People Spill The Super Petty Way They Got Revenge
28. Can't Take No For An Answer? Here, Hop On The Wrong Shuttle
“I work on a college campus. It’s the season for orientation and parents are herding their kids around checking out the school. I misread my schedule (arrived at 14:00 instead of 4:00 pm) and had a few hours to kill. I decided to take a walk around campus to look at the changing trees. I soon came upon a family that was clearly lost. two parents and a kid. The dad’s got the map out (upside down) and the mom is asking anyone who will listen for directions.
I decided to help.
I stroll up and ask where they’re headed and am told they’re looking for one of the libraries. It wouldn’t be too far out of my way so I decided to take them there. As we’re walking I make small talk asking what the kid plans to study and whatever. To be helpful, I started pointing things out on the way. This was my fatal error.
As we’re walking someone interrupts and says “are you headed to the library?” I confirmed that we were and allowed them to tag along.
I didn’t go full tour guide and turn around, so as I’m walking I remain facing forward. I didn’t notice that a few other families started following behind me. We get to the library and the first family is happy. I turn to leave and someone says “how about the political science department?” I check my clock and think, “What the heck, these people are nice” and off we went. At this point, I have about five families with me.
People are asking questions and laughing at my jokes and having a good time.
We get to the next building and it’s time for me to leave for work. I motion to disband my little entourage and am met with opposition. “Take us to the English department.” Some guy says. I was like, “No can do, chief. I gotta go to work” and it clearly didn’t register. I tried to tell him that this was an informal tour and I’m not affiliated with the orientation and he didn’t understand.
“What kind of tour is this? We paid good money for this orientation. You’re going to take us to the English department!” Imagine Mark Derwin’s character from Accepted. The English department was actually pretty far away so I wouldn’t be able to get him there without being late to work. He was pretty disrespectful so I decided to dump him instead.
“To get there, it’s easiest to take a campus shuttle,” I said. “I’ll walk you to the bus stop.” He was satisfied with that, so off we went.
We get to the bus stop and I tell him that I won’t be riding with him because I’m only a tour guide for this particular area. Once he gets on the bus, he should wait three stops, then get off and meet a new tour guide that will be there waiting. Instead of saying thanks, he grumbles out, “Was that so hard?” and climbs aboard.
Here’s the kicker. Our campus doesn’t have its own bus system. I put him on a city bus. Three stops would take him to a grocery store a mile or two off-campus. There definitely wasn’t anyone waiting for him there. I like to think he got what he deserved for being disrespectful.”
27. Keep Riding My Bumper? I Won't Warn You About This Upcoming Speed Bump
“I am driving to work a few months ago and getting close, I have two turns remaining until I turn into the building. It is just a few blocks away. All side streets, no highways involved. This guy behind me is in a black BMW, and he is on my butt the whole time. I see him checking his phone, then making angry faces at me and getting closer and closer. I speed up a bit, thinking it might calm him down.
5 over, nope.
Anyway, I make the first turn and am now on the street where my building is, maybe 600 yards up ahead. The jerk is still behind me, driving inches from behind me and obviously angry that I am still going the speed limit (maybe 35 on this street). So I speed up a bit and see he does the same.
I drive an eight-year-old Toyota truck, not one of the big huge ones, but not one of the small ones.
I do have all-terrain tires, and I have certainly driven through pastures, over rocks, popped a curb or 10 in my time. My suspension is in good shape and has no problem treating my decade-old truck like a truck.
Well as I get closer to my building there is a large speed bump in the street, effectively to get people to slow down as they approach the parking garage entrances. I look back and see the jerk still riding my bumper.
I remember thinking to myself I need to slow down for this speed bump and looking back and thinking, if I hit my brakes, this guy is going to hit me.. The plan takes shape in my mind and I speed up..
I am doing about 45 when I hit that speed bump, and yeehaw.. I did a bit of a jump and land, never once touching my brakes. Didn’t even tap them. I gave him zero warning for what was about to happen.
I am watching my rear-view window intensely during this because I wanted to see his reaction. He was cradling his cell phone between his ear and shoulder when he hit. His hood bucked up behind me, then slams to the ground. I see him go flying out of his seat straight up. He slams his head on the roof of his BMW, and his head rolls sideways from impact. Then he slams back into his seat violently. He has a total, “What was that” look on his face as he grabs the wheel with both hands to recover.
… and yes, he slowed right down after that.”
26. Watch A Show Without Me? I'll Ruin The End For You
“This whole story is petty, and I know it, but I guess if this is the worst thing we argue about in our relationship, we’re not doing too badly.
So my partner of 4 years and I have always been the type to watch tv shows together and had got into a routine of waiting for the weekend (when we’re together) to watch them.
Like many other couples, we had watched and enjoyed The Boys together and spoken about how much we were looking forward to seeing the second season together when it came out.
When it was eventually out, we watched the first episode. A day or so later he asked if we could watch the second one, I wasn’t really in the mood so I suggested a movie instead. Then life got in the way and I just forgot.
A couple of weeks later, another TV show started airing weekly which is a personal favorite of mine for about 7 years called The Great British Bake Off (GBBO). For those who don’t know, it’s a baking competition and it’s very wholesome and pleasant.
So when the first episode aired on a Tuesday, I sat down and watched it with my mom. No problems.
However, that weekend, I mentioned to my partner casually that I had watched it. And he was upset because he considered that one of “our shows.” Obviously, I immediately felt terrible and began to apologize and say I would never watch it without him again however I was swiftly cut off by him saying that he didn’t care because he had watched all of The Boys with his friends anyway.
The betrayal. Safe to say I was angry about the way he threw it in my face as a comeback and about the betrayal of watching the whole thing without me. Alas, we moved on.
However, a couple of weeks later, during a Skype call he casually dropped the bombshell that he had been watching GBBO with his friends instead of waiting for me, basically doing exactly the same thing to me that apparently had upset him so much that he felt the need to throw in my face the fact that he’d watched The Boys without me.
This jerk.
Anyway, that angered me because I had stuck to my promise and had been waiting dutifully to watch it with him. Luckily, my “Petty Revenge” presented itself a few weeks later when I saw the final result of GBBO on social media just after it aired. I then texted my partner saying…
“Oh, I just saw that, so and so won GBBO. You must be pleased because you liked him!”
I obviously knew he wouldn’t have seen it yet, so I had “accidentally” spoiled the ending for him. Oops, my bad.
Now usually, I would never spoil a show for someone, BUT I was feeling like a Petty Spaghetti and was angry that he had turned around and purposely done the exact same thing to me that had apparently really upset him when I did it, and I felt horrible for doing so.”
25. Argue In Public? I'll Sing Horribly To Embarrass You
Take notes, parents!
“When they were younger, my kids would argue about everything. And I mean everything: who sat where, who went through a door first, who got to pat the dog first. They didn’t care where we were; if it could be argued over, they would argue. It would start as a verbal argument but would quite often end in pushing and shoving. As well as being annoying, it could also be embarrassing when we were in a public place, especially as both my kids are tall and looked a lot older than they were.
So, at 10 and 8, they looked 14 and 12.
Although this makes them sound like brats, they weren’t. When they weren’t arguing about stupid stuff, they got on really well and were and are good kids, and most of the time, I accepted it as a phase.
But the day came when I had had enough. They’d argued from the moment I met them at the school gate, through getting into the car, the journey to the supermarket, getting out of the car, and walking up to the store and cart storage.
Cue a new argument about who would push the cart. They both grabbed it, got inside the entrance, and stopped close to where people were both entering and leaving, i.e., where there was a large audience. They then start to literally fight over who should push the cart. They were each trying to push the other one’s hands off the handle, shouldering each other out of the way, and doing the whole, “Mom, it’s my turn.
Mom, make him stop, etc., etc.” People had started that thing where they are walking really slowly past us, whilst pretending not to notice.
So I sat down. On the floor. And I started to sing. I can’t remember what the song was, but I really can’t and shouldn’t sing. I am completely tuneless and don’t even sing in the shower as I offend my own ears. Now people did stop and openly stare. My kids didn’t notice straight away; it took a few minutes for the sound of my singing to percolate through their arguing.
When it finally did, they realized that we were surrounded by a group of people, and their mother was sitting on the floor, singing, really, really badly.
My daughter hissed at me. “Mom, what are you doing? Stop it. It’s really embarrassing.” And I said “Yep. It sucks, doesn’t it?” Then I got up off the floor, bowed to the audience of shoppers, grabbed the cart, and walked off to the veg aisle whistling a merry little tune.
It was a sweet, sweet moment.”
24. Can't Keep Your Word? Good Luck With Your IKEA Furniture
Everyone knows how difficult it is to put IKEA furniture together as is.
“I moved into a shared apartment and never met the guy whose room I was taking over. But he was also selling his bed, so we texted back and forth to settle on a price, etc. I asked if it came with the bedding since I’d just moved to a new country and had nothing like that. He said it did.
So on move-in day, I show up, and the only thing on the bed is this ratty old blanket that looks more like a Christmas tree skirt and two pillows to match, the kind you can’t even really wash and are like a fake silky kind of material.
