Even after you’ve exhausted all options. Even after you’ve tried everything to make it right. Even after you’ve stood your ground time and time again, you’re still going to run into characters who just don’t see it any other way than their own. What’s there left to do? Unfortunately, sometimes you gotta play dirty too. There’s no room left to be civilized. All bets are off when you’ve tried playing kind and fair and you get getting knocked down, each time getting worse. Now, you have to be ruthless. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
These tales are just that – ruthless.
It doesn’t feel good when someone betrays you, and even worse when you feel painted into a corner, and helpless. With nowhere to turn to, nothing left to do, fighting fire with fire might just be the only way there is to go. From drains of dirty diapers to stalking fibbing landlords, this article is rife with stories of revenge, exacted by those who want their perpetrator to get a taste of their own medicine. An eye for an eye, right? It makes everyone blind with anger and rage. In some cases, it’s justified, in others, maybe not. It’s hard to tell unless you’re there, but have you ever really been there? What’s it like when you have no other choice but to walk out on your job – your career? Or feel guilty for wanting to spend the evening with your wife on your anniversary after your boss shames you into staying late? What would you do? Watch how the tables turn when you look at it from a different angle.
16. Landlord Wants To Play Dirty? I’ll Play Exactly By The Rules
“So this happened a long time ago, it’s probably ok to post here.
It was 2010 November 2009, and I was jamming to I Got a Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, looking for a cheap apartment. I find a great ad on Craigslist and arrange for a viewing.
I meet the landlady; a portly shrew with a Betty Page haircut. I wasn’t here for the company, however, but for the cheap room. It’s not great looking, but it is cheap, so I tell her I am interested in it. She tells me the place is mine if I can get a deposit by the end of the day.
Sweet. I rip to the bank and grab the $450 bucks needed; a half a month’s rent. She and I cross-sign a standard lease and ask when I can get a key to move in, and she says a couple of days as the current tenant has yet to collect all of their stuff.
So, I am sleeping on the couch at a buddies pad for now, and so I just chill, seeing sites, enjoying the first few weeks in a new city. A couple of days roll by, and I haven’t heard from the landlady, so I get frustrated and leave a few salty voice mails, but alas I was ghosted.
Finally, she leaves me a voicemail and says she’s sorry, but she cannot rent the place to me.
I start to get angry. But I am a pretty cool customer, so I do the research, find out my rights in an unfamiliar new municipality, and discover that if someone backs out of a lease without a legal reason, the other party is entitled to double the deposit they placed, so I figure, she owes me about $900 clams.
I leave more messages and emails. Again with the ghosting, not answering the phone, no responses via email either. I get fed up.
Now, I had just accepted a new job, but it didn’t start until the turn of the month.
I would guess it’s about the third week of November 2009. I have some spare time, so I hop on the bus, buy a magazine, and sit at the bus stop across from the rental house, and just, wait. And wait. For a couple of hours, I waited, but man was it worth it.
I see her showing the unit to another smart Mark! I hold my cool and wait for her to finish with her newest ‘renter’, and make my way over to the house to confront her. As soon as she sees me, she starts to wail about how the tenant changed their mind, blah blah blah, and that’s why she couldn’t rent to me.
I’ve heard enough. I square my stance directly opposite this clearly upset charlatan. ‘Now you listen to me, you will get me $900 as required by law by the end of the day, or I will go directly to the police station and let them deal with you.’
She turned white. For a minute I thought she was going to puke on the ground right there in front of me. She says, hold on, I will get you your money. I remember thinking, ‘Sh*t, that was easier than I thought.’
She goes upstairs (the unit was a basement unit in the house she was living in), and I sh*t you not, hands me a wad of cash and says, ‘Here, this is ruining my Christmas, but here!’ She almost pushed me off balance as she jammed the messy wad of cash into me.
‘Thank you. Good day,’ I say and take the money, count it, and walk away.
I didn’t turn around and look back, got on the first bus that stopped nearby heading back toward the direction of my friends’ house. Not until I was home did I calm down and realize it was going to be a sweet Christmas, all thanks to a lying phony cheapskate.
However, this is not the end of the revenge. About a week later, I get a phone call from a friend asking me if the lady in the news is the same crazy lady I got the double damage deposit from.. I’m like whaaaaa?
Sure enough, it turns out this lady was running the same scam in parallel with a bunch of other victims.
I am mortified, not just because I almost got scammed, but it immediately occurs to me that the money I got was someone else’s money, and they are homeless for the holidays!
I head right down to the police station, where there is, I sh*t you not, a line of crying people filing reports about being scammed by this woman. I feel awful, and when it’s my turn, I get to the intake officer and start to give my story. I lay it all down, how I fell for it, how I left a snotty voicemail, how I staked out the rental to confront her, my demand of double the money back, my threats of legal action against her, and finally the skillful execution of the law by getting double the deposit back.
I tell the cop, I took some of the money that belonged to the other victims, and she looks at me and says, ‘Man, you were the only one smart enough to confront her in a reasonable way, you earned that money. Don’t worry about it.’
A young lady who was now homeless and desperate couldn’t help but overhear, and as I am leaving the police station, she approaches me and says, ‘Hey, did you get your money back from that b*tch?’
To which I sheepishly reply, ‘Actually I got double my deposit from her when I threatened her with the police..’
The girl blinks a couple of times, and finally grins, starts a slow clap, and announces to the other victims still waiting to give a statement in the lobby of the police station, ‘This guy took her for double the damage deposit!’ I cringed.
But then, in the most unexpected turn of events, the line of victims began applauding, I suppose with the realization that while their money was gone, someone had really screwed her back, and that made them happy. They cheered, I felt better, the cops laughed, and we all (there had to be twenty people in all) had a joyful cosmic moment of holiday schadenfreude at her expense.
I left the police station with a clean conscience and a smile on my face and enjoyed every last penny of that worthless b*tch’s nasty stack.” Genius4Hire
15. Don’t Want To Accept My Help Trying To Mend Our Business Deal? Ok, Let’s Make Things Difficult
“So almost a couple of years ago I had a guy that emailed me back and forth for months.
He was pretty cool but picky beyond belief and couldn’t decide on what he wanted.
Finally, though he ordered this ultra-deluxe, 4 player arcade machine wrapped in Star Wars graphics, I don’t have the original pic so here’s a sample render he spared no expense, spending $3,000 plus $220 shipping.
The machine arrives in Melbourne 5 days later and he calls me up losing his sh*t. It’s been damaged by the freight company. I send everything fully insured so I assured him it was ok, he’s covered. Please send me the pics of the damage.
It was only very slight, nothing cosmetic, but the console was a little dislodged as they must have stacked something heavy on it.
I assured the customer it could be fixed, I’ll contract a cabinet maker to come out to him and repair it at my expense, then I’ll go through insurance later.
Nope. he didn’t want that.
So I said ok, I’ll arrange for collection and have it brought back to me, and I’ll issue him a full refund including freight.
Nope. He didn’t want that either.
Ok, I said, what would make you happy then? It’s something easy to fix, perhaps I can pay you what I’d pay the contractor (about $250) and you can fix it?
Nope. He wanted a full refund AND he wanted to keep the machine too.
I said that won’t happen. Insurance won’t allow it as the damage is tiny. It’s like car insurance, they won’t write off a whole car for minor damage that can be fixed.
He didn’t care, he wanted a refund.
I said they won’t do it, and I certainly won’t pay out of pocket. Either I’ll arrange collection of the unit at my expense and issue a refund to him or we have it repaired.
Nope. He paid via XY Online Payment System and he’s putting through a dispute because the item ‘didn’t arrive as described.’ I advised him that XY Online Payment System’s rules also state that in order to get a refund, He’ll need to show proof that he’d sent the item back or arranged with the sender to have it collected.
Nope. He’s keeping it and getting a refund.
So I advised him that what he was committing were fraud and theft, Also XY Online Payment System will freeze the $3220 in my account and I’m not at fault here. That’s what XY Online Payment System does you see. If anyone lodges a dispute, they automatically freeze the funds in the seller’s account. it’s guilty until proven innocent with them. It can also take up to 90 days to resolve, sometimes 6 months. I know, it’s happened before.
He didn’t care. The next thing I knew, I had a notification from XY Online Payment System.
The funds were frozen pending the dispute.
The next step is stating your case to them. Providing evidence etc where they relay the info back and forth between the buyer and seller. XY Online Payment System ALWAYS sides with the buyer, sellers are a piece of sh*t as far as they’re concerned. If it can’t be resolved between buyer and seller, then you can opt to have XY Online Payment System decide. but their decision is absolute.
I provided my transcripts advising the customer that I’d collect the item and refund him, and he provided them with a fake pick up receipt. As far as they knew, he’s done his part, now he’s eligible.
