People Tell Their Yummiest Revenge Stories

So what does yummy revenge mean? It's when someone gets back at their perpetrator in the sweetest, most deliciously delectable way. So pull up a chair, sit down and get ready to get served a yummy treat!

19. Boss Wanted To Change My Contract But The Project Manager Saved Me


“I work as a contract technical writer. For those who don’t know what that means, I get hired usually for a specific project and when the project ends, so does my employment. Only, sometimes my employment can end very suddenly, like if funding for the project suddenly dries up.

I’ve been on a job that was supposed to last 6 months and after 2 months, someone walked through the office and told us to leave. The job was over.

Well, it just so happens that at that particular job, on the same day that we were let go, the agency that I was working through (they generate your paycheck and take your tax deductions and take a bit off of what they charge the employer for your services) called me and had another job lined up several states away and I needed to be there tomorrow.

Tickets were at the airport in my name.

Turned out to be one of the most challenging jobs I ever worked on. It was supposed to be a 6-month gig and turned into 2 and half years. The pay was great, but the location really sucked.

It was in the middle of nowhere, USA. After a few months, it became apparent that it would be a long haul and I was able to send for my family.

Everything was great. I had a ‘boss’ from the agency who flew in once a week to attend the project meeting.

This guy didn’t have a clue what was going on. He’d visit me and I’d give him a brief on where we were and he’d go to the meeting with all the big wigs (big gov’t project, lots of ‘stakeholders’). After a few weeks, things became too complicated for a simple brief, so he started taking me to the meetings.

Questions would come his way and it was obvious that I was the one answering all the questions. A few more weeks and the questions would be posed directly to me.

Now, this ‘boss’ had a sweet deal. He lived on the other side of the country and he flew in WEEKLY for these meetings.

Usually, he’d arrive on a Tuesday, the meeting was on Wednesday, and he’d fly out on Thursday. The gov’t contract paid for all these trips and he racked up miles and miles of points. He had NO clue about the technical details that I dealt with, but he was there to take the credit.

I really didn’t care because I was making good money and doing something I liked. However, I did miss home and really wanted to get back there.

I’ll mention that this was in the early 90s. The internet was in its infancy and most people had not yet heard of it at all.

I used it in my job to communicate with the stakeholders who were all over the country. I was using gopher and FTP and logging into servers all over to drop files and pick up files. It occurred to me that HEY, I can do this job from home and maybe just come to the site once a month or so.

I brought it up to my boss and he seemed really into it. He said he’d work on it. I kept asking about it on his visits and he just kept telling me that he was still ‘working on it.’

Well, not long afterward, the overall project manager came to me.

Long story short he told me that my agency was planning to change my contract terms. They wanted me to be considered ‘local’ so that they would no longer need to pay my living expenses and per diem (which amounted to a large part of my income).

They also planned to reduce my rate and stop paying time and a half for overtime (and I worked a lot of overtime). The PM said ‘we know that you’re the one with all the technical knowledge. Go find yourself another agency and we’ll hire you through them at whatever terms you think are fair.’ I mentioned the remote work option to him but he wanted me on site, and it was still too early to know if that would actually work well.

Well I went into town to a local job shop, told them the deal and they drew up the contract and I had it signed the next day. Got myself and co-workers a nice rate increase, over time, and per diem guarantees, etc, etc.

The next day I get a call from my ‘boss.’ He wanted to tell me that the contract was over and that yesterday was the last day I would get paid for. I said, ‘I know. My team has a new contract because the PM said he doesn’t need to pay you to fly out here every week for nothing.’ I could hear his jaw hit the floor.

‘BTW, I know you were planning to change my contract and screw me out of what’s owed to me.’ LOL. All I heard after that was a lot of cursing and screaming. Work really started to dry up after that. I hope he was able to pay his bills with all those air miles.

When the project ended a year later, the PM came to me again and offered me a permanent position with the title of Sr. Engineer (I wouldn’t finish my degree for another 4 years). I was flattered but eager to get back home and away from the desolate place. The best part though was not letting that jerk ‘boss’ get the best of me.”

19 points (19 votes)

18. Bought All The Cookies In The Bakery To Annoy The Demanding Customer


“There was a bakery I used to go to during college. It was owned by a very nice guy who I could geek out about video games and movies. And his baked goods were some of the best I’ve ever had.

This guy could make a 3D cake of Doctor Who’s TARDIS and it’d taste amazing.

I made it a habit to stop by before doing my shopping on Saturday. Most of the time I was the first customer of the day. I’d buy 1 or 2 (or 3 for a special occasion) sugar cookies and talk to the baker as he worked.

And these cookies were the best! Cute designs, bright colors in carefully decorated frosting, tasted like heaven.

After a couple of months, I came to the store a little later than my usual time. There was someone talking angrily to the baker; a frequent customer.

The days he came to the store were random and 2 times a week but lately he picked more Saturdays. I never saw him but I have heard of him.

This stranger was furious that I would come in before him and order the cookies first.

How dare this baker sell these cookies to me first? Stranger HAD to be the first person in the store and buy the cookies. Never mind the fact there were still tons of cookies to pick from; this guy just had to be the first customer of the day because…reasons.

The baker explained he had no control over who came into the store and what they bought. He could make a separate batch and reserve the cookies if the customer was willing to pay. Of course, this request was shot down.

The customer angrily demanded the baker make sure no one touches the sugar cookies until he got there first. When the baker asked how he’d know what day the customer would stop in, he was met with more craziness.

As the stranger stormed out, I heard him mutter he’d ‘show’ the jerk who stole ‘his’ cookies first.

Little did he know he was walking right past said person. I ordered my usual and listened to the baker air his grievances. Apparently, this customer had lots of unreasonable demands, gave the baker a hard time whenever he stopped by, judged the baker’s lifestyle (he was gay), and was known for being a jerk to everyone in the shopping district.

I was mad that this guy was mean to my friend.

A week came and passed.

I came into the bakery the next week and jokingly asked if I was the first customer of the day. Then we caught sight of him walking down the street from the window.

Before I could even think over a strategy, I asked to purchase all of the sugar cookies. Not 1, not 2, not 3 or 4. ALL. OF. THEM.

The baker asked if I could afford it and I could; I actually had some extra funds from my birthday that week.

The baker smirked and wrapped up my order, finishing just as the man entered the shop. The man glared at me, then looked at the empty cookie case. He looked shocked as he was used to getting his cookies even if he wasn’t first.

As I received my cookies, the baker explained I purchased all the cookies he had made that morning. And the shipment for dough ingredients wouldn’t arrive till that evening so there wouldn’t be cookies for another day. I started munching on a cookie as this man complained how it was ‘immoral’ to allow me to purchase several dozen cookies and leave him with nothing (despite tons of other options in the store).

The baker argued that I was a frequent customer and even if I wasn’t loyal to his shop, how could he turn down making a profit? After all, a bakery is still a business.

The stranger turned to me. I smiled gleefully and continued eating my cookie.

He looked like he wanted to yell at me but the universe shined down on me. Some police officers entered the bakery to get snacks. No way was this guy going to harass me in front of them. And they settled at a table so they weren’t leaving any time soon, unlike the stranger who had to go back to work.

The stranger grumbled some curses as he left.

I didn’t have any issues nor did I run into that guy. Actually, he didn’t even stop in on Saturday after that. Maybe he wised up and realized he’d get his wish if he visited any other day of the week.

I continued to be a loyal customer and order cookies no problem (sometimes discounted or given extras) until I graduated and moved. I still keep in touch with the baker sometimes.”

16 points (16 votes)

17. Greedy Woman Took My Dad Away From Me So I Signed Her Up For Different Coupons


“I was 14. My dad had always been a ladies’ man and had several women at a time. However, even though he was only in his mid-40s, he had had a heart attack, which had just left him disabled. As soon as he became ill, this one woman, let’s call her Geraldine, who had only gone out with him a few times, muscled in and took over.

Within a couple of months, they were engaged.

Geraldine was a very bossy woman, older than he was, and a teacher of disabled children. My dad was from a rich family, though he wasn’t rich himself. My grandparents were still alive but around 80.

They decided to get married on my birthday. Birthdays aren’t a big thing in my father’s family. My mum said ‘don’t go to the wedding if you don’t want to’. But I was excited; I had never been to a wedding before.

It was a disaster. By the end of the day, my brand new stepmother said if she ever saw me again it would be too soon.

I wasn’t allowed to ring their house or see my father for four years until my sibling saw how awful this marriage was for him with this controlling woman.

My sibling took my dad away and set up a home so my sibling could care for my dad. My dad asked for a divorce, because of the way Geraldine treated him as a checkbook, and how much she bossed him around.

Geraldine refused to agree to a divorce (we knew she was just waiting for my grandparents to die) and my father had to wait 5 years under British law to divorce someone who didn’t consent.

So what was my revenge? Well, I was 15, there wasn’t anything decent I could do.

No mobile phones, no internet, they lived 100 miles away, no public transport. What there was in the 1980s was mail order. Every TV listings magazine or women’s magazine had loads of offers you could write off for Freepost…so that’s what I did.

You name it, I applied for it in the name of Mrs. Geraldine Miros: carpet samples, blind companies, double glazing quotes, Kay’s catalog, those baths for old people which open at the side, over 50s equity release, Stannah stairlifts, every single coupon I could send off for, I did.

I think my mum had an idea of what was going on, if only that all the magazines in the house had the coupons cut out and she kept needing to buy more envelopes.

I am sorry for the companies, wasting their time and resources in sending a catalog or for a salesman to write for an appointment.

But I am not sorry for annoying that greedy woman who took my dad away from me. He died when I was in my mid-20s so I had a few years with him before then, but four years fewer than I should have had.”