It had tassels. Not warm, not comfortable, not clean, and definitely not useable. Not even so much as a fitted sheet left behind. It was like he went to the Salvation Army and picked up the cheapest “bedding” he could find. I texted him about it, and he said something along the lines of, “Well, I said the bed was new; I didn’t say the bedding was.”
Anyway, what the heck. I couldn’t sleep there the first night and went back to my hotel and bought my own bedding the next day.
BUT Buddy left an un-built IKEA desk in the corner of the room and said his partner was coming to pick it up sometime during the week.
It wasn’t in a box, just bundled up and held together with some masking tape, so it wasn’t brand new. I stared at it for days before I decided to actually do it. But I was still so salty about the disgusting bedding (that I then also had to deal with getting rid of).
So I took out two key pieces of the desk. Not like a full leg but not a small easily replaceable screw either.
I don’t know exactly which structural pieces they were, but I feel confident that he couldn’t have built it properly without them. I had to wait until my other roommates were out to go toss them in a bin down the street, so they wouldn’t be able to trace it back to me if the old flatmate asked.
Anyway, the partner came to pick it up, and I never heard from the guy again. I like to think he couldn’t use the desk and knew it was me but couldn’t prove it and knew he’d been a jerk about the bedding so he had to let it go. Bye jerk.”
Another User Comments:
“Another petty revenge you could have done would be to carefully drill out or widen out a few of the holes where those “studs” for the cam-locks screw in. If you do it just enough then the stud pulls apart as they try and tighten the cam up…” WelshRareDit
23. Act Like A Karen? She'll Give You A Karen Haircut
“So I remembered a story of petty revenge, as recounted to me by a good friend of mine. My friend is a hairdresser by trade and works at a very upscale salon. I go to her myself and can attest to her being amazing.
Anyway, this salon had one customer who had been passed around from hairdresser to hairdresser bullying every single one she saw. This woman was an absolute holy terror. She made 3, count em’ THREE separate hairdressers cry.
The only reason she was still a client of the salon was that her mom was friends with the owner.
She was a relatively young gal, maybe in her mid-twenties with very long bottle-blonde hair (past her waist) that she insisted to everyone who wasn’t her hairdresser was her natural color (it was very much not). She went to the salon religiously, so no one would ever find out her secret shame. She blamed her hairdresser for all her hair problems (many of which were the results of heavy bleaching and how much heat she used on her hair and her refusal to follow care instructions) and was never satisfied with anything.
So pandemic hits, and she screams at my friend to break quarantine rules and do her hair for her because she can’t have her partner finding out she’s not a natural blonde.
The conversation goes something like this…
Karen: I got your personal number from (salon manager).
I need to come by your place and have you do my roots tomorrow. I’d have you come here, but my partner might see you.
Friend: Uh, that would be illegal, and I’m busy tomorrow anyway.
Karen: I don’t care. This is your people’s fault (my friend is Vietnamese and moved here to be with her wife who’s American, not that it would be better if she were Chinese), and I need my roots done!
Friend: …Listen, I am not going to break the law to touch up your roots.
Even if it weren’t illegal my wife just had a baby, and I really don’t have time.
Karen: I’m going to get you fired!
Anyway, my friend hangs up, and despite Karen’s threats, she knows that the salon owner knows she’s too damned good at her job and has too loyal a customer base to fire her so she thinks no more of it until a few months later when restrictions ease a bit, and lo and behold, who should appear in the appointment book but Karen!
So the day arrives, and Karen shows up with her hair dyed JET BLACK (and not very well dyed either).
My friend is shocked because Karen’s always made such a big deal about being a blonde and how even though she gets her hair bleached, she really is a natural blonde and just “enhancing her color a little.”
My friend asks Karen what they were doing that day and Karen demands to be made blonde again. My friend is like, “Uhhh, okay, that’s going to be a process…” because this jerk has used black box dye (which is really hard to get out).
For those of you who don’t know, getting dyed dark hair to blonde is usually something done in stages, so the hair has a chance to recover a bit between bleaching sessions to avoid breakage.
Karen is like “No! I am going to be blonde when I leave here today, or I am telling your boss that you see clients at home sometimes and getting you fired!” (My friend sometimes does friend’s hair at home for a lower price because she’s a sweetheart, which her boss is fine with) and “It’s your fault I had to dye my own hair this color because my partner would have SEEN MY ROOTS if I hadn’t done something!”
My friend is tired of Karen’s nonsense at this point, but it’s a slow day, and she has time.
She explains to Karen that if she takes her blonde all in one go, her hair will be fried, and she’ll likely end up having to lose a lot of length. Karen scoffs and rolls her eyes and is like, “That’s never happened before, and my hair’s so healthy. I’m sure it will be fine if you don’t screw it up.” Friend recommends at least using olaplaex (a product that helps prevent damage), and Karen says she thinks it’s a scam to overcharge customers and won’t pay for it.
So she decided to go ahead and do it.
Friend is like “okay” but makes several coworkers be witnesses that this is what Karen is asking for after Friend explained the risks.
After that, Friend goes through the whole process of bleaching Karen’s hair.
She has to do it like four times or something, and she checks with Karen after each one that she’s absolutely sure she has to be all the way back to champagne blonde by the end of the day and recommends stopping at some of the nice auburn or strawberry blonde shades in between for now, but Karen insists her partner hates her hair anything but her “natural” blonde. With each bleaching, there’s more breakage, and Karen’s hair feels worse.
My friend knows Karen’s hair won’t survive this, but Karen absolutely refuses to let her stop.
Eventually, at long last, my friend manages to get Karen’s hair to the required level and so she starts to rinse Karen’s hair. It… starts breaking off in her hand, the length of her hair is melted, fried, destroyed. My friend gets the bleach out and immediately conditions the ever-loving life out of it while explaining to Karen that exactly what my friend said would happen has happened. Karen says she must be exaggerating and insists it’s fine.
Friend wraps what’s left of Karen’s hair in a towel and takes her back over to her station where she shows Karen the problem, everything past a little beyond chin length is pretty much gone. Karen shrieks and accuses my friend of everything under the sun: incompetence, operating without a license (she most definitely has her license), discrimination against white people, etc etc. My friend eventually calms her down and tells her she’ll do her best to cut it so it looks decent for free.
She even has the perfect cut in mind. It’ll suit Karen perfectly.
My friend gives Karen the sharpest, most beautifully cut angled bob you’ve ever seen (I’ve seen it thanks to my friend showing me Karen’s Insta), that despite the incredible precision and skill showcased, is unequivocally and perfectly the Karen.
Blown out and styled to, “Can I speak to the manager?” perfection, Karen starts crying because the cut makes her look 40. She… wants to speak to the manager.
My friend gets the manager and Karen throws a fit, threatening to sue, and how dare they, and how his employee did this to mock her and so on and so forth while my friend stands there looking completely innocent.
The boss then asks Friend her side of the story and the other hairdressers back her up. Even the boss by now is sick of Karen’s nonsense and Karen is forced to pay the huge sum of money owed for how much time was spent bleaching her hair (much of which is now gone) and leaves swearing never to come back.
Her partner (a cop) calls up later and threatens to mess with my friend for doing that to Karen’s hair “against his wishes” and my friend tells him if he tries anything, she’s going to tell his superiors and every news agency in the city. Nothing further happens, but he eventually dumps Karen because he “doesn’t like girls with short hair.””
Another User Comments:
“When some man or woman only likes him or her for his or her looks, you know it is not going to last long nor end well.” WangYat2007
22. Get Mad At Me Over Throwing Away The Garbage? Let Me Mess With Your Accounting
“A relative living in a mobile home passed away. I was the closest, so it fell to me to clear out the home for sale.
The company that runs the mobile home park has a lot of rules. First annoying rule: No Estate Sales Allowed. So instead of one simple phone call, I had to touch everything in the home. Donations, Craigslist, FreeCycle, and the shared dumpster were my only tools to empty a stuffed two-bedroom mobile home.
Over the weekends, I cleared it out, except for the garage.
Finally cleared out enough to list the home for sale. The Realtor said okay to work on the garage while the home was on the market. The garage wasn’t too bad – one run to the hazardous waste collection place for paint and half-empty bug spray cans. The last thing to go were six large, empty plastic storage bins, eight rusted folding chairs, and two rusted card tables.
I forgot to mention the mobile home was 30 minutes away from where I live.
So one Sunday night, I was close to the home and went to clear out the garage by putting the stuff in the dumpster.
The shared dumpster is two blocks away, so I loaded up the car and drove the stuff to the dumpster. The dumpster was going to get picked up the next morning and was full. The lids were not closed. The dumpster has two plastic lids that are hinged on the back of the dumpster.
I crammed the chairs, table, and bins into the already full dumpster, pushing the lids open further. A couple of other people came to drop off garbage while I was cramming chairs in the back.
Then I drove home.
