomorrow unless you get here at 7 o’clock for standby.
Jerk: ARE YOU KIDDING ME! IT’S MY PARTNER’S BIRTHDAY! YOU ARE THE WORST YACHT COMPANY!
Me: Well we aren’t a yacht company so-
Jerk: I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU ARE! HOW DARE YOU TREAT A CUSTO-
I hung up, took a deep breath, let it out, and then walked out of the office. I was gone for ten minutes just walking so I could calm down.
I eventually found the guy’s reservation.
After 15 minutes of searching mind you. It was made for the wrong month, the wrong day of the month, and the name was wrong. It was made for May and we were in June, and the name on it was Berder, not Berber. But the email was verified by him as correct and as received. He must have deleted it and forgotten to check the details.
I asked our manager if he wants me to call him. He said:
Boss: Did he swear at you?
Boss: Then screw ’em!
Me: Thanks, boss.
Boss: It only gets better from here.
It got worse. From someone that screamed at me, literally screamed. You could hear the conversation from my headset 6 feet away, easily. One time a Russian woman walked in and threatened to sue the captain for driving bumpy. She is a local ‘crazy’ and comes by to glare at me. I see her once a month. She looks for me I think, memorizes my schedule. I may have my name on a hit list for the Russian mob.”
3. Trash Talk My Partner's Job? I'll Make You Jump
“I once stopped at a convenience store with my partner. He was working a crummy job as a cashier at the time and while checking out, began commiserating with the cashier there. They had a good chat as she rang him up; I was waiting off to the side. I observed two men making fun of my partner as he talked about his trashy job, comments like, ‘Oh good for you buddy,’ and ‘Loser.’ I glared at them as we started to leave.
They were exiting at the same time, though, and happened to be parked next to us. My partner had not heard the comments, apparently, but one of them gave a half-joking apology. We got into my car, which is a stick. The one guy started leaning into me on the driver’s side with this mean look on his face. I vroomed the car as loudly as possible, and the jerk literally jumped a foot and fell back against the side of his truck. And then I drove away.”
2. We Pretended To Have Traced His Location
“Some stranger was calling one of my female colleagues again and again and saying he wants to speak to some XYZ person. She told him many times that it was the wrong number but the calls kept coming. She told us about it. We thought of doing something.
On the next call, she told him that she is going to the police station and reporting him. He obviously thought it was just a fake scare to stop the calling.
He said he is not afraid of anyone.
Well, after some 15 minutes, he called again. I picked up the call and started speaking softly to him. I did not act like I was police or anything to scare him, just got him engaged in the conversation.
In the middle of the call, I murmured to my friend (loud enough so he could hear but acting as if I don’t want him to hear) ‘Have you traced the call? Where is he calling from?’
He got suspicious, startled a bit, and said, ‘Sorry Sir.
I will not call again.’
I said, ‘No Brother, nothing to worry about. Just talk to me for a few more seconds. It’s almost done.’
And again I murmured, ‘Call Inspector Yadav in Bhagalpur’ (The place he was calling from which we got from truecaller).
The shot was right on spot. He started pleading, ‘Sir I am very sorry. I swear on my mother I will never call again. Please forgive me.’
I disconnected the call saying, ‘Inspector Yadav will reach you soon. Explain all this to him.’
Well, he truly never called back.”
1. It's Easy To Pretend To Be A Nice Person
“I was a weird kid growing up, REALLY weird. It was mostly because I was being abused at home and forcibly isolated. My social skills were so underdeveloped that I had difficulty reading human faces aside from my Grandmother, Grandfather, and Father.
Being the weird kid meant that I was a juicy target for bullies. It never stopped, but there was one bully that I hated more than any of the others.
We’ll call her Holly. This girl never passed up an opportunity to make my life miserable, and since she lived across the street from me there was nowhere I could avoid her.
Holly treated me like garbage; here are a few examples.
She put dog poop in our mailbox on a regular basis. She let my dog out of my yard and I was never able to get her back.
She would also sit on her porch with her friends and roast me to entertain them if I so much as put a toe outside of my front door.
It went on for years.
I hated her with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, but while my grandmother was still alive there was nothing I could do about Holly. If I did anything to her or fought back in any way my grandmother would punish me for it and I was more afraid of her than I was Holly, for a very good reason.
So I made a plan. I suffered through all the abuse and promised myself that when I was older I would make Holly pay for what she did to me. Thinking of what I was going to do to her when the time was right was sometimes the only thing that kept me going.
Over time, Holly grew up, and eventually she left me alone and stopped being a jerk, unfortunately for her by then it was too late.
I didn’t give a damn about her new moral epiphany, I had been nursing my grudge for two decades and it was time for a reckoning. I was going to destroy that witch.
When my grandmother finally passed away, it was go time, and I’d had 20 years to plan. I wasn’t idle while I waited, I’d made it my mission in life to learn as much about Holly as possible, and to do it I became friends with a few people on the periphery of her social circle.
Eventually, I knew more about her and her life than her own mother did.
The first step I took in my plan was getting her fired from her job. It took longer than I would have liked, but eventually, I managed it. Holly worked at a doctor’s office, and I knew that the doctor she worked for was super Christian. Very straight edge, upstanding type of guy.
He also had a huge influence on the local community. I decided to become a patient at his office, scheduling my visits to be on the days Holly was off work. After a couple of visits I just ‘happened’ to notice Holly in the staff photo on the waiting room wall. I made a show of looking surprised and then concerned. I got to the exam room, and the doctor came in shortly after.
