People Tell Their Greatest Story Of Relentless Revenge
14. Steal My Sandwich? Fine, Nobody Gets Food
“This happened back in second grade.
The whole class was on a day-long trip to a forest, and everyone had gotten a note the week before that while the school would provide lunch, it would be a good idea for parents to send along a bottle of water and an apple or something since we would be gone the whole school day. My mother gave me a large bottle of water, two sandwiches, and a small bottle of Coca-Cola.
Well, in fact, most of the kids brought either nothing or at most a small bottle of water.
There were exceptions, but I clearly had more than anyone else. As kids do, some of those without started crying within the first few hours and demanded that I share what I have. I felt disinclined. Then the two teachers came up to me and tried to make me feel bad and wanted me to share. I had already had some water from my water bottle, so they said I should give away my soda and one of the sandwiches.
I refused. They got angry, but when I didn’t budge, eventually they went away. A few minutes later, one of the kids got into my backpack and stole my soda and both my sandwiches. I ran to the teachers, but they refused to intervene and said I had myself to blame for not sharing earlier.
So, there was only one course of action I could reasonably take.
I waited until nobody was paying attention to me, then snuck off and went to the little wagon thing where they stored all the lunch food and the water and coffee canisters. Without even eating any of it myself, I poured all the food on the ground, then emptied the water and coffee over it. I then snuck back and rejoined the children playing games.
Half an hour or so later, it was lunchtime, and we all marched back to where the little wagon had been left.
The food was of course inedible, and most of us were getting hungry and thirsty. The teachers immediately assumed I did it and asked me in front of the other kids, but I denied it. The bus did not come to pick us up for another three hours, and during that time, all the kids were getting more and more thirsty and hungry and whiny, and it’s all your fault Eva for letting that kid steal my soda and sandwiches.
Anyway.
I kept denying it, but the teachers went to the principal, and in the end, I was summoned to her office. She asked me if I had destroyed the food as revenge for someone stealing my food. I said that no, of course not, because the teachers hadn’t helped me get my food back when kid x had stolen it. So, that lunch food was the only food I would have had all day, and it’s more likely kid x did it, since he was the only one who got to eat that day.
And he had the bottle of soda as well, whereas most kids had neither food nor water (I had my water bottle but no food).
The principal was upset both that the teachers had refused to intervene after the theft and that they had failed to even tell her that when explaining what happened. Neither got fired or anything, but they probably got yelled at because they hated me after that meeting.
And the kid who stole my food got punished by having the principal calling his mother and telling her what he had done.”
Another User Comments:
“Yeah, how would two sandwiches and a bottle of soda feed an entire class?
A proper teacher would have told the other students that everybody had been told the same thing: to bring a snack to hold themselves over before lunch. If they (and their parents) didn’t do that, they’ll have to be hungry until lunch, not make the one child whose parent bothered to actually read the full permission slip before signing feel guilty and say that since you had some water, surely you’ll give up the soda and sandwiches (so essentially go hungry so others don’t) and then lie by omission to their boss and neglect the oh-so-minor detail that they refused to intervene after your food, your property, had been stolen and instead blamed you for it because you had the nerve to want to eat the food your mother prepared for you.
I’m a vindictive person, so I don’t see this as excessive. Everybody else was fine with making you sit hungry, so now everybody got to go hungry. That’s about the only way people will learn a lesson.” bakerowl
13. Think You Can Bully Me? Too Bad My Dad Knows Your Dad
“This story takes place back in the lovely days of middle school. It’s a double petty revenge against the girl who bullied me to extremes during that time.
I’m now a 27-year-old female, 28 in February. I believe I was 12 when this happened since it was during 6th grade.
In middle school, I was chubby, though I believed I was grotesquely fat, like a lot of girls that age do.
In 5th grade, I wasn’t that self-conscious, but when 6th grade rolled around, preppy girls who believed they were superior enjoyed targeting me. My chronic anxiety started to rear its ugly head, and not only my weight, but other things about me made me feel like a total loser.
I was, and still am, a huge nerd, who wore gothic clothes, fandom accessories, and gaming merchandise, and I always carried a journal to write stories in.
I was dubbed “The Sonic Freak” because I had an obsession with Sonic The Hedgehog. That ultimately led to me meeting my husband, but that story is for another time, lol.
Also, I’m adopted, which seems totally unrelated to being bullied, but kids are cruel. I was adopted at the age of 5 weeks, so my adoptive parents are my only parents in my eyes. I was told at an early age, thankfully.
My parents thought it best to let me know as soon as I could understand so that I wouldn’t find out later on in life and feel betrayed/want to go find my biological parents like you see in the movies. I did find my siblings a few years back because I knew I had some, and as an only child of my adoptive parents, I did always want to find them.
I know some of my other biological family a bit, but I mostly just interact with my sisters and my aunts on my bio mom’s side.
When I was younger, I had no issue telling people I was adopted. I was happy and proud that my parents went through so much just to adopt me. As I got older, though, I was warned by my friend group (who were all also categorized as “losers” by the bullies), to be warier of who I told.
I wasn’t ashamed, but they all insisted that I’d be picked on for it. I also told my parents that my friends warned me of this, and they agreed that, even though it was incredibly stupid, people might make fun of me for it. My parents were older than most when they adopted me (42 and 38), so both had started to grey when I was in elementary school.
I was often asked if they were my grandparents. I look nothing like them either. So, they told me to just tell anyone who asked that I was born late, and I took after my dad’s mom (who I actually did resemble).
Lastly, my family was having financial difficulty. We had gone from middle class to just scraping by.
So, for all of these reasons, I was a “fun” target for other stuck-up jerks.
The adopted part didn’t get out until later, but I’ll go more into that during the story.
When I started middle school, I was singled out by a clique of “popular” girls. They all did horrible things to me, but this story is specifically about my “number one enemy” during that time. I’ll call her Jessie.
My dad worked with Jessie’s dad at the local paper mill, and they weren’t exactly friends, but they were friendly to each other.
Because of this, I assumed that Jessie could potentially be a new friend of mine. I mentioned before that my family was going through a financial crisis at the time. Even though our dads worked at the same place, Jessie’s mom brought in a lot of big bucks from her job, whereas my mom didn’t work, and was in the process of being diagnosed with MS, so the medical bills were piling up.
In other words, she was rich, and I was poor. I didn’t think that would matter, but of course, it did.
Jessie was popular, for reasons still unknown to me considering she looked like a bulldog, and her personality was even worse. When beginning 6th grade, I didn’t know how horrible she was though. Jessie approached me and was very friendly for the first couple of months.
She pulled me into believing that she liked me and I started to think that I’d have a popular friend who’d keep other bullies away.
I was sadly mistaken. I can’t remember how it started, but it was gradual at first. She’d “joke” around with me, saying hateful things every now and again, then claim she was just playing with me. I think the obvious bullying started when she got closer to the other “popular” kids.
It wasn’t long before Jessie became the “leader” of the clique, and they started cornering me in the bathroom or hallway to make fun of my weight, clothes, etc.
Jessie quickly became my worst enemy, and unlucky for me, I had several classes with her and her groupies. Her locker was also directly above mine, so I was forced to constantly be around her.
She decided she hated me as well because I was an “annoying loser” who she was sick of being stuck around.
After a while, she got bored with the usual insults (i.e., loser, fat, and poor), especially since I had gotten good at pretending to ignore her and seem unphased by her bullying.
So, she decided to step it up a bit one day.
We had recently had a talent show, which I had participated in, singing “Cinderella” by The Cheetah Girls. Obviously, she and her minions made fun of me relentlessly over that, but she didn’t stop there. Jessie had seen my parents the night of the talent show and started harassing me about them. Every day, she’d ask if I was adopted. I heeded the advice I was given before and would tell her every day that, no, I wasn’t, and that I looked like my grandmother.
Well, that didn’t work.
Since my dad and her dad worked together and had for a long time, she went and asked her dad if I was adopted. She had told him that we were friends, and she was just curious. Her father, not knowing that it was going to be used against me, told her yeah and that he had been working with my dad when I was adopted.