I’m 5 minutes away when the park manager called to tell me I had to take the stuff out of the dumpster because the lid didn’t close. Snitches! I immediately agreed to come back and explained that the lid already wasn’t closing before I added the stuff. That didn’t matter. Reminded me of that Seinfeld episode, anyway.
I went back and pulled the chairs, bins, and tables from the dumpster. The rest of the trash was bagged, so the stuff I pulled out was relatively clean.
I went back the next day and threw the stuff back in the dumpster. I resisted the urge to open the chairs to take up space. So much resisting!
A week later, I got a check for $1.54 from the park cause I overpaid the space rent. The home is owned by a person, the space the home sits on is “rented” from the park. I didn’t know the exact amount of rent, so I rounded up to the nearest ten dollars. The check was the difference. The check was sent in the mail, which cost $0.55, heh! I shredded the check, so for the next six months, they are going to have to deal with a non-cashed check! Ha! REVENGE! I held my raised fist as the shredder chewed up their special hologrammed check! I think I might make a special trip to throw the shredded check back into the dumpster!”
21. Interrupt My Work? I'll Let You Know You Stink
“About five years ago, I had to take a job at a boring, mind-numbing call center. My ex went from promising to support me through college to dumping me within a week, which makes for a whole other petty revenge story for another day. I was lucky (in some ways) that he agreed to let me stay until our lease was up as long as I went from paying 25% of expenses to 50%. Okay, that’s fair.
But I had to get a better job to do that and the only thing I could work around my classes was this call center job.
It was boring but easy but also micromanaged to death. Most supervisors treated people like both idiots and children constantly, down to giving us trouble if we took too many bathroom breaks. You could say they gave us trouble if we needed to poop.
One hugely annoying thing we all hated was we were not allowed to share our screen with the main software client and ANYTHING else at the same time.
Everything had to be minimized if we were actively in a call. Now stuff like YouTube or shopping I can kind of understand. But even company emails, Skype for business, news, the software that had our schedules on it, ALL had to be closed or a supervisor would swoop down on you and provide FAR more interruption to your job than a benign webpage ever would. It was very annoying and it made it hard to impossible to do any kind of multitasking, including work-related multitasking.
Even weather was prohibited from being on your screen if you were actively on a call.
Why do I mention this? Because this revenge story happened in a region where nasty summer storms are frequent.
It was a really hot day in July and I was driving to work just as a particularly bad summer storm rolled in. There was minor hail damage to my car and it was only getting worse as I parked and ran into the building. I got up to my desk, clocked in, and got started on calls.
About that time I suddenly realized I wasn’t sure if I had closed a window in my apartment, and my beloved dog was in there!
I already have anxiety pretty bad and I was freaking out thinking my baby was home, scared, with winds blowing in and knocking over God knows what inside. I wouldn’t have a chance to phone the ex to check on things (he was in a much better position to leave work for a few minutes if need be) for a good half hour unless I wanted to get busted with my smartphone out at my desk – another high school-esque rule.
So I did what anyone would do and pulled up the radar to see how nasty things were on the end of town where I lived and try to either a., calm myself down or b., say screw work and go take care of my dog and my apartment. The weather site tells me we’re under a tornado warning and flash flood warning. Great.
I was on a call at the time and somehow through such great difficulty managed to look at the radar at the SAME TIME I was on the call without any ill effects of my job performance, GASP.
Then came this thunderous stomping and this whiny, shrill voice interrupting the person in my headset.
“Hey, HEY!”
I was so shocked and confused that I took off my headset to hear this jerk speaking to me because I thought there’s an emergency.
We’re evacuating to the storm shelter because of the weather? The building is flooding? The poor person in my headset is going ignored, and at this point, I AM slacking on my job but only because this supervisor who definitely wasn’t mine is going to absurd lengths to get my attention like a catastrophe had happened.
I looked at her and just said “What?!” Motioning at my headset indicating I was in the middle of a call.
She got right in my face and said, “You need to minimize EVERYTHING when you’re on calls! You need to take that site off of your screen RIGHT NOW.”
I kind of shook my head at her incredulously, minimized the weather site, and gave her what I hope was a serious stink eye as I put my headset back on and tried to catch up with the conversation still happening in my headset.
Remember I mentioned I have anxiety? Yeah, this set me off even more and I was shaking with both rage and anxiety.
I messaged my supervisor and told her I would have to go home early because I had a migraine. You make up dumb nonsense when you’re about to have an anxiety attack. Luckily she was understanding and wouldn’t have handled that situation that way in a million years. I stayed on the calls until the weather eased up a bit and then took off. I was so angry I could hardly see.
I went home and thought about that nonsense and how sick I was of being micromanaged by supervisors who weren’t even on my team.
I thought about how she had been the disruption and not my monitoring of the potentially dangerous situation in a call center that didn’t even care about us enough to allow us to go to the storm shelter in a tornado warning. And thought, I can’t just let this go by unpunished. That beastly woman and her power-tripping just had to be taken down a notch or two.
She was scheduled for almost every shift I was.
And as luck would have it, I passed by her desk a lot on my way to the break room. And from that day forward, every time I walked by her or her desk I made a face like I had smelled the most atrocious, rank smell on Earth. At first, she didn’t notice. Then she would glance at me like she thought she saw me making the face and I would immediately return to my normal face instead.
As time wore on I amped it up and would pretend I was stifling a cough. One time passing her in the bathroom I put my sleeve over my nose and mouth just when she had passed by, just at the perfect moment when she thought she saw me do it in her peripheral vision but had to do a double-take to be sure. I saw her look over her shoulder in the mirror with a really confused look on her face and I went into a stall like normal.
The beauty of this revenge was that there was a strict no fragrance policy at work and she was always smelling like some kind of Bath and Bodyworks sun-drenched berry nonsense horror, clearly defying the same rule she would have jumped up anyone’s butt for.
My plan was, should I ever get called out on making stink face at a supervisor, to point out she was wearing fragrance and it was bothering me.
By the time I left that company, she would see me and immediately look concerned and nervous. She was either fired or quit shortly before I left, I never found out. As horrible as her management skills were, the former wouldn’t surprise me one bit.
Oh, and I had remembered to close the window. The dog was fine.”
20. Mess With My Sketchbook? I'll Make You Study Hardcore For Two Years
“So for a bit of information, I used to go to a private school meaning that people didn’t take education seriously (only student though). I was 15 at that time, and my friend, let’s call her Mayln, was 16.
It was almost the end of a day of school, and I had gotten out my sketchbook. It was a small one that can be carried around anywhere. It took me a while to get it. I had this habit of skipping the first page of the sketchbook, so when I’m finally done with the book, it would look neat and nice.
So while I sat down at a table in the far back drawing in my sketchbook, the teacher ended up calling me for something. I quickly wrote on a scrap paper, “DO NOT TOUCH” and put on my stuff, and headed forward to my teacher. Mayln was talking to a person near my stuff, and her friend decides to head off to the bathroom leaving Mayln behind. My friend has told me she saw it from a few tables across.
She looked around and saw my table.
She headed there and took my small sketchbook and started to flip through it backward. When she got to the first page, it was empty. She looked back at my table and grabbed a pen. The paper on my sketchbook is light, so if you look hard, you can see the drawing from pages under it. Mayln started to scribble the same drawing I did underneath, but she used an orange pen, and her hand was shaking when holding a pen as she had a habit of pressing hard, so orange ink seeped into the page of my drawing, and on the first page is just a bunch of scribbles (she didn’t even try).
She closed the sketchbook and put it back on the table.
5 minutes later, I returned to my table and saw my stuff messed with. I checked; nothing was missing, then reopened my sketchbook to the first page and was horrified by what I saw. I got angry and asked in a loud voice:
“Who touched my sketchbook?”
“Uh, I think I did?” Malyn said.
I turned to her and showed her the first page and the ruined drawing and asked:
“Did you do this?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?!?!?”
“I don’t know.
I was bored.”
“So you messed up my stuff because you were bored?!?!?”
“Yep.”
I was furious Mayln didn’t think she did anything wrong and left me at that. I got home, ripped out the pages she ruined, and put it somewhere and started to plan out my revenge. Mayln hated school worked and was at the bottom of the class. She sat next to me in class, so I planned on making her study until she broke. Mayln was easy to make someone force her to do something, but people were nice, so they never did anything.
So for the rest of the year, I used up all my time forcing Mayln into studying in class, during lunchtime, breaktime, free classes, after school, before school; it wasn’t like any normal studying, nope.
We would do homework as soon as we got it, extra work, learning stuff the school doesn’t even teach, re-do her stuff if it doesn’t look neat, studying stuff we haven’t reached yet, asked our teacher for more work. I can tell you, Mayln hated every second of it. Teachers were surprised by her improvement because she has never done work in her life (and they knew her from kindergarten).
When the year ended, Mayln was so happy she got away from me.
I heard from a friend she said that would never go near my stuff or sit down next to me again, but I wasn’t done with her yet. When we moved into the next year, we had 2 days to decide where to sit. Mayln used up the first day and skipped the second to pick her seat. I used the second day and found out we were in the same class. She sat in a mid-corner of the classroom and there was an empty seat next to her, so I chose it and moved on with my day.