17 points (17 votes)

16. Snitched On The Uncle And Nephew Who Prey On The Elderly


“The man who owned the house next door rented it out to four non-related people who each had their own bedroom but shared a bath. One day my four-year-old son was riding big wheels down our driveway and he was stung by a wasp.

I noticed that there was a very large wasp nest on the porch in front of his house by my driveway and mentioned it to him the next time he was there picking up the rent. When I told him the story he said not my problem keep your kid in the house and you won’t have a problem.

Yes, I was annoyed but I was more annoyed when I mentioned it to one of his renters, an elderly lady of about 75. She said that he hadn’t put oil in the tank in weeks and that her room was cold every night.

She said the paint was peeling in her room and that the sink they all used kept backing up. She also asked me if I noticed that the 80-year-old gentleman who lived in one of the other rooms was gone. I had noticed that I had not seen him for a few weeks.

He was always nice and would sit on the porch and sometimes come over when my son and I were out just to talk. Well apparently he had passed away and this jerk made an agreement with the man’s nephew who I had never met who was supposed to be taking care of him to not let anyone know he died.

The plan was for the nephew to cash his social security checks as if the poor man was still alive and they would split the funds. So long as they kept the address going and kept signing the man’s name to the check they were in the green.

What jerks.

First I called the town and told them that the man next door was renting to elderly people and leaving them without heat and that the living conditions he left them in were deplorable. Then I contacted the Social Security office and told them although I didn’t know the man’s last name or when he died but it had been at least two months back.

I did know his address and his first name. I told them about the scam the nephew and the owner of the house were pulling. They said they would look into it.

Now I wish I could tell you that both those gentlemen got what they deserve.

What I can tell you is that two weeks later a man around his 30s was moving stuff out of the house. I went over and asked who he was as I knew he didn’t live there. He said oh I’m Georges’s nephew.

My uncle passed and I’m getting his stuff. So I do know the scam was over anyway. A month after that the house was on the market, Miss Susan the elderly lady from upstairs said when she called her son and told him about what was going on at the house he said she could come to live with him.

Apparently, she had never mentioned to him about the heat and the paint because she didn’t want him to worry. She was really excited about moving in with her son and I was excited she was going to be taken care of.

I don’t regret turning them in at all. What comes around goes around. Preying on the elderly is just disgusting.”

17 points (17 votes)

15. Niece Threatens My Nurse So I Roast Her In A Professional Manner


“I used to work as a Welfare Officer in a Disable Home for residents who are mentally/physically disabled (think of it as a mini psychiatric hospice for long term patients). Most of them either have no more living relatives, family having problem taking care of them, or simply don’t want to have anything to do with them.

There’s this gentleman who is among the few who still has relatives who visit once in a blue moon. He is very friendly although very frail, it doesn’t help that he loves to step out of his wheelchair unsupervised to do his own exercise.

More often than not, he would slip during one of his workouts and bruise like a peach.

On one occasion when his niece and her husband decided to make a visit, he so happened to injure himself again. As my nurse wheeled him to the visiting area, the niece went livid.

Now to be fair, if you were to see your relative injured you would also question the caretaker of their competency. We don’t blame her outrage but things do get pretty ugly from time to time when they start to accuse us of not doing our due diligence and threaten to sue.

(Note: Neither she nor her family is paying a single cent for us to take care of him and on the record, he was found abandoned before the social worker took him in.)

So after an onslaught by the niece, my nurse came crying into my office and told me and my colleague about the whole ordeal.

Apparently, the niece started to scrutinize my nurse’s daily routine for her uncle, claiming to be a nurse herself from a (semi) famous hospital and could bar my nurse from working in my country (she can’t).

Both my colleague and I were fuming at this point, so while my colleague is consoling my nurse, I decided to have a chat with the niece.

Me: Hi! How’s everyone doing tonight?

Resident: I’m fine! So glad to have my niece visit today even though she came at a bad time. Please tell the nurse not to take it too hard.

(He obviously saw my nurse crying, the niece is now pouting.)

Niece: Hey you better tell your nurse to take care of my uncle or I’ll make sure she won’t be able to work in this country again! I’m a nurse too so don’t try to bluff me!

(At this point her husband is giving me the very apologetic look, I signal him that: I got this)

Me: I’m truly sorry about this.

It will never happen again. Speaking of which, if you don’t mind, I like to find out more about (Resident’s name) here and his family situation. Like (for example) why is (Resident) here?

Niece: What’s there to find out? How can you not know? Don’t you have his case file? I thought you’re the officer here? Where is his case manager? Go and find out from him! (Getting more aggressive)

Me: Yes I am and I do have his file, and it’s also part of my job to find out more about his background so that not only can I update his profile but to take better care of him.

It’s been a while since your last visit so I like to find out if there’s any update.

Niece: (Much taken back by what I’ve said and toned down her voice) Oh err, he umm has his issues and my mother doesn’t want him to be around the house.

You should know about his issue.

(Resident is schizophrenic, tendency for audio hallucination)

Me: Ah I see, such a pity. Because over here no matter what, we will always try to encourage family members to take back the resident if they can afford to.

I mean, you said so you’re a nurse right? I’m sure you can provide much better care for him than us at his own home where he would be more comfortable. (Smile)

At this point the niece is all lost for words, jaw wide open but not a peep.

My resident is nodding his head profusely and even her husband gave an Oooh snap! look.

Niece: I… I… I’ll come back again.

Me: I’ll look forward to your next visit, I’m sure (Resident) here will too.

Back in the office after I told my colleague, he gave me a huge high-five while my nurse thanked me for standing up for her.

The niece did come back a few weeks later and bought a (relatively small) box of chocolate to thank all the staff for their hard work.

None of us took any.”

13 points (13 votes)

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lasm1 11 months ago
Awesome. I would have made it a point to tell her that the resident was found abandoned, and also made it a point to tell her she's not even contributing towards his care..
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14. I Peed In My Boss's Work Boots


“I once peed in my boss’s work boots and set them outside to freeze. He tried throwing me under the bus about his own big-time mess-up. We had to change out lockers that we would keep our work clothes in. He always kept his work boots outside his locker in front of it.

So I peed in them and set them outside. When he got to work the next day, he was complaining because he could not find his work boots and asked if anyone saw them. Someone said there was a pair outside.

They were his, I put them there full of pee the night before. He really started complaining when he put his feet in them, and about one minute later they were thawing out, and they were wet. I don’t believe he ever knew it was pee. He never said anything. Maybe he knew, and was too embarrassed.”

11 points (13 votes)

13. Guy At The Bar Gets Locked In The Restroom With No Clothes On


“This story is not mine, one of my family friends told me this incident before a year ago.

Once she and her friends were in a pub, dancing on the floor. There was a guy behind her who was constantly trying to dance with her.

She told him to stop a few times but he didn’t listen to her. He was coming close to her. So she decided to teach him a lesson.

She turned back and gave him a smile to show that she is enjoying his touch.

He was convinced by her expression. She held his hand and took him towards the restroom. He was trying with all his might to touch her but she was somehow successful in stopping him from doing so. Then they went inside the toilet stall.

She locked the door. Then they started undressing each other. She took off his pants. Suddenly she held his face and pretended that she was about to kiss him. He closed his eyes and in a fraction of a second, she took his pants & underwear and rushed outside the toilet.

He stayed inside as he was half-dressed. She smiled at him and did a small victory dance. He was helpless. To mock him, she gave him her underwear and offered him an option to get out wearing that. After that, she remembers she had a good laugh and his face was like a tomato.

She was on top of the world.

She even scared the life out of him when she took out her mobile pretending to take his pictures and told him that this will be all over on social media tonight.

He started crying while asking her not to do so.

He was literally begging her and she was liking it. This is what he deserved. But after some time, she started feeling pity for him.

So, she told him that she will give him his clothes, once she will be done at the pub.

Till then he has to wait in that. Unfortunately, his mobile was also in his pants so he couldn’t call anyone.

As she said, when she was going home she gave him his clothes. But before doing so she asked him to hold his ears and pledge that he will never do this to any girl ever.

It was nice to hear that girls can do this kind of thing for their protection and make a lesson for this type of guy.”

14 points (22 votes)

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chga 1 year ago
I'd just like to point out that if the genders were reversed here, she'd be in prison. This is fucked up.
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12. Husband Displays A Remembrance Of His Wife's Infidelity In Their House


“A man came home early one day to find his wife in bed with another man, someone who he had never known, they were busy when he walked in on them.

He politely told them to finish what they were doing and asked if they would like some coffee.

Both said yes and he closed the bedroom door and proceeded to the kitchen to make coffee.

He placed the tray with the cups and milk and biscuits on the center table in the lounge and waited for his wife and lover.

She arrived in the lounge dressed in her bathrobe and the lover was fully clothed.

The husband proceeded to pour coffee for his wife and lover and offered them the biscuits.

Neither wanted to as they were both extremely nervous.

The husband began talking to the lover about all kinds of things, except the scenario.

After about an hour, the husband politely asked the lover how much money he had on him, the lover rummaging through his pockets found a $1 note.

The husband took this note and asked the chap never to set foot back in his house again.

He didn’t even confront his wife about the incident……….but

The following day he took the $1 note to a dry cleaner and asked them to please try to make it look like a new note and steam it and press it. He would collect it later.

He collected the note and went off to a glass shop, he got two pieces of 10mm glass and had the glass shop put the $1 note in between the two pieces of glass. Once sealed he took it home and had a bricklayer come to his home and remove a few bricks from the wall in the lounge and also close to the ceiling, he had an electrician come in and lay electric cabling and install a light in the opening.

He then got the bricklayer back and installed the glass brick containing the R1 note.

Not once did he mention the incident about his wife’s infidelity to anyone or even to her. Cool as a cucumber he was………….however,

Whenever they had visitors and they sat in the lounge, he would put the light on exposing the $1 note in the glass brick.