So they ruled in his favor.
So this f*cker now has his money back and my $3000 machine. I was fuming, and he wouldn’t answer my calls or emails. I’m a big guy and I had a rough upbringing in a tough neighborhood, so I was about to jump into my truck, drive the 900km south, knock on his door and watch him sh*t himself as I repossess my machine. But my wife is the voice of reason calmed me down and said to try legal avenues first.
coincidentally he emails me 3 days later and says the computer in the machine stopped working.
I replied ‘Which f*cking planet do you live on where you steal an item then complain it doesn’t work?’ he lol’ ed me and said he had an IT guy.
A few days after that I get a call from a guy saying that his friend bought an item and the Hard drive is dead. It was his IT guy, and I don’t think he knew the whole story. I asked him to find the serial number, it’s just the date it was built and the iteration, for example, 2312201901. He read the number out and I said, ‘Oh it’s in warranty, send it back and I’ll send a fresh new one,’ he bought it and sent it back.
Now note that he said the HDD was dead, that’s a good thing. If it had been the computer, he could just use anything else and use the HDD as a backup. But since it was dead, and now I had his computer too, he has to buy a new system which would set him back at least $450 but he still couldn’t play games in it. You can download the apps but there’s a tonne of config work and button mapping etc.
IT guy calls me a few days later asking for the computer, and I told him the story and that nope, he can go eff himself.
He also lol’ ed and asked how hard it could possibly be to just download sh*t.
See, what he didn’t know is that I have a little fail-safe built-in. The encoder I use isn’t mapped to the default keys on the apps. I changed everything around on the hardware to stop people from trying to just clone it. It’s not hard to get around, but most people aren’t familiar with the nuances of emulators.
Inevitably, I get another call a few days later from a different guy saying that he’d built his own machine but couldn’t get it working. the symptoms were exactly that of trying to get my controls working on a different system.
It was definitely the IT guy fishing. I played dumb and said I didn’t know, sorry. Now, this guy had an empty useless cabinet, so he left me a one-star review on Google.
It’s since been removed but it read something like ‘poor quality build, flimsy, the system doesn’t work, do not buy from these people!’
I was about to jump into my truck again and drive down to that f*ckface. But again, my wife is like a bucket of ice water to my fire. So I wrote a long letter to XY Online Payment System attaching all of my evidence of his fraud.
Then I responded to the 1-star review with attachments to the emails and his admission to committing the fraud. Also, I displayed his name and email address to smoke him out.
He immediately called and said, ‘Look, no hard feelings ok, but I received a damaged item and I’m entitled to compensation. Remove my details.’ He was getting spammed relentlessly, but he seriously believed he did nothing wrong, I told him to go eff himself and to enjoy his useless machine. I was still burning though.
I forgot about it after a few weeks, XY Online Payment System didn’t respond so I cut my losses and moved on.
But then something beautiful happened. It’s as though the universe aligned and said ‘Hey Abs, we’re not going to sh*t on you today, here, take this gift on a silver platter.’
I was on eBay looking for old non-working machines I can buy and refurb, there’s good money to be made doing that. A one day refurb could pull in over $1000 profit. He’s listed my machine! but contrary to his google review, the description was ‘marvelous hand-built arcade cabinet, built by a master carpenter, flawless finish and quality, missing computer. Good for a DIY project.’ (I’m not a carpenter by the way) he had it listed for $1100.
That was still $1100 pure profit to him since he got it free.
I bought it under my wife’s account and had it delivered to my home address. When I sent it, it was wrapped in about a 4-inch thick layer of bubble wrap. When it arrived it had a flimsy single layer less than 5mm thick. The courier who dropped it off was the same guy who picked up from me, we were good friends and he knew the story. So I said I was going to damage it, make it look serious, but nothing I can’t fix in a few minutes.
He agreed and said that he’d log the damage due to insufficient packaging. Insurance won’t cover it.
I knocked the panels out from inside so it looked like the machine had been crushed, realistically I only had to reset the screws and it was good as new, But it looked mangled.
Then I sent Melbourne d*ckhead the pics and complained about the damage. He said it was insured.
I advised him the courier said it was insufficiently packaged and that it’s not covered, I want a refund, take this back. I knew he wouldn’t take it back, it was totally useless to him.
He said he didn’t want it and he’ll refund the freight.
I said nope. I can’t do anything with a damaged machine, if he doesn’t do anything, I’m filing a XY Online Payment System dispute under ‘item not as described’ he wasn’t happy, played the victim, played on my sympathy still not realizing who I was. Eventually, after offering me partial refunds and getting rejected, he relented and told me to keep it and he’d refund me in full. He must’ve realized that his greed wasn’t worth it and it cost him nothing.
So now I had my machine back and I was happy this was over with, still p*ssed at this guys audacity, but meh.
That’s not the end though….it gets better, oh does it get deliciously better.
Someone at XY Online Payment System business had finally read my complaint. Since I do a lot of work through XY Online Payment System under a business account, there’s kind of a concierge service although not really, kind of like a priority service. They actually went through my complaint, verified that his pick up docket was actually a year old and unrelated, and read the transcripts of him intending to keep the machine and get a refund.
They refunded my money in full. Now I had my machine back and $3k of his money and he couldn’t do sh*t because he got caught for fraud.
Can’t dispute sh*t if you got caught being dishonest
He called me up losing his sh*t. I laughed and said, ‘Sorry mate, it’s karma, It’s purely up to my goodwill to refund you, go suck a doorknob.’
He pleaded and begged, swore a lot, pleaded more, and I said I’ll think about it. Legally he had no leg to stand on. But I have scruples. I donated it all to charity on his behalf. I sent him the receipt, he lost his sh*t some more, but now there were kids with food and clothes because of his douchebag-ness. Eat a d*ck, Michael.” SvenViking
14. Flush Diapers Down The Toilet? Better Watch Out
“So my teacher lives in a 3-story house not including the basement and up the street is some condos.
One of the condos is a family with children. One day my teacher’s wife goes into their basement to do laundry, she smelled dirty diapers (I guess dirty diapers have a distinct smell) she recognized this isn’t normal and called my teacher explaining that it smells like dirty diapers. Their kids are all grown up so obviously it wasn’t coming from them. My teacher thought about it and speculated someone up the street was flushing dirty diapers down their toilet. He said to his wife ‘don’t flush the toilet don’t use the washer don’t use the sink.’ He proceeds to call the person that put in the sewer system of his house.
Their friends so he was willing to help him out. What the guy told him to do was plug every drain in his house with some sort of drain plug they sell at home improvement stores for this kind of reason. He even had to take his toilets off and plug the drain on them all except for his 3rd floor (wait for it). Once he did that according to his friend’s instructions go to the 3rd floor and flush every toilet. He said when he did this it was so clogged up in the pipes, Water started coming from the drain of his bathroom and he had to plug it up.
Nothing was happening until he just heard this giant ‘WOOOOSH’ noise in his pipes. A couple of minutes later fire trucks were showing up to the condos up the street and he knew it worked.
The reason why this happened was since his dumba*s neighbors were flushing diapers down the toilet the way the sewer system works is that it goes downstream of elevation. So coming from the condos down the street then it comes off at an intersection and goes to his house. The diapers were caught at that intersection and actually going into his house (just the pipes luckily unless they didn’t take the right action).
So by plugging all of the drains except the 3rd floor, the liquid would need more pressure to travel up to the 3rd floor OR by flushing all of the toilets and introducing a lot of pressure into the system (because it’s at a higher elevation on the 3rd floor) it shot all of the clogged up sewage back upstream (even though it’s going upstream remember PRESSURE all of his drains were plugged including the sewage system going down the street, so there’s only one way to go) to the neighbors house aaaaand into their house lmao.
That’s why you don’t flush diapers down the toilet, they expand.
Actually don’t flush anything other than what should go down there your house could just be covered in sh*t next time because your neighbor knows what he’s/she’s doing.” lil_smd_19
13. Won’t Let Me Celebrate My Anniversary With My Wife? I’ll Write A Scathing Review And Take You Down
“I had the worst job.
I mean, we’ve all had lousy jobs, but this takes the cake. I was hired to be the shipping and receiving supervisor for a manufacturer of building supplies – basically I work in a tar factory. I was promised a whole bunch of things when I hired in, and there were red flags because they were offering me about 40% more than I was making before.
For one, I was a salaried employee, so I wasn’t paid overtime. Also, no one had been in my position for about 3 months.
Anyway, they fly me to Nowhere, Arizona for a week to train and the lady who trains me talks sh*t about my plant the entire time I’m there. I show up after training for a week and things are, in a word, grim.
They’re behind almost $2,000,000 in shipments, and there is paperwork from deliveries for the past 3 months that haven’t been received into the system or filed. It’s just stacked in a box. It’s their busy season, but manufacturing is only producing about 30% of their daily quotas, so I’m constantly turning trucks away and trying to reschedule.