On the third day of school, I went to school late on purpose.
I walked into class saw that Mayln has already sat down and got out gum, thinking she no longer needed to behave again, but since there was an empty seat a couple of rows behind her, she thought nothing of me walking near her and sat next to her. She looked so confused about what I was doing. I just turned to face her and said, “Looks like we are going to be together for another year,” and I can tell you the colors from her face fell as she realized what was going to happen.
I did get people to tell me I was a jerk for doing that saying it was a mistake, but it was no mistake. She did that in full confidence and has done it before too. Moral of the story: do not ruin people’s stuff because you were bored.”
19. Lie To Me To Get A Free Meal? I'll Catfish You
“Anyway, some weeks ago, I decided to try to meet someone using an app after a breakup that just left me missing my ex so much. Why not date to move on? So I created my profile and started meeting a couple of women. Among them, Kathya.
Kathya and I started to see each other pretty quickly. It was funny how I just told her, “Hey, would love to hang out and maybe get some seafood?” and she was like, “OMG! I LOVE SEAFOOD!” and so I picked her up at her place without knowing absolutely anything about each other, but she was a pretty nice, sweet girl.
So we went to have a nice dinner at this seafood restaurant, and we had a very great time laughing, sharing our goals, and having great chemistry.
Then I drove her to her place. We talked some more and I just felt this vibe from her that she was as attracted to me as I was to her, and we ended up kissing.
However, after kissing, I was honest to her that I only wanted to have a good time. She asked me. “So, you only want me to be your dessert?” and I said, “Ha, ha, honestly, yeah.” She just nodded and said “okay.” I thought she seemed fine with it since we continued kissing for a long time before she left.
Two days later, she messaged me that she would like to hang out and I was like, “Okay! Let’s go for some dinner, and maybe after that, we could get some dessert,” but she said, “I’m actually really tired; I would like to just have some dinner.
Talk a bit and sleep early because I have to wake up very early tomorrow.” I was okay with that since I understand that most women just need more time to get to know a guy before getting a home run.
But then she said, “Hey, let’s go to B restaurant,” and I was like “Mmmmhhh, really?” This was a place that I mentioned during our first date that I loved to go to since it had the BEST steak cuts in the city and she told me that she wanted to try it out since she grew curious about it.
I thought it was very bold of her to ask me to go there and I felt just a tiny bit uncomfortable, but since I had no reason to suspect anything, I agreed and we dined there.
When the time to pay arrived, I asked her if she would mind helping me by tipping the waiter, and she just said that she had no money with her and left her credit card in another wallet, but that next time, she would invite and pay for the dinner.
I was fine with that; I love it when a woman has at least the consideration of inviting the next meal.
After dinner, I took her home, talked a little bit, and we kissed again very passionately. I even tried to convince her to go to my place a little bit, but she refused. Okay, no prob.
The next day I texted her. Nothing…
Next day? Again no signs of her… messages weren’t even read.
Next day? Nothing.
After almost a week, it dawned on me that she just ghosted me.
Now, I can completely understand if a woman is not interested in going out with a guy who’s only for a casual hang out.
I’ve been rejected many times because of this and I pay no mind to it since I’m always honest about it. But why wouldn’t she just say that she’s not interested like any other normal woman instead of giving false ideas AND taking advantage to get a free meal out of me to then ghost me? I was angry.
Now, given my mental state of semi-depression and some bottled-up anger issues, I just created another profile with another attractive guy who seemed to have lots of money and traveled a lot, looked her up, and voila! got her!
After that, I just played the role of a guy who was deeply intrigued with her, shared the same interests as her, made her talk about the things she loved the most, and get her interested enough to date this made up personae who, like her, loved Harry Potter, traveling, etc.
I arranged a date with her the next day to her favorite place and offered to pick her up. The next day came, and a couple of hours before the date, I messaged her and told her if we could meet at this place since an emergency came up and my sister had to take my car to take her children to the doctor (I have no sister), so I had to move by taxi. Surprisingly, she agreed.
Then the hour came, but she sent no message.
I messaged her asking where she was and replied that she was just about to get out of her house. Perfect, she will be late, so I thought I could use that as an excuse. All I had to do was just wait.
She finally texted that she arrived and asking where I was.
“I’m home; I got tired of waiting.”
“…what?”
“Yeah, I asked you to arrive at this hour, and you arrived way too late.”
“But I live far away!”
“Well, too bad.
I’m leaving.”
“But why? I’m just arriving!”
“I don’t care. I’m already home. Bye.”
Sorry that this potential sugar daddy disappointed you, babe. I hope now that liar feels the anger I felt for taking advantage and giving false expectations.
Was my revenge super petty? I think so. Childish? Yeah. Pathetic? Absolutely. I wouldn’t do it again, but I won’t like that I enjoyed imagining her face of disappointment and anger for not getting that other free meal from her very favorite place and having to go all the way back to her house with an empty stomach.”
18. Overlook Me For A Promotion? Time To Get Competitive
“This happened back in 2015 while I was working at a gas station part of a major chain. It was what I’d consider my nightmare job. You know the kind of job, the one that makes you shudder and happy to be rid of.
It wasn’t all bad, but it was in a trashy part of town, so we got some real pieces of work through the door. But the biggest piece of work was my co-worker we’ll call Nate.
Everyone else I worked with was great; it was Nate who was the jerk.
The man was a misogynist, and I’m not throwing that term around lightly and without reason. He was in his mid-50s when I met him. His wife divorced him and took his kids, so he developed this unnatural hatred for all women. I made the joke to my shift manager that he strikes me as the kind of guy who owns a female mannequin with pairs of scissors jammed in the face. While she agreed, she didn’t appreciate the joke because, on more than one occasion, she had caught him just glaring at her.
On top of that, he’d show up for work three hours early and just sit in the parking lot, waiting to clock in and staring into the store.
On top of that, the man tried to frame the food lead of his deli for selling expired meat by moving stickers around. All because he wanted her job.
So yeah, the guy was unstable. I was young, 22 at the time, and just kept my head down and kept trying to do my job.
Well, a managerial position opened at the store, and Nate was told by the store manager there to apply. As I heard, he was told, “Yeah, I don’t see why they wouldn’t hire you.”
Boy, did that inflate his ego. Suddenly, he’s walking around the store like he has the job when all he’s done is apply. He’s telling me to do stuff like sweep the parking lot or stock the shelves. I’m getting angry and I know he’s not getting the job.
This man failed his food safety certification several times.
So, I get an idea. While talking to my shift manager, who we’ll call Miranda, I waited for Nate to walk by and loudly said, “Yeah, I threw my application in for the manager position. I thought, ‘What’s the harm?'”
Nate’s head whipped around. He thought he had it in the bag because no one else was applying. Now he had competition.
Nate: “So, uh, you applied too huh?”
Me: “Yeah, I figure I have a good of a shot as anyone else.”
He mumbled something and walked off, the wind taken out of his sails.
That was all I was after, but it got so much better.
Apparently, I took up free real estate in his head because whenever he was on shift and I wasn’t, he’d talk trash about me endlessly to whoever would listen. And for hours on end.
Miranda told me about it and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Miranda: “What’s so funny?”
Me: “I didn’t even apply for the position.”
Miranda: “…Why did you say you did?”
Me: “Because he kept acting like he had the job and I wanted to mess with him.”
Miranda didn’t like Nate at all, so she thought it was funny and agreed with me that he wasn’t going to get the job.
Well, she couldn’t keep it a secret and let him know I lied after he ranted about me “not being good enough for the job” and how I “wasn’t a hard enough worker” for two solid hours.
The man had been angry at me for a solid week, thinking I was his competition for a manager position that paid two dollars more for a ton more work.
And as we predicted, he wasn’t promoted. They promoted someone from another station and moved him to our store.
The man was dejected and moped around the store for weeks.
The cherry on top? Not too long after that announcement, I got hired to work a job in my field of study. I announced that to everyone at the store — Nate included — how my college degree was finally going to pay off and I’d be leaving the store in two weeks.
The man was a jerk who thought he deserved so much more in life than working an awful job at a gas station, so to see someone half his age actually succeeding in life crushed him. He would constantly make jokes about how “when it doesn’t work out, you’re welcome to come back.” I laughed and told him I’m sure he’d be happy to see me.
I have no idea what happened to Nate, but five years later, I’m working a job I love in my field of study and making more money.”
17. Steal My Schoolwork? Oh, It's On
They got petty revenge in more ways than one.
“I went to the same college for grad and undergrad English degrees. As a grad student, I rented a room from a fellow student who owned a house. When you’re a grad student at this college, you are required to submit writing samples to be approved for your classes. Not to brag, but I’m a good writer, and I was going for a Master’s in Creative Writing (poetry).
As my 2nd grad semester was getting ready to start, one of my other roommates (not the landlord) was upset because the landlord was refusing to acknowledge she paid 1st and last when she moved in. So, fellow roommate decided to search the landlord’s bedroom.