When asked why the $1 note in glass brick, he would reply, ask the wife, she will tell you…..

Needless to say, she ended up in a mental institution in Sandton, Johannesburg.”

-1 points (15 votes)

11. Cut My Lying Fiancée Out Of My Life


“I caught my fiancée messing around with some other guy whom she met at the gym. I had built the house we lived in from the ground up, and was smart enough to have bought and installed a surveillance system that not only covered the entire yard but the inside of the house as well.

The system included HD video, audio recording, and even came with night vision. I did not tell her about the system and she never suspected that she was being watched inside the house.

I caught her calling the guy and giving him our address and inviting him over to hook up.

Everything was caught on camera, with audio to boot, and I made sure to make extra copies and save them as evidence.

The next day, she went to work as if nothing happened. I left for work as I normally do but once I was away from the house, I called my boss and told them I was taking a few days off.

I’ve been with this company for over 12 years and was good friends with the owner, so he had no problem with me taking time off. I waited till she came back to the house to begin my plan.

The first thing I did was to call all her credit cards and cancel them.

Since I paid for everything and they were in my name, I had no problem getting those canceled. The next thing I did was to take the funds from our joint checking account out to put it into my own personal checking account.

I then collected all of her clothes, jewelry, shoes, etc. and stuffed them into garbage bags, and tossed them into my truck. I had a couple of buddies meet me that morning at the house to help me out.

I also changed the codes to get into the house, locking her out.

We finished loading everything into my truck and one of my buddies’ trucks and left the house. The first stop was at her job where I used the extra key to her car to get in and drive it away back to my house, while my buddy followed in my truck.

The car was in my name and I was not going to let her have it.

We then drove to her mom’s house which was about an hour away and left all her stuff on her mom’s porch. I explained to her mom and her sister what she did and told her that it was over and I didn’t want her in my house anymore.

It took about 20 minutes after leaving her mom’s house before I got the first phone call from my now ex. I ignored her phone calls until about call number 10. By this point, she was screaming at the top of her lungs about her stuff being dumped at her mom’s house.

She demanded an explanation and started threatening to call the police. I laughed and sent her a clip of her video that was caught on the home surveillance camera. Just to be petty, I also sent the video to her mother and her two sisters as well.

Everything really hit the fan when she got off work and discovered that her car was no longer there. She had to have her mom pay for a Lyft to carry her back home since none of her credit cards worked and her debit card was useless.

I continued to receive regular phone calls for the next three to four days which I ignored. I kept her car in the garage where it sits to this day. I’ve driven it a grand total of twice and I am thinking of selling it once it’s paid off.

She never bothered coming back to the house, and I heard that she had a lot of blowback from her family regarding her extra-curricular activities. She was forced to get a full-time job to make ends meet since she was only working part-time when she was living with me.

I have since moved on and went out with women a couple of times but I’m holding off getting into something serious until I can find somebody I can truly trust.”

11 points (15 votes)

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stro 1 year ago
Since you had a joint account you should have at least given her mom her part of the money.
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10. Got Accused Of Carnapping And Had Several Misfortunes Inside The Jail With The Driver


“I went to a pretty dark place in my mind, so dark that I wanted someone badly injured or even killed, and I think it’s important to I explain how I got there.

This happened over 40 years ago when I had just turned 18.

My big adventure after high school and before I started college was to hitchhike from Atlanta, Georgia to Riverside, California to see a friend, Bill, who had moved there after 11th grade. Made it in four days. I hung out with him for about a week.

Then I hitchhiked to Colorado to see another friend who was about to start college in Boulder. Again, hung out with him for about a week. At that point, I was going to go home to Georgia, but Bill, my California buddy, contacted me.

He wanted me to come back to Riverside, where we would hook up and then hitchhike to Georgia together so he could see all his old friends.

So back to California I went and then Bill and I set out for Georgia.

When we got to Phoenix some cops immediately checked us out. Turned out there had been a prison break the night before and something like 18 inmates had escaped, so the police were on high alert. They gave us each a hitchhiking ticket but otherwise, were pretty cool once they confirmed we weren’t escapees.

They told us that everyone was being advised not to pick up hitchhikers. Uh oh.

It usually took no more than an hour to get a ride, but this time Bill and I stood nearly all day with no luck. Desperation set in and we decided to break up temporarily.

Our plan was for Bill to start walking. I would be picked up first, presumably, assure the driver that I wasn’t an escapee and ask him to pick up Bill. In hindsight, not a great plan but as I said we were getting desperate.

So Bill started walking.

I finally caught a ride and asked the driver if he would pick up my friend. He said sure. Only we never saw Bill. I later learned that someone had passed me and picked him up. Go figure.

I wouldn’t see him again for a couple of years.

After getting another hitchhiking ticket the next day in Tucson, I finally made it through Arizona and into New Mexico, where I spent the night under a bridge overpass. The next morning, I rolled out of my sleeping bag, walked down to the freeway, stuck out my thumb and the very first guy pulled over.

In a Camaro. Cool!

Turned out he was a Marine currently stationed in San Diego. He said he was in the process of buying the Camaro from his Sergeant but first had to take it home to San Antonio to get his wife’s approval.

I settled in for what was going to be a long and comfortable ride. But when we stopped for gas, he aggressively hit me up for gas money. I only had something like $20 to my name, but I gave him a couple of dollars although he wanted more.

Looking back, I suspect he picked me up only because he was looking for major help with gas. He was pretty unhappy about my paltry contribution. But I was nearly broke and really couldn’t even spare what I gave him. I tried to explain this, but he didn’t care and was so angry about it that I thought he might leave me behind, even after taking my two dollars.

But he didn’t. In hindsight, I really wish he had.

We were rolling along, mostly in a kind of awkward silence, out in the high desert country of west Texas doing about 75 mph— at that time the national speed limit was 55 mph—when we passed a Texas Ranger going the other way.

He was giving us the eye as we passed. I looked back, and sure enough, he did a U-turn and turned on his lights. I felt sorry for the driver as I knew he was going to get a speeding ticket.

It was his problem, not mine, but I felt bad for him even though he had been a jerk about the gas.

And so began one of the strangest and scariest episodes in my life.

The driver pulls over and rolls down his window.

As we’re sitting there waiting for the Ranger to approach, I hear him shout “Get out with your hands up! Passenger, you first!” I gasped and said to the driver, “What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. This was just a speeding ticket.

Why do I need to get out? Why with my hands up? The driver also appeared surprised and yelled out his window, “What?” The Ranger shouts again, only this time even louder, “I SAID GET OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! PASSENGER YOU FIRST! RIGHT NOW!”

So I struggle to open the door with my foot—it’s not easy to open a heavy car door with your hands up— and got out.

As I do, he shouts at me to face away from him. Once I’m out, he shouts for me to turn around. When I turn to face him, he’s standing at the back of the Camaro with a rifle pointed at my face.

From that distance, his gun looked as big as a canon. I felt my legs turn to jello and seriously thought I was going to faint.

He had me walk to the back of the car, then lay face down on the ground with my arms and legs spread out.

I was so frightened that my heart was pounding through my chest. I could barely breathe and was shaking so hard that I was literally vibrating on the ground. None of this was making any sense. I was laid out on the ground at gunpoint for a speeding ticket that wasn’t even mine.

He then did the same with the driver.

I hear a pickup truck rattling down the dirt road that ran along the freeway. The truck stopped, and I hear a man shout something like, “Hey Bob, do you need some help?” The Ranger shouts back, “Sure, take my rifle.

If they move, shoot ‘em.” My anxiety level blew through the roof at this point, and I just knew I was going to be shot because I couldn’t stop shaking.

The Ranger says, “You’re both under arrest for Grand Theft Auto out of the State of California” and proceeds to handcuff us.

When he comes over to me, I said something like, “Sir, please don’t shoot me. I’m only a hitchhiker. I don’t know anything about this car being stolen.” He basically said to shut up and put me in the back of his car.

A Deputy Sheriff arrived and the driver was put in the back of his car. After a tow truck arrived, we took off. I had no idea where we were going. We took the next exit off the freeway and drove for maybe 15 minutes into the small town of Pecos, Texas.

At that point, I assumed we were probably headed for the police station, but as it turned out we were taken to a small house in an old residential neighborhood. I have no idea why. As we were escorted up to the front door, I spotted a small wooden sign that read “Justice Of The Peace.” They knocked, and an old, stooped man opened the door.

They asked if they could borrow a room for a few minutes. He invited us in.

They left me handcuffed to the kitchen table in the company of the presumed JP, who was watching a rerun of All In The Family (Archie gives Edith an Eiffel Tower clock for her birthday) with a canned laugh track that seemed just so out of place for my situation.

It all felt very surreal.

They took the driver down the hall into a room and shut the door. I wasn’t sure what they were doing back there and half expected to hear screams and the sounds of a beating. After what seemed like forever but was probably more like five minutes, they came out and the driver and I switched places.

I was relieved to see the driver looked ok. Into the room, we went, and again they shut the door.

They told me to take a seat at a table, and they sat down across from me. One of them read my Miranda rights to me.

They told me the driver had exercised his right to remain silent and didn’t answer any questions. I, on the other hand, willingly answered every question put to me and then some. I told them everything about the driver and the car that he had told me.

I told them I was just a hitchhiker picked up by the driver that morning in New Mexico. I told them I had just graduated high school in Georgia and was on my way home after hitchhiking around the country to visit friends before I started college.

I swore on a stack of Bibles—ok, not literally but only because there wasn’t a stack of Bibles in the room—that I didn’t steal the car and in fact had no idea the car was stolen.

They went through my backpack and were particularly interested in my two hitchhiking tickets.