I’m working 14 hour days, six days a week, and I never see my wife or kids. And, remember, no overtime. On an hour by hour basis, it was a 50% pay cut.
I cancel three family camping weekends, lose touch with my friends, and my sons cry every day when they see me putting my work boots on. Every day, the operations manager, the most mercurial asshole I’ve ever met, who is also in charge of the failing production team that is the reason why I work so late, leaves at 5:00 sharp.
I’m very frustrated, but I keep getting promises of ‘it’ll get better soon.’ So I stick it out.
After about a month and a half, my anniversary is coming up. I beg and I plead, will someone please cover the desk for the evening so I can leave at a decent hour and have dinner with my wife. I’m assured ahead of time that I can, but the day of, they all bail and totally screw me over. Fast forward another month, and a last-minute emergency that they create means that I have to come in on a Saturday, and a two-hour commitment becomes all day because I’m stuck on a forklift loading and unloading trucks when the rest of the forklift drivers don’t show up, ruining another weekend of family plans.
So I’ve had it. I turn in my notice.
And then the trouble begins.
They pitch a fit that I’m leaving, so they shunt me into a corner and have someone else cover my desk. I get bombarded with emails (around 250 a day) second-guessing every decision I make and demanding to know why they’re still in the dire situation they’ve been in. ‘Why hasn’t this shipped yet?’ Because you morons haven’t made it yet. Then, the icing on the cake – they’re flying someone from another plant in to ‘assist’ as I transition out. It’s the battle ax that trained me, who hates our location and hates me.
So I just leave. I send an email and tell them I won’t be back.
I have a new job already lined up, so I’m updating all the job sites with my new information, and one of the sites asks me to write a review of my time at the employer from hell. So I do. I write a brutal, scathing, incredibly honest and documentable (I saved copies of EVERYTHING) review that makes its way up to corporate. It’s so bad that they start harassing me to remove it. I won’t. They try to pay the employees still there to write positive reviews to offset mine.
So I post on my blog, which has great search engine cred, a similar review with details about the company, the names of the idiot managers, and contact info if candidates want to know more. It’s a top page rank if you google the company, so they can’t silence it. Then they try to d*ck around my retirement and benefits (in the US, you get insurance for the rest of the month after you leave the employer). I’ve had three people reach out since I posted.
Remember all the documentation I saved? Yeah. I called OSHA, the EPA, and Homeland Security. They don’t maintain their machines or forklifts, they don’t dispose of waste properly, and they don’t secure the aluminum paste according to regulations, so now they’re dealing with a half dozen agencies with acronyms.
And they still can’t find anyone to sit in my old desk.
All I wanted was to go home on my anniversary.” bltitus82
12. Won’t Give Me Back My Deposit? Ok, You Can Pay Double
“I was a kid back in the eighties, 2 years out of college when I moved into an apartment by the shore in NJ. When the cold weather arrived, there was always a few days when the apartment was cold, we would tell the super, and then the heat would start arriving. One year the heat started decreasing in February, and inside the apartment was like in the 50s and we had to start wearing coats.
We told the super about it and nothing happened this time. We wrote the landlord about it, and still nothing. So we checked with an attorney and learned about the warranty of habitability and withholding of rents.
So yet another certified letter to the landlord and we start withholding rents. He files a motion to evict us and we answer with the Marini defense, depositing the withheld money with the court. The judge finds in our favor for all the money withheld. We continue to live there because there just aren’t many other options as we save for a home.
Flash forward to living there for 6 years, on the last lease because we are about to buy a home, we write in a clause that we can break the lease with 45 days notice in writing, similar to his 45-day clause.
They don’t notice it because it’s slightly obscured on the top left of page 2, so they sign off on it and return it to me. So in the middle of the lease, we give the 45 days written notice, make the rent payments, and leave. They don’t return our deposit, so we sue for it, demanding double. They sue us for the remaindering of the 6 months rent and refuse to return our security deposit. This is no longer a small claims court, but we proceed without an attorney anyway, they are expensive.
We arrive at the courthouse and the court forces a round of arbitration.
The arbitrator says we will lose in front of the judge and to pay the rent remaindermen. We refuse and wait for the judge. While waiting the landlord’s attorney drops by and asks why we didn’t take the arbitrator’s advice, so we tell him about the clause we wrote in, and he states he saw it too, and that since it was crossed out, it’s not part of the deal. We show him our copy of the lease where it’s not crossed out, and his face goes white as a sheet. He makes a call to the landlord, who then offers to properly break the lease with no penalty and return our security deposit in full.
We refuse, and we show him the certified letter stating that we would have accepted that deal up until yesterday, but that if you force us to come down to the court, we want double damages of the improper withholding of the security deposit. He tries again to reach out to the landlord, but no luck this time.
We go to see the judge. He looks at both leases and calls their attorney to the bench. The judge takes our lease, and thrusts it toward their attorney and says, ‘This is the lease in force.’ Their attorney starts walking around the courtroom like a chick with his head cut off, while I try to laugh as quietly as possible.
The judge finds for us for double damages.
We receive nothing for a week, and I go back to the courthouse where the clerk says, they should pay that judgment immediately, and tells us about chattel execution, and gives us that form. A couple of weeks pass, and a check appears from the landlord.
Another month passes and we get a call from the court. They have our money. I told them the landlord had sent a check a while back so all it good. She tells us that we should have informed the court that we got the money to stop the chattel execution from occurring.
The court sent the sheriff to their offices and confiscated office equipment and sold it at auction to satisfy the judgment! They said don’t worry, they will just return the money to the landlord. That is the revenge, getting the money and having them experience the abrupt seizing of their assets at their place of business, having it sold at auction, and then having the money returned to them. Major pro-justice.” calcteacher
11. Won’t Change Your Pizza Delivery Number? We’ll Stoop Extra Low
“The end result of this story, which I will tell you upfront, is that we lost the ability to order from several local Pizza-Huts life.
Growing up, we had a phone number that was very similar to a Pizza-Hut, their number was (555)455-5575 and ours was (555)455-5515. Now, these two numbers are commonly mixed up for obvious reasons. This was back before the days of cellphones and everyone having their own personal number, and we actually had to get a caller ID because of this.
For years we had this Pizza-Huts client base call our house (about 50/50 split sober/drunk) and order pizzas. The thing is people WILL NOT LISTEN when you tell them ‘Sorry wrong number’ we would have drunk people call back 4-5 times and then begin screaming into the phone ‘I KNOW THIS IS A F*CKING PIZZAHUT YOU A*SHOLE!’ or ‘GIVE ME THE NUMBER OR I’LL KICK YOUR ASS.’
This was pretty normal and the pizza hut was even aware of this and profusely apologized when we would call them.
(Never giving us anything for free though, despite the massive inconvenience of the phone ringing off the hook.)
Well, Pizza Hut Corporate then pays for an advertisement on paper, bill-board, and phone book. And guess what? They botched the number they put OUR number on the things for the phone number as one of the locations in our town for Pizza Huts pizza. Why? Because 1’s and 7’s are the same numbers apparently.
The phone calls we get start to explode. It goes from like 3-5 phone calls a day to like 100-200. Initially, we were directing people with a message that simply said ‘THIS IS NOT PIZZA HUT! THEIR NUMBER IS XXXXXXXX’ It didn’t end.
We would get calls with people screaming into the voice recording ‘I WANT A F*CKING PIZZA THIS IS BULLSH*T I’M GOING TO KILL WHOEVER DOESN’T ANSWER THIS F*CKING PHONE!’ (Aren’t boomers great? We got that sh*t all the time from older people.) I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been told to kill myself for trying to direct someone to the correct place, and for some F*CKING reason, no one EVER listens.
Well upon this happening my Dad calls into the pizza hut and says “look, all we want is to not have to change our number. If you guys will PLEASE change yours, or pay for ours to be changed (it was like a 10 dollar convince fee or some sh*t.) we will stop getting your damned phone calls.” The manager cussed my Dad, who had him on speakerphone, calling him a sh*t load of names and for ‘getting him bad reviews’ as well as losing customers to his branch, which is locally owned.
What a f*cking joke. It’s costing their business a solid 10 grand EASY over a phone number why not JUST CHANGE IT? IDK.
My Dad looks at the phone, hangs up and says “Ok asshole, you want to be like that about it?”
My dad then instructs My 17-year-old self (and my sister) to take all calls from now on. If it rings pick it up, take the order, and say “Ok your pizza should be there in (1.5 hours)” Then when they call back to tell them ‘Sorry the driver just left.’ and if they call back a third time say ‘Well I can get you on the phone with my manager but he’s probably going to kick your a*s if you keep complaining.’ And then switch the phone with someone else and have them say ‘Listen here b*tch, you aren’t getting your pizza and we are keeping your money, f*cking get over it.’