All of a sudden, fellow roommate says, “Why does she have papers with your name all over them?” I said, “Well, I signed a lease and everything.”
Then, my fellow roommate showed me the papers.
They were the essays I’d written in elementary, junior high, high school, and undergrad college. Our landlord was failing Business Admin when I moved in and decided she would just skate her way to an English degree on my juvenile and collegiate essays.
To say I was angry is to say the sun rises in the east. If she submitted one of my papers to a professor for a grade, and I then submitted that same paper for acceptance to enter a class, I was going to be in deep trouble.
I decided on multi-layer revenge.
(I may have had a drink or three before some of the layers.) I cut all the buttons off anything she owned that buttoned. I dropped her from all of her courses and signed her up for things like advanced calculus, French Lit taught in French and advanced creative writing. I canceled all of her cable subscriptions and hid her bridesmaid dress for an upcoming wedding. (It was in her garage and in the plastic protective wrapper.
She found it immediately.)
I also had to report her to the Dean of the English dept. That wasn’t really part of my revenge. It was because I needed to be on record stating someone stole my work.
I moved out of her house…taking the papers she had stolen from me and hidden in her closet. Two weeks later, and she’s knocking on my apartment door. She wasn’t asking about her dropped classes or the missing buttons (which were all in her underwear drawer).
Instead, she’s crying about how the English Dean told her she couldn’t sign up for any English classes unless she provided a writing sample that she wrote in person.
One of the best moments in my life was when I said, “How weird they won’t let you submit my work from the 9th grade. Welp gotta go to work. See you later!” The real irony is that I sold papers. They weren’t my regurgitated work, though. I would write a brand spanking new paper for the topic needed. I charged $50 and guaranteed a B or better.”
16. Think You're Entitled To Cut In Line? I'll Steal The Candy You Were Going To Buy
“It was lunchtime and I was purchasing a sandwich and drink from a local supermarket.
While I was waiting in line, this woman, we’ll call her LB, was shrieking down her phone. She’s visibly making everyone angry in the general vicinity with her swearing and general attitude.
As it was coming up to my turn to check out, she’s decided she’s fed up with waiting and puts her big bag of M&M’s in front of my lunch on the conveyor and said, ‘I need to go first.’
Without so much as a moment to think and without making eye contact, I pick them up and move them behind my items, saying nothing.
RED ALERT: DIVERT ALL POWER TO DRIVE!
LB: ‘What the heck are you doing?’
Me: ‘I was here first; wait your turn.’
LB: ‘Forget you! I am on my lunch break and I have a very important job, blah blah blah.’ (I can’t remember the whole rant.)
Me: ‘It’s lunchtime; everyone is on lunch.
You have to wait.’
LB: ‘Forget you! I asked nicely!’
At this point, LB threw her M&M’s in front of my lunch still ranting and it was my turn to check out, enter awesome check-out girl. (Who we’ll call ‘ACG’.)
So after seeing the bag of M&M’s land on the conveyor, I decided I would accept LB’s gracious offering and buy the M&M’s for myself, leaving her M&M-less.
Of course, the battle was not yet over, more screaming was coming my way.
LB: ‘What are you doing? Those are mine!’
Me: ‘Nope, I’m paying for them now.
If you want M&M’s, you’ll have to go get some and wait in line.’
LB: ‘You’re a thief! You stole my M&M’s!’
Me: ‘No, I just bought the M&M’s you rudely threw onto my pile of stuff.’
LB: ‘I’m not getting any more. Give me my M&M’s back. You’re a thief!’
ACG: ‘Ma’am, I suggest you go and get a new pack and wait in line. There are people waiting. The gentleman has not stolen anything; he paid money for the M&M’s.’
LB: ‘Call the freaking manager.
Get this piece of trash kicked out for stealing.’
Me: ‘Mind if I step out anyway? I have a very important job and I’m on lunch?’
LB: ‘Where are you goi-‘
ACG: ‘Sure, here’s your receipt.’
Me: ‘Thanks.’
To wrap up, the M&M’s were delicious. I shared them with my co-workers. I don’t know if LB went back to get some, but I highly recommend them.”
Another User Comments:
“I was at a gas station once, and when it was my turn to check out, I went to step up to the counter and this punk kid came up and literally stepped in front of me, so my nose was almost touching the back of his head.
I took a step back and said, “Hey man, there’s a line.” He turned around and said, “Yeah, and now I’m in front of you in it, and you ain’t gonna do anything about it.”
I started calling this dude every name in the book but avoided physical contact because I know that’s what he was waiting for and I just let it pass because I could tell this kid wanted a fight. Mind you, he was like 6’2″, 160 lbs, soaking wet, and I was at the time 6’0″, 225.
I was also a D2 college wrestler and was doing some amateur MMA fighting at the time, plus I was with my little brother who is bigger than me, tougher than me, and has a shorter temper than me (but he couldn’t kick my butt due to big brother strength), so it would have been a very, very bad day in this kid’s autobiography if he tried anything. I just didn’t want to get in a fight at a gas station over someone cutting a checkout line.
Long story short, I just let the dude go first while I cussed him out and he threatened to beat my butt.
When I came out of the gas station, he and his two other boys were standing between me and my car and jumping around and stuff. One little dude and one big fat jerk. Me and my brother high-tailed it out of there while they called us weak, ran several blocks away. Dudes ended up getting arrested in the parking lot as they waited for us to come back to the car. Apparently, the cashier hit the silent alarm when the dude was flipping out in the gas station.” Diiiiirty
15. Take My $50? I'll Lock All Your Computers
“I was selling random stuff from the night markets on eBay from a country in Asia. I kept my product and packaging materials at the cafe itself, along with shipping boxes, and paid the cafe for the service.
I went to the counter to make a payment. Think $25 out of a $50 dollar bill. Well, they must have been strapped for cash that day because they kept the whole $50 and would not give me the $25 back, saying I owed that amount, and more, which I did, but I was making payments when stuff sold.
We had this agreement; they altered it.
I was angry, but not much I could do, or was there? I went back to the computer I was working on, restarted it, hit the “DEL” key which got me into the BIOS where I set up a system password. (This makes the computer ask for a password before it loads anything. There is only one workaround.)
I then moved to another computer, and another throughout the day, even leaving and coming back later to do it to more computers.
When I was done, I grabbed all my stock and my boxes and left knowing I would have to wait until morning to see my efforts pay off.
That morning when they started their computers, 11 of them required passwords to continue. By the time I showed up, all innocent looking, they had a tech they had to call in doing the workaround.
(Basically, you just have to take the battery out of the motherboard and wait 30 minutes to an hour for the BIOS chip to wipe itself clean. In many cases, it also wipes the drivers; it can be a real pain.)
So 11 computers were out of commission for most of the day. They also had to pay the tech. They suspected and accused me right away. I shrugged it off like I didn’t understand what they were saying and eventually stopped going to that particular cafe.
I did feel a little bad about it, but I give myself points for creativity.”
14. Make Fun Of My Political Beliefs? You Won't Like What I Give You As A Gift
“This started on Thanksgiving this year.
I am from Scotland and have been living in the US since Christmas day 2013.
In 2011, I met my wife when I was working in London. She is from Houston, Texas, and was sent over to work for the London office of our company. We got married in 2012, and due to the company we work for closing down, we moved back over to Austin, Texas where she was living for 20 years before London.
With her being from Texas, you can imagine that some of her family is extremely conservative, which I frankly don’t care if they are or not.
However, doesn’t matter if you are a conservative, liberal, socialist, etc.; if you are mean, then you suck.
We were sitting in the living room watching TV after an amazing Thanksgiving dinner. Someone mentioned the whole new open carry law starting this new year in Texas. Being from Scotland where weapons are not around, they asked me, ‘What do you think of that law? Being from a place with no weapons.’
‘It’s kinda foreign to me. Not sure how I would react seeing a holstered weapon in plain view.
Honestly, think I would feel uncomfortable and unsafe, but that is just my upbringing,’ which I thought was fair enough to say.
My wife’s aunt turns to me and comes out with, ‘Well, that’s because you are from a socialist country. You also have a queen that rules your people. You are not citizens. You are a subject. If you were allowed weapons, you would be a citizen.’ She then proceeded to tell me that the Syrian refugees were coming over and it was bad and she needed to protect herself from them.
Fast forward an hour and she was pretty hammered.
We were about to head back home. I thanked everyone for the great meal and she turned and said, ‘Too bad you are not going back to your own country.’ I didn’t say anything at all. I did not want to stoop to that level…yet.
Since then she had apologized. Via text. I replied saying, ‘No problem. Don’t worry about it.’
We went to Houston for Christmas. She was there. We exchanged gifts. I handed her an envelope.
She opened it and as I expected, she lost her freaking mind. She threw the piece of paper on the ground and stormed out.
My mother-in-law picked up the paper and read, ‘A donation of $250 had been made to Unicef USA for the Syrian Child Refugees by (my name) on behalf of (aunt’s name).’