In terms of a timeline, they established that I had gotten the Phoenix ticket on Day One and the Tucson ticket on Day Two, which showed that I was traveling east. The info they had was that the car had been stolen off a used car lot in San Diego by a lone male on what would be Day 3 and then we were arrested on Day 4.

The driver really was in the Marines and stationed in San Diego but, again per their information, had gone AWOL shortly before the car was stolen. Although I’m a male, I had no connection with the Marines, San Diego, the car, or the driver other than catching a ride with him that morning.

All of this along with my backpack/sleeping bag and Georgia driver’s license made it pretty obvious that I really was just a hitchhiker and that I didn’t steal the car. They said that if the driver had been willing to confirm that he had picked me up hitchhiking they would have released me but since he didn’t they would have to get California’s permission to let me go.

Up until this interrogation I had no idea that the car was stolen, and I still found it hard to believe that I would be so unlucky as to get caught up in the middle of this. In fact, when we were first arrested I thought it was probably some big mistake somehow, but in any case from what the Ranger and Deputy were saying the driver was a lot more connected to stealing the car than me.

And of course, if what they were telling me was true, and I had no reason to doubt it, then the driver had left out the part about bailing on the Marines and had lied when he told me he was buying the car from his Sergeant.

They also said they would recommend to California to release me, but I would have to spend the night in jail before they would hear back. So back in the cars and off we went to the Reeves County Jail. I was scared to death but figured surely California would agree to let me go and I could make it through the night.

After all, we’re all in this together, right?


It was a nightmare, especially the first two days.

We arrived at the jail, a fairly new-looking modern facility in what looked like downtown Pecos. Concrete block was the building material of choice. We changed out of our clothes and into what I would call blue pajamas, the standard inmate uniform.

I was allowed to make the proverbial one phone call, so I called my parents. They weren’t home, but luckily my brother answered and took down the information as to how I happened to now be a guest of Reeves County.

I promised to call as soon as I got out.

The driver and I were put in the same 8-man “pod,” which was a central room made of concrete block with two small stainless steel picnic-style tables with benches on either side bolted to the floor in the center.

There were eight individual cells, four on each side of the pod. Each of the cell doors had a small window. The doors and lights were controlled electronically by the jailers from switches just inside the door into the pod. The area in front of that door was separated from the central room by floor-to-ceiling iron bars, so the jailers could safely come in to flip the switches and to transfer inmates in and out of the pod through a locked gate in the steel bars.

In the morning, the lights were turned on and the cell doors were opened, which allowed us out of the cells and into the central room. This would prove to be unfortunate. At night we were told to “cell up,” the doors were closed and the lights turned off.

Otherwise, there was no supervision of the pods, and the inmates could do pretty much as they pleased during the day.

I quickly learned that the other inmates in our pod were all multi-convicted felons awaiting trial for various major violent crimes.

Basically, this was just a pit stop for them on their way back to prison. Of course, they wanted to know what we’re in for because, as I also quickly learned, this establishes the food chain among the inmates.

The food chain works like this: Violent offenders or frequent flyers are generally at the top.

All six of these inmates were at the very top: violent frequent flyers facing long prison sentences, including life, and had little to lose if they got in further trouble. Non-violent inmates and petty criminals are below them. And at the bottom are first-time people who have no prior criminal record to brag about.

But you’re even lower if they think you “ratted” or “snitched” on another inmate. This would be the sewer scum of the inmate world, the lowest of the low, worthy of scorn and severe physical harassment.

So as far as the inmates were concerned, we were new to their neighborhood fresh meat, and the food chain needed to be established right away.

The driver tells them that he went AWOL in San Diego and stole a car so he could get to San Antonio. They aren’t impressed and threaten to kick his soldier boy butt. I’m up next. I tell them that I was just a hitchhiker who had no idea the car was stolen.

They really don’t like hearing this because if I’m a first-timer and actually innocent then I’m not even a criminal. I’m just a punk at the bottom of the food chain, even lower than the driver.

I’ve now been in jail all of maybe five minutes and already I’m in big trouble.

But it was about to get a lot worse.

The driver pipes up that not only am I just a punk but that I’m soon going to be a college boy. I sink even lower in their eyes. But he’s not done yet.

The driver then tells them I’m a snitch. He says that he didn’t tell the cops anything when we were arrested but that I ratted on him, which technically wasn’t true as this was the first time I heard him say he really had gone AWOL and really had stolen the car.

I had just told the Ranger and Deputy what the driver had told me and it certainly didn’t include anything about him being an AWOL car thief. In fact, at the beginning of the interview, I thought I was kind of sticking up for him since surely a Marine, one of our nation’s “few good men,” wouldn’t go AWOL and steal a car, right? Although I protested that wasn’t the case, that I hadn’t ratted on him, it didn’t matter.

The inmates quickly go into a rage, and all of their anger was focused on me. It was six sociopaths versus one very naive young man with the driver looking relieved in the background. They didn’t like him, but they hated me.

After spending some time describing in great detail some pretty horrible things they had done to snitches in the past and how they were going to do the same to me, each one trying to outdo the other in terms of pain about to be inflicted, they decided to rest first.

So off to a back cell they went while I sat on my bunk, hopelessly waiting for the torture contest to commence. Luckily, they seemed to forget about hurting me and just nodded out for the evening. But it was made abundantly clear that I had no friends, including the driver, and it was just a matter of time until I was going to get a beatdown or worse.

At this point, I’m really, really hoping California is going to let me go first thing in the morning. All of this made for a very long night, and I didn’t get much sleep.

The next morning, we’re woken up when a jailer comes in, flips the doors and lights switches, and yells, “Breakfast.” Some inmate helpers, called “Trustees,” are with him and they roll in a cart with breakfast trays that they slide one at a time through an opening in the bars.

You grab a tray and sit at one of the tables to eat. The jailer and trustees return about 15 minutes later, collect the trays and leave. Lunch and dinner would be a rinse and repeat of the routine at breakfast.

Mealtimes would prove to be the highlight of the day as there was never much food at any one meal so you were always hungry and besides, there was nothing else to do. No phones, no pen, and paper, no books, no tv.

No nothing.

Apparently, the driver was still tired from all the hard work that it took to abandon his military service, steal a car, flee halfway across the country and screw me over because he didn’t wake up. One of the inmates grabbed his tray and put it on the table.

But the driver continued sleeping so the other inmates ate his food before the jailer and trustees came back to collect the trays. He woke up later, and when he asked about breakfast the other inmates laughed and told him too bad, they ate it, literally you snooze you lose.

They were very pleased with themselves and took a lot of pleasure rubbing his nose in it. I was fine with it because it drew their attention away from me.

Then a jailer came and escorted me and the driver to the courthouse across the street to sign extradition papers.

On the way there, I ask whether they had heard from California. No. The driver tells the jailer he didn’t get breakfast because he didn’t wake up in time. The jailer asks what happened to it, and the driver tells him the other inmates said they ate it.

The driver asks if he can get another breakfast. No. But the jailer did seem to be very interested to learn that the other inmates had eaten the driver’s breakfast. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would prove to be a pivotal moment for me.


We sat in a holding cell for a while, then one at a time were escorted into a Judge’s chambers. The Judge looked to be 90 years old. He told me that if I signed the paper waiving extradition then California would have a month to come and get me but it would probably be more like a week.

If I didn’t sign, it could take months and they would eventually get me anyway. Sounded like a no-brainer so I didn’t hesitate to sign. Besides, I’m thinking I’m getting out as soon as they hear from California.

I thought about telling the Judge I was an innocent young man going through a hard time in his jail and begging for his help.

But he didn’t seem all that interested in me or why I was there, and with California surely releasing me at any moment there just didn’t seem to be any point.

We’re escorted back to the jail. When we return to the pod, we discover that the other inmates are locked in their cells as punishment for eating the driver’s breakfast.

They are beyond angry and start screaming at us that they’re going to kick our butts for snitching on them when they get out.

Pivotal Moment Number 1: The driver immediately tells them that I was the one who told on them, that I’m the snitch, that I’m just a punk who talks to cops.

I was stunned as this time there was not even a “technically not true” argument. This time it was absolutely not true. This was completed on the driver, and I had nothing to do with it. Frankly, given how my relationship with the driver had deteriorated almost from the very beginning, I couldn’t care less if he starved to death.

If the other inmates had been the sharing types, I probably would have eaten some of his breakfast, too.

So again I protest my innocence but again it didn’t matter. The inmates go absolutely berserk this time, pounding and kicking their cell doors while screaming how they are going to hurt me.

It was pure pandemonium and I could barely hear myself think. One by one each inmate made me stand in front of his door and look him in the eye through the window as he screamed all the terrible things he was going to do to me.

They were like a pack of wild dogs going crazy. I just remember lots of bared teeth and bloodshot eyes with just a thin piece of chicken wire glass between their noses and mine. It was terrifying. I had to resign myself to the fact that this was about to happen, that it was going to be really, really bad, and that there was even a chance I might not live through it.

I could feel myself going numb with fear.

Luckily, they made so much noise that a jailer showed up to see what was going on. I figured it was now or never, so I told him they were going to kill me if he didn’t get me out of there.

I truly felt like I was begging for my life and practically got down on my knees while doing it. I didn’t even know if there was anywhere else they could put me, so this was taking a big chance since now I really was “snitching” and doing it right in front of them.

I don’t like to think about what would have happened had he just turned around and left.

But much to my relief, he pulled me out and took me to another pod. I didn’t know what to expect but it certainly couldn’t be any worse than where I had just been.

Luckily, it turned out the difference in pods was like night and day. The inmates in the new pod were non-violent types, mostly petty thieves and dealers, which is where I should have been put in the first place.

They knew about the pod I had just come from and were impressed that I managed to get out of there without first getting a serious beatdown as it had happened to a couple of them.