The next day at school, she comes up to me at my locker with a wide grin, and as loud as she could without shouting, said, “I asked my dad.
You were adopted! You must be so ashamed! Your birth parents didn’t even want you!” She paused to relish in my reaction and the scattered laughs throughout the hall.
I was so angry, I saw red, but I couldn’t think of anything to say back, so she continued.
“I can’t blame your birth parents for not wanting such an ugly, fat jerk like you. They probably took one look at you and tossed you aside!”
More laughing…
I couldn’t believe I was actually being bullied for being adopted.
I came so close to punching her. Her face already naturally looked like it had been smashed in, so I remember thinking no one would even notice if I punched it.
She said some more cruel things about the matter until the warning bell rang, and then I was left standing alone, speechless, violently angry, embarrassed, and on the verge of either throwing up or sobbing.
She was in my next class, and I couldn’t bear to see her, and I didn’t want her to see how visibly upset I was and get that satisfaction.
So, I rushed to the nurse’s office and let my anxiety take over my bodily functions. I threw up three times, and as I’d hoped, was sent home.
I finally told my parents what had been happening with Jessie on the ride home, in tears. I hadn’t brought the bullying up to them before because I worried my dad would make things worse for me by telling her dad.
After this, I didn’t care. My dad asked me if I wanted him to talk to her father, and I said yes. I was done.
He told me that if it made me feel any better, Jessie’s dad constantly complained about what a narcissistic jerk she’d become. My dad had been worried that I was being bullied after hearing such horror stories about Jessie from her father, and he was glad I came to him for support.
He said he’d tell her father everything when they had a shift together next.
Sadly for me, my dad didn’t have the same shift as hers for about a week, so during that time, I was relentlessly made fun of for being adopted. I finally found my voice against her when she was going through a list of lies that she claimed my dad had said about me to her father (how he wished he hadn’t adopted me and how ugly and fat I was, etc.).
I called her out on her lies and then retorted, “Your dad says you’ve become a total jerk, so I doubt he really wants to talk to you at all, much less feed your filthy gossip.”
Jessie took major offense to that, and, because of it, she got physical with me. Twice that week, she and her minions cornered me in the bathroom and shoved me around it.
Before, they would just corner me to talk trash, but standing up for myself was apparently enough to start the shoving, as well as stealing my stuff.
Each day, I updated my dad. I also informed him that she had been telling her friends stories about boys she’d been sneaking over while her dad worked. I had so much dirt on her, and I planned to use it all.
Finally, the day came where my dad worked a shift with Jessie’s dad.
I went to school hopeful the next day after hearing that her father was absolutely livid, and Jessie was going to receive severe punishment. I headed to my locker with a pep in my step, and lo and behold, there Jessie is, surrounded by her groupies, sobbing like someone had died.
As soon as her mindless thralls saw me, they all made a threatening advance towards me, but she stopped them through pathetic sobs, saying, “No, I’ll be grounded for longer than this year if you guys do anything, and she knows it’s because of me! Just leave the loser jerk alone.
She’s ruined my life enough!”
I laughed out loud, and said, “I ruined your life?! You’re the one who’s been ruining my life since middle school started, jerk! This is just what you get for it. Don’t mess with me anymore. I won’t put up with it.”
I left her then, not even bothering to try and get my stuff from my locker. She was finally the speechless one, paying for the horrible stuff she’d put me through, and it felt good.
My dad told me that night that not only was she grounded to stay home and not hang out with anyone for a full year, but her allowance was completely cut for the year, her phone had been taken away, and because her family was rich, she had had a credit card at that age, which her dad checked and found she had almost maxed out.
She had it taken away too and was forced to work off the payment.
A couple of months later, she tried to start subtlety messing with me again. The biggest thing was “accidentally” dropping her heavy textbooks on me since her locker was above mine. She also got her friends to go after me and pretended to have nothing to do with it. But, one of her groupies messed up and straight up told me that she was “getting revenge” for Jessie.
I told Jessie not to mess with me before, and I gave her one last warning to stop again, but she played dumb. So, I went to my most trusted teacher, who sent her and her groupies to the principal. They all got two weeks detention, and Jessie had earned herself another three months grounded. Her locker was also moved away from mine.
She never messed with me again after that.”
12. Try To Fire Me? I'll Turn The Tables
“I had a manager try and fire me for being rude to a caller. The caller wanted us to call internationally to confirm insurance. I asked the current floor supervisor if we could and he said no, so I told the caller we couldn’t. She ended the call and I went to ask the supervisor if there was anything we could do and was told we could not.
I asked him to e-mail that answer to me and he did.
I got called in and was told that I was unprofessional on the phones and that I was not following correct procedures and that I was being investigated with the consideration that I would be fired. My supervisor had no spine so I was in agreement that I needed to be fired. I was told we do not ever tell a member no, and that she had spoken with the supervisor who told me to say no, and he denied it and claimed I never asked him.
Luckily I had 3 years of weekly e-mails I saved and printed out that showed me, every Thursday, asking my supervisor if I was doing okay on the phones, how I could improve, and if there were any classes I could take to improve my skill and knowledge. Every reply was praise for how well I was doing, how I was being considered as or doing well as a trainer (I became one after a year), and had reviews of my work attached.
Every single QA review gave me 100% scores, and I was the ONLY one on the whole team who consistently got 100% reviews.
I also had a large file full of customer compliments, where they asked to speak with a supervisor to praise my work and then I am given a certificate. I also included the e-mail from the supervisor who instructed me to say no.
I quietly put this all together in an inch thick file and made three copies.
I was called back to discuss my reprehensible behavior and to review calls I had made as ‘evidence’ of my bad service.
As we listened the Manager pointed out how cold and emotionless I sounded. I agreed that it could have been taken this way if one were to look for a problem, but my phone voice is always calm and careful so that I am easily understood.
I have been told how much it is appreciated by our callers since we mostly deal with the elderly and doctor’s offices and they appreciated that my information was clearly presented since misunderstandings can be very bad. I had customer compliments that often included appreciation for the way I spoke.
Three out of five of the calls we reviewed she said were the worst interactions she had ever heard.
I said that was odd since I had a certificate for all three calls, signed by my supervisor and her, and certificates weren’t given out until the call was listened to.
The other two ”problematic” calls were ones where I had received a 100% score from the QA department.
So I asked, ‘Well, my supervisor is telling me weekly that I am doing the best on the team, the QA department is telling me I am always meeting 100% of my goals, and the customers are giving me positive reviews…soooo….if my attitude has been such a problem for so long why wasn’t it addressed before?’ No answer.
I demanded to know why this issue was allowed to continue for so long. The manager asked me to return to my desk but asked that I leave my folder of evidence for review, which I did.
I went to lunch and when I returned I was told there was a ‘computer error’ that wiped my e-mail profile and all saved e-mails from my e-mail account and my computer had been reformatted to ‘fix’ the error.
I asked the Supervisor about it and she said she needed to talk to the manager. I was called in again and told that without any evidence to back up my claims of 100% QA scores and my customer appreciation certificates they had no choice but to move forward. I asked where my printed copy went to and the manager claimed she didn’t have it and that I had never given her a copy.
So I pulled out another copy of all the paperwork and explained that deleting it off my computer didn’t delete my copies, nor the copies she had no access to on the company cloud, which is where I backed up my information daily. Something that was so uncommon the supervisor didn’t even know it was something we could do.
I then asked for an HR representative, and the manager said I waived my right to have an HR rep present when I didn’t ask for one at the start of this mess.
I said the matter should be put to rest and the Manager said SHE was the one who decided this as SHE was the one in charge. She also handed me a write-up and demanded I sign it. I took the time to read it and of course it had me admitting that I was 100% at fault and that I would not retaliate in the slightest regardless of action.
It wasn’t even on the company disciplinary form, it was written in Word.
I was done, I decided to just go with the nuclear option.
Instead of quietly trying to talk to HR I went far above their heads.
I grabbed the write-up and walked out. The manager went to stop me until she saw me walk into the office of the director of all the call centers in the company, a guy who was magnitudes above her and with who I was on friendly terms.