I just said, ‘I thought, judging by the pro-life sticker on her car, she would appreciate that…my bad.’
I sat down and took a swig of my drink. The rest of the evening was awkward.”
13. Steal From My Lunch? Drink My Urine
“This was about 20 years ago while I was in high school. Through about six weeks of swimming class during the Physical Education year, I noticed that after I’d had a shower after swimming practice, my small, sealed plastic bottle of ‘Ginger’ as we call it here would have been removed from my bag, half swilled and put back in my lunchbox.
This was no regular beverage – this was my 250ml bottle of Irn Bru – known as the nation of Scotland’s finest beverage.
Even today, decades on – you are not supposed to mess with someone’s Irn Bru.
Irn Bru is the most important invention in Scottish history.
Those Irn Bru’s, a beverage that my dear mother would purchase and place in my lunchbox each day, were being messed with. Consumed by some little snot rag. Half was stolen and replaced as a taunt. This could not be allowed to stand.
My school was rough as can be and I was not a tough kid.
Standing up for myself directly/physically was not something I felt capable of back then. So I made a simple plan.
Without a word said to my friends, I treated myself to a good half bottle of my Irn Bru before I went to bed late one Sunday night, and just before I went to bed, I nipped to the bathroom, and filled the remainder of the bottle with my teenage pee.
Surely enough, after swimming practice that Monday afternoon, I opened my lunchbox to find a half-swilled bottle of Irn Bru.
I stood up in the changing room, on a bench, held the bottle aloft, and exclaimed, ‘Whoever’s been drinking my Irn Bru for six weeks, you just drank my pee.’
The locker room looked on in confused silence.
Even my best friends had no idea what the heck was going on…
But I spotted one face. One face that stood out among all the other bewildered 14-year-old faces.
It was you, Colin O’Neill.
Colin freaking O’Neill. To this day, I’d put my life on it – It was you the whole time.
You had terrible hair and were a nasty, little bullying guy. But on that day, you drank a good 120 milliliters of my nasty, teenaged pee.
You suck Colin O’Neill, you pee-drinking little jerk. I hope your next poop is a hedgehog.
No one ever stole my Irn Bru again.”
12. Take My Laundry Out While It's Drying? I'll Put Yours Back In The Washer
“I used to be kind of an idiot. I’ve really mellowed out since. But sometime around 2001-2002, I had an incident in my university dorm laundry room.
Anyway, I’m a freshman living in the dorms, it’s the weekend, and I’m doing laundry. We had an unwritten rule in the dorm laundry room: if you don’t attend to your laundry, it’s totally cool for someone to pull it out and throw it on the table (wet or dry).
If you don’t like it, just promptly attend to your laundry when the washer or dryer turns off.
I don’t like people touching my laundry, so I always set an alarm to be there when it’s done (on my digital watch, not my phone!). I wash my clothes, throw them in the dryer, and set my timer. Soon after, my watch goes off and I walk back to the laundry room only to find my dryer load completely wet and on the table.
Oh heck no! Someone pulled my stuff from the dryer, only to dump it out and dry their stuff for free.
Well, good news: I had more quarters, so I could dry my stuff just fine. Actually, I had enough quarters for my anonymous friend too — why didn’t they just ask? So I grab their clothes and throw them in an open washing machine with six of my spare quarters. Actually, wait — I can drop another quarter in for a heavy cycle, which entitles you to an additional rinse and spin! I happen to have another quarter, so I do.
The heavy cycle takes over an hour and a half to complete.
Now’s a good time to mention a nice feature the washing machines had that the dryers didn’t: they locked while in operation. The homie would have been stuck for about 100 minutes waiting for another chance to dry their clothes. I hope they made better choices the second time.
I was kind of a petty jerk as a baseline, and I look back with a bit of a shock that I didn’t dump in some bleach or turn the water hot. I’m glad I’ve outgrown that kind of thing, but I look back with some pleasure at that little guy standing up to some random inconsiderate person.”
11. Keep Nudging Past Me? Good Luck Finding Your Wallet
Who’s late now, sucker?
“I was at a subway station a couple of days ago getting back from Uni.
As I got off the subway to line up and go up the escalators, this middle-aged lady nudged me out of the way just as I got onto the steps, and made me trip over and fumble my bag. She stared at me and went on her way. I was right behind her going up, and she probably saved like 0.01 seconds getting on the escalator before me.
As we made our way to the exit and I got up to the door frame, she went out of her way to nudge past me again. She gave me another stare as she went through the exit and stood there looking at me like she couldn’t believe I tried to go first or something.
There’s a bus terminal that connects to the subway on the street level, and we ended up waiting at the same stop.
She was the first in line, and I was right behind her.
When the bus finally arrived, she really took her time fumbling through her purse, talking on her phone, and looking for her bus card. As she was searching for her card, she ended up dropping it right at the tip of my boot. She was still busy talking on the phone while searching through her wallet.
I thought about it for a second and decided to lightly slide her card underneath the bus with my foot.
Eventually, she realized that she might have dropped her card, so she packed her wallet back in her purse, hung up the phone, and looked around for her card. As she looked, she began getting increasingly worried, scanning everywhere for where she could have dropped it.
I nudged her out of the way, gave her a stare, and made my way onto the bus.
I sat happily on one of the seats. I saw her flustered and panicked, as the next bus was coming in half an hour. The bus started to depart, and I opened the window and told her with glee, “Maybe you should check under the bus!”
I watched her for as long as I could until she was out of sight, and enjoyed the rest of my commute home.”
10. Hog A Whole Bus Seat To Yourself? I'll Shove Squeeze By To Sit Next To You
“So I’m on the way home from the shops and I decide to take the bus. Really, it’s only about three stops away and I should probably walk, but it’s the middle of Australian summer, I’m wearing flip flops, my bags are heavy and, most significantly, I’m lazy.
So I jump on the bus home and it’s pretty full. No problem — as I said, only going three stops, not far, more than happy to stand. I’m shuffling through the aisle past other standing people though when suddenly, about halfway down, I see it.
A middle-aged woman hogging a whole seat to herself.
Now I catch public transport every day and let me tell ya, if you take up a whole two-person seat by yourself when other folks are standing, mate, that’s 5 years prison in my book. Not only is this woman not sharing the seat, but she’s also moved herself to the aisle side so as to discourage anyone else from sitting down.
Not on my watch.
Now previously I had been perfectly content to stand, but that’s all over now.
I walk on over to this woman, look her straight in the eyes, and with my nicest young man voice, broad smile and most unwavering gaze ask if I can please sit there. She glares daggers at me but relents — but not by shuffling over though. Instead, she stands in place with a huff and turns her shoulder a few centimeters to the right to indicate that, yeah, there’s a seat, but if I want it, I can squeeze past.
I am not in the least bit dissuaded. Happily, I squeeze past the standing woman, and gosh, well I sure am a big clumsy boy carrying some bulky shopping aren’t I, and there is just not a lot of room between these seats. It takes me a few seconds to shuffle my lumbering butt all the way in, by which time the lady’s taken a few whacks of the old green bag and my grocery-laden backpack, not to mention been stumbled over once or twice by my big ol’ un-coordinated feet (it’s so hard, walking in flip flops).
I sit down in contented silence, she lowers her huffing self down next to me, I spread out and brush up a little with my hairy legs, and she fixes me with a glare. We sit in silence for two minutes. And then, wouldn’t you know it, my stop arrives and this woman is forced to get to her feet once more so we can do the whole dance again on the way out. Slap, go the grocery bags. Slap, slap, slap.
I hope you enjoyed your personal space, witch. Next time just shove over.”
9. Kick Me For Being Too Slow? Get Trench Foot
“When I was in boot camp, the drill instructors would make us chug a full canteen of water from these nasty canteens to force us to hydrate. I was the last one to finish drinking mine and so one of the squad leaders (another recruit in a meaningless leadership position) came up to me and kicked me in the shin for being so slow.
So a couple of days after he did that, I was on fire watch, which is basically on guard duty while everyone else is sleeping.
The next morning we had the crucible which was 3 days of field activities and ended in a 10-mile hike with full gear up a steep mountain.
That night, while he was asleep, I took my canteen and filled both of his boots up with water. He had to wear them and was practically in tears about the terrible next few days he was about to have. When we did the hike up the mountain he couldn’t finish it and had to ride in the safety vehicle in shame with one of the drill instructors.
He went to medical afterward and got dropped from the platoon and (presumably) graduated with another company. He messed up my shin but I gave him trench foot, and nobody ever found out that it was me. Screw that guy.”
8. Keep Refusing To Pick Up Your Cardboard? I'll Let You Get Reprimanded
“I work at a supermarket stocking shelves. Every Sunday, I work as the “extra set of hands” in the stock department, so I fill sale items, work leftover/old stock, empty the baler when necessary, so basically, I have no set assignment on Sundays.
The market I work for had recently hired a new guy in the meat department, and for about four weeks, before he would leave for the night, he would leave his disgusting, raw-meat-covered empty cardboard in the stockroom for my department to crush for him.