In fact, at least one of them and maybe both, I can’t remember, had to go to the hospital as a result, which only confirmed for me that I had just narrowly avoided being seriously injured or worse. The only issues in my new pod would prove to be boredom and worrying about my long-term future, both of which were a welcome relief compared to what I had just gone through.

Later that day, the Ranger stopped by to tell me that they can’t let me go because California wanted to talk to me in person. He said he would vouch for me when they arrived. I think he felt sorry for me.

Like the Judge, he said California had up to 30 days but it would probably be more like a week. I was definitely crushed—how could they not have understood that I was innocent?—but at least I now felt relatively safe and was extremely grateful for that.

I wasn’t sure if he would really vouch for me, but he had taken the trouble to come by to tell me the news so I took that as a sign he would follow through. But given that he had told me that he recommended to them that I be released in the first place, I wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would make.

All of the above was to explain to you how I got to such a dark place in my mind and how for the one and only time in my life I came to truly hate another human being.

In jail, you have a lot of time to think because, after all, there’s really nothing else to do.

I thought about the set of circumstances that led to me being there. Bill asking me to come back to California. The delay getting through Arizona. Waking up that last morning just in time to catch a ride with the very first car that went by.

And I thought a lot about the driver. How he picked me up knowing he had fled from the Marines and stolen the car, putting me smack dab in the middle of his criminal conduct. How he had gone from pretending to be a nice guy to revealing himself to be a jerk by aggressively demanding gas money.

How he had lied by not telling me he was AWOL and by telling me he was buying the car. How he could have at least told the Ranger and Deputy that I was just a hitchhiker and I would have been out of there and on my way home.

How he went out of his way to feed me to the wolves that first night so the other inmates wouldn’t pick on him. How he did it again after we got back from the courthouse. How he had lied about me twice, and how close I came to being seriously injured or worse both times as a result.

I even wondered if he was going to try to blame me for stealing the car.

I don’t engage in hate as a general rule. It’s a bad way to go through life. But I have to be honest here: I hated him.

Still do forty years on. But I also figured there was nothing I could do about it.

Turned out, I figured wrong. My Second Pivotal Moment was about to happen.

The next morning, I have to get a haircut because inmates’ heads were shaved to avoid potential issues with lice.

I’m escorted downstairs by the same jailer who had taken the driver and me to the courthouse the day before, the same one to whom the driver had complained about not getting breakfast. We walk into a small room, just big enough for two chairs and the barber, who is standing there waiting for me.

I immediately recognized him as one of the inmates from the first pod. In fact, he was one of the most vocal in describing all the different ways he was going to torture me. This guy was a complete psycho. I sat down in the barber chair and the jailer sat directly across from us.

Pivotal Moment Number 2: I immediately realized that here’s my chance for revenge.

I didn’t say a word to the barber, and of course, he’s on his best behavior in front of the jailer. Instead, I started talking to the jailer while the inmate was shaving my head.

I asked him if he remembered taking me and the driver to the courthouse the day before. He said he did. I asked him if he remembered who complained about not getting breakfast. He said it was the driver. I asked him who said that the other inmates ate his breakfast.

He said the driver told him. I asked him if I had ever said anything about breakfast, the driver, or the other inmates. He said no, you only asked about California contacting the jail.

I knew the barber heard every word. I was banking on the fact that not only had the driver been the snitch but that the driver had played the barber and his buddies by fooling them into thinking it was me.

After all, inmates may hate snitches but nobody likes to get played so I thought this would be more icing on the cake. I figured the barber would share this new information with his pod pals and that there would be some sort of serious consequence for the driver.

I thought I would probably never know, but at least I had given it a shot.

I should be clear: by “serious consequence” I mean a beating, the more savage the better as far as I was concerned. As I said, I hated that guy.

After my haircut, as we were getting up to go back to the pod I gave the barber a quick glance and raised my eyebrows as in, “Did you get it?” He gave me a small smile and a nod. I quickly smiled and nodded back.


At least, I hoped so. After all, it’s not like we had been buddies so there was no other reason for us to smile and nod. My last conversation with him had not been exactly warm and fuzzy. But based on my experience with the barber and the rest of those sociopaths, I really thought the driver was now in big trouble and I took a lot of satisfaction in that.

I told the other inmates in my new pod what I had done, and they thought it was hilarious. They all agreed that the driver was going to get the life beat out of him.

As an aside, my new pod inmates kept telling me I really needed to have an attorney.

But to me, it seemed pointless. I had already signed the waiver of extradition, so I was pretty sure I would either be released or taken back to California within the week. Even if an attorney could get me released from jail, I literally had nowhere to go and was almost out of funds so a hotel was out of the question.

Nevertheless, they kept telling me I was going to get screwed since I didn’t have one. A couple of them told me they had hired the same lawyer (I don’t remember his name but it might have been “Rodney Scott,” so let’s go with that).

They constantly bragged about how Rodney Scott was the best lawyer in town, how he always got them off, how he cost a lot, blah blah blah. I just shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t have a lawyer, and I certainly wasn’t in a position to hire this Rodney Scott, and that was just the way it was.

But somewhere around Day 3 or 4, a jailer opened the pod door and announced I had a visitor. In walked an older gentleman wearing a suit and tie and holding a coffee mug like he owned the place. I was stunned.

Who was this Big Shot and why would he visit me? I walked up, and the man in the suit stuck his hand through the bars, shook my hand, and said in a deep Texas drawl, “Mr. Bethune, I’m Rodney Scott, a lawyer here in town.

Your Dad called me and asked me to check on you. Are you doing ok, son?”

I said I was alright and that I was just waiting to be released or taken to California. We chatted for a minute or two. Like the Judge and the Ranger before him, he told me that the California cops would arrive within the week.

Mr. Scott also told me that the Ranger who arrested me was a “good man and a good Ranger and if he said he would vouch for you then he will definitely vouch for you.” This made me feel a little better.

And he said that if I needed anything just to let one of the jailers know and he would come right over because his office was right across the street. He said he would call my Dad to let him know I was ok.

I said thanks, we shook hands again, and then he turned around and left.

Given that there was no privacy at all in this jail, this conversation took place not only right in front of the jailer but everyone in my pod saw and heard us, too.

I turned around, and all the other inmates were now wide-eyed staring at me with their jaws on the ground like “Whoa, Rodney Scott’s your lawyer, and you didn’t even have to hire him!” My stock shot up in everyone’s eyes, and I didn’t have to listen to their incessant bragging about him anymore.

I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Scott didn’t even acknowledge his other two clients, which made me wonder if they really had hired him.

(At the time I had no idea how my father had managed to contact Mr. Scott. When I returned home, Dad told me that he had an old friend from his student days at Duke University who went on to become a lawyer in Dallas.

My Dad called him, and this person put him in touch with Mr. Scott. Mr. Scott never charged my parents a dime despite my father telling him to please send a bill for any services rendered. He really didn’t do any legal work other than that one visit, but he did help me cash a Western Union check my parents sent to me a few days later.)

Five very long but uneventful days after I had my head shaved, I’m finally told to roll up because the California cops have arrived.

I had practiced my “I’m innocent” speech all week, listing all the reasons that showed I didn’t have anything to do with stealing the car. I’m escorted downstairs, determined to give the speech of my life. Two California cops were sitting at a table having coffee with the Ranger and Deputy who had arrested me.

I walk in. They look up, and one of the California cops immediately says, “Mr. Bethune, we’re going to let you go.”

I guess they just needed to hear my story in person from the Ranger. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to give my speech but was happy to finally be going home.

Looking back, I’m extremely grateful to the Ranger for keeping his word. If it weren’t for him, for all I know the California cops would have said something like “Wow, that’s a great speech! Now shut up and get on the plane.” I was then given a bag with my clothes and told to go change in the holding cell.

A jailer opens the door to the cell and much to my surprise there was the driver, sitting on a bench, dressed in his street clothes and wearing leg irons. I had just assumed I would never see him again but instead, he was sitting right in front of me, all packaged up and ready to go.

Obviously, they had brought him down first.

Much to my delight, he didn’t look too good, which is a bit of an understatement. In fact, he looked like he’d been in a major car accident. Faking sympathy, I said something like, “Oh man, what happened?” He said, with his mouth kind of clenched, that the other inmates had beat him.

He didn’t really want to talk—I think it hurt too much—but I kept asking him questions while I was getting dressed. I was curious, but I also was enjoying seeing and hearing him in so much pain. It was clear this guy was hurting badly.

Me, on the other hand, I was feeling grrrreat!

I said wow, when did this happen? Was it the day I was taken out of the pod? He said no, it was the next day. This would coincide with when I got my head shaved, had the conversation with the jailer, and exchanged secret knowing nods with my new pal, the psycho barber.


I have to hand it to those guys in the first pod. They were very good at what they do. This was five days after the beating and the driver was still obviously in a lot of pain—the very sort of pain he tried twice to have inflicted on me.

As I was changing into my clothes, I thought about telling him that I was the one who had caused him to get that beating, but he probably already knew it anyway.

But I didn’t. I didn’t want to get into any further trouble, and besides, I’m just not a violent person.

What was done was done. He had screwed me over multiple times, and I had gotten revenge, served cold so he never saw it coming.

Now it was finally time to move on.

So I just finished getting dressed, knocked on the door, and left.

My parents wired some funds to me, and I was back home the next day. My guess is that the driver was kicked out of the Marines, did some jail time, and eventually made it back to San Antonio, where I hope he endured a short, miserable little life and came to a bad end that involved a lot of pain and agony. That is when I even bother to think about him at all, which is hardly ever.”

14 points (16 votes)

User Image
TigerLilly 2 years ago
Driver had it coming
6 Reply

9. Partner's Cousin Got Back At Us By Vandalizing Our Faces On Thanksgiving


“I once went to sleep with my partner at the time, at her family cottage, under the influence of booze. We woke up with graffiti on our faces in permanent marker. My face had a drawing of inappropriate things. And it said, ‘I’m shorty,’ on the other cheek.