Or something along those lines anyway.
Two weeks pass and my Dad tries to get said Pizza Hut to change our number for free. Never pointing out that they f*cked up their ad, as apparently they were completely oblivious to this fact. Again the manager screams at my Dad saying “I don’t have the money to change your f*cking number!” We even tried calling OTHER pizza huts to get the issue resolved, and their corporate with no real luck. Fair enough, its game on time now b*tch why? For two reasons 1. My dad got a phone with a transfer button and 2. Because summer was rolling around, and my sister and I loved f*cking with people over this.
It was a really bad influence on us tbh.
We fielded phone calls every day all day long, we had friends come over and they loved partaking in the same thing. We had a general plan:
Every other call would get a pizza ‘delivery.’
On the other calls, we would get them really p*ssed off talking sh*t to them and saying ‘Ok do you want to speak with my manager?’ And just cold transfer them to the pizza hut.
It took 6 more weeks of us doing this, and the pizza hut closed. A few weeks before they closed we got a phone call from pizza hut corporate who more or less threatened us with a cease and desist sounded like they didn’t really understand what was actually happening as it accused us of ‘stealing their phone calls.’ LMFAO.
We called their corporate and explained what was going on, and even played our recordings of talking with them before about the issue and ignoring us. All they said is ‘You had better stop! This is ILLEGAL!’ over and over. We didn’t stop. They were aware of what was going on and didn’t want to do anything about it because to fix their FUBAR.
A few weeks after the owner lost his job he called our house and was trying to argue with my Dad about how ‘bad of a person he was because I lost money, and got my a*s beat several times.’ …apparently we had p*ssed a few people off so bad they actually went in and attacked him and other staff… To this day it cracks me up that a company can be so oblivious, and is the single reason I don’t believe we live in anything close to a ‘Meritocracy’ anyone in this position who has any merit would instantly change the number, but not a corporation who has money to sue, and not a middle manager who has an ego problem.” MundaneSeeSaw
10. Break My Phone? I’ll Swipe Your Bag
“One winter, I was taking the train home after a day of doing jack sh*t at uni.
Mostly, just gaming with my friends. I owned a pretty neat Allview X2 Soul Style+ for some time. The thing held on for a long time. It was pattern-locked, as I am bad with words and numbers, but good with shapes.
I was on my phone browsing Pinterest, next to an entitled mother (EM) and her entitled kid (EK) (bad move 1), when EK comes and asks (more like demands) to let him play on my phone. Feeling like a smart-a*s, I locked the phone and gave it to EK ( bad move 2) After about 2 minutes, EK tells EM he can’t unlock the phone.
Being like any other EM, she demanded to unlock *her child’s* phone. I say no, ask for my phone back, and she proceeds to smash it to the ground, being all smug about it.
Now, it was an old phone. I wanted to replace it either way and backed up everything on an SD card and left it at home. Mostly, I used it for the internet.
I was quiet. Just shrugged. Because I wanted revenge. So, I didn’t scream or anything. I just picked up the phone and removed the SIM card, while EM and EK moved further away.
At my stop, the train began to get crowded.
I made my way to the exit, making sure I pass EM and snatched her purse while she wasn’t looking. The purse wasn’t on her arm, it was on the seat beside her (stupid woman). She was still telling her kid about how much of an as*hole I was, making it easy to pick it up without her noticing.
The original plan was to smack her head and then move out quickly. It might sound stupid, but I’ve done it before, and got away with it. I am easy to miss. I had my jacket on, and many people had their hoods up, so it was easy to blend in.
Before the train left, I knocked on the window next to EM and held up her purse. The look she gave was the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen. She tried to stop the train, but the emergency stop was either broken or non-existent ( old train ), and the crowd made it impossible to move around.
I moved to a place with no cameras around and searched through her purse. Got close to 400€ ( money was in different currency ), and a Samsung ( \I can’t remember what Samsung, an S-something maybe? ). I tossed the purse in a trash bin outside and went to McDonald’s and got a Happy Meal ( even tho I had a full beard ).
I didn’t regret anything. She broke my stuff, I got it back, plus interest.
If someone criticizes me for it … f*ck you, I don’t care.
I also wore gloves, so no fingerprints.” Sierra_India_Delta
9. Maul My Cat? I’ll Mess Up Your Christmas
“Years ago, I used to work with a receptionist in a vet clinic named Margot. Margot was and still is a very sweet 65-year-old woman who had been at this practice since it was opened, some 40 years ago. She always had a smile, a joke, compliments and baked goods for your birthday. She never had an unkind word to say about anyone.
She was seriously one of the coolest people I had ever worked with and she basically knew everyone, from our regular clients to our mailman’s granddaughter.
The only bad thing about Margot and this was not her fault was that she and her family lived next to one of the trashiest, nastiest families I had ever met that had two even nastier Pitbulls – I’m talking nastier than sh*t that had been hoarded by dung beetles for years nasty. And these dogs were constantly escaping and terrorizing the neighborhood, even trying to get into her house.
Margot had asked them more than once to please keep the dogs contained, especially since she had an elderly, fat cat named Smokestack and these pits had attacked smaller animals before.
The family basically told her to rot in hell, that they knew what they were doing, how dare she accuses the breed, yadda, yadda, basically blowing her off. Margot knew there had been reports filed against her neighbors but nothing had ever been done about it really. So she made sure to keep Smokestack in the house to keep him safe and was very careful not to let him out.
If you had been paying attention up until this point, you’ll notice I’m using the word ‘was’ and ‘had’ regarding old Smokestack. And it was as awful as you think.
Three weeks before Christmas, Margot had the day off and was in the garage with Smokestack fiddling with some Christmas decorations.
Unbeknownst to her, the pits next door got out and broke through the bottom of her garage door. They went right for Smokestack before she could blink and started to tear the cat apart. Margot screamed for help and it was only when her son and husband came out with a baseball bat that they were able to free Smokestack from the jaws of these dogs.
I was working this day and will never forget when she came in, crying harder than I had ever seen anyone cry in my life, clutching poor dying Smokestack in her arms. Her husband had to hold her while we tried to bring Smokestack back but we couldn’t do it – it would have taken a miracle of God and then some – and he passed away – a truly crap way to go in what should have been the golden years of his fat, cat life.
Margot sat there for a while with his mangled body, quietly crying for a while before she finally kissed whatever part of him was still intact and stood up. She told us all, ‘I’ve got a job to do, take care of him, girls.’ And then left. We figured Margot would take a few days off to be with family and then continue on with life as normal.
We figured wrong.
Now when I say Margot knew everyone, I mean, everyone. Right after she left the hospital, Margot gathered herself up and went to the police with pictures of poor Smokestack and told her story.
The same police officers she had watched grow up over the last 20 years from rowdy middle-schoolers she used to help babysit to the officers they were today. They were absolutely shocked to hear what had happened to their surrogate grandma and pushed her case to the front of the line.
The case found itself before a judge whose daughter had gone to school with Margot’s daughter. The judge granted an emergency, dangerous animal extraction warrant to her neighbors.
Of course, there was a hearing. Within two weeks which I gotta admit, was ridiculously fast. The neighbors tried to argue that their dogs weren’t aggressive.
They even went so far as to accuse Margot of having it out for their family and making it all up.
But their argument trickled when the dozens of dangerous animal reports were presented and finally completely dried out when Margot presented the surveillance video her grandson had gotten showing the dogs coming into her property and attacking poor Smokestack. The emergency extraction and humane destruction of her neighbors’ dogs were granted.
It was Christmas Eve when Margot heard a knock on her door. She opened it up to see the neighbors standing there, sobbing uncontrollably. They were begging her to stop animal control – that they had these dogs since they were puppies, how the kids would be devastated and it would ruin Christmas and if she could find it in her heart to give the dogs another chance.
Up until this moment, the neighbors had behaved abominably. They didn’t offer to fix the garage. They never apologized for trying to slander her name in court. Hell, they didn’t even pay for Smokestack to be cremated. At no point, had they even shown the slightest shred of remorse for what damage their dogs had done.
And as the neighbors stood there, blubbering and whimpering about how this was going to ruin their Christmas, Margot looked them straight in the eye and told them, in her calmest voice, ‘You took away my family, so now I’m taking yours.’ And shut the door in their face just as animal control pulled up onto the driveway.
Margot was not surprised as she watched the dogs get hauled into the truck and taken away. After all, it was her idea for animal control to take the dogs on Christmas Eve, a perk from having known the AC officer supervisor for years. Margot even made sure the dogs were euthanized before the outside Christmas lights turned on that night.