He asked what was up and I told him that the Manager was in the process of trying to fire me. I gave him the write-up and my folder of evidence and he went from friendly disinterest to dead serious.
30 minutes later he finished reviewing everything and said: ‘Follow me.’
We returned to the Manager’s office and she turned white when Director told Manager to call in Supervisor and HR.
He kept asking her what she was trying to do, why she was going after me, and why she felt it was okay to try and delete evidence from my computer. He never yelled, he would ask her a question and then patiently wait for an answer, which she couldn’t give. Whenever she would bring me up or look at me Director would say something like ‘No, don’t look at him, you and I are talking right now!’ When Supervisor arrived he did the same to her.
No answers, just stammering and half excuses.
HR arrived and the manager jumped to speak over me to give her side. The supervisor did the same once the manager was done. They were clearly trying to run out the clock since HR was a small department and had blocked out time for meetings. I finally mentioned this and the HR person said that they had canceled all other meetings today and she would be there as long as it took to get to the bottom of the issue.
The manager looked enraged, Supervisor looked pale and terrified.
I was then taken to a separate office to give my side. The manager said she had the right to be there and the Director told her and Supervisor that they had the right to sit there and wait. Both were told they were not to leave until he told them they could, because both were known to disappear and go home if any problems happened on the floor.
HR, Director, and I had a nice chat. We went over my evidence and call history, listened to the call that started the whole landslide, and then asked if there was anything I think I could have done better.
I said that I could have asked a different supervisor for help. I used the HR person’s laptop to pull up my stuff I had saved on the cloud and there it was, document after document proving my side, e-mails from Supervisor, e-mails from Manager all praising me.
Proof of my 100% QA’s, everything. Director was almost gleeful that he finally had something concrete because there had been complaints about the Manager and Supervisor, but those complaining never did anything. He called the QA manager in and got a statement about my QA scores and how I was professional 100% of the time, and pulled in supervisors from other teams who confirmed I was a pleasure to work with and always went above and beyond to help.
It felt pretty good to know I was actually appreciated by people who matter. You don’t get that often in a call center environment.
They agreed I had done nothing wrong and asked that as far as they were concerned the matter was closed for me, but they would be looking into Manager and Supervisor. They couldn’t tell me anything officially of course.
The manager and Supervisor got official disciplinary actions with a threat to terminate if they were caught doing this again, ever.
The Supervisor was demoted and transferred out of the department completely.
I heard that it basically ruined her career with the company since the actions were so serious. The manager ended up moving to a different office at lower pay and about 40 minutes farther from her home because her actions against me opened the flood gates against her and she could be fired or take the far worse position.
She ended up quitting after about a month.
Why did the Supervisor and Manager decide they hated me? I don’t know exactly what caused it, but apparently, they had problems with me for a couple of years and would talk to other employees about me behind my back about what a lazy and bad employee I was.
Of course, some people agreed, that’s the nature of the beast, but it was rewarding to know that most of them disagreed.
Keep your paper trail folks, and be friendly with upper management.”
11. Monster Grandma Gets Her Driver's License Revoked
“Grandma was a monster – let’s leave it at that. She was cruel, and sometimes violent, to our entire family and even her friends.
Grandma also happened to be the world’s worst driver. She would hit parked cars and drive off without leaving a note, litter out the window (very illegal here in California), and generally drive like a fool.
Grandma REFUSED to see a doctor. She had a mortal fear of being institutionalized (for good reason).
So when she had some physical problems, she wouldn’t get them treated. She was driving around with one hand and couldn’t really turn her head to look around either. Mom set up grocery delivery, etc., but Grandma wouldn’t give up driving voluntarily.
Well… California has a law on the books that allows anyone to report a dangerous driver to the DMV and request a re-examination. It exists because so many people like me have relatives who are no longer physically and/or mentally fit to drive, and we may not be able to make them stop on their own.
(You can request to remain anonymous.)
I filled out the form, and hoo boy, did I have a LOT of dirt on Grandma’s driving habits. I had to use extra pages. I made sure to tell them she was driving one-handed and couldn’t look around properly.
Sure enough, Grandma got a letter from the DMV. They insisted she takes the driver’s test again and required she receives a medical examination first.
I knew well Grandma wouldn’t see a doctor.
And she didn’t.
Since she refused to comply with the DMV within the required time frame, they suspended her license. (The suspension was indefinite, pending the medical exam and driver’s test. Since she refused both, her license was never reinstated.)
Grandma planned to ignore the suspension, so Dad secretly disabled her car.
Grandma eventually had to go to a care facility, and I would have to take Mom to visit her. I would stand back, only speaking to Grandma when absolutely necessary, and sharing nothing personal. She craved attention (among other things; she was a narcissist), so I ignored her as much as possible.
By the way, I was Grandma’s favorite grandchild. I never did tell her that I was the reason she had her license suspended.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Monica_Farmers_Market_crash
10. Abuse Me And My Mother For Years? The Whole Neighborhood Will Gang Up On You
“This happened in 2010. The reason I’m compelled to share this now is because I graduate soon with my MS degree in Mechanical Engineering. My grades sucked all through high school (in many ways, due to Michael, the subject of this post), and I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety over the years. I shared this story with my partner this morning, and she was shocked at it.
I just never thought to share it before. She told me to post it here.
My mom had been seeing a guy named Michael from the time I was 7 until December 17, 2010. I had just recently turned 18 and was in my last year of high school.
Michael was a person who did not deal well with issues he had from his own abusive upbringing. I’ve been a bad person before myself and I’m sure I still have a lot of room to improve, so I never like to speak poorly of people because I think it can be accurately assumed that most people have a good reason for being the way they are.
It’s not an excuse, but I don’t think people are bad; I think bad circumstances condition people to behave badly.
Michael drank a lot, he was childish, he was obsessed with knives, hung around violent criminals, and took me around them as a child, and he was extremely verbally and emotionally abusive to my mother.
My mother wanted him to be my dad, though, so to his credit, he filled the dad role as best he could, but the best he could do was to teach me extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics and how to glorify violence and bravado.
At the end of high school, my mom’s mom died and left my mom a house.
The house was/is decently sized. Everyone that lives in this corner of the city has been here for decades, and we all know each other very well. We’re like a big family, but we keep to ourselves unless invited in by others. We respect boundaries, and that’s what makes this small community a good one.
Now, important to note my neighbors and “older bros” are not angels.
These people are violent criminals in their own right. But they were on my side and this is important.
So the house. It was left to me and my mother. Michael refused to let us enter the home. My mom and I lived in the smallest, most awful apartment in the MOST violent part of the city. And, for 18-year-old me, I’d only just begun to reflect on life and realize how awful Michael (and my narcissistic mother) had been towards me.
I was fed up, and living in this disgusting, violent apartment was just fueling my rage every second.
One day, I was especially furious. I don’t know why, but I just woke up in an absolute quiet rage. I contained myself through the school day, and I was just fixated on getting a haircut. That was my goal for the day: just get a haircut, get home, go to bed.
And it’s very important to note that I’m in a boot for a badly sprained ankle at this time. That comes up later. My mom throws a monkey wrench in my plans.
See, she was sure Michael was two-timing her again. So she demanded I go over to the house (I grew up in) that he kicked us out of to inspect and see if there was another woman or if there was evidence of other women being in the home.
I protest but to no avail.
And at this point, I’m about an inch from exploding. I drive over to the house, and I knock at the door for 7 minutes. This pushed me to about 1/2 of an inch from explosion. I grew up in the house. I knew the acoustics of it. I don’t care if you’re in the last room upstairs at the back of the house; if someone lightly taps the front door, you hear that.
So I knew he was making me wait as some show of dominance that this was his house.
He eventually unlocks the door, and I push it open and push him back in the process. He yells out and asks me what was wrong, and I responded by saying that I was there to make sure he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else in my grandma’s house.
Now, I’m a pretty large guy.
And Michael was small. Even back then, I dwarfed him. But I’ve always been a “gentle giant” as my mom says. I’d never gotten into a fight and almost never raised my voice or asserted myself with anyone.