Usually, someone else in the department would take care of it but one week, but because I was the only person who was over the age of 18 in my department that day, I had to deal with it.
A little note about me, due to a type of anxiety I have, touching raw meat sends me into an almost full-blown panic attack (I use food-grade disposable gloves when I cook meat at home). So needless to say, I was less than thrilled about having to touch the damp, raw-meat covered boxes especially when I couldn’t find a pair of disposable gloves that fit me (being a woman, I have pretty small hands, and the only gloves I could find were akin to putting sandwich bags on your hands and were one-size-fits Hulk so basically ineffectively large).
Fast forward to the following week, and well, once again the guy in the meat department left his raw-meat covered empty boxes in the stockroom while I was emptying the baler. When I was done I reminded him to take care of his cardboard before he left and he assured me, he would. And, well, he didn’t. Now I’m just going to say, normally, I don’t mind crushing cardboard for my coworkers and other departments if I’ve just emptied the baler or if the coworker is under the age of 18 (where I work, you’re not allowed to touch the cardboard baler if you’re under the age of 18) or if they ask nicely.
But I’m petty and draw the line after getting covered in raw bits of ground beef and juice from raw chicken and turkey while crushing cardboard and almost having a panic attack because of it (I have health/illness-related anxiety).
So that week, I left the cardboard alone, told the other four guys in my department not to touch it, because honestly, enough is enough, and at the end of my shift, I rolled the truck of cardboard back into the meat room and left a note on it saying it had been dumped in the stockroom and how it wasn’t the first time it had happened.
I heard from one of the other meat guys I’m on good terms with that following day the guy got a stern talking to about thoroughly cleaning up the meat room before leaving, which included crushing his cardboard at the end of the night.
He tried to claim that the baler was full (which was total bull since I had emptied the baler two hours before he left and even reminded him to take care of his cardboard), and one of the managers called him out on it (unbeknownst to the meat guy, that manager had been in the stock room when I emptied the baler). He didn’t get in trouble, but he was told that if it happens again, he’ll get written up for it, and my department was told not to crush cardboard for him anymore.”
7. Can't Bother To Go To The Barber? I'll Cut Your Hair No Problem
You asked for it.
“My ex-husband was extremely verbally abusive.
Even though he made an exceptional income, and even though he was halfway to bald, he insisted that I cut his hair because the professionals don’t do it right. Well, I am a gym teacher, so I don’t know what qualified me to cut his hair, but he got mad if I didn’t.
Every month, it was the same stupid thing. He’d get the Wahl clippers out, put on a #3, and dictate the same instructions with an iron fist.
Then, he’d get a ruler out to make sure the sides (the only part with hair) were even. Well, we used a clipper guard, so how could it not be even? Every time, like a broken record, he’d complain and I’d have to do it again. If I dare say a word of how ridiculous this was, I’d get a verbal lashing for hours. I’m not exaggerating.
So one time, he was being particularly vile all day, he told me to cut his hair.
I said, ‘You know this never goes well. I don’t want to fight. Just pay the barber the $17 and get it professionally cut. I mean, you made $25,000 this week. It’s not like you can’t afford it.’ He refused. So I took a big deep breath and started to cut his hair as carefully and accurately as I possibly could.
Nope. Wrong. According to him I totally messed up his hair and he was berating me to no end.
I was fighting back tears, trying to be strong. He told me to cut it again. I thought to myself, ‘Well, I’ve got a choice. Continue this stupid recurring nightmare or DO something about it.’
I took the guard off the clipper and I zipped a line straight up the back of his head so he looked like a skunk. I slammed the clippers down and said, ‘I told you to go to a barber!’ and I left the house hearing him scream in horror.
He never told me to cut his hair again.”
6. Keep Flirting With Girls In The Office? Time To Put Photoshop To Work
“At one point, I had to train a new hire who was a pretty attractive woman. That meant that we shared an office for a month or so. I had another coworker who was the slightest bit skeezy, but not in a particularly threatening way. He liked to flirt with girls in the office, but not really overtly. It was a weird beta thing. He was happily married, generally likable, and I think he mostly wanted the affirmation of talking to pretty women.
Anyway, not having a lot of excuses to come to our office, he decided that we were a bit closer than we really were. I liked him, but he decided that we were the kind of friends who pranked each other. That gave him reasons to come to our office when I wasn’t around. He’d get to chat with my office mate and my mouse wouldn’t work when I got back because he put a post-it note under it.
I don’t really like things like that.
I don’t have that relationship with any of my friends mostly because I don’t like it, but also because when I am presented with it, I don’t respond with a great sense of proportion.
I decided to stay late that night to retaliate.
He had a digital picture frame in his office that cycled through pictures of his family.
There was a picture of his eldest daughter, who was maybe 5, that I photoshopped in a lazy eye.
There was a picture of his younger daughter, who was maybe 2 or 3 at the time, after very messily eating a piece of chocolate.
This one is a little hard to describe. She was looking up to the left, and there happened to be a big, pink out-of-focus flower in the background of the direction she was looking, with an almost Jack Nicholson-like smile. I decided that the best thing for that was to Photoshop a devil into the flower so it looked like he was talking to her and she was joyously listening.
Then in the last one, a profile picture of his wife, I dialed down the opacity of a poop-eating-grin picture of myself and put my face in her cheek.
Everyone on my team knew what I was doing and called in a bunch of people on his team and we all had a good laugh. Then I put the pictures on his frame and waited. We all waited. It took three weeks for him to notice.
He sent company-wide props to ‘whoever did this,’ and HR made a half-hearted inquiry.
I thought it was pretty cool that he didn’t rat me out.”
5. Get Mad At Him For Asking How You're Doing? Someone Else Will Answer Instead
“I work at Trader Joe’s. This one lady came through my line one day. I say hi, she mutters a hello. ‘How are you doing today?’
‘Good.’
‘Any plans for the weekend?’
‘Why are you asking? You don’t even care. This is absurd. Every time I come into this store, YOU GUYS ALWAYS ASK HOW I AM. YOU DON’T CARE. YOU’RE JUST DOING IT BECAUSE YOUR MANAGERS TELL YOU TO!’
At this point, I’m like, awww no. This lady is insane.
I look across my register to one of my managers, who’s facing me. I kind of eye him a ‘dude, help me out’ kind of look. He shrugs, smiles, and goes back to helping his customer.
At this point, I’m dumbfounded by this woman who is still chewing me out. I look around, at other customers, who are wide-eyed and can’t believe this lady is for real. I’m halfway smiling/laughing because I can’t believe this person is so offended that I was making conversation with her.
I snap back into it after a few seconds, to hear her close with, ‘blah blah blah, you guys are so fake.’ I tell her ‘okay,’ look down, and continue scanning/bagging her stuff.
No apology, because I wasn’t sorry. Super awkward silence for a good 10 seconds. Then I hear a customer in the line behind her say, ‘Well I’m having a great day, Evan! Thanks for asking,’ and gives me a big smile. The lady next to her then said, ‘Me too! Thanks for being so nice here.’
The woman’s face at this point was PRICELESS. You could tell she wanted to burst with the rage of one thousand suns, but nay, she held it in.
She was absolutely livid that other strangers were ganging up on her. I finish bagging her stuff, push her cart to her, and ignore her.
She then goes to the pit (for those of that shop TJ’s, it’s that boxed-off area where the managers sit around and drink Starbucks) and she makes a complaint about me and the store in general. I talk to the assistant manager (who she talked to) afterward, he can hardly believe that just happened, gave me a high five, and told me to pray for her.
To this day, she comes in every Saturday. IF YOU HATE THE STORE SO MUCH, WHY DO YOU COME EVERY SINGLE WEEK?
That day I learned there are some really awful people in this world – very sad individuals. I also learned that, although not common, there are some totally amazing strangers to be found. Thank you ladies who stuck up for me!”
4. Act Foolish Because The Store Won't Accept Your Return? I'll Confront You
“I was at Fry’s Electronics in the return line because of some bad RAM (never buy RAM from fry’s), and the lady in 2 positions in front of me got called up next.
She seemed normal at first; she was trying to return this vacuum cleaner because it wasn’t sucking anymore… the thing looked like it had been used outside to clean a construction site. There was caked on white patches of dirt all over it, the cord had several knots in it, and the clear container for dust was packed full, with no room for shaking at all.
The person told her the problem looked to be that she just needed to empty it and it would work fine, and also mentioned that they could not make a return on it because the purchase was 7 months earlier.
She wasn’t having this. She took an exaggerated deep breath and started yelling obscenities and curses. Everyone in the line and working the section as well as a few people walking into the store froze and stared at the spectacle.
This was no small woman either, this woman was about 5’6″-5’7″ and looked like a rather large globe of cellulite.
I’m guessing 400-500lbs. Her voice had gone from sweet to rabid shrieking harpy instantaneously, no building no rising in volume, just straight screeching noise. It’s like someone threw a mic in front of its own speaker with the volume on 11.
