People Stun Us With Their Super Revenge
16. Illegally Park In His Driveway? Farmer John Will Park In Yours
“So this didn’t happen to me, but the guy is a legend in my mom’s hometown and it happened when she was young so around the ’80s.
My mom is from a really rural area. One store, one lake and a lot of farms. It’s also honestly one of the most beautiful places in the world I think. Lots of great places to hike and go swimming and so forth.
About half an hour away there’s a town. It is the fifth biggest town in my country, but it’s not really big. A population of almost 80,000 now so fewer people when this story took place.
This one farmer there was a simple guy. He loved his cows and fishing and that was it. He had a farm right next to the entrance to one of the most popular hiking trails.
There were parking spaces for hikers about half a kilometer away, so sometimes people would try and park on his fields or just somewhere on his property. He would wait for them to come back, tell them to not park there again and that would mostly be the end of it. Until this big-shot lawyer for a nearby town showed up. Let’s call him Jerk.
Jerk drove his gigantic sports car and parked right by the entrance to the hiking trail.
It was also right in the middle of the road leading up to the farmer’s house. A regular car could maybe get past the sports car but not the farmer’s tractor. Because of Jerk’s car, the farmer couldn’t go fishing that day. The farmer waited for the jerk and told him he couldn’t park there. Jerk said that Farmer couldn’t do anything about it and he could park “WHEREVER I WANT.” And he did.
For the next year, Jerk would park in the farmer’s driveway several times each week. Police were not really an option there, so Farmer was sort of stuck. Until poop delivery.
As mentioned before, Farmer was a dairy farmer. And he had about 70 cows. And cow poop. A lot. What do you do with the poop? Well, in my country, you can sell it, so other farmers could use it as manure.
Farmer got a big order from a guy a little closer to the town where Jerk lived. Farmer decided it was time to do some shopping and catch up with some friends in the city. So he took his tractor, his trailer, and his big order of cow feces to the city. He found Jerk’s house (a downside to being a successful well-known lawyer) and parked in Jerk’s driveway.
The smell was so bad and spread so far that it was in the newspaper the next day (it’s a small city and not a lot of stuff happening there). The farmer let his tractor and cow feces stand in Jerk’s driveway one whole afternoon. When Farmer returned, Jerk was royally mad, and the farmer just told him, “You park in my driveway? I park in yours.” And according to Farmer himself, Jerk just stood there staring at him while Farmer started up his tractor, lost a big dump of feces on the driveway (tractors shake a lot, oops), and drove away. Jerk never parked in Farmer’s driveway again.
Jerk did try to take Farmer to court, but it was promptly dismissed (it’s difficult to take someone to court in my country).”
15. Horrible Apartment Management Gets What They Deserve
“When I first moved to the region, I had to abruptly end my home search due to a sudden death in the family. As a result, I signed on the first place that had the amenities I wanted and fit within my budget. I didn’t have time to do any real background checking on the neighborhood or management association, so yeah, my bad.
To say it was mismanaged is an understatement, but the place was taken over by a far more professional firm shortly before my lease expired, and since this place was walking distance from a soon-to-complete metro extension, I decided to stick it out.
The new firm did a significantly better job (at first), but that didn’t last long. Soon, they were underpaying for waste management, so garbage stations became festering piles of loose garbage, construction made the overflow parking situation infinitely worse, emergency maintenance orders took up to two weeks to be answered, billing went haywire and people (me) were being charged twice for rent, then had to fight for weeks to at least get that payment credited towards the next month.
They tried more than once to keep it claiming I owed non-existent back rent.
I finally had enough.
So this neighborhood had insufficient street parking, and due to construction associated with metro expansion, residents were no longer allowed to park on the main street.
The neighborhood had always told people to park in an unpaved gravel lot, even included it on the map for new tenant orientation. The thing is though, they didn’t own that lot, the city did.
As a result, the neighborhood took zero responsibility for security, maintenance, and upkeep of that lot, and it started being used to dump construction garbage and hide stolen cars. My breaking point came when there was a gunfight in the lot, and a stray bullet went through my neighbor’s window (the neighborhood charged him to replace the window, by the way).
Figured I’d kill a few birds with one stone so to speak.
I reported the illegal dumping to code enforcement, the criminal activity to state and local police, and the illegal land use to the city/county that owned the property. For a week, nothing happened. Then I started seeing code enforcement, surveyors, police, etc. all over the lot taking notes and photos. Within a few weeks, the garbage was gone, the abandoned and stolen cars were towed, and a fence was put up to prevent anyone from accessing the lot.
I moved soon after, and apparently so did a lot of other tenants. Last I checked, rent was decreased by around 30%, there are a ton of vacancies, and the shady office staff has all been replaced. I know that there were some fines levied because of the garbage situation, the illegal use of government property, and some other fines. There were also lawsuits regarding their shady billing practices. Oh and that metro expansion? I moved out five years ago and it’s still not done.”
14. Party Every Night For A Year? I'll Sell My House To A Cop
“I bought a house 4 years ago in a quiet neighborhood. I had wanted to get into that neighborhood for years. My best friend lives there. It was a couple of blocks from my kids’ school. It was a good neighborhood for the most part.
My neighbors across the street were forced to move before the eviction moratorium was in place. They were really good neighbors. We were friendly with each other, and we were sad to see them go.
So when the property owner rented to a new family, we were hoping we could cultivate a friendly relationship. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
About a month after they moved in, things went from 0-100 real quick. For the next year every night, there was a huge party. Cars down the street, music so loud you could hear it over regular house noise in every room in my house.
My friend in the next cul-de-sac would text me regularly if the music he was hearing was my neighbor’s.
We tried to be civil. I asked politely. I brought them drinks. Eventually, they threatened me and my lady, so we started calling the police. Almost every night for 4 months. We organized with the neighbors. And they started calling the police as well.
Eventually, the others gave up and started selling their houses because the renters were just that bad.
We were still upside down on our place, so it wasn’t an option for us. Eventually, the police told me that I needed to stop calling and that it wasn’t their issue to deal with. That I was a bigger nuisance than the renter’s music.
It was at that time the housing market was taking off. Houses were selling in my area for $40-50k over appraisal value.
My woman and I looked at what we needed to make, so we could move and listed our home for that.
In three days, we had a handful of obscene offers to choose one. But it was the lowest offer that stood out to us the most. Their offer was a good $20k under the next lowest, but they sent a letter. I’m a sucker for a letter especially one with a picture of a young pregnant couple and a dog…
and a patrol car?
Turns out, the young man is a police officer newly appointed at the local PD. And he takes his patrol car home. I knew at that point that this was the family to sell my house to. I moved out as the neighbors were throwing a huge party. The next day, the police moved in, and they haven’t had another since.
I drive by regularly on my way to my buddy’s place.
They just sit quietly in their garage looking bored. I make sure I honk and wave every time.”
Another User Comments:
“One way to stop obnoxious parties is to get your hands on some liquid fart spray. Sneak by and spray their yard with it. They won’t be sticking around for long with the rotten diarrhea stench it leaves behind. This adds new meaning to the phrase “party pooper.”” Chabba77
13. Treat Your Mechanic Like Garbage? Good Luck Getting Another Mechanic
“Background: I am 45 years old. I have worked for my step-father in his garage for nearly 20 years. Because hiring new people is hard, at the moment it’s my step-dad (75) with vision issues, so he doesn’t work on cars much anymore; myself, the “shop manager” which is our slang for I do everything (answer phones, actual repairs, ordering parts, etc., basically everything but pay the bills), and my stepson who works 3 hours a day here since he has a full-time job that pays more than we do.
So, anyway, in March 2020 our business slowed to nearly nothing. It was so bad that we were leaving at noon some days because of the lack of business. After nearly 40 years of being in business, we posted the first loss ever and were in really dire straits, but we kept going. During this time, the state (PA) decided to allow people to delay their vehicle safety inspections until the end of June.
This is a HUGE part of our business, so people not getting cars inspected put a hurting on us.