So for me to respond so firmly and disrespectfully, with no concern for how he felt, he backed off a bit at that moment. I noticed that. I began walking through every room of the house.
I was finding nothing, and no one and I was fine with this. Remember, my goal is the haircut. That’s all I want out of life right now.
And then I get to my grandma’s old bedroom. I open the door, and it slams back in my face. Then outsteps Michael’s brother, who was about my size, and he says to me, “Ain’t nothing for you in there.”
I remember being so angry that it was like past the point of an explosion.
I described it to my girl as “pure rage and malevolence yet restrained.”
I turned around and walked downstairs, and I told Michael in a calm voice, “Get your brother and leave now. I’ve had enough of you in my life.”
Michael then, believing I was intimidated by his brother, gets in my face and starts to scream and curse and threaten me. I stood there honest to God just looking at him like a lion looks at the weak, small, destructible gazelle.
Literally thinking to myself, “I can break you.”
He then yells at me to “Get out of my house.”
All of a sudden, I was snapped out of this trance state, and I responded and said, “you have no house. You’re homeless now. Get your brother and leave.”
He must have, again, recognized that his brother was all the way upstairs, and I was inches away from him. But he’s in too deep now.
He has to commit less of his pride to be wounded. So he says, “Oh, you think I’m a jerk, huh?”
And of course, I responded, “I think you’re a homeless jerk.”
He then turns around and just keeps repeating, “You think I’m a jerk?!”
I never took my eyes off of Michael. His brother stands on the stairs a few feet away from Michael and me. Michael tries to tackle me and push me out of the house.
I slip a little because of the boot, but once I get a little friction under the boot, it literally feels like when your little cousin/sibling tries to fight you. At that moment, I thought about how I was about to destroy this man.
His brother must have seen me smile because then he jumped in and started pushing me as well. I don’t know if I was stronger than I thought or if the rage gave me an adrenaline rush, but I was pushing them both back.
Michael’s brother then starts to kick my boot, which both hurt my ankle and made me slip back.
That, coupled with them pushing, eventually pushed me out of the front door, off the porch, and down the stairs onto the ground in front of the house.
And this is the angriest I have ever been in my life. I was angry to the point where I would have gladly hurt myself to hurt them.
I got so overcome with emotion that I started to cry, and my breathing got erratic. Michael and his brother were taunting me as this happened, and I just started to take off the boot. I didn’t want the haircut anymore; I wanted both of them hurt.
The next thing I notice is that people started surrounding me. I’m still struggling to regain motor control and take off the boot and then two of my older brothers from the neighborhood, Jiggy and Tyrone, kneeled down and consoled me.
Jiggy asked me what was wrong and what happened.
I told them about all the stuff Michael had done over the years and what happened that day.
When I got to the end, Tyrone said, “Hold up, Lil Chris. These jerks put you out of Miss Mama’s (what everyone used to call my grandma) house?! AFTER you told them to leave?!”
Then both Jiggy and Tyrone started taking their shirts off and told me they’d “take care” of them if I said it. And I then heard all the stirring behind me. Near the entire block was in our yard or in the street in front of our yard.
And they were all calling out support.
“He ain’t gone do you like that, Lil Chris. Not on this street.” And things like that.
I looked up at Michael and his brother and, I could see the fear on their faces. I just shook my head yes.
Jiggy and Tyrone ran into the house after them and dragged them out into the front yard. Then a circle pretty much formed around them, and it was just the most spectacular beat down I’d ever seen.
After that Jiggy said they’d help me take all their stuff out of the house and told me to keep the stuff I liked.
So I did exactly that. I went in with like 10 people. I gave some stuff away to them, kept some stuff, and pretty much just gave Michael and his brother the clothes no one else wanted. They ended up leaving their clothes.
Here’s why: the next-door neighbor was this old veteran. Real gritty, no-nonsense old guy named Alvin. He walked over and said, “Now get off my street.”
And he literally just yelled at them to get up and run or crawl or roll to get off of the block. He followed them stumbling up to the main road and then he calmly walked back.
And that was the last day I ever saw or heard from either of them.
The next few years were awful.
Mom blamed me for ruining her relationship, and I had to unlearn all the terrible nonsense I’d been taught in life and start to go to school and get my life in order. Things are better now.”
Another User Comments:
“How did he make you leave the house in the first place?” OniTan
Reply:
“He basically had mind-control over my mother. She just wanted him happy. She bought him two new cars, and now her credit is awful.” proRevenge2011
9. Want Me To Abide By The Lease Instead Of Our Verbal Agreement? So Will You Then
Hey, it’s the law: follow it.
“I signed the lease on my current apartment on Dec 27, 2017. The start date on the lease was the 28th. Did the walk-through and notated Every. Single. Thing: scuff marks, sloppy paint jobs, dozens of nail holes, dinged corners, cracked linoleum tiles, stains, spray paint on the doorknobs and microwave, etc., etc., etc. Clearly a classy place…
Anyway, I turned in the page, and they gave me another 2 pages of notes, listing every single tiny thing that I could find that wasn’t perfect.
That should have clued them into the kind of person that I am, but I guess not.
Before the final signing on the 27th, I talked with the apartment manager and asked if I could start bringing stuff in but not actually take possession until the 1st since they still needed a day or two to shampoo the carpets and repaint some spots. She said yes, of course; no problem, but the date on the lease was still 12-28-17.
I bring over boxes on the 28th, plug in the fridge to get it cold for when I bring over foodstuffs on the 1st, bring over more boxes, and call it a day.
The 29th, I bring more stuff and check the fridge and notice the fridge is kinda cool, and the freezer is room temp. Not cold at all, let alone freezing.
I catch the office lady just before they close that day on Friday the 29th. Explain the fridge seems to be broken. (It’s a provided appliance, specifically listed in the lease, along with a stove and dishwasher.) She says no problem, tasks a maintenance guy to check on it with me, and he takes 2 minutes to say, “It’s broken.”
I’m like, “Yep…
That’s why you’re here. So, how do we fix it? I’m moving in on the first.”
“Oh ok, that’s ok. I’ll just get a good one from an empty apartment and switch them out.”
Great. I leave to get more boxes. (I’m moving what I can with my car while also working full time and planning to borrow my dad’s truck on the 31st to bring over my bed, food stuff, and other large furniture.)
30th rolls around.
Still no fridge. Call the office, no answer because it’s Saturday.
31st. Sunday and New Year’s Eve. I bring the rest of my stuff and put food in the kinda cool fridge hoping it won’t spoil. Call office again, no answer.
January 1st. Monday! Surely, now I can get some help! Haha, no. New Year’s Day, the office is closed of course. I still drop off rent in the rent box.
January 2nd, Tuesday.
Annnnd…..!!! The office is still closed because no one likes to work with a hangover, I guess.
Most food now is either definitely off or at the very least untrustworthy. I tossed about $80 worth of food but not before taking a photo of it all. I’m officially angry now.
Wednesday morning, the 3rd, I’m at the office at 7:55 am, just as the apartment manager rolls up to open up for the day.
She still looks hungover. Must have been a wild New Year’s. Meanwhile, I haven’t had a working fridge for 3 days (that I’m counting) and had to toss a lot of food. I’m not happy, to say the least.
Still, I politely but tersely told her what was going on, showed her the picture of lost victuals, and was promised I’d have a fridge that day. I go to work.
Get home at about 11 pm.
Still no fridge!!!
I do some Googling, and it takes a while because the info was not readily available, but I finally find the owner’s contact info. I call around 1 am, leave a detailed and noticeably upset voicemail, and go to bed.
I wake up, go to work, come home that night, and finally, finally the Fridge Fairy has blessed me with a visit, and I find a working ColdBox in my kitchen.
It’s in the middle of the kitchen floor at a weird angle instead of in the spot made for it but whatever. I’m happy the whole thing is over and I can focus on unpacking. That was January 4th, 2018.
Needless to say, not a good first impression of the place.
Two weeks go by, and I come home to a note on the door saying I owed $XX.XX in back rent.
Back rent? I haven’t even been here a whole month yet!