Her face made a similar transformation from white to red. The poor little girl who was tending to her literally took a step back in recoil and fell into the chair behind her. Then started looking side to side for further routes of escape.
The manager came sprinting out of the office hands in front of him pumping palm open towards her asking her to settle down.
This did not work, it made Butterball the orca angrier and she started hitting the counter with one of the vacuum cleaner’s brush attachments. She was calling the girl a ‘useless idiot,’ the manager a ‘dang toad’ and kept threatening to sue them. This went on for about 2 minutes with nothing managing to calm her down.
There was a large crowd gathering now.
She proclaimed, ‘FINE! IF YOU DON’T WANNA GIVE ME MY GOD DANG MONEY…’ raised the long brush attachment up as if she were gonna strike the girl ‘I’M GONNA..’
I’d had it; I wasn’t about to watch this woman get violent.
I yelled, ‘HEY!’
She stopped mid-sentence jerked her head at me and shot eye daggers in my face. All I could do was stare at the gobbler on her chin follow her jerky head movement and keep swinging around as if it were jello.
The words that came out were not the ones I’d intended: ‘PUT THE FORK DOWN!’ Her eyes went wider than they already were, eyes bulged, which seemed an odd reaction to what I thought I’d said in my mind.
The whole area burst into laughter, then I realized what I’d said.
I was about to correct myself, but she started stomping towards me vacuum rod attachment high overhead. So I decided to roll with it. I happened to be wearing a red jacket, so I dropped my bag, swung it off, and started acting like a bull-fighting matador. The woman saw me mocking her and just shrieked… she started literally galloping at me swinging the thing in circles above her head.
She never even made it close; I was running like crazy. I got about 20 feet away when security confronted her with tasers drawn.
They didn’t tase her, but the sound of one calling the cops on her calmed her down instantly. She immediately went into defensive mode. She ended up getting arrested and I had my hand shook by 4 or 5 people including the manager. I even got a girl’s number out of the ordeal. The cow stepped on my RAM and crushed it, though, but the manager understood and took the return anyway.”
3. Pick On Someone With A Visual Impairment? I'll Feed You Dog Food
“I live in a flat with four other people: James, Alex, Bradley, and John. We are all in our early 20s. We have been good friends since we were in school, so it just seemed kind of natural that we’d move in with each other for uni. Plus we’re kind of broke, and splitting bills is a lot easier on all of us.
John is a bit of a jerk when he wants to be. He thinks he’s the pinnacle of comedy when in actuality he just irritates everyone with his “pranks” which often revolve around spilling stuff on our good clothes and effectively ruining some of them, switching food around, hiding our things, etc.
He’s always liked pranks, but they got unbearable once we moved into our flat together. Before, he could be kind of funny as he only did innocent pranks every now and then, but not they are affecting everyone negatively, but to be quite honest, they’re so annoying.
He is very cruel towards Bradley in particular which has almost led to some physical fights between us on some occasions. Bradley is visually impaired, to the point where he has a guide dog to help him get around.
Her name is Trixie and she’s an adorable golden retriever. Not important, but she deserves recognition. John will often “prank” Bradley. He’ll jump out at him to scare him, hide Bradley’s things, move furniture to mess with him, and even went as far as hiding Trixie’s leash, which made Bradley miss an important lecture at uni. Before you guys say it, we are stuck with John until our lease is up, then we are moving to a smaller flat just myself, Bradley, and James as Alex is planning to move in with his partner.
We would not still be living with him now if we had a choice.
We think that he’s like this with Bradley because 1) he can’t see very well which makes him an “easy target,” and 2) Bradley has his own bedroom and doesn’t have to share with anyone. Our flat has three bedrooms. I share a room with James, and Alex shares with John. Bradley has the smallest bedroom in the flat, as he prefers smaller rooms.
He also checked with us to see if this was okay as he didn’t want us tripping over Trixie or having dog hair all over our stuff. We all agreed that this was fine, but John has always been a bit bitter about it.
The bullying had calmed down since lockdown as we were always there to keep an eye on things, but some of us are back at work now, so there are times where John is alone with Bradley.
On one of these occasions, John decided to switch our tomato soup with chicken soup. Bradley always has soup when he gets up, but chicken soup makes him physically ill. He’s not allergic to anything in it, but he doesn’t react well to it. As a result, there is a part of the cupboard in the kitchen that is reserved for Bradley’s stuff, so there’s no mix-up and he knows where his food is. As you can imagine, Bradley couldn’t see the label and ate the soup, making him throw up.
It doesn’t help that Bradley gets very panicked when he’s sick. Again, John knew this.
I got back from class and found Bradley on the bathroom floor shaking and crying. I stayed with him till he felt better then helped him get into bed. He told me that he must’ve mixed up the tins. I thought it was weird; we don’t even buy chicken soup, mostly because none of us eat a lot of soup. I questioned John about it and he admitted it, pretty smugly.
He even made a joke that he should’ve switched it with Trixie’s food instead. He was not sorry, though, he did reluctantly apologize to Bradley.
The other night, I decided to make bolognese pasta for dinner (one of the very few things I know how to cook). I was waiting for the pasta to boil, just looking around the kitchen when I spotted it. Trixie’s food bowl. Well, John pulls pranks all the time, I’m pretty sure he could cope with a little bit of petty revenge.
I grabbed a tin of dog food and decided to make John his own special bowl of pasta.
I drained out most of the gravy from the dog meat and covered it in sauce, just to hide the color (nothing can disguise the taste of dog food, trust me). This is genuinely one of my proudest moments (sad, I know), and I was genuinely tempted to do an evil villain laugh as I plated up everyone’s food and informed the rest of my flatmates that no one was to eat from John’s bowl. Needless to say, dinner was a lot more entertaining that night.
John rushed to the bathroom, claiming that I had “poisoned” him. He wasn’t sick, but the thought of what he had just eaten made him feel rather queasy.
He actually called his mommy to yell at me. She claimed that we were “bullying” her son. Though she was not too keen to hear about how he’d been treating Bradley. It’s been kind of awkward in our flat for the past few days, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Bradley gave me a hug the other night and said that he appreciated my little petty revenge in his honor. That’s all I need to know that I will never regret this.”
2. Flip Out That We're Not Finished Yet? He'll Put You In Your Place
“Woman came into my store and asked if her computer had finished being worked on. We’d barely had the computer for 24 hours and told her it was still being worked on. She immediately flipped out that we told her it would be done that day. Looking at her work order, it said that we would call the next day once the computer had been diagnosed. We were on track to have the computer fixed by the next morning, but she demanded we give her the computer back and refund her for the repair.
I oblige and ask if she has her receipt. She gives me a stern, ‘No.’ So I ask if she has her claim check. To which I get another stern ‘No!’ So I ask if she has a driver’s license. She replies, ‘I don’t drive!’
At the end of my rope, I say, ‘Do you have any form of identification on you?’
Her reply, ‘Why are you making this so difficult?’
Knowing all heck is about to break loose I as calmly as possible state, ‘I can’t give you a computer without some kind of ID.’ She totally flies off the handle and starts screaming for a manager and tells me to go away.
I get our manager and an employee who was working at her time of check-in. He vouches for her, so my manager starts the refund process. Of course, she wrote a check for $250, way over the $150 cash return limit. The manager explains that we have to mail her a check. Now the woman is threatening to call the police saying that we’re trying to steal from her.
As a total exception, the General Manager comes out and breaks the sale into 3 returns that can each be returned as cash.
Obviously, this takes a little while to break apart the transactions and get enough cash into the register. So of course she starts yelling at the GM for taking his ‘sweet time.’ And it gets better. We had several visiting GMs walking through at the time. She grabs another GM from a different store and starts screaming at him. He’s a total deer in headlights and has no idea what’s going on. Finally my GM snaps and in a half-yelling voice tells her to get out of the store. Obviously, she’s gravely offended by this, scoffs at my GM, and walks out after silently collecting her computer and cash. Totally unnecessary! The customer is not always right! People need to be reasonable in all aspects of life.”
1. He Does Low Effort Work? He'll Show You Low Effort
“I got reviewed at work by a manager I had never met before. I had done everything I was always told to do, and more, but he still marked me low. I know it’s because they wanted to avoid giving me a raise, but at least say you don’t want to/can’t afford to. I’ll at least respect your honesty. Anything else, and you can go screw yourself.
Anyway, he told me I didn’t go the extra mile.
I pointed out that I always do. His response? ‘Well, I never see you do it.’
I said ‘Well, maybe if management didn’t always hang out at guest services and went around to the other floors, where I am doing my job, you’d have seen me.’ That got him to yell at me and mark me poorly for attitude but I didn’t care at that point.
Later on, he came up to me and asked me if I could stay late.
Given that I’d previously told him I didn’t have anything else to do the next day, he probably thought I’d say yes.
I looked him in the eyes and said: ‘Sorry, but I don’t see that you guys need my help.’
After that review, I only put in effort when in direct view of the managers. If one of them approached me about it, I pointed out that they’d said during my review I never did anything anyway, so what’s the difference between now and before?
That usually shut them up.”
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