My partner’s face said, ‘I’m with shorty’ on her forehead and both cheeks. A word on each spot. Oh yeah, I must tell you it was the night before Thanksgiving. I had to meet the rest of her family for the first time.

This included her 88-year-old grandma and 90-year-old grandpa.

Her grandpa took one look at me when introduced, and said, hey son come here. As I walked closer and bent down to accommodate his conversation, he said, do you know what’s on your face?

As I started laughing, my partner said, Grandpa, it’s supposed to be a turkey, you know, for thanksgiving!!!

His reply was, that’s the ugliest turkey I’ve ever seen, but either way, I was just making sure he knew, as not to have him embarrassed grandma when she sees his face.

She’s not going to be so easy on him.

Her grandma said, oh Shorty, that’s a lovely turkey on your cheek. LOL

Turns out, her cousin was the artist, and was over early that morning, and told grandma and grandpa of her shenanigans.

They were that cool of a family, that even G and G played in on it. This was all revenge towards my partner and me for embarrassing pictures we took of her 6 months prior. She wasn’t there when we went to bed, or when we woke up. We had no idea it was her, or that G and G were in on it. So she got us good. That is still one of my favorite stories to tell, definitely a crowd-pleaser.”

9 points (11 votes)

8. Dog Trashed The Girl's Basement Because We Left Him


“I went out with a girl for like 2 months one time, and she was jealous of my dog, my black lab. It was obvious, although she denied it. So she just bought a house, and I help her move the first night she was ever going to stay there.

Well, when we were done, we were going to go out to dinner. As no one knows my dog better than me, I was going to just leave him in my truck while we were gone. It was fall and about 50 degrees, and she was worried that her neighbors would call the cops because we left my dog in my truck.

I resisted the best I could, as I did not want him in a strange house, my truck was his second home. That was his safety spot, that’s where he wanted to be, if I left home, he came with me 90% of the time.

And on top of that, she insisted he stay down in her basement, an unfinished basement I might add. She was having it no other way, she didn’t want to start out being new in the neighborhood, looking like an animal abuser……..what the heck? As I said, it’s fall, it’s not summer.

As I did not like the basement for his sake, I did like that better for the situation at hand, in her new house. So we go out to dinner for a couple of hours, everything went well. I let my frustration over my dog disappear, and it ended up being a nice dinner, with fun and laughter.

As we got back to her house, and we’re going in through the garage, as soon as I opened the door to her house 2 inches, the smell of poop slapped us in the face. My worse fear came true. Yep, he left a big SCREW YOU poop in her basement.

Now, he had never done this somewhere else before when I left him, except at my own house. There was a handful of times during his life where if I had to leave him, he’d get angry and give me a ‘screw you for leaving me’ poop in the same spot every time in the kitchen.

Something in my gut told me that’s what he was going to do this particular night. I knew it, I know my dog. Well, this girl went through the roof. I’m talking, out of this world, out of her body experience, Poltergeist / Matrix stuff going on with the anger she unleashed on myself and him.

I cannot pick up dog poop without it wreaking havoc on myself and anything around me. There will be puke being picked up right along with the dog poop if I try to do this, which I have tried many times.

I once paid a stranger 60 or 80 dollars (I can’t remember exactly) for 20 seconds of work, for picking up dog poop in my own house. He pulled up to the stop sign, and I walked up to his car window with the funds in my hand and said, I don’t know you, but do you want to make $60, all you have to do is park, come in my house, pick up this dog poop, and we will both be happy people.

He did it. When he left we both were looking at each other smiling, thinking, SUCKER!!!!

Anyways, back to this particular situation. I instantly said I’d be right back with cleaning supplies, and went down to the local Walmart spending 50 bucks on different cleaning supplies.

When I got back, she had already had her supplies out, ignored my $50 worth of stuff out of spite, and just was complaining the whole time, to the point where I envisioned myself taking one of the cleanup trash rags and splattering it in her face.

So I just went upstairs, laid down on the couch, waited for her to get done downstairs, and quit complaining. She finally came upstairs, only to keep on complaining, and complaining, and complaining. She made the comment two times that he should be killed for being such a bad dog! Who raises a dog that would do such a thing, in someone’s brand new home?

Well, this hit a spot for me.

And the reason why it did, was she knew how good of a dog he was, and how well-trained he was. I had weekly compliments, his whole life from people saying how well-trained, and loving he was. He never had to be on a leash, because he never chased other dogs or people.

He listened to one command. He was a great waterfowl dog, probably the best I’ll ever own. So these words were not true, and very unnecessary. But she had zero empathy saying these things. At that moment I decided I was done with her.

It would be the last night I saw her. I fell asleep on the couch, woke up at 5:30 am, and left without saying goodbye. When I got home, I text messaged her saying this………

Well, it’s a done deal. Wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.

You don’t have to worry about him again, pooping in your house, or getting in between you and me, because he’s gone.

Her reply: What are you talking about?

Me: Well I killed him. I totally thought about what you said last night, and what a piece of trash he is, and that he should be punished, I couldn’t agree more.

What kind of guy would I be, if I ignored my girl’s wishes? After all, we are soul mates. Okay, hope you don’t mind, I have to go dig his grave now, so I’m going to be busy for a while.

I’ll talk to you soon, I love you honey!!!

She then messaged me: Um, you better not be serious. You are kidding, correct? I was just venting, letting off steam. I didn’t really want you to kill him. Why would you take that seriously?

My reply: Of course, I’m being serious! What my woman wants, my woman gets.

I don’t mess around, why, what are you saying? Are you saying you really didn’t want me to kill him?

Her reply: Of course I didn’t want you to kill him you psycho!! Who just kills their dog like it’s nothing, and then is proud of it? You need mental help!!!

My reply: (crickets chirping) I didn’t reply at all.

Two days later, she replied: You really didn’t kill him, did you?

My reply: Of course I didn’t, you weirdo, I would take you out before him, every single day of the week! Take care now!”

8 points (12 votes)

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Vlm 2 years ago
The end sounds so stupid and contrived
1 Reply

7. Granted The Scammer's Wish To See Me In Court


“In my working life, I was a mechanical services contractor….I owned and ran an air conditioning company.

We had a ‘client’ come in one day and ask one of my sales guys to design an air-conditioning system for his house. Our salesman, Garry, did and had the recommendations and quote delivered to the client.

We didn’t hear back from the ‘client’ and presumed that the business ended up somewhere else.

About 9 months later a very irate ‘Person’ entered the building wanting to talk to the manager……me! He fumed his way into my office and proceeded to tell me his air conditioning didn’t work and he required compensation!

I calmly said to him….

‘Are you a customer of ours?’

He said… ‘Yes. I came here 9 months ago and you designed an air-conditioning system for me.’

I said, ‘Sorry, I can’t place you. What is your name, and I will get the file out, tell me when did we install this system for you?’

He said….

‘No, you didn’t install it, my family members are all competent tradespeople, they did the job, but you designed it, and it doesn’t work!’

I said to him…. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to take responsibility for something I did not have any part in supplying and installing? If you are, you are seriously mistaken.’

He got up and said ever so aggressively ‘See you in court!’

I said to him….

‘Now hang on, this is not an admission of any liability but would you like one of our guys to have a look at the unit and see if we can find an issue for you?’

When you run a business you must be a diplomat and a conciliator!

He agreed….and there set in a chain the most amazing sequence of events!

Backtrack: About five months before, our unit lock-up had been broken into! The jerks had one of those roaming scanners that search frequencies until it gets a match and as soon as it does…, the electric roller door opens.

They cleaned us out….took eight brand-new units, copper piping, and electrical gear!

Back to the present, I organized for one of our service guys to go and have a look at this unit. He did and reported that the installation was fine but the unit did have a faulty ‘reversing valve’ and refrigerant was bypassing, compromising the performance of the machine.

I got the fridgey to get the details off the machine and I would try to get some manufacturers to help for this ‘customer’!

When our guys brought back the information, it turns out this non-performing unit that was going to end us up in court was in fact one of the units that had been stolen from our lockup five months before!!!!

I rang the ‘customer’ and said to him…… ‘The unit does indeed have a problem and I would like to get the manufacturer to accept responsibility.

Could you please give me the purchase details for this unit?’ The reason I made that call to him was, I wanted his version of the purchase, and of course, that conversation was recorded! This was what I wanted to hear!

He said….

‘My cousin bought the unit from xxxxxxxxxx and sold it to me as part of a family deal!’ There you go…….. nose around the neck!

I said to him….. ‘Well, mate, you have shafted me twice.’

‘1/….You came in here after free advice which you then wanted to use against me for your advantage!’


The serial number of your unit matches one that was stolen from my premises five months ago…..At this point, it’s become a police matter, goodbye!’

I hung up the phone and I thought ‘screwed you over jerk’…… I gave all the serial numbers to the police for a second time, and this time as they had a red hot lead, they managed to track down all but two of the stolen units.

It was three months later when I next saw him and his cousin in the dock, and the judge asked me if I could identify anyone in this courtroom, and I said to the judge……

‘Yes, your honor, that person over there, the one on the right said, he would see me in court!’

Yeah, Karma happens just enough to make you realize, never do the wrong thing to anyone!

What appalled me about the whole thing, after the initial break-in and theft, a report was made to the police and they were given the serial numbers and invoices for all the equipment that was stolen.

They never managed to make any progress in tracking down our loss or the culprits! So much for police effort. Insurance was considerably more effective and we were compensated for our loss and, that would have been the end of the matter.

It was just sheer luck that this turkey came back in to lodge a complaint presumably uninformed by his cousin of the history of his unit.