I go to the office to see what’s up and get told that I didn’t pay for the first 4 days of my lease and that I had to pay that by the end of the month or face a fine. I tried to remind them that the apartment manager said I could take possession on the first since they still had to carpet clean and stuff and was politely told to screw off because the lease says December 28th, and also, screw your mother.
(Well, that’s what I heard anyway.)
But ok! I see now.
You want me to abide by the lease? Fine. I will! But so will you.
I get a money order for the amount and return half an hour later and slam it on the counter. The apartment manager is there too, kinda avoids my eyes, takes the money order, and starts to walk back to her office.
“By the way, I’ll be deducting 8 days of rent from February’s payment.
Just a heads up.”
Cue surprised double-take. “What? Wha-why? You can’t just not pay the full amount of rent. You’ll be fined!”
Then I pulled out my phone, already loaded to the applicable section of our state’s tenant-landlord laws, and read off the part that basically says, “If an amenity or appliance provided by the property owner, or a guaranteed utility such as water or heat, is listed in the lease as being the sole responsibility of the owner, and if that amenity, appliance, or utility is unavailable to the tenant for any number of days during their lease with the owner, then the tenant may subtract that many days worth of rent from the next month’s rent or receive a refund of same if it is the last month of their lease.”
Confused silence.
I explain.
“That means that, as you say, my lease started on the 28th, and that means I didn’t have a working fridge for the first 8 days of my lease. That is double the amount that I just paid you for my “back rent.” Therefore, come February, I am going to legally and rightfully withhold 8 days of rent because you couldn’t honor our lease agreement and get me a working fridge the day I asked for it.”
Then she kinda shook herself, asked me Please wait one moment while she made a phone call.
I sit down and pull up Reddit. Ten minutes later, she comes out with my money order and asks me to take it back, that this was all just a misunderstanding, and let’s just forget about all of this. (Big smiles, big smiles, hide the panic, hide the panic!!!)
I returned her smile and told her, “I can’t do that. That money order is already addressed to the apartment complex.
I can’t cash or deposit it. And besides, you guys were the ones that said I had to abide by our lease agreement. I just did and now you will, too.”
Cue cool guy exit, double finger guns, and dozens of cheering onlookers! PEW PEW PEW!!!
Ha, no, I just got my stuff and said, “Welp, guess I’ll see ya on the 1st. Have a good one,” and I left.
Feb 1st rolls around, and I drop off my money order for rent -8 days, along with a reminder note of why that is, and I didn’t hear a single word about it.”
8. Call The Cops On My Cousin? Get Your Business Shut Down
Nobody likes to be treated the way they treat other people, ironically.
“My cousin (23/F) recently opened up her own salon. From a young age, she taught herself how to thread/wax eyebrows and developed an interest in makeup and hair. Everyone in our extended family would go to her before events and on a monthly basis for their threading, waxing, hair, and makeup needs. In 2020, she had a full-time job (non-salon related) but decided to renovate the basement of her home to create a small salon space.
She now spends her free time taking clients in her at-home salon, and there’s nothing but great reviews! Her sister helped with the renovations and now helps her with marketing the business (social media, community pages), and I help with the finances (budgeting, price-setting). We all support her and are really proud of her! The salon is our baby.
The salon has been closed since December because of recent events.
The salon’s social media pages had been updated to let the current clientele know that the salon is closed.
In comes Karen. Karen sees a community post from OCTOBER detailing a discount that the salon was having on a certain package we offer. She comments on the post saying that she can’t believe the salon is open when her salon has to be closed. This is important for later.
Karen fails to notice that this post was made in October when salons were allowed to operate as long as they followed safety regulations. Karen doesn’t bother checking more recent posts indicating that the salon was closed. My cousin doesn’t see her reply at this time.
The next day, two police officers show up at my cousin’s door while she’s at a doctor’s appointment. The officers ask for my cousin, and my aunt lets them know that she’s not home right now.
My aunt does not speak English very well and lets the officers know that she would call my cousin and ask her to come home. Maybe the officers didn’t believe her, but they insisted on coming inside the home. My aunt had already called my cousin as she was worried. My cousin asked what it was about, but my aunt didn’t know. My cousin then asked if they had a warrant for anything.
When she found out they didn’t, she told her mom not to let them come inside and that she would be there in about 20 minutes.
My cousin began driving home when my aunt called her to let her know that they simply left. Hearing this my cousin was less worried and decided to go grocery shopping as planned before heading home. Turns out, the officers came back half an hour later and once again demanded to see my cousin.
My aunt called my cousin again and asked her to come home, but in the 20 minutes she took to come home, the officers were gone. They had left a card and asked her to call back.
My cousin managed to get a hold of the officers and was told that someone had reported her business. They claimed that she was operating when she wasn’t allowed to and they had proof.
My cousin knew this wasn’t true as the salon had been closed for quite a while. By now, my cousin had seen the comment from earlier and mentioned that she knew exactly what their so-called proof was, but the post in question was from October. My cousin was very upset as this post was not even close to being actual evidence of her operating now, in January.
She was also very upset that they insisted on coming inside the house with no cause or warrant when they could clearly see that my aunt does not understand the language very well. At the end of the conversation, the police officer apologized to my cousin, and we thought it was the end of it.
You must be wondering how we know that Karen was the one who called the cops.
Well, she told us! The next day, my cousin received a message she realized was from the woman who commented on the post. Karen decided to pretend like she’s a customer.
Karen: Can I book an appointment?
My cousin: Hey love, we are currently closed. Once we’re able to open, we will be more than happy to book you in.
Karen: Oh, my partner was there yesterday, my apologies.
My cousin: You must have gotten the date wrong.
The salon is not taking clients now. Thank you.
Karen: No problem, but I didn’t get the date wrong, lol. I also know the police came due to you being open. Take care.
My cousin: I’m not going to sit here and entertain your boring life. Maybe for a change, you can find another hobby rather than spreading lies and wasting people’s time, including the polices’ time. Or even better, find an actual job.
Have a good night.
Karen: I own my own spa that’s closed as should yours be. My mom is the one who called the cops. You are not entertaining me at all. Go back to your own country instead of messing with ours.
My cousin decided to block her at this point. My cousin was happy this was all over. Her sister and I were still outraged at the racist comment and how someone could make up lies about a small business that led to the cops terrifying my aunt.
When my cousin told me about Karen, the fact that she had her own spa really stood out. I did some digging.
Turns out Karen runs her own spa out of her house. Doing some more snooping, I found reviews from her clients on her business page that were posted on days that she wasn’t allowed to run her business. The reviews could be from clients who received services before and only now had a chance to write a review.
To be sure, I found Karen’s Instagram page. I decided to use her own trick against her! I created a new account with a generic name and followed her page, so she couldn’t see that I was related to my cousin. I then messaged her to ask about the prices for her services.
Me: Hey, I love your pics! I was wondering how much you charge.
Karen: Hey girl, thank you so much! What service are you after?
Me: I’m really interested in the BB glow facial.
Karen: That’s awesome.
My biggest seller for sure. Normally it’s $125, but it’s on NOGO, so you pay for one session and get 2!
Me: That’s such a great deal compared to others! When is your next available date?
Karen: Where are you located? I can’t have people come to me right now, but I travel to my clients.
Karen was not operating from her home location due to restrictions but was traveling to her clients’ homes which is still against regulations! I then made up a lie about my home not having adequate space and asked for her address, so we could meet up at my friend’s place somewhere between our locations.
She foolishly told me her address.
During this time, I also tried joining other community groups that she was a part of. In one particular group, people in the community were promoting their small businesses. She had recently made a post about discounts on her services for the month of January! I immediately went online and submitted a report about her business still operating including screenshots, her address, full name, etc.
A few days passed by, and I had forgotten to check up on it as I was busy with life again.
I saw the incident report number on a sticky note I had on my desk and decided to check in. Apparently, this was not Karen’s first offense! Karen had already been fined $750 for having a client in her home. After being fined, she decided to change her business model and go to the client’s home instead. Now, she was fined $10,000!
I was still following her on Instagram, so I decided to check it out.