So, of course, the end of June rolls around, and all of a sudden, we are FLOODED with people wanting inspections. 3 phone lines ringing nearly nonstop all day long.
It’s so bad that I can’t work on people’s cars for answering phones sometimes.
Onto the story. I am alone in the shop, TRYING to work on someone’s car (I think I was replacing a water pump or something.
I can’t remember; it all runs together), and of course, the phone is ringing non-stop. We have a voicemail system, and I’m letting people leave messages since I can’t stop what I’m doing for 3 seconds. So, I get to a point where I can sit for a second to listen to my messages. There was only one or two since most people just hang up and try back later.
Ok, cool, makes my job easier! This person called, I didn’t recognize the number, so answered in my normal, slightly gruff voice…
“Hi, (shop name).”
Caller: “About time you answered. I need to get my car inspected.”
Me: “Ok, no problem. My first appointment is late next week at this point. Will that work for you?”
Caller: “No. It’s expired. I need it done today.”
Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t do it today.
The first appointment I have is Thursday next week. I can’t fit you in before that since we are swamped right now.”
Caller: “No I need it sooner; it’s expired. What am I supposed to do? You have to do it today.”
Note: You have 3 months to get your vehicle inspected in PA before it’s actually expired. I quit feeling sorry for people with expired inspections A LONG time ago.
The fine for driving with an expired inspection is $140.00, and I’ll admit, I kinda grin when people get fined.
It’s not my fault!
Me: “I can’t do it today. I don’t know of any shop that will do an inspection today since everyone is swamped because we are doing 3 months of backlogs right now.” (Very true)
Caller “I know (my step-dad). He will do it for me.
Put him on the phone.”
Me: “He is off today. He had something personal he had to do.” (doctor’s appointment, but I don’t tell them)
Caller: “What is his home phone number? I will call him and make you do it.”
Me: “I don’t give that out to anyone. You will have to call him tomorrow.”
Caller “I can’t wait. If I get a fine, you are paying for it.”
Me: “No, I am not.
It’s not my fault you waited until your inspection was out to get it done.”
“Fine. I’ll call back if I can’t find an appointment anywhere else.”
Me: “That’s fine. Just so you know, slots are filling up fast.”
Caller: “I’ll find someone else to do it.” (no skin off my back!)
Me: “Ok. Thanks. Have a good day.”
Later, I call my step-dad and tell him about it. We both laugh because neither of us knows who this is, and truthfully, we wouldn’t want to deal with that anyway.
The privilege of being your own boss: you can tell the customer to screw off!
The next day, phones are still going crazy, but at least I have my step-dad to help answer; plus my kid is helping, so I can do some other things while working on inspections. My step-dad answers the phone and yells out that I have a phone call on one of the lines.
So, I stop what I’m doing and answer the phone call on hold.
Me: “This is (me). How can I help you?”
Caller: “This is (caller from yesterday). I called around, and nobody has any appointments for a while. (I think the average is 3 weeks.) I’ll take the appointment that you offered me yesterday.”
Me: “Well, I doubt I have anything then. I will look to see what is available.
(Looks in appointment book). Looks like my next available appointment is 2 weeks out right now. Will that work for you?”
Caller: (livid) “You said you had (specific time and day) available yesterday. I want that!”
Me: “I also told you when you hung up that slots were filling up very quickly and not to wait.”
Caller: “I’m not waiting that long. I want (specific day and time) NOW!”
Me: “Sorry, that’s not available, and at this point, we have no appointments for you.
Thank you. Have a nice day.”
And I hung up the phone. I took down the name and phone number and told my step-dad, and he was like, “Ok, cool.” (I love my job sometimes.)
I also called around to all of the independent shops in the area and told them about this caller. They all said thanks. My buddy who called me later said that the person called them and was crying that nobody close would give them an appointment.
My buddy said, “Sorry to hear that. I’ll make you one right now.” It was 10 weeks out. My buddy told me he got 3 fines in that time, and on top of those, he got a fine for expired registration too which is something like $200!
We all smiled.
Thankfully things have calmed down now.
Remember, be nice to those you want to work on your car. When you are nasty, bad things can happen!”
12. Cut Our Salaries Or Be Fired? Yeah, I Think We'll Just Leave
“Back in the early 2000s, I worked for a tech company that offered tech support, on-site support, and training to organizations who either didn’t want specialized IT staff or could benefit from outsourcing.
The company consisted of three directors: a sales department, a finance/HR department, and a tech department. The tech department was further split with a senior manager, 4 team managers, and each team having 2 section managers.
For call-center support (where I worked), we had 2 team leaders, 2 senior engineers, 2 “normal” engineers, and 2 juniors. I was a standard engineer, earning $27,000 for a job that was worth at least $6,200 more outside of the low price area we all lived in.
It was 2006, and I’m still stuck in this job for the same pay. The conditions are worse than before with no overtime, no flexitime, no financial compensation for industry qualifications, shortened breaks, and no pay raise since I started.
To make matters worse, they sold part of the land that the office was on to a developer, and on-site car parking was now for management only.
We had to either pay to use the nearby council car park or risk parking on the street. Morale was low, but despite bad pay, it was still good for the area we lived in.
One Friday in July (think it was the 21st), one of the senior engineers finds a document that he shares around the private chat app.
It’s a restructuring plan that the board voted on last week.
Apparently, this had to be made available for the company for 3 months before any changes to terms and conditions could be made, so the board gave it a generic filename and tried to bury it in the large staff shared area of the network.
One of the directors was selling his shares and moving on, having been headhunted by a large recruitment firm in a nearby city.
The two remaining directors had managed to buy most of her shares with a small quantity going outside the company. This was the company’s response.
Most of the document was a typical downsize/restructure package with a twist. A few team mergers, staff reductions, and pay cuts spun as if to say that they needed to maximize their profits to put the lost cash back into the company.
In October, a new contract would be released for all to sign and was generic. In November, the restructure would be announced, and by January 1st, the new structure would be in place. The directors noted that the new contract needed to include clauses for non-competition and for soliciting customers as these didn’t exist except for the sales staff.
It also mapped current positions to their new ones and what the new salary would be.
I would be down by $6,200 a year, but the twist was that anyone with the word “manager” in their title would have their pay increased drastically – the team managers’ pay jumped from $63,000 to $81,000, for example. By the end of the day, everyone under the rank of team leader had seen this document and was not happy.
Over the weekend, I got a text message from one of the senior engineers inviting me to a BBQ at his house.
When I got there, most of the tech staff was there, and during the afternoon, we formulated a battle plan.
Monday, July 24, 8 AM.
26 people in the tech team arrived for work as normal, each with a letter for the senior manager giving their 1-month notice, and all quoting the clause in their contract that states that members of the technical team with access to confidential company information must be off-site and on “gardening leave” the same day as they hand in their notice.
No exceptions will be given.
Gardening leave is a term used to say that we still work for the company, have handed in our notice to quit, but can’t remain on-site or using company resources so must wait out the remainder of the notice at home. We can’t start a new job within that period.
The net effect was that at 9:30 AM, the director realized that his entire tech staff had quit and marched to the office floor and started harassing one of the seniors.
The senior simply stood, took off his ID badge and swipe card, handed it to the director, and told him, “I’ve already quit. This is me now sticking to my contract.”
On cue, most of the staff followed, with 1 member staying until lunchtime. From what I’ve been told, directors, senior managers, anyone they could get hold of were on the phones attempting to fix issues.
The unsolved open queue went from around 35 to nearly 100 by lunchtime, and naturally, the blame was left firmly at the door of those who quit.
We were even bad-mouthed to customers.
The day after our notice period expired, the senior engineer welcomed 25 new staff to his new company and had already taken ten large contracts from the place we used to work for.
We all had better pay (not much, but it was better than losing pay) and much better conditions with an actual career track rather than the whim of the managers.
The old company tried to keep afloat for a year but was losing profit on every contract and couldn’t afford to employ skilled or experienced people. They closed down in June of 2007 with the owners having to sell personal assets to pay debts, and the 2 remaining directors declaring personal bankruptcy too.