The family never received the remains nor did they ever get a chance to bring another animal into their family as the father proceeded to drunk drive into a telephone pole that same night, killing him instantly. Mom went off the deep end so CPS picked up the kids by February.
And ultimately, the house foreclosed in September.
Despite how traumatic Smokestack’s death was, I’d like to think that if the neighbors had shown at least some regret, Margot might not have gone as far as she did. She was/is still the person to forgive and forget. Or maybe, she ultimately knew it had to be done, to push it to this point of no return before another family lost a member to these irresponsible neighbors.
Either way, thank you, Margot, for making the world a little bit safer for the pets in the world. And rest in peace, Smokestack. Hopefully, I’ll see you on the other side with your favorite orange sock and a can of tuna.” Throwaway1267990
8. Students Cheating On An Exam? This Teacher Set Up A Trap
“I took the final for an engineering class this morning.
Usually, 1 or 2 people will go to the bathroom during class, however for totally unknown reasons, about half of the class needed to use the restroom during the exam. Obviously a vast majority of them were looking up the answers on their phones. This irritated me but I just stayed focused and barely finished since it was a hard exam. I remembered that there was one particular problem that was only barely related to the stuff we went over in class were part a was fairly easy but I had no idea how to do part b. I didn’t fret over it too much though since that part was only 5 points out of 100.
Well, our professor who is on the older side and I would have thought was somewhat ignorant of technology sent us an email just now explaining his diabolical plan to catch cheaters.
Many of the students in this class use Chegg (a website that has answers to lots of homework questions if you’re not familiar). To be fair I have an account too though I only used it for studying and checking homework solutions. Anyway, he explained that he was tired of people going to the bathroom and looking up answers on their phones so he made the question I mentioned earlier as a trap.
He purposely made part b impossible to solve and about a month before the final, he got a TA with a Chegg account to ask the exact question, which was distinctly worded to be unique. He then created his own Chegg account and answered the question with a bullsh*t solution that seems right at first glance but is actually fundamentally flawed and very unlikely that someone would make the same assumptions and mistakes independently.
He said that out of 99 exams, 14 of them fell for the trap and that everyone who had his wrong solution on their exam was given a 0 and reported to the university for violating the academic honor pledge they signed on the front.
He also sent an email to all the other professors in our department giving them the list of cheaters.
Edit: I forgot to mention he gave full credit on part b of the question to everyone else.” Mwxh
7. Make Naughty Films In The Library And Try To Get Me Fired? That’s Not How It Works
“I got a job at the local library in the summer of 2015 2016. Strap in, kids, because, in order for you all to understand the true artistry of my revenge, this is going to be a long, delicious ride.
At this time, I was a poor undergrad student who had just gotten out of an abusive relationship and was riddled with anxiety.
In my new living situation, I had to earn more money than I was making as a tutor in the college writing center, so I applied to work part-time as a shelver in the mornings before I would go to class.
Now, I said ‘local’ library, but it’s actually a bit more complex: the library system I was working for was one of the best in its area of the United States. We had a dozen or so branches, the main branch of the library had a coffee shop, an indoor theater, and a subbasement full of books along with a suspiciously well-kept underground bunker full of important state documents.
I worked at a branch, and it was considered one of the larger branches, the second largest in terms of collection, and the only branch outside the main library equipped with a maker lab.
I got this job by the grace of some benevolent God, and in part because I have a friend from college who worked in the maker lab that could vouch for my character. After a brief training period in the main library, I arrived for my first real day with a box of donuts for my coworkers in hand and a smile on my face at six in the morning.
Unfortunately, my manager did not arrive on time—enter the children’s librarian, who did show up early to set up for storytime, and let my anxious a*s inside.
Enter our antagonist, who I will refer to as my least favorite character from Friends: Monica.
Monica did not like me from the start. This is in part due to circumstances beyond my control which I found out after the fact: one of her friends had applied to shelve at the library but did not get the position because Monica’s vouching did not carry as much weight as my friend’s, as well as the fact that I was better qualified.
She also did not like me because, and I cannot make this up: I brought donuts. See, she worked two jobs, one as a barista at the coffee shop and bakery across the parking lot, along with her job as a circulation assistant at the library. She was reportedly quite unhappy with my decision to bring donuts from a competing breakfast chain while everyone else passed on her bagels.
(Sidenote: who even likes bagels, really?)
Fortunately for me, I didn’t see much of Monica at this time. She worked a mid-shift since her mornings were at the coffee shop, so she was coming in when I was clocking out.
This still didn’t stop her from making sure I was aware of her disdain by taking up space in front of my work locker while she was coming on shift, so I would have a hard time getting my things and leaving in time to make my classes or my second job.
A few months passed, and around Christmas, a couple of our part-time branch assistants decided they were going to retire. This left us in a bind; we had two positions to fill and we were coming up on holiday break, which is a busy time for the library. I had only been working in my position as a shelver since late summer, but something in me (read: 4 shots of Jack Daniels at 2 A.M.) led me to apply for the position anyway.
Again, by the grace of some benevolent God, and the recommendation of several people, I got the job.
This is a good place to fit this in as well as any: my assistant manager was a good-natured sort of guy who had only started working in his position a couple of months before me. I was the first person he ever trained for both shelvings and for an assistant position.
The unfortunate truth was that my being trained by someone who was still in training himself showed. My ability to do my job was also hindered by Monica, who tried multiple times to sabotage me.
She would tell me the wrong information or stay quiet if she knew I was misinformed. The problem was that this would backfire on her; Monica would tell me something untrue, and when I would be corrected, I never let her get away with it.
Part of the reason I had gotten the position of circulation assistant is because I turned in a programming outline for a weekly anime club at the library (I know, I’m a nerd, but you’re on Reddit, so…) and it had been approved, but stalled in implementation. I was seen as a figure who could help “revitalize” our teen programming by our children’s librarian—another blow to Monica, who was in charge of the current programming for teens, which amounted to nothing more than an after school study hall.
Again, we were the second-largest library branch in our system; we were expected to do better. Encroaching on “her teens” was nothing short of war, even though I pointed out she had other responsibilities that were piling up around the library that stagnated when she was doing her glorified babysitting.
I also got chosen for assignments that made me popular with the library staff. When other branches were short-staffed, our branch would be asked if we could send someone to help pick up the shift. I was given this task quite a bit in the winter for a rather stupid reason: I drove a Jeep, and so my four-wheel-drive was ideal for driving unplowed roads.
Monica, in comparison, took public transport—so her chances of getting chosen were slim to zero. This also meant I picked up more friends at the other branches—what can I say? I’m charismatic.
It helped that I wasn’t on my phone all the time, something Monica had been reprimanded for pretty regularly. I’m not talking a couple of checks here and there throughout the hour; I’m talking every five minutes; texting, checking twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, Vine, etc. She did it behind the desk, she did it in the back, she did it on the floor between the stacks, she did it checking in books, and part of the reason she loved watching the teens was because she could be on her phone, practically uninterrupted, for an hour and a half.
At one point she lost her phone, used the library phone to call it, and then, when that didn’t work, got on the phone with her sister to active her “where’s my phone” feature from home, which meant we were slammed upfront while she walked her sister through the process.
Now that you have the background information and your FedEx order of Chekov’s Guns—here’s how this b*tch got our assistant manager fired.
I processed a library card wrong. There was a patron who came in, and through a series of wacky circumstances involving a former security action on him and a very generic-a*s milquetoast name, I mixed up some library accounts, put a new card on the wrong account, and then had to start a new application with a new card.
All told, I spent half an hour getting this guy a card and then had to go on my break immediately, because I was twenty minutes from leaving and needed to get my 15 in before I left. In the rush, I left the dead library card on the counter.
When I went back, it was gone.
I panicked. I looked everywhere for it in the 10 minutes before I had to leave to go to class. I couldn’t find it, and when I left, I was so consumed with anxiety about wondering where it went that I neglected to tell anyone what had happened—a big, big mistake, but anxiety is a hell of a drug.
When I came into work a couple of days later, I found out through an email it had been discovered: slotted back in with the other new, unassigned library cards. I knew for damn sure that, of all the places I could have put it, it wouldn’t have been there. I realized the person working at that computer when I had come back off my break was Monica.
How does this translate to our AM getting fired? Well, I had been the first—and only—assistant he had trained, since we hired our other assistant internally, and this was a capital BD Big Deal, so my f*ck up was a mark on his record as well as mine.
It was around this point that I left the library—I was starting to get heat from my manager for some other unrelated issues involving mental health days, and I was promoted at the college writing center, making better pay—so I decided to cut my losses and leave. Apparently, they fired my AM not long after, and he was forced to uproot his family (who had already moved so he could work at this job) and move to another state. Part of that was my f*ck up I’ll admit to that, but the majority of it was because it looked like I had ‘hidden’ the card after the fact.