And one of the reasons I lean heavily towards being a conciliatory host with my short-term renting is the lesson I learned from that experience! I could have told this character to get lost and stop wasting my time but, in the back of my mind was the desire to know what actually had gone wrong here.

Even though he had clearly taken advantage of me, I still had a desire to see things right.

Once we actually sighted the unit, well…..the rest was history.

A chance in a million but, I took great delight in granting that thief and scammer his wish……

To see me in court!”

19 points (19 votes)

6. Set My Self Free From A Marriage With A Man Who Mentally Abused Me


“I married a man 16 years my senior in 1986; I was 22, he was 38. We were married for close to 6 years. I admit I was naive and worshiped the ground he walked on…at first. He had been married before and had a teenage son who was months older than my youngest brother.

He and his ex had divorced; her grounds were mental cruelty. His grounds were adultery. I didn’t have a clue what she meant by mental cruelty till later.

We had only known each other three months before we married. He asked me to move in, then the same day asked me to marry him.

Two years after we married, the romantic life began to taper off. We were sleeping together almost every day when we started out the relationship. By two years, it was once a week or every other week. By the end of our marriage, it was once a month (whether he thought I needed it or not).

He had a good job at General Electric, first shift, so he came home for lunch, then went back to work. He looked at other women, even when he was with me on walks we took in the summer. I was so jealous I wanted to scratch his eyes out.

He visited other women, spoke with them on the phone for long periods of time. He was manic-depressive, so when he couldn’t be with them, he got depressed. Whenever he was sad, I thought I did something wrong. Nope. He claimed he was ‘in love’ with these other women, and that at least one of them loved him.

Of course, I spoke with them, or read the letters they had originally sent him. He was a vet and so were they. I found out they were not in love with him. He made this stuff up in his head.

One of these women was my best friend…and she had a wonderful figure (she was a chubby teenager).

I had a good figure when we first met but began putting on weight during the first year or two. I was lonely for him and when our romantic life began tapering off, I felt unattractive and unloved.

He was content living in an apartment, with the ‘free’ cable and heat he could control (it almost never went above 59 during the winter! We lived in Vermont and had below 0 weather!). He never wanted to have a house, since it entailed more than he wanted to spend.

Ha! I was working when we first met, but it was always part-time work. When we met, I was living in a boarding house with three other men. I rode my bicycle everywhere including work. He met me at a restaurant where I worked.

When we began going out, I was happy-go-lucky, taking life in stride. I did have headaches at the end of the day from the stress, however. Once he had me living with him, he told me to just quit, find another job.

By the time I found the job I stayed at for 5 years, I had gained weight. I was 122 when we met. I gained up to 135 when I began the 5-year job in early 1987. I began my own personal exercise regimen.

I couldn’t drive, so I walked or biked to work. I changed what I ate, although portions were not so easy. But I tried to lose the weight because I thought it would get him interested in me again…to please him.

He was the hardest man to please. He told me I wasn’t as hot as I thought I was. What??? I saw the pictures of me in a ‘bikini’. Compared to now, I was a hottie. He criticized everything I did, every bite I took of ice cream.

I loved ice cream. I told him if I couldn’t have pleasure with him then I would find it in ice cream.

Toward the end of our marriage, I began having trouble sleeping. I two-timed him, thinking it would help. But it made me feel guilty! So I stopped.

I tried talking about my needs; he insulted me. I had headaches every day by then. I had to take sleeping pills almost every night; I had booze every other night to relax. I had tried to leave, but couldn’t stay away for more than a month.

By the time the end of our marriage was near, my headaches (and bad menstrual cramps!) interfered with my ability to work. I had to see a doctor, who referred me to one who specialized in problems with the jaws etc.

I had a temporomandibular joint because I clenched my teeth because I was trying to hold in anger and frustration. I wasn’t just frustrated with my marriage; I was frustrated with my job also. The specialist had given me a quiz that helped him determine my stress level.

Mine was so high that it threatened my well-being. He suggests physical therapy. I thought it was a good idea, but my ex said ‘you sure want to spend my money don’t you?’ The money I made paid for our groceries and did the laundry! I didn’t have medical insurance except for his.

He just wanted to be cheap. He didn’t care about me or my health. The other thing the doctor had said was to get rid of the stress (therapy) or the source(s) of the stress. I filed for divorce. I filed a motion to waive the three-month wait, and it was granted on August 27.

I had given notice two weeks before that to quit my job. I took on a childcare job.

About two years later, he bought a house. It needed repairs, which cut into his income. It was also in a flood area in the city where we lived.

When Irene went through, he experienced some flooding. He has not had any long-term relationships since our divorce. And he looks really old. He looks like his Hungarian father looked when I knew him. He’s a lonely old man. I, on the other hand, went on to have two beautiful children (who are now 23 and 20) and am now married to a man that doesn’t treat me like trash because of my size. We have been married for 11 years! We don’t sleep together often, but he still flirts with me…and NO ONE ELSE!”

10 points (16 votes)

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masi 2 years ago
I'm sorry. Your first husband sounds EXACTLY like my first husband! EVERY SINGLE DETAIL, except he passed away after we were separated for a year. A requirement in my state in order to file for divorce.
3 Reply

5. Walked Away From Toxic Classmates And Found A Group Who Accepts Me For Who I Am


“For the final four years of my school 9 – 12 grades, I endured a nightmare on earth. I was consistently left out, I got called terrible stuff which I will mention later on, I got used, I had terrible luck, and I was always left out in group projects.

People always looked at me with that ‘what the heck’ look.

Sometimes it got so bad that I came home crying. My father always tried to help give me a good reason to believe it wasn’t personal. ‘Maybe because you’re born of mixed cultures, that’s why they leave you out.

Mentality-wise, you are not like your classmates. You have different interests and etc’. I get that having parents from two different countries is difficult, but that was never the case. My class had even a more exotic set of people, and they got along well with my class.

Maybe I wasn’t interested in taking smoking sessions like them and talking bad stuff about good teachers. My mentality was different, however. Sometimes even a few teachers left me out.

So here comes the sweet part. I decided to give back to my class what they gave to me.

I’ve decided to do it their way and it worked for a while. Everybody gave me the respect I wanted, but I didn’t want to earn that respect in such a way, so I stopped being mean. They used me, treated me like dirt, and whenever I stood up for myself, everything broke loose.

Even today they still take me for granted, but I’m leaving them soon. I had a beautiful friend inside and out who left at the end of 10th grade, meaning I would be alone for a while until a new girl showed up.

It was a miracle saver. At first, she was hesitant of me and went with the nasty class I mentioned. She got treated the same way I was. She came to me one day and we just clicked as I had with my previous friend.

This was all 11th grade, one of the nastiest years for me. She helped me get through. Cool thing is, I worked harder and I beat most of the people who treated me like dirt in the science fair.

12th grade comes up and to be honest it hit the roof with them, but this time I was prepared.

I gained so many great friends. In less than a year I became friends with 10 incredible people. I became a sensation for younger classes. All the 9th, 10th, and 11th graders would swarm around me and we would start roasting each other.

We had great laughs and even the teachers just joined in during break time. I was so happy because not only were people happy but also people just like me, who had the same problems, joined in and felt like they were worth something.

I truly did accomplish something that day and it wasn’t about me, and because of that, I began to change my perspective. I’ve realized that day who the people I should be spending my time with are. During the 12th-grade science fair, my friend and I got first place.

While my class was calling me weird, anti-social, creepy, geek, nerd, putting their evil doings in my name, and etc, I was out there trying to prove I wasn’t, but the best revenge was when I realized that none of that mattered because those weren’t the type of people I should be mingling with anyways.

I stopped caring and in the end, I may have lost a few battles, but I truly did win the war.

My classmates cursed at me, embarrassed me, and etc, but in the end, my revenge was walking away and finding a crowd that suited me best.”

8 points (16 votes)

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chle 2 years ago
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4. Got My Revenge From A Pesky Friend By Pretending To Be A Character From Harry Potter


“My sweetest revenge was on a pesky friend, let’s call her S.

Anyway, I was in fourth grade when this happened…

My best friend – let’s call her K – and I walked out of our classroom. It was a perfect, warm day, two weeks before summer.

Talking excitedly about our summer plans, we met the rest of our little friend group at the old oak at the edge of the school grounds.

‘Wanna play Harry Potter?’ asked S. As all elementary school kids, we were obsessed with Harry Potter.

It was not out of the norm.

‘Sure!’ we all replied enthusiastically. Our Harry Potter fan club consisted of girls, all the same age and grade. There was A, the walking Harry Potter dictionary. There was R, who did not read Harry Potter but knew the plot so well by hanging out with us that she could take a test on it and pass.

Then there was S, who strongly believed that Harry Potter was alive. I’m not even joking. Finally, there was K, my best friend, and I, who played along with S. All recess we ran around the schoolyard tirelessly, rushing here, and there, everywhere.

As K and I walked back to class as the Yard Duties blew the whistle, ending recess, a perfect idea popped into my head.

‘Hey K, d’ya wanna play a trick?’ I suggested eagerly.

‘Depends…’ she mused. I could tell I captured her attention.

‘How about…’ I fumbled for the right words in my excitement. I could not let this idea slip away. ‘we pretend we are possessed. S might even believe us.’ K burst into giggles.

‘I cannot wait! You can create the Google Slides where we can develop our characters, and since we don’t have any homework,’ I knew what she was going to say; her seeming favorite phrase: ‘Let’s go for it!’

The next day at recess, we could barely contain our excitement.

As we neared our oak, pretending to act like we totally were not going to fib being possessed, I murmured: ‘Showtime.’

When we were all at our meeting place, K and I excused ourselves to go to the bathroom.

‘Ready?’ I asked.

‘Ready,’ K said, confident.

‘Just to be sure, you are Emersyn and I am Nina, and we escaped from Hogwarts because Voldemort set it on fire. Correct?’