She had gone on a rant about how she was going to do very bad things to the person who reported her. She also mentioned that she was no longer allowed to run her business! I’m not sure what type of ban the regional police put on her, but I immediately deleted the account and exited the groups I had joined earlier. At the end of the day, Karen got was she deserved, and I fulfilled my dream of pretending to be Sherlock Holmes.”
Another User Comments:
“It’s always amazed me how people in glass houses love to throw stones. And she’ll never understand the irony, she’ll always play the victim on this one.” idrow1
7. Steal Our Phones While We're Surfing? We'll Track You Down And Get You Arrested
“Basically, my buddy and I got super into surfing in high school, and we would go pretty much every day. His mom (RIP) would usually drop us off, we would wrap our phones in our shirts, bury them in the sand a bit, and place our towels on top. This was the everyday routine.
So one day, we go surfing in this sketchy area, not so sketchy that we shouldn’t have been surfing there, but it would’ve been way smarter to not bring our phones.
Anyway, we kinda messed up, brought our phones, went surfing, and when we got back to shore, the phones were gone.
We freaked out for a little while, then asked some people nearby if they saw anything. They said no, but they were nice enough to let us check Find My iPhone as well as call his mom to come pick us up. By the time we checked Find My iPhone, the phones were already about 5 miles away.
We called his mom, told her what happened, and expected to just go home sad, but no.
His mom was seriously a legend. Once she picked us up, she had us quickly log into Find My iPhone on her phone, and the pursuit began.
We literally drove for maybe two hours out of the way until we finally started getting near the guy. The thing is, no matter how close we got, the phone was always on the move. Plus, it’s not the most accurate tracker in the world, so it’s only within like 500 feet of the phone, so the chase went on forever, and we had no idea what car we were following.
I don’t remember all of the details perfectly, but at some point during the chase, her phone died, so she hauled her butt off the freeway, ran like 2 lights, and made an illegal u-turn (none of this was that dangerous, like nobody was there, but it was still pretty awesome), and quickly pulled up at a 7-11 where we bought a car phone charger.
The chase continued.
We followed the Find My iPhone tracker for maybe 2 or 3 hours total until, finally, the jerk stopped. We pulled up where we assumed was the right stop, and it was some random taco shop. We went inside, looked around, but only a couple of people were in there, and they all looked like they were with family, so we didn’t think it was any of them.
That’s when we went outside and saw some guy sitting at the bus stop with a large duffle bag. We immediately assumed it was him (he looked pretty sketch), so we called the local police, and they said they would send a car to our spot.
The funniest part of all of this was that the cop was full-on like, “Don’t approach the guy; just wait,” but my buddy’s mom, being the goofy person she was, came up with seriously the dumbest plan, but we all loved it at the moment, so we went with it.
What she did was she casually walked up to the guy and was like, “Hey, I lost my phone. Do you know what time it is?” It was seriously the funniest thing ever. My buddy and I couldn’t help but start cracking up.
Anyway, the guy was all hostile and just said no, so she came back to the car, and we just waited, laughing about what just happened.
From that point on, as the guy was waiting for the next bus, he kept looking back at us every couple of seconds. It was kinda scary but overall really funny.
A few minutes later, a cop car passed by on the opposite side of the road, turned on its lights and made a quick u-turn driving towards the guy. I kid you not, he got up and bolted as fast as he could across the street.
The cop was in a car though, so he caught him immediately. He handcuffed the guy, brought him over to us, and the cop was like, “Do you have these kids’ phones?” The guy, acting innocent and angry, was like “No!?! Why would I steal these kids’ phones?!?!” The cop then opened his duffle bag, and wouldn’t you know it, out pops our phones.
The guy starts rambling that he bought the phones off some random guy and the cop jokingly said something like, “That’s some bad luck. Maybe don’t buy phones from some guy at the beach.” He ended up getting arrested, and we got our phones back after a 3-hour chase.”
6. Refuse To Move Your Car? Get Rotting Food Shoved In Your Vents
Pea soup, coming right up!
“Let me set the scene, the year is 2017, and my family and I live in a quiet suburban street. It’s mostly retired couples and some families with very young kids.
Normal. Now earlier this year the house diagonal from us decided to move and sold it. About the day after everything’s packed away, five cars come peeling down the street, and pull into the driveway and out in the road.
They’re a bunch of college-age kids, so we give them some slack and let them go for a day or two. Meanwhile, day in and day out different cars keep peeling down the street, some are over 30 miles over the speed limit. This does not go over well with the neighbors, for most of the younger kids walk and ride their bikes down our street.
Everyone’s concerned they might hurt someone or someone’s dog.
Before something serious can happen, some of the neighbors who’ve lived here 20+ years go over and meet the newbies. This includes my mom. They’re polite at first. They agreed to not go over 35, but more cars keep racing down the road. Along with that, they seem to be having parties every other Tuesday with about 30 cars up the street.
Now the niceties are over, and the cops are called. Usually, they wouldn’t do this, but about 5 calls came in from a bunch of houses and the police department was fed up.
Having nothing better to do, they send one of the deputies and they wait around the corner for a few hours a day. About 2 fines are given, and then they slow down. Except they get smart, there’s only one place the deputy can hide, so they send one car to see if they’re there.
If not they speed again. The deputy gives up after about 3 days and is gone.
A few months pass, and we were at a loss of what to do. Summer is almost here so my brother and I are outside more. We have a basketball hoop at the edge of the road, right across from the house.
Our driveway is at almost a 45° angle, and all my brother’s buddies come and play, so we leave it there.
There’s a problem, the cars keep parking to block the hoop. My brother’s angry since that’s all he used to do in the summer. He goes over to the house and the guys just shut the door on him. Now my mom’s livid. She marches over there and asks them to move their cars, sweetly, and when they refuse she hatches a plan.
This summer was a hot one, and my mom decides to cook some homemade pea soup.
Now she burns this batch, by ‘accident’ of course.
Instead of chucking it out, she puts it in this big plastic jar, seals the lid, and places it out on the back porch in the middle of the sun. Weeks pass, and she occasionally opens it. There are maggots squirming around and it’s turned a deep brown-green. There’s also this clear yellow liquid that separated itself to the top.
Disgusting.
Meanwhile, my brother is determined to play basketball when there’s a little opening. About twenty minutes in, the ball bounces onto one of the cars by accident. There was no mark, but the car alarm goes off so he’s trying to leave.
I run out to see one of the regulars who lived there, a woman, yelling obscenities at my brother and how he needs to pay for her car.
My mother runs out after me and starts yelling at the lady to get away from my brother. There was no damage, and it was clear, but the lady kept screaming. My brother and I run inside and watch as the woman follows my mom up the driveway, waving her arms and still yelling. My mom yells for her to get off her property or she’ll call the cops.
By now our older neighbors are watching, some walking over, and the lady realizes that she better leave it or she might actually get in trouble.
She runs across the street and slams the door. Around 2 am on a Tuesday with one of their parties, my mom puts on a gas mask (my dad worked in pest control so he had one) and takes out the soup.
The stench was terrible. It was rotting meat and something indescribable. She takes the jar and goes over to the cars as quietly as possible. Onto almost every car she dumps the rotting pea soup onto the windshield and into that space where there are the windshield wipers. Before anything, I have to explain these were nice cars. Not sports, but Priuses and new cars, which doesn’t fit with their age.
The next morning, my mom’s out sitting in the garage, smoking like always. It’s around 6 am and the lady that yelled at my brother comes out first. She’s obviously tired as she gets into her car. A minute or two passes and this woman has the most disgusted-looking face. She turns on the windshield wipers and a hunk of rotting ham is sent flying. My mom’s now in tears, and I mean tears. I wake up and head downstairs to the garage to see the woman yelling and about 20ish kids heading out to their cars. Each one’s trashed.
The cops are called, but since there’s no evidence, they can’t press charges against my mom. One by one they leave in their ruined cars. They moved out 3 weeks later.”
5. Try To Mess With My Marriage? Lose Your Man Instead
“So my ex-best friend (we’ll call her Beth) and I used to go and hang out with this guy (we’ll call him Kyle). Kyle was known to have a crush on me in the past. I felt really sorry for Kyle. He was depressed, always posting on social media about how he just wanted someone to hang out with. Me being the person I am, wanted to be his friend.