I left the new company in 2010 as the market had changed, and more companies were hiring staff than outsourcing, so contracts were harder to find, and I also had some minor medical issues that meant I needed to be near home. The new company is still going strong though, having geared more towards web design and development than anything else these days.”
11. Think My Heart Is A Toy? I'll Mess With Your Emotions Too
“So, I liked this girl in high school. Let’s call her Stacey.
Stacey was best friends with my cousin. I used to go out with Stacey’s friend earlier in high school, but she subsequently left the school.
Anyways, as much as I liked Stacey, I was 15 and going through my awkward teenage phase: bad pimples, oily skin, mood fluctuations. I was a scrawny kid – not more than 130 pounds.
My family wasn’t well off and couldn’t afford university, so I knew I needed the scholarship to get to the university I wanted. To do so, I needed to put everything into my schoolwork.
Stacey wasn’t as serious about school, so we never had overlapping classes until grade 10.
We had the same French classes. I actually transferred into the class as I changed my schedule 6 weeks into the new year.
I noticed the week after I arrived in said class, she would always wear this overly big, black bra the day we had French and a white shirt with the top button missing.
I was 15; it’s pretty hard to not notice.
My usual routine was for the final class of the day to finish the work fast, so I could leave early and go straight to the library for my lunch break.
However, Stacey would always flirt and ask me to stay – citing she was worried about our very sketchy French teacher.
Anyways, this went on for 3 solid months. I had such turmoil inside of me. I obviously liked her. She liked me enough to flirt. But I was 100% dedicated to my school work and uni prospects.
I asked my cousin what she thought, and she told me to go for it.
They were friends, remember. My cousin’s older sister was having her 18th birthday and booked out an entire club – so I got an invite, as did Stace along with my cousin and 1 other guy – a guy I was friends with who was besotted with my cousin – Sean.
I was still unsure, but Stacey pushed me to come. She promised she will “look after me” and that she had a special surprise for me.
That was really enough to convince me.
Sean asked me if he could stay at my place as his parents won’t let him go otherwise. He’s a reasonably good guy, so I said no problem.
Anyways we go to this party, we are all a bit awkward – 15, at a club for our first time, and around the older kids – 18 to 21.
My cousin was one of the popular girls.
I was buying Stacey drinks and trying to be a gentleman. Anyways, she gets a bit tipsy and tells me she wants to tell me something and to meet her outside in 5 minutes but not sooner.
I go outside, and she’s sitting in Sean’s lap making out with him. She proceeds to tell me that I was nothing more than a game to her and that Sean was in on it too.
I had served my purpose.
This sparked a series of events, one being that I left Sean there, and he had nowhere to go. He had to go stay at my cousin’s, which was even more awkward as she really liked him too, and he had been texting her empty promises.
I decided the best revenge I could get was to become successful and to work on myself.
I started going to the gym. I started reading up on nutrition. I pushed even harder in school. I joined the rugby and the swimming team.
The day I turned 18, I enrolled to do national service for 6 months before university started.
Fast forward 5 years… I’m 20, in a top university, living my best life. Gym became my religion, and I started amateur boxing.
My physique was 2–3% off Tom Hardy from “Warrior.”
It’s the first time in over 2 years that I’m going home.
A friend invited me to this “house party” he’s having. My little cousin, who was 15 at the time, also contacts me to tell me about said party. My uncle asks me if I’ll be there, so I can bring him home.
I don’t drink and drive and had quit drinking at 18.
I told him I’ll come by later in the evening as I had agreed to attend an event with a work internship I had scored.
At said party, I meet the most gorgeous girl: dark hair, tall, tanned, and smart. Lexy. The final quality is probably the most attractive.
She was actually in my high school – a grade below me but moved schools to get away from the “mean girl bullying.” She ended up at a fantastic university in America, but 9,900 miles away. We hit it off and were having such a great time.
11 pm. My phone rings. It’s my little cousin asking if I’m coming as his dad was threatening to come to get him.
I feel bad as I made a promise to my uncle and to him, so I call his dad and tell him I’m going there, so he can go to sleep and not stress. A promise is a promise.
I explained the situation to Lexy and asked her if she would like to join me.
However, we are both in formal wear, and this party was a house party.
She asked for the address and told me she will be there in 30 minutes as she needed to go home and change. I changed out of the boot of my car (the army teaches you to always have a bag of clothes change as your uniform invites the wrong attention).
It was like being back in a time warp.
The host used to throw these parties in high school for the popular kids.
I cracked a couple of invites as I was friends with him and on the rugby team. There were about 30 people there. Half of whom were still in high school. The other half who I was at school with hadn’t grown up. There was 1 person I recognized immediately. Stacey.
Stacey brings me a drink and was already halfway gone.
She proceeds to tell me that she was stalking my social, and she knew I’d be here and that “I’m definitely her type now.” She got my cousin to set this all up.
I tell her as sober and nicely as possible that I’m not interested in her. The only reason I came was to fulfill my promise to my uncle and that I had a new friend coming.
I play it very cool.
20 minutes go by, and Stacey didn’t stop badgering me for information on my new friend. I don’t give any details up.
Stacey decides that the best way to try and get my attention is to go flirt with one of my old friends.
In walks Lexy. She somehow looked even better in jeans and a crop top than her attractive, black dress from the party.
She comes right to me and gives me a kiss in front of everyone. We duly left thereafter with my wasted cousin.
That moment, that was my revenge.
The best part is, she knew the history we had from her sister who still went to the same school. She knew Stacey would be there as she never grew out of the “popular In high school group.”
Oh, and the other 100 moments we spent together that summer.”
10. Threatening Me Isn't Your Best Idea
“My entitled aunt is not a very nice person and she actively goes out of her way to make other people miserable. In the past month or so, my entitled aunt (let’s just call her Karen for the sake of the story) got in touch with me after a good (and peaceful) few years without talking to me or any of my family. Though it was only to demand that I drive her and my entitled cousin (we’ll call her Regina, like the girl from Mean Girls) to a church thing that one of the church members was holding.
I’m still not entirely sure what the meeting was for but my best guess is that it was to sort out the donated food for the food bank/delivery thing that the church wanted to set up. Karen, however, didn’t care about the food bank as it required helping others but was instead interested in me driving them there so they could discuss with Pastor Smith (not his real name) about getting Regina baptized.
I declined, considering Karen lives around an hour or more away from me. Also, she’s not a nice person and I just didn’t want to be around her. This led her to harass me, post absolutely horrific social media posts about me (I don’t even want to repeat half the things they said in those posts), she called/messaged me paragraphs filled with vile homophobic and transphobic slurs (and a ton of grammar mistakes).
For some context, I am a gay drag queen (currently living with my significant other) and Karen absolutely HATES me for it. She often tries to use religion to justify her hatred of me but she has actively admitted in the past that she does not believe in God’s existence. Nothing against religious people, if you’re religious then go on and live your best life honey, but Karen only seems to be religious when it benefits her.
A couple of weeks ago, the harassment finally got to me. I broke down in tears and had my first full-on panic attack in almost a year. The situation had caused my significant other (Andy, not his real name) and I to start arguing. Not a lot but we’d have days where he’d get sick of me just letting her talk to me like that and would practically beg me to do something to put an end to this.
When I’m in drag I tend to be a lot more outgoing, confident, and mean and would have no issue shutting Karen and her Satan-spawn down but out of drag, I am a completely different person, much timider and not fond of confrontation.
After a while of Andy calming me down and just cuddling/crying for a little while, I finally decided to do something about this. But calling the police to give her a warning/restraining order (whilst necessary at this point) did not seem like a big enough punishment for her.
So, I started planning.
I decided to gather as much evidence as I could. I decided to screenshot the messages and social media posts and put them in a nice little folder to send her church. I also sent a message to one of the ladies in her church with some screenshots of some of the transphobic stuff she’d said/posted. See Karen has two profiles, one for pretending that she’s the perfect Christian mom and the other was specifically for spreading hate (not very Christian-like).