Fast forward to January of 2017 2018, and take the safety off those guns. This is where we start getting wild.
I’m scrolling through Twitter on my lunch break, and a notification pops that someone has liked a chain of tweets from almost 4 months earlier. That’s weird in of itself, given I was very active on Twitter at this time, and those were buried by at least 500 more tweets. They were also about how I had talked to someone who worked at the library, and they had left soon after I did, and I was venting about poor leadership. It was very off-brand for my twitter.
I checked out who had liked them, and to my surprise, it was, of all people, Monica*.* I scrolled through her account and noticed some very… interesting things. You see, the twitter account she had used to like those tweets was a Not Safe for Work BDSM account. Quelle surprise! I saw much, much more of Monica that day then I frankly ever wanted to see. But then I looked closer at some of the pictures, and, despite wanting to use bleach for eye drops, I screen-capped a couple and saved them on my laptop before going back to work.
Later that day, I sent her a message through Facebook.
To be honest, I wanted to know how she found me on Twitter. At that time, I wasn’t using my real name, and I was posting a lot of incendiary things about the government, the kind of thing you want to stay anonymous for. In short, I was surprised she had tracked me down and needed to figure out where the leak was. When I approached her about it, she got nasty with me—she told me ‘nobody cared’ about what I was writing, that I shouldn’t ‘talk sh*t’ about her ‘work-family’ and that I had only left the library because I ‘couldn’t hack it.’ Then she blocked me.
So, I was p*ssed.
I remembered months of enduring abuse from her, how she’d blocked me from making teen programming better just because she wanted some time on her goddamn phone, how she had gotten me in trouble and my boss fired over some petty bullsh*t, and all the other microaggressions too plentiful to list, and I decided, alright b*tch, it’s on.
I went back online after taking a breath, and she must’ve realized her mistake because she had blocked me on Twitter and locked her account. That was fine by me because I had already gotten what I wanted.
The pictures of her that I had saved? Those were taken at the library.
See, since we’re a rather large branch, we have some pretty recognizable features in the library for anybody who’s ever worked there, or even walked inside—she had taken some pictures of herself topless in the back cubicles; there was one picture of herself in her underwear in the stacks, evident by the carpeting pattern, and, most damning, a picture of her flashing her a*s with the children’s section windows in the background. I gathered all these pictures up, wrote an email as a ‘concerned, anonymous patron’ to the HR department from a burner email, sent it, and sat back in wait.
The effects were pretty damn immediate and started toppling like dominos.
She was fired in a record two days, and my friend in the maker lab told me she was escorted from the building. None of the other workers knew why, but word spread through the other branches because they had to bring people in to staff her position, which meant a rotating cast of faces coming in and wondering why she’d been fired so immediately—usually, even in firing people, the library would give them two weeks, so the position could be filled.
Eventually, someone subbing in must have had a contact in HR, because that’s when I started getting messages from literally everyone I ever worked with all at the same time, asking me ‘did you know Monica was making naughty films in the LIBRARY?!’
But remember that children’s librarian who let me in on my first day, and had recommended me for my promotion? And remember how Monica’s other job was at the coffee shop across the parking lot?
Well, after the incident with Monica and my assistant manager getting fired, that had a negative effect on my manager’s record, so she was fired as well.
As the librarian with the most seniority, the children’s librarian was appointed interim manager. She had also heard the rumor about Monica but wasn’t aware of the details until she got access to those records as the new manager, and saw that Monica had taken pictures and that some of those pictures were in the children’s section, which she was, as you might imagine, fiercely protective of.
As it just so happened, the owner of the coffee shop across the lot went to her church, so she found him after service and told him about why Monica had been fired from the library.
Apparently, there had been a couple of incidences at her other job where she had disappeared into the walk-in with her phone, and some employees thought they saw her in ‘compromising positions’ but were never sure, so they could never take action on it. After being told about why she’d been fired from the library (and that she had been exposing herself, again, in the children’s section, where his grandkids play and pick out their books) he also fired her.
But wait. There’s more.
Monica had also been doing well enough at the library and the coffee shop that she’d finally bought herself a car.
Great news, except that once she lost both her jobs, she couldn’t afford the payments. Trying to get a new job was also difficult, given that her past employers weren’t shy about giving her bad references and explaining why she was fired. So her car got repossessed after she missed too many payments.
She had also just applied to the college where I was working, so she could get an English undergrad, then a master’s in library sciences. She ended up having to withdraw since her scholarship was revoked after she was fired, and she no longer had a reliable way to get to campus.
No job, no car, kicked out of college before she even took her first class–could Monica’s life get any worse? Oh, it could: turns out her boyfriend wasn’t aware of her taking these pictures and posting nudes of herself on the internet. when he found out from one of her former coworkers at the library why she’d been fired, it turns out she had lied to him about it. The two of them broke up, and guess where she had been living? So, she ended up moving back in with her Mom–who I’m sure was really, really curious about why her daughter had been having such a streak of bad luck.
Sorry, Monica. Looks like no one told you life was gonna be this way. cadavatar
6. This Is What Happens When You Leave The Dirty Work To Sugar-Free Gummy Bears
“My story starts with this Amazon review. Taken from Amazon Reviews Haribo Sugar-free Gummy Bears:
‘My flight was leaving at 8 in the morning. After awaking and trying to get to the airport, I forgot to grab something to eat. I usually take my time and do things in order, but not this day. I was traveling from Boston to LA coming home from a work trip. I do it regularly so nothing was new to me.
I stayed in the same hotel and knew the time I needed to leave to get to the airport on time. During my work trip, I stopped at a convenience store and saw these gummy bears and thought they would be a perfect gift for my son Charlie. He loves gummy bears and gummy worms. So the morning I was to head back to LA, I slept through my alarm. That never happens. I rushed to get out of the hotel and threw those gummies in my carry on bag to make it on time to the airport. After speeding and filling up gas in the rental, I made it to my gate as they were boarding.
I get on the plane and head down the aisle to find my window seat near the middle of the plane. I asked politely for the two adorable older ladies sitting in the middle and aisle seats if I could pass by to my seat. They obliged. The lady in the middle must have been around 80 years old so it took her some time to get up and make sure she was holding on to something so she didn’t fall as she stepped into the aisle. I thanked them as I sat and settled into my seat.
Fast forward 20 minutes as we reach our cruising altitude of around 30,000 feet in the air.
As I reach into my carry on bag to grab my headphones, I see the gummy bears. Since I am hungry and need something, I decided to open them up and just have a few to hold me over until we land. I wanted to save some for my son so I maybe had 4 or 5. But I had 4 or 5 too many because once the bears had a few minutes to adjust to their new home, they began to work.
It started out with a little cramp. Which is normal with gassing on a plane. You do not want to fart on a plane so you hold it in.
It is airplane etiquette. It would come and go over a few minutes so I thought nothing of it. Then it got worse. The cramps intensified, the sweating started, and I began to notice the older ladies looking over at me. About 30 minutes into eating these bears, my thinking went from, ‘Oh these are just farts, I can hold them,’ to ‘Oh dear God not here.’ I have been a Christian my whole life and this is the test. If there is a God, please help me leave this plane with my dignity intact.
After waiting for the intense cramp wave to pass, I stood up and jump over those two women.
I could not wait for them to stand so I stood up, (my back facing them) and tried to shimmy past them. I think a toot came out cause I heard one say, ‘Oh Lord, was that you?’ After reaching the aisle, I waddled to the back of the plane where the least amount of risk would be. To my dismay, it was in use. That left one bathroom left in the front. I looked down the aisle and saw my Mt. Everest. I had to somehow keep my wet cheeks tighter than Fort Knox whilst waddling forward, whilst praying no one gets out of their seats.
After 5 minutes of stop and go, I made it to the bathroom and was pulling my pants down as I entered the bathroom. The door was still unlocked as the sweet release was underway. I thought I died. I thought this was it. Even though I was on the throne confessing my sins, I thought my time was called. I lost count on how many knocks at the door there was. I must have been in there for 45 minutes, but I made it.
I washed my hands and threw water in my face to calm me down. Opening the door, I saw the faces looking back at me.
Apparently the seal to the bathroom was not airtight. Letting just the slightest airflow from that bathroom to the main cabin possible. These were daughters, mothers, and children looking at me. I could feel their questions and comments. ‘What have you done?’ ‘We still have 2 hours left.’ ‘Please divert this plane.’
As I began walking down, the man in the first row of first-class grabbed my arm. He said, ‘Hey man, where is your seat?’ Confused, I told him and he said, ‘Go get your stuff and come back and sit here, you need this more than me.’ I was embarrassed and ashamed.
I had a family at home waiting for me.