Since he lived only a couple of minutes away from Beth, we went over a couple of times and would just sit in his driveway, having random conversations about anything. A few times, I would catch him complimenting me, telling me how attractive I was. I would just brush it off and say thanks.
I guess Beth got jealous because she started saying things like, “What about me?” and I noticed she would start trying to flirt with him.
That night after we left his house, she asked me for permission to sleep with Kyle. I was confused. I told her, of course, she could and asked why she would need to ask me such a question because I was married. Beth replied, saying how she thought I had a crush on him and that it was rude to sleep with someone that your bestie had a crush on.
After I got home, Beth texted me saying how she almost drove back over to his house to sleep with him but decided not to. I guess she was going to sleep with him out of spite but didn’t expect the response I had given her.
Fast forward a week or so, her ex-partner that she never got over sends her a friend request on social media.
They ended up talking and decided to see each other again. Her ex is also friends with my husband. I was so happy for her, as a best friend would be.
One night, we decided to eat out with Kyle. At the restaurant, I noticed she got a call from her man, and she walked away from the table. I thought it was odd because she could have just talked to him right there, and it wasn’t too loud or anything.
A week goes by, and one night, my husband comes home late from work.
I know immediately that something is wrong. He makes up some story. I can tell that he is making this story up because of how distraught he looked. Eventually, I get it out of him that Beth’s man told my husband that I had been going over to Kyle’s house by myself, insinuating that I had been two-timing him. It took me so long to comfort and reassure my husband, trying to convince him it was not true.
It caused us both so much stress and we both cried together that night.
I eventually find out the origin of this lie was from Beth. My husband even messages her about what days Kyle and I were together because she claimed that I had texted her to pick me up from Kyle’s house. I told him to ask her to give screenshots of the texts she claimed I sent her.
She never could provide any proof of the texts. Her dates didn’t match up with anything. I had proof and showed my husband my location history for the past couple of months on social media.
Apparently, she didn’t want her man finding out that she had been going to Kyle’s house with me and that she almost slept with him (oh yea, Kyle and her man were also friends).
She spread a rumor and it got around our circle of friends. Beth has even convinced herself in her mind that my sleeping with Kyle really happened. I blocked her off everything. She then called my husband’s mother, bawling and crying, asking to talk to me. My mother-in-law had to ask me what happened and what I did wrong.
During this time, my husband did some talking with Beth’s man.
Husband decided that since Beth’s man had his back (how he came to my husband with the fake info about me two-timing him, but he was grateful that he was upfront about it with him if it did happen) that he’d have his back as well. This is the best part. So he proceeds to tell Beth’s man that she slept with 2 guys while they were broken up (he knew about this because I tell my husband everything). Beth’s man did not know. He’s disgusted and feels betrayed. They break up. Beth lost her bestie and her partner she never got over.”
4. Aren't A Fan Of Paying Your Employees According To Law? You'll Learn The Hard Way
“Several years back I went to work for a towing company. It’s about all I know how to do other than paint cars which was drastically affecting my health.
The pay was pretty decent, but we had to share trucks and the boss felt that he knew where we needed to sit in order to get the best calls. This is important for later.
Several months in, I realized I was not making the type of money that I should be making.
So I took the opportunity while I was sitting in a parking lot one evening to start researching the laws pertaining to employees in similar positions. He was kind of a jerk and the trucks had transponders so that he could see if we had them idling with the air conditioner on a hot day, or idling with the heat on a cold day.
He was always calling complaining about something if the wheels were not turning.
During my research, I discovered that if he was requiring us to sit in a certain parking lot, street, or any location of his choosing, then we were entitled to be paid an hourly wage not just our commission. The technical term was ‘engaged to wait’ however if he allowed us to freely roam about while we waited for calls we were not entitled to hourly wages and we were therefore considered ‘waiting to be engaged.’ I never mentioned this to him, but I did start taking note of my time.
Another month or so goes by and he decided to start coming down on me for tiny little things that ordinarily wouldn’t even matter, such as I forgot a pop can in the cupholder. He actually had a screaming fit about that. At this point, I was tired of working there and had already found another job so I decided it was time to put my plan into motion.
I called him up, told him that we needed to have a conversation about my final wages and that we could meet at his convenience. Upon entering the office I laid out my argument, explained the state law, and told him I expected to be paid for the hours that I was on the clock but not freely allowed to roam looking for work or able to do things of my choosing.
He told me in no uncertain terms I would not be paid for that time, as that was agreed to upon my employment. I did not bother to argue, as I already had my next step planned, so I took my final check and I left.
The following Monday, I made a phone call to the state labor board, where I laid out my case to them.
Needless to say, they were very interested in what was going on. In the end, they came to review his employment records and speak to the drivers still working. When he got the bill of what he had to pay us all, it was too much for him to afford, so he sold the trucks, his boat, and lot and went out of business.
I never got the funds owed to me in full, only a fraction.
But the satisfaction of knowing the law just a little bit better than he did and watching it all burn was pure bliss.”
Another User Comments:
“I worked at the Philadelphia branch of an NYC company that didn’t pay city wage taxes. My boss thought he didn’t have to pay because it was an NYC company, but he wasn’t paying NYC wage tax either, and Philadelphia doesn’t care, and if you have employees working in Philly, the city WILL get its share.
My boss was a hot mess, and one of my friends warned me he had the hots for me, but I was so naive I literally said to her, “Oh, no, that’s not possible; he’s married.” After I turned down several advances from him, he fired me and hired another young woman, who he started sleeping with a few weeks later.
On my last day of work, who arrives, but the people from the city, and they garnished everyone’s paychecks until back city wages were collected except mine because I was leaving. (I have a feeling that today they would have come after me, but back then, they may not have had the resources to do so.)
He was certain I had ratted him out. It wasn’t, but I was totally okay with him thinking it was me.” Patiod
3. Put My Phone Number On An Ad? I'll Direct Them To Your House
“April Fool’s Day this year: I had several friends send fake texts to another friend (let’s call him Steve) who lives in a different state. The texts were fake responses to an imaginary ad offering free kittens.
Steve somehow figures out it was me. He then goes to a popular classifieds site and posts three separate ads with my number attached: free puppies, free kittens, and a free 42″ flatscreen TV.
I start receiving a flood of calls, texts, and voicemails. I was contacted by well over 150 interested individuals in the first couple of hours. I frantically tried to think of how I was going to get him back, and then it hit me…
I responded to everyone by saying, ‘Sure – it’s still available. Come by anytime tonight after 5. I’m Steve, here’s my address…’
Except that I didn’t always say 5 – I told people to come at different times.
Steve had a steady stream of angry/disappointed visitors that evening from 4-10 pm.”
2. Mistreat Your Best Employee? Good Luck Getting By When They Quit
“I worked at a fast-food place. Let’s call them Burrito Place since this place specialized in Tex Mex and sometimes other things. It was an exciting start to a job, my training went okay on food, I was sadly slow, and while accurate, I really just couldn’t keep up the pace, so they put me in a window, and after a baptism of fire, I was never taken out of the window because I had a real knack for it, and this translated well for when I helped open a new location.
I worked long hours, covered shifts, and even had a ‘Deal with the Devil’ system where I’d work double shifts (Morning / Afternoon) into closing, but my shift the next day was forfeited since covering a 1st or 2nd shift is easier.
I would say the beginning of the end that showed its ugly would be when my tonsillectomy happened. After such a painful recovery, I went back to work, making sure a week before so that I either not work the drive-thru window or I at least not take orders since my throat was still gonna be prone to drying up.
This went unheard of to my higher-ups, and after serious pain that I predicted, I had upset my job when I walked away from my job after 10 minutes of begging for a chance to drink something. I just got up and did it. While this meant someone had to immediately jump into my spot, I wasn’t given anything close to a warning, thankfully.
Things got rougher when a few people quit, and we were in rough shape already, and while we kept getting applicants, it was only ever minors, so they couldn’t work the 1st or closing shifts.