She had posted a bunch of vile things about how ‘(transphobic slurs) should be wiped out’ which I think we call all agree is pretty awful. That’s also a more tame part of one of her posts, they are practically borderline on death threats but I’m not even going to repeat them here. The reason for sending these to a lady in Karen’s church? The lady’s daughter came out a few months ago as a transwoman.
Karen acts all friendly with the lady’s daughter though because she’s been on a few (almost free) holidays with this lady. The lady was generous enough to pay for Karen and Regina to go on holiday with her and her family after Karen made out that she felt ‘guilty’ for not being able to afford to take Regina on holiday. That’s nonsense, honey, Karen is a benefit con, she gets (or got, but that’s for another paragraph) over 250 bucks a week from Regina’s dad in child support, and my dad (cough)jerk(cough) would help her buy groceries and pay bills for her.
She had more cash than most people that work do. I have nothing against people on benefits btw, everyone needs help sometimes.
Anyways, sorry for rambling, I sent these screenshots to the lady from Karen’s church and she was not happy, to say the least. I sent a message saying that this was the kind of stuff Karen believed and that I was concerned for her daughter’s safety due to the sheer severity of some of the insults and posts.
She thanked me for the information and said she was going to have a word with some of the other church members. I was genuinely worried that this lady’s daughter could get hurt though so I kinda killed two birds with one stone. From what the lady told me (and the angry messages from Karen and Regina) the two of them are no longer welcome on the holiday that the lady’s family was planning for after this.
No free holiday? Shame.
Her church has not been a fan of her behavior. Apparently, she had not been showing up to any church events unless it benefited her. She did not want to help with soup kitchens or food banks but she’d show up if they were giving away free stuff. Pastor Smith actually reached out to me to apologize on my aunt’s behalf for all the trouble she’s caused us.
The church is very relaxed about LGBT issues and just believes in spreading love and helping those in need which I can totally get behind. I’m not sure whether she had an argument with the members of her church but the lady I messaged did tell me that she told a few of the members to ‘shut up’ so I don’t think she was happy. She isn’t welcome in the church whilst she acts like this though they have told her that she will be welcomed back with open arms after she finds a healthy way to deal with all her hate.
The church did not feel good about asking her to leave apparently but she was reportedly rude to other members of the church and made them uncomfortable so they didn’t have a choice. They actually recommended a few therapists for Karen and maybe Regina to talk to and deal with their anger which I thought was a nice gesture and I seriously hope they do see a therapist.
Anyway, the lady I contacted actually got in contact with Regina’s dad about everything that happened. He. Was. Livid. Now, Regina’s dad is an absolutely lovely man. He cares about his daughter so much and it makes me kinda angry that she doesn’t appreciate him. I’d kill to have a dad that cared about me. She freaked out with him when she was 15 because he got her the ‘wrong’ iPhone.
He was paying so much for child support (I call it child support but it’s really just to help Regina out since she doesn’t have a job and is, like, almost 20!) He had also been helping with bills and food etc. as Karen was making out that she couldn’t afford anything. This man. No. This SAINT, even paid for these two to go on holiday (Karen told him she paid for the free holidays they went on with this lady) when they actually just wasted it on the most materialistic stuff.
I honestly felt really bad for the guy. He has a well-paid job but that’s beside the point, he still pays for these two to do nothing and supports his new wife and their 12-year-old boy.
You can imagine my surprise when I found out that he’d actually reported her for being a benefits con. I’m not sure how it’s going as of right now. I hope her benefits get stopped and both of them have to get a job. There is no reason either of them can’t work, they just ‘don’t want to deal with people.’
Yeah, girl. I hope reality hits you like a ton of bricks.
I also did contact the police and have been advised, due to the severity of some of the threats, to file a restraining order. Which I plan on doing.”
9. Since You Can't Park, There's No Point In You Even Driving Your Car
“I used to live in an apartment when I was 20 where we had assigned parking spaces. I worked two jobs – one in the day and then one at night. My hours were from 7 AM–3 PM and then from 4 PM to 12 AM. As you can imagine, when I would come home, I would be DEAD TIRED!
As I mentioned, we had assigned spaces at this particular apartment complex.
There was one girl who would ALWAYS park her car over the line and partially in my space, which would block me from parking in my assigned space. When this would happen, I would have to park in the visitor spaces, which were a long distance away from my apartment unit, and then walk back to the building late at night/early in the morning.
That community was VERY dark at night, and I felt VERY on edge walking alone in the wee hours of the morning back to my apartment from the visitor spots!
I was respectful, so even though this went on for almost a month, I didn’t go knock on the girl’s door when I got home because it was such a late hour, and I knew she would be sleeping.
I knew the girl. She and I were kind of frenemies, and I knew her before she moved into the complex. Her best friend liked a guy but had been afraid to tell him. I met the guy and went out with him. Her friend held a grudge, so she did too. Initially, she didn’t realize I lived in that apartment community, but we saw each other after she moved in, and we realized that our spaces happened to be side by side.
We weren’t cozy with each other, but I didn’t have any issues with her directly.
I finally had enough of her parking over the line and blocking me from parking in the spot I was paying for, and I decided to talk to her one weekend when I was well-rested and calm. I went to her apartment and asked her REALLY kindly to please park her car only in her space.
She already knew I worked multiple jobs and got home late, and I explained that the way she parked was causing me to have to walk in the dark from the visitor spots. She laughed me off but then apologized and agreed to park ONLY in her spot. I stayed completely calm when I talked to her and, after that talk, I thought we had an understanding.
I was WRONG!
After that talk, she parked over the line MORE than she had ever done before! I couldn’t believe it! I came home that Monday evening and found that she had parked DIRECTLY in the middle of the two spaces so that she had room on the right AND left side of her car for nothing bigger than a bicycle. I was LIVID! It was 1 AM.
I couldn’t believe she did that AFTER I was nice to her, AFTER I explained that I got off late and it was dangerous for me to be walking alone from the visitor spots, and AFTER she knew I worked two jobs and would be TOTALLY TIRED when I got home! This was INTENTIONAL on her part! So, this meant WAR!
On that particular night/morning, I had enough! It was action time! After walking from the visitor spot where I parked my car, I went into my apartment and put my stuff down.
I grabbed some gloves and a hat and put on different clothes – all black. I stuffed my hair into the hat and went out of my building, down the side of the building, and then around it, so I could come back into the parking lot without anyone looking out of their windows and seeing me. It was about 3 AM at this point, and I was DEAD TIRED, but I was on a mission!
I walked all the way around the back of the buildings, stealthily went over to her car, and let the air out of ALL her tires! I know! I know! Somebody forgive me! I let the air out of each tire and then I put the caps in the same place right in the center of each tire all the way around the car.
I wanted it to be CLEAR that it was no mistake! I walked around the building, came back up the side, and went into my unit.
In the morning, I came out to go to work. She usually left for work before I did. Her car was still there! LOL… When I came home that night, guess what? She was COMPLETELY parked in her own spot and NOT EVEN the slightest bit over the line.
She NEVER parked over into my spot again! EVER!
When I originally wrote this here, I forgot to mention what my friends told me about her end of the ordeal. Weeks later, I was out with some friends, and some of our mutual friends ended up talking about someone doing something to her car and how she had to miss work because of the issue.
I piped up and said that I hoped the person didn’t damage the tires, and they filled me in on what SHE had to go through! LOL!
As it turns out, she thought her tires had been SLASHED and ended up CATCHING THE BUS TO GO BUY NEW TIRES! Just to put that into perspective, we lived in a nice community that was NOT in an easy place to get to for non-drivers.
There was a “professional’s bus” that ran Monday through Friday from the community straight into the downtown area and another bus that ran every HOUR AND A HALF, AND you had to walk quite a distance to even get to that bus stop! It was NOT a very bus-friendly area at all!
The place she purchased the tires from had a tow truck.
After purchasing the new tires, she had to ride BACK to the apartment complex with the tow guy, so they could get her car and then go BACK to the shop.