The expression on my face got his attention, and he asked me what was wrong.
I told him that even though I didn’t want to, as a Christian I couldn’t keep my knowledge a secret and still sleep at night because I just couldn’t let him endanger his soul and reputation by doing nothing.
I had his full attention, then and I asked him as one fellow Christian to another not to tell anyone where he got the information I was about to give him, after he promised I told him that I knew that Holly was using illegal substances.
He was absolutely floored and at first, he didn’t believe me. I told him that I understood his skepticism entirely, but it was easy enough to prove or disprove my information with a substance test. If I was wrong, he lost nothing. If I was right he was saving himself from trouble down the road. He finally agreed to test her, and he tested everyone else too so that it didn’t look like Holly was the only target.
See, I wasn’t actually lying. Holly smoked a lot and I knew that because it was my dad she used to get it from. He’d been her supplier since she was like 15. Her test came back positive for various substances.
Oopsie. The doctor fired Holly on the spot when the results of the urinalysis came back and then he called me to thank me for telling him what was going on, and before he hung up he told me that I truly walked with the Lord.
Y’all will never know how hard I had to fight not to laugh at the depths of his wrongness. I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel.
Phase one; complete. I know what you’re thinking, it’s just a job and it’s not like she can’t go get another one, right? Losing a job isn’t the end of the world.
You’d be wrong.
Remember how I said that her boss had a very high reputation in our area? That man called every single hospital and doctor’s office in the state personally to make sure that NONE of them would hire Holly and risk liability and loss of community trust for associating with her.
Holly’s field of study was all pertaining to the medical profession, so her education was rendered worthless because nobody would hire her.
I wasn’t done yet. Nope. Not even close.
She lost her job, and because she had no income her car got repossessed. She still had her family though, two kids and a fiancée. Who needs families? Amirite?
With the help of a good friend of mine, we catfished her fiancée.
My friend is really hot, and she let me use pictures of her to ‘prove’ that she was really real. She even got on Skype with him once.
When he finally made the arrangements for a face-to-face encounter and booked a hotel room I texted the screenshots of EVERYTHING to Holly from a burner number.
To say the excrement impacted the oscillating unit would be a vast understatement.
They broke up, the whole thing was an ordeal and Holly was devastated. She had two kids, no job, and now no fiancée who could help her keep the family afloat.
A normal person would have stopped then. Unfortunately, I am not normal and I was going full scorched earth. I seethed for twenty years, no way in the world was I going easy on her.
With her fiancé gone and no job Holly was struggling badly, she needed money and she needed it quickly before she and the kids got evicted. Substances are a giant problem in my area, it’s high risk but it also earns well and so I started subtly mentioning Holly’s situation among my more legally questionable family. Eventually, one of my family’s friends who happened to be an accomplice got in contact with Holly and offered her a huge amount to let him cook substances at her house.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing. 2 days and then done forever.
Holly was desperate so she said yes, everything went smoothly at first but in the middle of the cook, someone called in an anonymous tip about an active cook in progress to the local unit.
They rolled up on Holly’s house at about 3 am and caught everybody inside, including Holly red-handed making illegal substances.
Watching her cry when they handcuffed her and put her in that police cruiser was one of the most gloriously satisfying moments of my life. She was in deep legal doo-doo, and to make a bad situation even worse, most houses where labs are discovered aren’t deemed habitable afterward because the toxic fumes from the chemicals used to make the substances get EVERYWHERE and it’s super hard and time-consuming to clean.
It’s up to the property owner to either hire a hazmat team to clean it, or condemn it and tear it down.
A lab cleanup costs thousands of dollars. it would have cost more to clean it than the entire property was worth. So it got torn down, with everything Holly owned still inside.
See, you can’t take things out of a substance lab because they’re going to be covered in toxic residue.
It can make you VERY sick, especially young children. Everything in the residence is usually counted as a loss. Now, some people sneak in and grab stuff anyway, but whatever, it’s their funeral but since Holly was still sitting in jail, there was no way for her to get anything and none of her close family were interested in risking getting caught sneaking into the house and being accused of stealing or tampering with a crime scene.
Holly ended up in jail for a while, and while she was gone the court gave their father, Ex-Fiancé, sole custody of their children, and Holly was only given supervised visitation. Two hours every Saturday if I recall correctly.
Revenge is a dish best served cold, and mine was freezing.
I was behind every single bad thing that happened in Holly’s life, in one way or another for an entire five-year period.
She decided she liked bullying me and making my life miserable and she figured there would never be any consequences.
Instead, I took her reputation, her job, her fiancé, got her arrested and convicted of a felony and her children taken from her and the best part is that she has no clue I did it to this very day. She’d forgotten about me, what she did to me impacted my life forever, but to her, it wasn’t even important enough to her to bother remembering.
I was nothing to her, so she never connected me to her problems.
Last I heard she was in rehab for heavy drinking and had her parental rights terminated permanently. After she lost her kids she just gave up and crawled into a bottle and never came out again.
I was tempted to tell her, but I decided that the helplessness and confusion about why everything suddenly went down in a hand-basket was the better plan, because that means that every now and again I can contact her and pretend to give a damn about her troubles to get some fresh satisfaction about her newest tale of woe.
She thinks I’m the nicest person she’s ever met.”