I snickered. ‘And I can turn into a cat, you a falcon, and we can fly!’ K and I burst into laughter.

‘Let’s go.’

‘Where are we? Where are our wings?’ we said, confused, as we emerged from the bathroom. ‘Where’s Hogwarts?’ A and R, stifled giggles, seeing clean through us. S, on the other hand, believed us. How naive!

‘See! I told you Hogwarts existed!’ she exclaimed.

A and R nodded.

K and I kept up the act. K said: ‘We luckily escaped from Hogwarts, apparating in these bodies, because Voldemort came back!’

S gasped dramatically. ‘Tell me more!’

I glanced at my watch. 4 minutes left in recess. ‘Sadly, we should head back.

We needed momentary safety. Hogwarts needs our help! We’ll be back soon, my friends.’

K and I closed our eyes, pretending to concentrate. Suddenly we opened them. ‘Whoa!’ we said in sync. ‘How did we get here from the bathroom?’ S told us the encounter that we acted out only moments before.

‘It’s too bad we didn’t get to meet them,’ said K sullenly, ‘They can fly and their patronuses are cats and falcons!’

Whoops. ‘How did you know that?’ said S suspiciously.

‘We, uh, they, um, told us that in the bathroom, kind of.’ I stuttered.

S nodded, believing my excuse.

Day after day we continued being Emersyn and Nina, and when fourth grade ended, we said goodbye to our characters. It was fun while it lasted.

Sometimes we just like to be lost in our fantasies, or the world of Harry Potter.

It was fun on all sides, R and A liked to see what our ‘possessors’ would do, S liked to see what would happen to Emersyn and Nina, and K and I liked planning the Hogwarts students’ adventures in the muggle world.

(We even did clues on paper to make it a real mystery, such as a claw mark on paper and such.) Sometimes I like to go on the slides and think about all the fun K and I had to work on their characters, and how much we bonded closer than ever (if that was even possible) spending countless hours tweaking our characters. I loved fourth grade.”

4 points (12 votes)

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lare 2 years ago
Not really revenge but a cute story
6 Reply

3. Left Work When Boss Asked Me To Do Fraudulent Work


“I’ve been a private military contractor for a solid chunk of my career, but I took several years away because I was burnt out and had seen some bad things.

Anyhow, during my break, I decided to take some jobs in the rosy, perfect, Stepford-Esque paradise that is the civilian world.

There was a company in Los Angeles, California, that was willing to hire me. It was owned by a Chinese man of not much stature, who wore slightly-too-loose Marshall’s suits while proclaiming to be a ‘big businessman’.

A bit of background. Sometime in the early 21st century, the internet and digital age wreaked absolute havoc within the printing industry in the US.

China, however, still relied heavily on printing on a large scale.

So those printing companies that failed in America began to liquidate their industrial printers (large, room-sized behemoths), which often cost upwards of $200,000 each.

In came thousands of sleepy, lazy, parasitical Chinese businesspeople eager to reap the loot from the blood and tears of bankrupt print shops nationwide.

They’d buy liquidated printers for dirt cheap, and turn them out for 300% profit in China. This business went crazy and lasted a good decade or two. The company that hired me was one of them.

I was brought on to run operations of his little sales force while he went out to drink with and bribe clients, taking them in his auctioned, rebuilt-title S-Class Mercedes and acting like a big shot.

The people who worked for him? Recent college grads from China. Why? Because he didn’t want to pay them more than $2000 a month. A salary which, in Los Angeles, amounts to sharing a bedroom with 2 other people and eating top ramen every day.

Anywho… His assistant, who is almost like his VP in terms of the scope of work she ACTUALLY does, was feeling quite underpaid (obviously). She confronted him about it, saying that $2000 a month is not even enough for a single person to cover their basic costs in most of California.

His response, in Chinese, was the equivalent of ‘Spend it wisely’, meaning to live more frugally.

Eventually, none of his sales team was willing to stay. Each new hire lasted less than a month. One day, He came into my office, saying, ‘Two companies in China bought ___________ printing machine from us.

Take the deposit from both companies, and then just send the machine to one of them. They aren’t gonna sue internationally for just a deposit. I’ll give you $30,000 for it.’

My jaw dropped. Did he really just ask me to renege on a deal? Nope.

Not freaking happening. I said, ‘You can take your $30,000 and pay for your bail when you get imprisoned for fraud one day.’

I quit. Two months later, the assistant called me and said, ‘Hey guess what? I quit too!’ Without his assistant OR his operations manager, he was forced to carry out deals and manage his team by himself.

Recently, I checked in curiously to see how his company was doing. He reneged on a deal with a client, who did sue him in federal court. His company declared bankruptcy, his wife left him (There was a public divorce proceeding in the LA County court where it said his wife filed it against him), and he hasn’t appeared anywhere in business since.

Later on, I met the assistant over sushi, and she said, ‘When I told him I’m quitting, he said ‘You didn’t give me enough time for a notice.’ So I told him he should ‘Spend it wisely’ LOL.’

Gold star for using his own words against him.”

9 points (11 votes)

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elel 1 year ago
I'm beginning to think the people who submit these stories don't actually know what revenge is.
2 Reply

2. Office Bullies Doubt My Excellence At Work


“This happened when I was working in an airline. Basis promotion, I was transferred to a department that handled payments and liaised with travel agents and online companies for enhancing sales.

I was actually promoted thrice within 5 years. I felt good about working in different departments.

General manager Joe introduced me to my new team consisting of four people and one asst manager Sulas. I was eager to start my work. He told me to file an agreement per se my understanding on the first day itself.

I was more than glad to do it, I was placed with another staff Sylia. She was working in the said department for more than 2 years. The next day, he had a look and agreed it was correct, he asked Sylia to teach me filing, for that we had to download reports from two independent sources, liaise with Agents, take their data, and match.

Sylia said, “Be careful, write down everything, I will tell you only once.”

I agreed, she was very fast on excel, I managed to still write down the max I could. The next day, I had forgotten a step, I asked her again, she looked angry but helped nevertheless.

The same task which I did in full-day, she had done in 2 hours flat, I was impressed and told her this. It might have been a couple of weeks when a new type of agreement arrived, she absolutely refused to help.

When I went to Sulas, he said, “You should know all this, you were promoted, not demoted.” They both laughed. They humiliated me multiple times but I kept quiet, I knew my time would come.

I checked with few more people and filed it, I had to wait back almost 3 hours, it was OK.

There were few more instances like this, I used to watch Sylia’s hand movement to understand the shortcuts she was using. Within a month, I understood all the tricks. Then came the best part, I was working when I could hear Sulas talking to her on the phone, she was not coming to work and there was an urgent pay release which had to be done.

I was given the task, I finished it in half an hour and sent it to Sulas. He yelled at me in front of everyone, “This report is incorrect, it takes 2 hours to create this payment report.”

“Are you saying this basis time is taken or output arrived?” I asked back from my seat itself, my voice loud and clear..

He didn’t look pleased. To cut the matter short, he did not accept my report and delayed the payment for the next day when Sylia would come to work. Sylia as usual took two hours and submitted the report, I was marked in CC, and guess what, all the numbers matched.

Sulas said to Sylia, “Ramesh prepared and submitted the same report in half an hour yesterday.” She opened my report and did complete due diligence, all the numbers were correct, she was sure there would be something amiss (I sat next to her, I know how she was) finally after not finding anything wrong and with the pain of having to sell kidney she asked, “How did you do it in half an hour?”

“No idea,” I said and went back to my work, she asked me, again and again, I reverted with the same answer.

She launched a complaint against me and Sulas went to Joe with her. They looked very happy when they both came from GM’s cabin. I got a call from GM, I told him all that had transpired, how they mistreated me in the first place, and asked him to validate the same with the other two members (Who too were upset with Sulas over Sylia favoritism), Joe checked with them and they both concurred my version indeed.

He then called Sulas and asked him to come to his cabin. I met him on the way smiled at him and went home. I learned the next day, he was issued a first warning. Neither (Sulas and Sylia) spoke to me except on the last day of my work.”

4 points (6 votes)

1. Husband Two-Times Me With A Girl Half His Age


“My ex-husband ‘fell in love’ with a girl half his age who worked at the same place he did. At first, I thought of it as a mid-life crisis. It was like he got a girl instead of a convertible. Either way, it really hit me below the belt.

I had been nagging him to participate more in our ‘family’ & he would ignore me, which I could handle. Our beautiful daughter had grown up being an afterthought by him, no matter how I acted. But I digress. I didn’t even suspect he was having an affair.

Then one day I was going to pick my daughter up from a sleepover & I saw THEM together. They were pulling into a hotel parking lot across the street. I rushed my friend up and had her pull over across the street & park at the end of the parking lot.

I got out & squatted down in a line of bushes. He went to hug her & looked right straight at me. I read his lips, ‘Oh my God, there’s my wife!’ at which time she turned around & had the look of a deer in the headlights.

I had on a cap & some sunglasses and kept a wide grin on my face while clenching my teeth so hard it gave me a headache. He & I exchanged a few words & were divorced soon after. He would go out of his way so he didn’t have to personally speak with me.

This meant going through our 8 yr old daughter which I specifically asked him not to. He ignored that, too, showing his true colors.

Fast forward approximately a year, the phone rings & it’s my ex & he is crying (like a baby).

He proceeds to tell me that he just caught her ‘hanging out’ with another guy (somebody her own age). I am in shock & the first thought in my head is ‘this is a test from God’ & how I handle my reaction is gonna come back on me.

So I didn’t do what I could have. I was calm & empathetic. And deep down, I got some real satisfaction from it. That’s what you get, jerk!! That is how I really felt. But I kept it all in. It’s been more than 25 years now & it now counts as a big regret, although I seldom think of such things.”

3 points (5 votes)

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