Then, they started taking off the tires and checking them and discovered that they weren’t punctured! They ended up refunding the tire cash, and she had to pay for the tow. My friends told me she had been SUPER mad! She missed work, she missed a day’s pay from her job because she had used up all of her vacation and sick time (she had gone on a trip earlier in the year and used up her yearly vacation, and she had been sick a lot, so she only had a few HOURS of vacation and sick time left!), she had to catch a bus – which she hated, she had to pay for tires (even though that cash got refunded, and she ended up paying for the tow), and she went through all of that only to find that the tires JUST needed air! She HAD a jump box WITH an air pump on it too! They said she just didn’t think to try using that before going through all of that trouble!
I should add that she didn’t even think it was me initially! SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT HER EX BOY’S NEW GIRL DID IT BECAUSE THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT OVER THE PHONE, AND SHE THOUGHT THE NEW GIRL WAS JEALOUS OF HER! LOL! I remember sitting there feeling pretty smug about the whole thing! This is one of the few times in my life where I didn’t have ONE SECOND of remorse for doing what I did! NOT EVEN A DROP! I never had a problem out of that girl after that.
Honestly, if I had known that doing that would stop her from parking partially in my spot, I would have done it before!
Even though she wasn’t sure who did it, I was told she went through a range of emotions trying to figure out who did it! At one point, she thought it was me, then she thought it was her downstairs neighbor (because of some loud music she had been playing), then she thought it was her ex-boy, then she thought it was her ex-boy’s new girl.
When she presented the idea that I did it to our mutual friends, they ALL said that I was WAY too nice to do something like that (LOL)! They also suggested that I’m entirely too sensible to have come to her and ask her to park in her space and then damage her tires (LOLOLOLOLOL)! One of my friends even SAID, “She just isn’t a petty person like that!” when talking about me to her (QUADRUPLE LOL)!
They told her that she should be ashamed of herself for continuing to park in two spaces after I had asked her not to.
She settled on the ex-boy’s girl because the ex-boy was at work overnight. LOL… It is a sad thing when you have so much negativity around you that you can’t even pinpoint who might have a grudge against you!
I found out later that the community had a remedy for people who did what she did. I just had to call a special number, give them my unit number, tell them a car was in my spot, and they would have come and towed her.
I didn’t know that. Had I known that, I would have done that, but my method was JUST as effective!
I got away with it because this was a time when cameras were not as prevalent. Today, I would likely have ended up on YouTube and in jail for doing that! Or maybe NOT jail! I didn’t actually DAMAGE the tires… I would just have ended up embarrassed on some social media site! So, there you have it – my old, sweetest revenge story!”
8. This Student Isn't Getting The Easy Way Out
“I taught math last school year at a high school.
There was this really snotty disrespectful kid in my class. He was a senior and he quickly decided the class was beneath him and stopped coming.
The way I approach grading is half the grade is attendance and participation. I feel like I can teach any kid math and help them get really good at it as long as they come to my class and do what they’re supposed to.
The other half of the grade was going to be their comprehensive final.
Guess who comes into my class one week before finals with some sob story about how he needed me to pass him for blah blah reasons. Yeah.
So I tell him ‘OK here’s the deal. Half your grade is attendance and participation. Half is the final. That means you can’t get more than a 50% right now.
However, I also don’t fail anyone that gets at least a B on my final. If you were able to learn the math without being here listening to my spiel every day, fine, you pass.
Of course, there was no way this guy was going to pass my final. I was teaching trigonometry and he couldn’t even do basic algebra worth a darn. Given his attitude toward me, I have to admit I enjoyed this thought.
Passing my class is SOOO important to him a week before finals, but not important enough for him to attend my lessons. Justice = served.
So he says, ‘What am I gonna do I don’t know the stuff?’
So I tell him, ‘OK. I have a review here of all the types of problems that will be on the final. It’s what we are working on all week.
You come in every day and do your best and if you need extra help I’ll help you at lunchtime and you can try to pass my test. Either that or you can just give up.’
Of course, he realizes it’s futile and gives up, right? No. He actually comes in, works hard, and spends every minute of every lunch in my classroom getting individual attention. And he gets an A on his final!
When I grade his test and he sees he got an A his eyes actually tear up.
So I point to the test and say ‘Look at that math! That’s some hard freaking math. Most people can’t do that math but you know what? You can! I wonder how many other things you can do that other people told you couldn’t do. That you told yourself you couldn’t do!’
He agreed and thanked me profusely for all my help and for not letting him take the easy way out. I don’t think I’ll ever teach a kid a more important thing than that.”
7. Skimp My Pay? Watch Your Business Crumble
“Nearly 20 years ago, I was a brewer at a brewpub.
The owner was a complete lunatic and an utter jerk. Before I was hired, he had already purchased the brewery equipment, used, from a closed microbrewery. Problem is, it was literally 4 times larger than it needed to be for the size of the place, and to top it off, he was selling Big 3 drinks too.
And it was a Pugsley system. (Brewers will know.)
But I made it work. I even got the stupid Ringwald yeast to behave. But I only need to brew about 3 or 4 times a month (I have worked at places we brewed that much a week), so I wasn’t needed anywhere near 40 hours/week. And I was salaried. So, he decided I needed to work as night manager at least two nights a week to fill out my hours.
That was fine; it was an easy gig.
After our first year, he advertised a huge anniversary event with specials including food and drinks including commercial drink specials. And didn’t even mention that we made our own, much less put anything on special. Idiot.
Not too long after, I got my first vacation in over a year. And he was mad at me for insisting. But life was stressful, not least of which because my mom was in hospice, stage 4 cancer.
But her condition was such that she said my wife and I should go; she’ll be fine. So, we went camping for a week. The day before our trip was to end, we got word she had died. Two days earlier.
My family didn’t know how to reach us, only she did.
We rushed home (6-hour drive), and on the way, I called my boss and told him what had happened and that I probably would not be in on Monday as planned.
(This was Saturday.) I found out later from a bartender that he then yelled at the chef that I was probably going to want more time off. I did in fact take Monday off, but I went in on Tuesday to do my night manager shift.
Now, my mom’s wishes were to be cremated with no embalming, so by the time I got home, she was already cremated.
So, the memorial service was planned for two weeks later, right before Labor Day weekend.
There was to be a memorial service Thursday and the interment for the family Friday. So, I planned and made sure that the servers were full, and I wouldn’t need to brew for at least a week.
That Wednesday, the boss comes and tells me that he wants me to work the night shift on Thursday and Friday (normally I did Tuesday and Wednesday nights) to make up for the time off I’d taken to help my dad out.
(He wasn’t handling it well.) He wanted me to come in after my mom’s funeral. I flatly refused, at which point he said fine, but I’d have to work a double shift Saturday then. I nearly lost it. I walked away, and after I cooled off, I went back and told him I was no longer going to do the manager shifts and that I wanted to switch to hourly for brewery work only.
He was angry but stuck. He needed me in the brewery.
Things started calming down, but after a few weeks, I noticed my paychecks were for less than I anticipated. I hadn’t been tracking my clock in/clock out very closely because prior to this, I only clocked in and out, so I was logged in to do manager functions, but I happened to have a couple of slips in my wallet, and because I still had manager access, I discovered he had been altering my hours, eventually cutting me 20 hours in just 6 weeks.
And that’s when I hatched my plan. I was done with this jerk. Remember that Ringwood yeast? Well, in a brewery, you harvest yeast from a fermenting batch to use to brew a later one.
And since we were slow, it often had to be stored for a while before it got used. But you had to use it within 30 days (21 is better) or it goes sour and starts dying.
Normally I would take other steps to ensure it stayed clean and healthy but not on the last batch I harvested. It just went into the cold room. And stayed there. I stopped going in very often, just logging tank levels to make sure nothing ran out and made him suspicious. I would even go in to make sure he wasn’t in that day and later message him that I’d brewed.
(I hadn’t.) And waited.
On day 45, after I got the check for the last hours I worked.
I overnighted my keys in with a resignation letter. He called me the next day, screaming. I told him I knew what he’d done, and I wouldn’t be back. I don’t know what he looked like when he went into the brewery cellar and discovered he had empty fermenters, nearly empty serving tanks, dead yeast, and almost no grain.