I recommend these bears to anyone. But please eat them responsibly.’ Derek
On to my story:
Setting: In the military somewhere east of Germany. 6mos into the tour, everyone is starting to hate each other because you eat, sleep, drink, work, and play together. We really disliked some of the groups we deployed with, there was fraternization, badmouthing, selective rule application, and more. 98% of the misery can be traced back to a certain person we will call Lucky the Leprechaun. George and I are in the same section and work together.
There had been some grumbling as to our work ethic because after several months of working 9-10 hour days our systems had redundancies so our tickets were spread out.
George found the reviews for the Haribo sugar-free gummy bears and we were laughing ourselves hoarse when inspiration strikes. I decided to buy some, and leave a bowl of them in the mayor’s cell office (like the super that everyone hates). Unfortunately, no dice, these gummy bears have been discontinued for like 5 years.
A couple of days go by, and I wonder if any other sugar-free products had the same effect. So after some google sleuthing, I found this Albanese company. They apparently used the same recipe as Haribo, judging from their online reviews. The downside is they come in 5lbs bags or bigger.
I order them, I had no real concrete plan for deployment at the time I ordered them I just did it. It was perfect, military mail being what it is, I expected 2 or 3 weeks to pass before I get them. I was leaving soon for a couple of weeks, the gummies were supposed to be there when I got back. I don’t know if they airdropped these onto my base, but I got those in record time the day I was leaving. I opened the package thinking it was something else and I see the bears. Two things occur to me, I have to get rid of these, and there is a warning label on them.
Thinking the jig is up I place them in the office of the people grumbling about our work ethic and leave.
4 days later…
I am explaining the inner working of some piece of military equipment when I get the text: ‘Lucky the Leprechaun has been peeing out of his a*s for four days.’ It takes a solid 10 seconds of looking at the text before the realization hits, I got the full story when I returned from my time away.
Apparently someone in the grumbly office, ignoring the warning label, opened the gummy bears and eats a couple. Which prompted a feeding frenzy, and over the course of 3 days a pack of 4 pounds of gummy bears is consumed.
It took 11 people 3 days to correlate frequent violent bathroom breaks with the chewy little morsels they were gorging on. There are only 9 bathroom stalls in our immediate vicinity.
TLDR: Make 8 months away from home miserable, enjoy four days of intestinal fortitude training.” tspartan22
5. I Parked His Car In The Sun Once, He Returned The Favor Ten-fold
“I live in the desert part of the US, and during a few months in the summer it is consistently over 110 degrees (43.3 for my Europe bros). I was borrowing my friend’s car for a quick drive, cause mine was at the shop.
He asked me to park it in the shade, but I could not find a shady spot so I couldn’t. So when he went to use his car it was burning hot inside. He went to me and asked why I did not park it in the shade, and I told him I could not find any. He told me I would regret it and I thought he was joking. He then offered to pick up my car from the shop. I said yes because I thought he was going to just park it in the sun for a one time revenge.
So I drive a Prius and it uses automatic keys that open it when you go near it, this will be important later. He parks my car in the sun like I expected and gives back my keys. I expect this to be the end but no…
The next day I went to work and parked in my normal spot in the shade. One of the only shady spots there. After that, I walked into work and proceeded as normal. Later I went to find my car during lunch, only to see it 3 spots over in the sun. I thought that it was weird because I remember parking in my normal spot, but maybe I’m just tired and someone was already there in the spot, and I’m having a memory lapse.
My car, being in the sun, was burning hot. This continues to happen for like 10 more days until I finally convince myself I’m not crazy. I start thinking, ‘who the f*ck is moving my car? No one has a key but me.’ Then I remember my friend and what he said. He had to be the one doing this. I talk to him and he smiles. Apparently, when he went to pick up my car, he got a new automatic key made for $300 and has been moving my car two or three spots over every day into the sun.
Well let’s just say it did not stop after that, but instead, he did it more. From my apartment, to work… he made it his life’s duty that summer to make my driving miserable. Also if your reading this name redacted (you know who you are) ‘f*ck you, d*ckhead.’
Additional info: for anyone who thinks it’s fake cause he could not get the key copied that easily. I had my title and registration in the car. (I don’t do that anymore because people have made me aware about how dumb that is) I would never take it out cause I would lose it.
He also had my driver’s license so the shop would let him pick up the car. I asked him and he said the people who made the key just asked for the registration and title and never even asked for the driver’s license even though he had it.
Also, he has stopped and given me back the key because it’s winter now, this story is a few months old. He said that one summer was enough pain for my sin.” YT_Sharkyevno
4. Steal My Notes? Take Them, They’re Made Up Anyway
“So, this happened in 2018 when I graduated High School. A quick overview of the Swiss school system: Normally, you go to school until ninth grade.
If you want to go to university later, you change to Grammar (High) School from eighth to twelfth grade. I decided to study and went to High School. Also, in Switzerland, my state (canton) at least, everything under 75% is a fail. We have a really strict thing going on there.
There I quickly became friends with Chelsea (my now girlfriend) and Alicia. Alicia is the kind of person that is funny if you don’t have her around too much. She is always the victim, she can only talk about herself, etc. But if you spend too much time with her, you are a mess.
She is also never responsible for things happening to her because she grew up in the foster care system, whatever. So, this happened about two months before our finals.
Now, graduating means passing the finals obviously. But not only them. The finals are half of your eventual grade. The other half is your last report card. If I had an A in my final English exam but a C in my last report card my eventual grade would be a B and so on.
Alicia really struggled with that because her last report card wasn’t that good. She had to excel in most of the subjects to graduate.
So you would think she’d write as many notes as possible and study pretty early, right? Nope. She procrastinated until two months before our finals while I and Chelsea studied our butts off. Now, I always was the girl who offered her notes in our class group chat in case someone was interested. This gets important later.
We had a fairly long list of things we had to be able to use in maths and I wrote notes for every single topic and kept it in a folder in my locker. Only put some of them on the group chat, just when someone was asking about a certain topic.
One day, I went to my locker and they weren’t there. I was freaking out. I spent weeks on writing them. I looked for them for an entire week and had approximately three panic attacks because I thought I wouldn’t pass now and had to do all of it again.
That’s when Alicia casually told me that she took them the other day when I asked her to get a book from my locker. She actually hadn’t planned to tell me at all because ‘It’s not like you’d need them anyway, you had them long enough. If you didn’t make copies, it’s not my fault.’ The blatant entitlement was enough for me to come up with a plan.
A vicious plan.
Not only had she stolen my notes; if I hadn’t ‘bothered her so much’ with it she wouldn’t have even told me she had taken them! She was only a High School friend anyway and I knew I’d never do anything with her again once we graduated, so frankly? I didn’t give a single crap about what would happen to her. Her entitled self-centered way was enough for me to finally burst.
I apologized for making drama (‘It’s okay, you just are like that sometimes’ – I was about to lose it) and just continued my school day. Now, Alicia kept calling me about notes etc, even before that, especially my notes for various books.
She’d chosen the same books so she didn’t have to study extra. I started to give her a wrong analysis and started to fake notes. Obvious enough to figure out they were wrong if she’d think herself but not too obvious. If she’d read the books she’d know it’s bullsh*t.
I did the same with our English books. And French. She already had my maths notes to I couldn’t fake those, but I could fake German, French, English, Chemistry, Physics, and Psychology.
Now, after I invested so much time in faking notes I watched it all go down a day before graduation. We went into a pub with our teacher (to watch a football game I don’t even remember) and she distributed our results.
I passed with a 5.38 (In Switzerland, the grades are from 1-6, six is best so about… an A?).
And Alicia went pale. 3.21 (D-). She had failed all of her classes but maths and Psychology. Oops. It seems she really just read my notes. She didn’t read the books she was supposed to read, she didn’t read our textbooks. I had to hide a grin.
My girlfriend thinks to this day it was cruel but seriously? It was a damper for her entitlement and narcissism. From what I’ve heard she is currently trying to repeat the year and try again. Hopefully without stealing her friend’s notes.” InBetweenStudent
3. Threaten Me At Work? I’m Out And So Are You
“I was one of two commercial writer/producers working in the production department of a local television station.
Our department was responsible for producing both the newscasts and commercials for clients who purchased air time on our station. The department is high stress. I had to manage multiple deadlines and provide creatives for about a dozen ad campaigns every month. That being said, I always met my deadlines and our sales department was always complimentary of my work – steering the more important clients my way.
Unfortunately, managers in my department came and went with unsettling frequency. In the 9 years I was there, I had 6 different managers. Most often, the managers were passing through with their sights set on snagging upper-level management jobs in larger television markets.
This meant their experience actually doing the work of television production was often minimal so they had a tendency to not interfere with our work so long as clients were happy and deadlines were being met.