My boss even told me he hired everyone who walked in the door, so that wasn’t a good sign. So now my store was staffed with a bunch of kids, which is fine. I trained some on providing good customer service to people. Overall, I got along with the new staff well. However, my breaks had become non-existent, and only smokers got breaks. One time, I came to work, and while the place was open, both the opening manager and the only other employee were both OUTSIDE and smoking, and with the building locked, they refused to let me in until they were done or a customer came into drive-thru.
The real ending was set in stone when I pinched my sciatic nerve one day before work.
I couldn’t stand and had to call in for the 3rd time in two and 3/4 years. I got my doctor’s note and turned it in, and the manager who took the note quit without notice, and I was in trouble the next day until the paper was found because it was misplaced, and funny enough, I had a regular day off at the end of the 3-day letter saying I needed to be off, so he only made it 2 days, and they tried to guilt trip into coming in on my regular day off because ‘the note only says 2 days.’ I refused any repercussions.
So with my back in bad shape, the end came months later when I pinched the sciatic nerve again, at work.
I struggled to stand and was just unable to move around. All managers had noticed this but didn’t care, and after 3 hours when they tried to put me on a break after having given everyone else one, I quit. I told a coworker I was done and got my sister to come get me and take me home.
So I work at a new place, and it’s going well.
A lot of my regulars and beloved customers come to this new place, which gives me some access to some of my gossip network, to which revealed that the only other non-minor cashier finished her last 2 days after I quit and left, leaving the customer service an absolute mess and that the restaurant now closes at various and random hours due to the lack of staff, especially service members who can do three jobs at once.
I found out the next day through a friendly coworker that the opening manager was complaining about how hard it was to just stand in one spot all day… funny.
I was asked by my boss’s boss if I’d be coming back. I said I’d decide and later said that I would, but my boss declined saying I’d only show insubordination, and it wouldn’t be tolerated, despite rehiring someone who NC/NS for 3 days in a row because we were desperate. I knew my boss didn’t pull all the nonsense he thought he could with me because I liked legal stories and was versed in local laws, so he took this opportunity to get rid of his best employee who was also his biggest obstacle.”
1. Hog 4 Washing Machines For 12 Hours? Redo Your Laundry
Don’t do your laundry in a shared laundry room unless you’re responsible and decent enough to move your clothing after it’s done.
“I live in a 3 story apartment complex with 2 dryers and 2 washers on the third floor and the 1st floor. I’m a night owl, and the machines are new and pretty quiet, so I do my laundry anywhere from 11:30 pm to 2:30 am because my building is filled with 17- to 21-year-olds who leave their laundry in the machine for hours after they are done, so that’s why I do my laundry at night; I get all 4 washers and all 4 dryers to myself.
(This sounds selfish, but I have EXACTLY 4 loads of laundry: lights, darks, towels, and delicates. I do laundry about either once a month or every 2 1/2 weeks. It takes 25 minutes for the washing machine and an hour for the dryer. So if I get them all started at once, it only takes an hour and 25 minutes to do laundry, but if I stagger it during the day, it can take up to 5 to 6 hours depending on how long people leave their stuff in the machines.)
Back to the story!
It was the middle of the day, and I was called by a store that I had recently applied for a job at.
They had a spot open for a quick interview, but it had to be that afternoon. I start to get ready, but I notice that my normal interview outfit is dirty, and because it needs to be washed on delicate or it’ll shrink, I decide that I’ll try to do a load of delicate items (just the outfit and a few other things; I feel bad when I don’t have a full load to wash and I waste water) before the interview in 3 hours.
I go to the laundry room on the 3rd floor, and lo and behold, the washing machines are full of clothes. They were 10 minutes from being done, so I went downstairs to the 1st floor to use their machines. Unfortunately, the washing machines were filled and had 12 minutes left on them.
I’ve got time to spare, so I go back upstairs and set a timer to check the machines again in 20 minutes because I know some people forget to pick their clothes up immediately.
(I set an alarm for my laundry because I hate leaving it unattended. There is no reason to leave a 25-minute load of clothes in the machine for another 20 minutes because you are lazy, so that’s why I set it. I had some jerk take my wet and dry clothes out once, and when I got there 30 minutes later, I had just moved in and had no sense of etiquette, I noticed that someone had taken several pairs of my underwear and a bra.
Women, you know this pain. When you pay $60+ for a well-fitted bra, you feel that pain in your gut. Also, I was creeped out by the thought of someone having my undergarments. I told security, but other than a warning about leaving my stuff unattended, nothing was done.)
So the timer goes off, and I head back to check the laundry room again. The machines on the 3rd floor still had the clothes in them, so I check the 1st floor.
Same thing there. I head back up the stairs to my room and browse the internet for another 20 minutes before checking again. Same thing! I don’t want anything to happen to that person’s clothes (having my clothes rifle through and stolen because I was late made me never want to inflict that on someone else), so I just leave the clothes alone and wait some more.
It’s nearing 4 pm, which is when the interview was scheduled. (I don’t have a car and have to walk everywhere, so I plan to walk a good 30 minutes to get there, meaning I try to leave at 3:15 with time to arrive and make sure I look good and time to spare if I get held up somehow). I’m getting annoyed because there is no need to leave your wet clothes that long in the machines.
A wash takes 25 minutes, and they’ve been there for 40 or so minutes after being done. I figure it’s the same person using all four machines since the times seem to match up. If they lived on the 3rd floor, they’d start the machine there, walk down to the 1st floor, then start those machines. That makes for the 2-minute gap between the loads.
I’ve got an hour and 40 minutes before I need to leave, and since it takes an hour and 25 minutes to do the laundry, I check one last time.
No dice. I shuffle through my closet and eventually settle on a backup outfit (dress pants I hadn’t had hemmed – they were a bit big and too long – and a less professional blouse. I’m in college, so I don’t own many nice outfits because I’ve always bought my own clothes.) I’m mad that I wasn’t able to dress nicely for the interview because someone left their clothes in the washing machines for 40 minutes, but I manage to forgive and forget and make it to the interview.
Skip forward to 1:30 am.
I got home after the interview and changed into normal clothes, then went over to a friend’s place on the same lot, just the next building over. We hang out for a while, and then I head home around 12:30. I decided I should do some laundry because I’ve had to change outfits more the past 2 weeks (clumsy accidents, like tripping in the rain and falling on my butt in the mud, spilling food from a cart on my pants, etc.).
I gather my things and sort them in my room before going out and then head to the machines on the 3rd floor. To my surprise, the same clothes were in the washers as that afternoon! I was forgiving about it earlier because I’ve forgotten the laundry once, I’ve been a slacker, and I wasn’t using the machines when I normally did, but this person has left their laundry in ALL FOUR WASHING MACHINES since 1 pm! They took up 4 machines for about 12 hours, and now I’m angry because I had to dress less professional (I know that’s also partly my fault; I should have washed the outfit sooner, but I typically wear it 2 to 3 times before washing it since I only wear it for interviews).
I set my basket on the washing machine and pulled out the load of wet clothes and moved them to a spot on the floor.
This spot on the floor was where all the dust, tiny lint bits, bits of paper, hair, and just general grossness that fell out of the dirty clothes would slowly gather until someone in the janitorial staff cleaned it. I stood above this gross and disgusting mess and then promptly dropped both loads of clean-washed clothing onto the dirty floor. I put my stuff in and started it, set an alarm, went to the 1st floor, and repeated my revenge, dumping their lights onto the disgusting tile floor of the laundry room where the damp clothes immediately became covered in bits of hair, lint, and general grossness.
I did the rest of my laundry in peace, and the next day, a sign was posted in both laundry rooms asking residents to not remove clothing from the washing machines/dryers.
It was petty and vindictive, but any jerk who takes up 4 machines in the middle of the day and then hogs them for 12 hours because they can’t come get their clothes deserves to have their clean laundry thrown on the floor.”
Another User Comments:
“When I lived in apartment complexes there was always a schedule where you booked a time in advance. When the time runs out the next booked person has the right to immediately cancel your current cycle and throw all your clothes on the floor. How they dry and rewash their clothes is their problem.” emilvikstrom
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