After that, he tried to hire my former assistant, who was working at another brewpub by then because the jerk had forced me to fire him to save cash. He laughed at him. He then apparently got the under-age son of one of the brewers at a nearby brewpub which he had originally been part of to brew for him but had to fire him because the kid kept getting caught wasted down in the cellar.
So, he tried doing it, and I had heard they stopped brewing entirely eventually. About a year after I left, he folded. Staff showed up one morning to padlocked doors.
Drove through there a few years back. Not only was the business gone, but the building was torn down. I felt like stopping to sow the ground with salt, but I was in a hurry.”
6. Keep Messing With A "Weak" Person And See What Happens
“As a seventh-grader, I got picked on fairly often. It wasn’t my practice to fight back, so bullies were encouraged because it was fun, and there was no apparent downside.
I wasn’t aggressive, and I fancied myself a sensitive soul, so it never really occurred to me to fight back. I just really wished that the bullies would grow tired of the game. No such luck that year.
As I entered adolescence and began to participate in wrestling, the bullying stopped midway through the 8th grade. I had sprouted biceps, and, though, I never had to declare my newfound grappling skills, I must have carried myself differently.
One of my tormentors from the 7th grade was in my first-period PE class in the 10th grade. At 12, we had been essentially the same size, but I had grown quite a bit more than he had in the intervening years.
He used to kick me in the stomach during class changes every chance he got, then walk away laughing about it.
I had never forgotten about it, but, as I said, he was no longer messing with me, so I had mostly made peace with it.
On this particular day of sophomore year, the boys were waiting for the bell to ring in the locker room following our gym class.
The middle school bully, whom I’ll call Jason because that was the little idiot’s name, was making the rounds giving kids chest twisters. Perhaps you’ve heard of them? It involves pinching another’s nipple between your thumb and pointer finger and twisting. It is rather uncomfortable.
I expected Jason to skip over me since he had seemingly declared detente when my testosterone finally kicked in.
Unfortunately, he also hadn’t done much growing in terms of emotional maturity.
He walked up to me for our first meaningful interaction in three years and, without preamble, gave me a particularly earnest yank on my areola.
I was no longer the defenseless, sensitive kid who just hoped that my torturers would see the light.
I reacted immediately by shoving him. It wasn’t a little shove, either. I lowered my level, put both hands on his chest, and kept driving until he fell over backward into the wall.
He jumped right up and telegraphed his run such that it was just instinct for me to sidestep and throw him by me. He slammed into the opposite wall this time. Unaccustomed to fights that didn’t take place with rules on the mat, I walked away, expecting it to be over.
After all, he had just crashed into two opposing walls: surely he didn’t want to get hurt?
He came running at me again and jumped on my back. He was ripping at my ear and trying to choke me at the same time, howling and crying through the whole ordeal. This time, multiple of our classmates pulled him off of me. Knowing that he had an audience, he gave a classic, if cliched, speech about how he was going to kill me. He told me to “watch my back” when the bell rang.
Several people congratulated me as the day went on. It seems that I had not been his only victim over the years.
The following day, we had health rather than PE, and I was in the classroom early, as was my practice.
The teacher was nowhere to be found. Jason came into the room and appeared just as emotionally elevated as he had been the day before. His face was red, and his breathing was labored.
I remained quietly at my desk. He stalked toward me, declaring what a cowardly little so and so I was. Even when he stood over me at my desk, I figured I would just sit there. Surely he wouldn’t be foolish enough to physically assault me again?
He slugged me. Right in the jaw. I can’t say that I recall any pain. I knew what I had to do, though.
When I stood up from my desk, he was already backing away.
I must have had some look on my face. I grabbed his head and arm in a classic wrestling headlock and executed what must have been a perfect hip toss. (Another classmate told me that he thought Jason’s feet were going to scrape the ceiling on the way over.)
Jason’s head, neck, and back all landed on the floor at about the same time with me on top of him.
The wind was knocked out of him, he was choking on his tears, and he was clearly terrified at this point. I looked him right in the eye and asked if he would leave me alone after this. He nodded his head as he could not yet speak, and I released him and returned to my seat.
Do you think that Jason so much as looked at my direction for the remainder of high school?
Another User Comments:
“Reminds me of when I was in HS freshmen year (1976) and a kid said, “I’m going to kill you.” I took him down fast, with a metal chair.
It took 4–5 students and the teacher to get me off of him. My father was called in as I was facing suspension. What the bully said was repeated, the principal said, “He didn’t mean that,” my father replied, “My boy is not a mind reader.” I only got 2 nights of detention. But after that day, not a single bully ever bothered me.” Rick Franklin
5. I'll Keep Making Complaints Until You Get Fired
“An employee at the neighborhood cafe I had frequented for the past six years started harassing and intimidating me at the beginning of last year because her man (also a co-worker) was in the habit of flirting with me every time I came in. He would try hitting on me right in front of her, completely oblivious to her while she stood there watching and fuming.
I noticed her in my peripheral vision each time and would simply walk away and pretend not to understand her man’s advances.
To get away with her emotionally abusive tactics towards the customer that was done with stealthy duplicity, the charming and saccharine employee (a try-hard performance I saw right though when she was hired not too long before all this began) would try to insult me to my face as she took my order each day by pretending to have forgotten my name.
She didn’t hide the fact that she was pretending either but would flutter her lashes, look up at me doe-eyed innocently, and sweetly say each day, “I’m so sorry. What’s your name again?”
After I told her with a poker face, despite knowing what she was doing, she’d smile happily to herself as she typed in my name, as though pleased that she’d been able to dominate another human being.
And after I’d sat down at my usual table, she’d march over, hover over me, and begin loudly and cheerfully addressing all the other regulars by name.
She’d snicker as she looked me up and down, stifle her laughter as she studied my face each time I was giving her my order, or suddenly appear right beside me if I was at the condiment bar in the back, sighing in subtle exasperation as though she still couldn’t get rid of me.
I found phlegm floating in my drink at one point, but not wanting to accuse anyone without proof, I didn’t report it.
When I kept coming back (this covert narcissist still didn’t get after eight months that her emotional bullying had no effect on me as she was such a mediocre person; all I really felt was an embarrassment for her), she took to groaning dramatically and making as though wanting to vomit when I was next in line, and then she started slandering me.
She told her man that I cursed at her while she took my order and who knows what else, in order to turn him against me, the customer who wanted nothing to do with either of them.
He started watching me with suspicion (and she’d grin happily beside him at how things were turning out), and she got other younger employees, eager minions, to report to her when I’d go by in the evenings when she wasn’t on shift, so she could continue harassing me when she wasn’t there.
As all of this went on, I made both mental and physical notes of it all.
I write about human rights issues, the world’s oppressors and tyrants, and bad behavior in general, and I do so without political correctness but acerbic flair. I’m also an easy target for bullies — I’m an introvert and am always sitting in the cafe by myself, reading or writing, and rarely interact with others around me.
Having not reacted to her provocations and bullying all those months was mistaken for submissiveness and weakness, instead of what I was exercising in the presence of attention seekers — stoicism.
I waited for the right time, when she’d least expect, before writing a long review on the cafe’s Yelp page, describing in full detail all the stuff she’d pulled on me, the customer, for nearly a year.
Made sure to mention that I wrote about bullies for a living, and I’d spoken to some buddies who were attorneys, which could only make her look even more stupid for targeting and slandering a person/customer she knew nothing about, and the fact that none of the complaints I’d made in private (I made five in total after eight months when her mask had begun to slide almost completely off, and she’d crossed a line by trying to damage a person’s reputation) were taken seriously by others.
The cafe lost my business and damaged its own reputation because the “sweetest” two-faced employee they had on staff managed to manipulate all of them, causing this much trouble for everyone.
That repulsive person was exposed in front of an audience, and I can only imagine that the inevitable outcome was that she was fired. All of this because of a guy, in what I now refer to as a great anecdote and the saddest display of insecurity I’d ever seen.
Also, how’s that for a front-runner for the Darwin awards?”