Given the managers were so disengaged, I told our general sales manager about my idea for saving time and money in the department and he suggested I apply for the production manager position the next time it opened up. So I did. I did not get the job. I was told I was too important to maintain good client relationships through my work as a producer.
No big deal, I thought. I was happy as a producer. Unfortunately, the person they did hire for the position ended up being a monumental asshole of the first order. I’ll call him Bob. The first thing Bob wanted to know was who in the department had applied for the position he now filled. I don’t know what idiot in upper management thought it would be a good idea to tell him, but someone did. It soon became apparent he wanted to find any excuse he could to fire me because that was just the kind of insecure idiot he was.
It began by him riding me about the time I was taking to complete commercial productions. Then he accused me of undercharging clients in my billing. He wanted me to wear a suit and tie, which he knew I hated. As the writing on the wall became clear, I began documenting every single interaction with him. Taking notes about what was said and contradicting his accusations with the facts. All the while, he is managing to p*ss a whole lot of people off in our department and morale really began to tank. Bob was petty, vain and given to things like announcing how lavish and wonderful a vacation he was planning would be.
He was going to Aruba, so he’d put up travel posters and printed out a ridiculous sign he taped to his office door that would say something like ‘My island adventure begins in 2 weeks.’ All this served to remind us that he was the only one in our department who made enough money to take that kind of vacation.
Eventually, an incident occurred where I missed a deadline through no fault of my own. The client wanted to change up the creatives at the last minute and we had to bump the film shoot. Somehow, Bob got it in his head that I should have been a mind reader and anticipated the client’s wishes *before* they were communicated.
He calls me into his office and begins berating and threatening me. I had had enough. I’m the kind of person who will take a lot of sh*t with patience and grace, but when I am finally pushed to my boiling point, I totally explode. I start yelling back, ‘You’re a f*cking liar and if you think I don’t know how to handle this client, then fine. Let me see you f*cking do it because I’m out of here’…and I walked off the job. I’m so amped up by what just transpired after leaving the office I walk all the way home – a distance of more than six miles.
Just as I am nearing my house, my cell phone rings. It’s Bob. Evidently it just dawned on him that he would, in fact, have to produce the ad campaign himself because our other producer had the week off. He hemmed and hawed and finally blurted out something that was quite revealing, ‘If we lose this client we’ll both get fired and I can’t afford to lose another job.’ Really? So you’ve been fired from all your other jobs? What a surprise.
I tell him to go f*ck himself because I’m not taking his sh*t for one more minute. All the while, I’m literally trembling with the knowledge I’ve walked off the job without another job to go to and I have a wife and two kids to support.
Thankfully, the next call I get is from the general sales manager. You know, the guy who recommended I apply for Bob’s job resulting in this whole sh*tstorm? By now, news of my blow-up evidently made it back to him. He asks me about what happened and I fill him in and apologize for walking off the job while also telling him there’s no way I’m working for Bob. He says, ‘Yup, leaving work wasn’t a good idea, so do me a favor and come back. Email me the details of what happened and I’ll see what I can do.’ Thanks to my copious note-taking of all my interactions with Bob, it takes me no time at all to send him the complete history of Bob’s boobery.
So I return, hoping to avoid Bob. Thankfully, his door was closed and I keep my head down in my cubicle. A half-hour before quitting time, I notice our general manager and a security guard getting off the elevator together. I stand up to see where they are headed and am elated to see it is directly towards Bob’s office. What transpires is even better than the revenge options I was contemplating. Bob emerges from his office carrying a box of his belongings – including the rolled-up Aruba travel poster – and is escorted by the security guard to the escalator.
Now standing up in my cubicle, he turns towards me, his face beet red with embarrassment. As our eyes meet, I flash an ear-to-ear grin. watkinobe
2. Use Counterfeit? We’ll Catch You In The Act
“Now one day a guy comes in on a pretty big boat comes in and gets a lot of gas. Like 400 dollars worth of gas. He comes to the counter to pay and gives me 400 dollars in 100 dollar bills and I accept them and he goes on his merry way.
Fast forward a week or so and I am told by my boss that the bills he paid in were all counterfeit bills.
Unfortunately, as he paid in cash we had no way of tracking him down, so we think that he just got away with stealing 400 dollars worth of gas. That is until this idiot comes back after about a month and a half, thinking he got away with stealing the gas. When he comes back in I recognize the guy and tell my coworker to call the police right away. However, I knew that this guy would just leave if I let on that I had recognized him and we had discovered his plot to get free gas, so I decided to pretend I don’t recognize him.
Luckily for me, this guy asks to dock the boat for an hour or so on our dock and I tell it’s not a problem. Now it is policy to get the name and phone number of customers using free dockage, as well as asking that they leave their keys in the boat so that we can move the boat to a different dock if needed. He complies to all of the rules and leaves his boat, and he leaves his keys with me. After probably about 15 minutes of waiting for the police to show up on the dock and ask my boss where the guy is.
My boss tells them he just left his boat but we have his number and can get him to come back to the boat and he then instructs me to do just that.
At this point I was p*ssed at this dude for making me look dumb for basically losing $400, so I call and tell him:
‘Hey, this is (Me) from Marina, it seems as though there is an issue with your engine and it seems to be smoking.’ For those that don’t know boats that well, engines are very expensive and this one, in particular, was a 350 horsepower Yamaha engine, which is top of the line so that man got back to that boat in record time.
When he got back to the boat the look on his face when he saw 2 cops waiting for him was priceless. He tried to play it off and act like he had done nothing wrong and he didn’t know why the police were there, but that was short-lived as they arrested him and told him why he was being arrested. Turns out the guy had almost 2 grand in counterfeit 100 dollar bills on him.” theaccounterl
1. Let Your Tenant Use Your Home For Illegal Activity? My Dad Has An Idea
“This was many years ago, when I was around five (23 years ago), so it’s more about my father instead.
This does contain some mild vandalism so here is hoping it doesn’t get removed.
My house was on a lower class side of town, mostly of more poor folks and retirees who had lived there before it went downhill. Our back yard butted right up against an alleyway that was a constant source of problems. As an example, we had a 15-foot diameter trampoline stolen from our back yard. This thing had been rusted together so I can only figure they popped it up on its side and rolled it away like a big tire. Anyways, back to the story.
The house across the alley from us was a duplex kind of a thing, and the landlord would rent to literally anyone.
One guy he rented to was a fairly prolific drug dealer who ran his gig literally out of his kitchen window. Cars would pull up through the alley, into the yard/parking, hands would move back and forth, then the car would drive away. This guy legit had a drug drive-through.
It didn’t take long for my parents to find all kinds of undesirable trash migrating its way into our yard; needles, burned spoons, broken pipes, condoms, and who knows what else. My parents were worried about my dumb five-year-old a*s getting into something or stabbing myself with something that could decidedly harm me.
My mother was a nurse before being disabled in a severe car accident and had been infected with hepatitis C while working at the hospital due to a needle that had been missed, so she was super worried about this for me as well as a handful of other kids in the neighborhood.
Conversations with the landlord, including gathering evidence, made no difference. He didn’t live there, why did he care. Eventually, my parents tried to call the cops. The local PD was… not helpful. They said they couldn’t investigate or even send out a car on someone’s word. This wasn’t our first problem with the local cops either after having our cars and other things are broken into or stolen.
They told my parents to write down license plate numbers, and if any matches a known felon or someone with a warrant, they would investigate. So my mother sat at the window for a full day and wrote down every plate she could see, hiding carefully the whole time. She ended the day with over 100 plates, that’s how busy this guy was. We faxed (remember, the 90s) the numbers along with a letter explaining what the numbers were for and who we had spoken with to the PD. Nothing happened. After several weeks they called back and were told there were no matches of any kind.
After another week of the problem simply getting worse, my father decides to take matters into his own hands. One night with no moon, he sneaks into the driveway and throws roofing nails he had bought the previous day all over into their area. Hundreds of them.
We watched for weeks as seemingly every tweaker in town would stop and almost immediately have to fix flats.
Evidently, either business dwindled so much, or the renter figured out someone was messing with them (both?) that they finally moved. The landlord spent over two weeks of having cleaning crews and the like over, throwing out huge mounds of garbage, and repair crews to fix the damage that I later found out was caused by the renter.
It seems they trashed and stripped the place before disappearing some night without us noticing.
The moral here? Not really one exactly, except for maybe the landlord. Be more selective who you let live in your house maybe?
Edit, I should clarify the ‘driveway’ was dirt, gravel, and tufts of grass, so these nails were not obvious and difficult to see let alone pick up. My father specifically bought brown colored ones.” Link9454
Whether you’re a vengeful person or not, these stories certainly tickle the revenge bone! But they are pretty creative nonetheless. Some people really are just totally ruthless and out for blood.
Let us know what you think! Tell us everything.