4. You'll Regret Bullying Someone With A Disability
“Not the best case but one where I happened to be the wrong person to mess with, which is kind of rare as I always had been weak, and timid.
As you can see, my attitude has changed a drastic bit since then, but I wasn’t the worst off in my year. One girl in my class was paralyzed on the whole left side of her body.
Another girl in my year had glass bone disease, scoliosis, and paralysis starting from her hip downward, probably from a broken spine at some point due to that legendary combo of glass bones and scoliosis.
Well, I was friends with both of them, and I really liked the girl with scoliosis, and in spite of her disabilities, I had a bit of a crush on her. She was pretty, funny, tough, and a kind soul, the only person in my class who even wasted her breath talking to me.
And that was something a guy in our class did not like.
He threatened to beat her up if she talked to me ever again. Even just one time. And if you read along, you can imagine how fatal a single punch to her would be.
At that point, I already knew death was an extreme possibility for her. The summer before, she had an operation with a forty percent survival rate.
So, at the point this guy made the threat, it was a miracle she was still alive.
So, even my limitless patience and forgiveness had reached their limit. I knew he threatened her when they were alone, meaning no witnesses. And the word of the bully always outweighs the word of the bullied. I was stupid. I never was dumb in the sense of not getting stuff or not being able to read a situation.
But I tended to naively trust authorities. I at least grasped that much back then.
And so I started taking martial arts classes at that point…
She had taken the extreme risk of telling me. So, she was in imminent danger of getting killed by him as the bully was huge. And one smack probably would kill a healthy girl of her build, as she was small and slender.
Going to the police presented the same problem as talking to the headmaster. And if it had any consequences without proof, they could only be a nuisance but nothing severe, so it would only escalate things. Even I realized that.
My only option was to deal with this guy myself. I learned the hard way that both of us (that bully and me) were almost always the last to leave class.
I just was slow in packing my stuff. Him? He probably waited to mess with me.
But on that fateful day, I made sure I was a bit quicker. I’d just need a minute and a place to hide like the door of the elevator. Both girls in wheelchairs had already gone down the elevator, so nobody could say anything if he saw me leaning on it, and most importantly, from our classroom doorway, you’d be perfectly hidden.
And this guy’s locker was just straight past that door. I knew he’d be late. He’d wait for me a few minutes just for a chance to harass me.
I only hoped he would wait until everybody had left. I admit I was betting on that, especially that day I was sure he’d wait for me.
He’d want to mock me about his threat to assault her. I knew that.
And if the situation was any less dire his angry mumbling that I probably “…scurried off like the brat (I) was!” would have amused me.
He was so immersed in his angry world that he walked straight by me at that moment. I just put my hand on his shoulder when he turned around startled, slammed him into the locker, stabbed his solar plexus with two fingers, and grabbed his throat before even asking him if he really had issued that threat to my friend with ‘glass bones.’ Holding him up against the locker by his throat, I told him I said, “I will kill you if anything happens to her.
Do you understand me?”
This guy quickly realized, he had angered the wrong person. I admit I was in shock over my violent outburst myself, but I meant every word of my threat. I would kill him, should anything happen to her.
When I had him by his throat, it did cross my mind that killing him would be the safer option. But something got me back to my senses, and it was clear that he was left with the knowledge that he would regret his decision if he did not stay away from myself and my friends. And gained my peace from him. And a fair share of trouble later down the road because I learned from that experience and was able to stir bullies away from me.”
3. Horrible Office Prankster Gets Her Workplace Reputation Ruined
“At the time, I was (m/27) a seven-year veteran at large tech corporation, senior designer on the communications team by then.
The senior copywriter went on maternity leave, leaving a temp in her place. Although irritating in a non-descriptive way, she presented well and seemed competent enough. For later context, she was also an uber dog lover and a staunch and righteous vegan SJW.
There were frequent, mutual, and innocent team pranks.
Things like replacing a box of diet cookies with a box of Krispy Kremes or covering the laser on someone’s mouse… like, “Oh, you dawg. You got me!” kind of things… Now let me fix that and let you get back to work.
Being desperate for acceptance, the new temp started taking things a bit far and seemed to focus pranks directly towards me. Even after a few subtle reprimands from our manager, she continued.
Things like slipping inappropriate photos or comments into a PowerPoint presentation (on the shared drive) I was about to give or fake crying during morning stand-up just to gauge reactions. Her novelty wore off fast.
Fast forward to the morning after my birthday, she knew I was going to be hungover.
I get to my desk, red-eyed and thirsty as heck. I grabbed my water bottle at my desk (which I always kept full) and started chugging like it was going to save my life….
It was straight booze! I had at least two full swallows before I realized.
I go straight for my garbage bin to throw up. The slurry of alphabet soup and at least six cans of booze (and God knows what else she put in there) made darn sure I did hurl.
I got most of the booze out, but already being hungover, it made me instantly wasted again.
Was not impressed.
She came in laughing her brains out, taking full claim.
I didn’t narc on her, but the story made its rounds to HR, and she was given a stern warning.
I would have accepted an apology, even remorse but not a shred. In fact, she started calling me Pukey McGee to literally no one’s fan fair.
I let it pass for a few weeks, waiting for the attention to die down.
Revenge day finally arrived.
She always left at 10 am to get a Starbucks. I took this time to plaster “lost dog” posters anywhere outside the office she might stumble by on her way back. She fell for the bait, asking around, but no one was the wiser.
Once she was cozy at her desk, I went to her car to stage a hit-and-run massacre.
With chunks of fatty steak, a liter of fake blood, an old leash and collar, and a bag of fake fur, I went to work.
I’d share the pic, but it’s long gone, but it was VERY CONVINCING. Looked like a leash was caught around her rear passenger axel and the dog got clogged and shredded between the tire and wheel well.
I left the collar dangling out the back with a particularly generous portion of gore and a puddle of blood.
It didn’t take long before others noticed the lost dog posters or the gory car and put two and two together.
Eventually, “the owner of a white so and so with license plate such and such, please come to reception” went over the intercom.
It was delicious! She was out in the lot sobbing so hard, she was coughing. Carefully placing chunks of bloody, furry, gore into a box. It took her an hour to gather every precious bit, crying the entire time. My theory was that she wanted to return the dog to its owner as best she could before calling the number on the poster.
Was a shame there was no owner or dog, but she was too distraught to realize it was fake. I thought for sure the lack of bones or guts (and obviously fake, sticky stage blood) would be a near-instant giveaway, but to my utter shock, it wasn’t! A scenario I wasn’t expecting but welcomed just the same.
It was just assumed the dog owner had printed the wrong number on the poster because the remains never were returned.
She had the collar and leash cleaned and posted posters of her own in hopes of finding the owner.
Given her reputation, there wasn’t much sympathy offered. The righteous, vegan dog lover was now a dog killer… and I took every chance I could to remind her of that.
She took down all her gaudy dog lover stuff off her desk and kept very much to herself for the remainder of her term… bonus that she even left early, but not sure if I can take credit for that for certain.”
Another User Comments:
“I’m angry about messing with the presentations.
You don’t mess with actual work.
Honestly, if she put a dirty picture in a presentation, I’d check the time stamp of her access, make a screenshot of it, and give the presentation anyways. Then when the poop hits the fan, I’d show that I checked the presentation for final approval an hour before this witch edited something she had no business of touching. She would have been instantly out of the company.” EvanWasHere
2. Be Unfaithful Overseas? Whoops, Your Bank Account Just Dropped
“To give you some background I’ll tell you some things that will be important later.
My ex-girl loves her dad (entitled dad). She isn’t even bothered by the fact that her entitled dad abandoned her and her sister when she was 5-years-old, and her sister when she was 3-years-old.
Entitled Dad went out on my ex’s mother, a sweet and caring woman, with a random affair. After that came out, he divorced and moved to New Zealand.
I live in Germany, so it’s literally the other side of the world. Entitled Dad left his children behind and moved to the other side of the world because he went behind his partner’s back.
After he moved, Entitled Dad kept in contact with my ex and tried to manipulate her into thinking that her mother, that sweet and caring woman, is a bad person and that he is “so much better.” Entitled Dad doesn’t even care about my ex.
Everything he does is to hurt her mother. He wants to break her and uses her daughter as his weapon.
I know all that because my ex’s little sister got sick of Entitled Dad’s nonsense as she got older. She told me everything about him and that he tried to make her mother look bad. My ex’s best friend (since childhood) is also a friend of mine and told me stuff, too.
And I got to meet him personally but later more about that.
The manipulation, however, seemed to work on my ex. She is so delusional about Entitled Dad that she literally said things like: “He’s the best father in the world,” or “He is always there for me.”
Yeah, always there for you on a Skype call twice a month.
I tried to not speak about Entitled Dad with my ex because as soon as someone tried to show her what kind of a person he is, she feels attacked and gets angry and aggressive.
All of her friends and family hates Entitled Dad and tried to talk to her, but the same reaction happened.
The months went by, and my ex finished her school with an “abitur;” I think it’s like high school in America, and it allows you to go to a university. She decided that she wants to spend a year in New Zealand, to stay with her dad for a few months, and then do work and travel.
I was out of my mind when she told me that. I knew her dad manipulated her into that and that this was his idea.
Everyone tried to talk her out of it, for fear she would not return for two years because she said that Entitled Dad mentioned that “if you stay for two years in New Zealand and have a relative as a legal citizen, you get a visa and can live and return there whenever you want.” I checked it, and as far as I understood, it is a legit fact.
Well, at least that’s one thing Entitled Dad didn’t lie about.
But you already guessed it: she wanted to move to her dad and said things like, “I’ll never be happy if I don’t do it” and stuff like that. I mean, yeah, go see your father and do work and travel, but we all knew her well enough to see that if she’s there, she will stay probably longer than two years because Entitled Dad is able to manipulate her into anything.
It’s freaking mental abuse.
Of course, Entitled Dad called her many times a week all of sudden and told her “how great it will be” and nonsense like that.
Then he told her that he will be there when she gets her testimony and at her graduation party.
In my head, I thought about many ways to just get rid of him when I heard the news, but I came to the conclusion, that I couldn’t do much.
I’m sure he only flew over because he wanted to make sure that she does not change her plans and to make her mother sad and angry. Her mom sometimes cried at night when Entitled Dad was a topic at the dinner table. So, yeah, she really is done with him.
The big day came, and I saw him for the first time. (I saw pictures before but only his face.) He’s a small, smudgy-looking guy.
He was wearing jeans and an ugly yellow and white striped shirt. But his shoes. His shoes were like cowboy boots but only ankle-high.
He looked like a mirror of his personality.
There are two mini-stories with Entitled Dad at the graduation party, which are not really relevant for the revenge, but I included them as a little extra. Let me make you hate this guy even more.
When my ex got her testimony, her mother was crying with joy because she did everything for her daughter, and it was such a big deal for her that she got her testimony. Entitled Dad, however, came out of the building and saw the scene, rolled his eyes, and went inside again to flirt with the single moms. (He married again in New Zealand, by the way.) I had to calm down; otherwise, I would’ve killed this little poophead.
The second story shows how important Entitled Dad thinks he is.
My ex’s mother has a new partner too, and Entitled Dad met him at the aftershow party. Entitled Dad talked in perfect German with everyone at the party. When Entitled Dad introduced himself to the new partner, he spoke in English, “Hi, my name is Entitled Dad, and I’m from New Zealand. Nice to meet you.” My God, yes, we get it; you two-timed your woman and moved to the other side of the world.
Now finally the revenge:
I talked for hours with my ex about our relationship and said that I couldn’t do a long-distance relationship for longer than a year. And it really is that way. I’m not made for that.
She promised she only wanted to stay for 9 months: half a year with Entitled Dad and 3 months of work and travel.
She said that she has a ticket booked in nine months and showed the email to me.
She also gave me full permission to her German bank account where her father pays a monthly $230 child support to her. She also would transfer cash every month as soon as she gets work in New Zealand to have a head start as soon as she returns.
Fast forward 9 months later…
Over the last months, I tried my best to keep the relationship alive. The hardest thing to deal with was the time zone difference.
She reached out to me and said, “I want to have one or two months more with my dad.”
I couldn’t believe this. We screamed at each other on the telephone. But in the end, I could wait two months more.
She asked me to postpone her ticket, and I did. Later that month, I saw on her bank account that almost $340 was gone. After a little bit of research, I found out it was a bill for postponing her flight ticket.
A little idea came into my head.
I would not tell her anything about that. And for every month she further breaks her promise… She’ll have to pay.
But that’s not all. A few weeks later, I was looking on social media and looked through her followers. One guy had a profile picture with my girl in it. His profile is public and then I saw the picture.
Him kissing her with the caption “4 month anniversary.” I lost my mind. She met a new guy and makes me wait because she wants to have somebody over here she can always return to and who manages all her stuff.
The idea of costing her hundreds of dollars every month is too good. Well, too bad; I have total control of your bank account. I now knew she wouldn’t come home anytime soon.
I faked the relationship. I acted like everything was fine. And it wasn’t really too hard. Every evening, I write to my mom about how my day was and stuff like that. It makes her happy and is no big deal for me. So, I just changed, “Hi Mom” to “Hey Babe” and sent Ex-Girl the same text every evening I sent my mother before. I basically cut contact, told her I have a new job and have to go sleep early.
My revenge plan was in action.
I simply postponed the ticket every month.
Lived my life and had no trouble at all. The first year went over, and she already lost $4,100, but it just gets better. I broke up with her, confronted her with the affair, and said she could stay where she is.
I didn’t want to spend much time on the breakup because it was over a year ago for me.
I, however, hoped she would forget about her bank account (and that I have all the permissions for it). And she sure did. Another year went by, and another $4,100 is just gone.
Do you remember her best friend? She called me one day and asked me why I have stolen thousands of dollars from my ex’s bank account. That my ex gave her sister all the permission over the bank account and that only a couple of hundred dollars would be on the account.
I told her that I postponed the flight every month because she didn’t say otherwise. I also told her that she went behind my back and everything else.
Her best friend was mad. She told me a few days later that my ex told her that the cash was for a new car for her dad and that “he did so much for her, so that is the least she could do” (Ex’s words).
Entitled Dad had the idea, and of course, my ex’s delusional butt thought that it’d be a great Idea. All the cash he had to pay for HER, Entitled Dad paid every month, but only because he knew he would get back it all back anyway for a new car.
When he found out that all the cash was gone, Entitled Dad had a big argument with my ex, and she had to move out.
Entitled Dad kicked her out, and she had to see how she would manage her situation.
Well, I can tell you: she does not have any backup cash. She lost nearly $8,300, and her sister legally took the rest of the stuff in the bank account and closed it. No more cash from Germany. No more cash from Entitled Dad. No more friends in Germany.
I got my revenge, and she is completely broken about how her dad treated her.
She also lost every friend in her home country because everyone knew what she did to me. Her family abandoned her because she never even called, and she called her mother names. It’s probably because of the manipulation of Entitled Dad. And Entitled Dad is more than mad about the $8,300 he’ll never see.
Remember: look out for your cash yourself, especially when you are a lying and unfaithful jerk.”
1. My Health Is More Important Than This Job
“A year and a half ago, I was working a restaurant job that was slowly killing me.
At my restaurant, I was promoted to management but never fully trained. I had gotten Lucy fired for theft, and my wife was the one who replaced her (transferred from another store). This broke a lot of company policies and also probably the law, but the company was short on managers.
A new GM came in, and Lazy Daisy got the demotion she deserved and would be forced to resign. Before she left, she attempted to get revenge on us, blaming us for what happened, but it failed. Another manager, who is so insignificant that I forgot his name, quit and was replaced by an old friend who my wife and I trusted and treated almost like family.
At first, things started to finally be looking up in that terrible restaurant.
Then we quickly realized that the new general manager was a full-scale level 10 Karen. GM Karen had made me and my wife priority targets in her wrath. She quickly became aggressive, vindictive, and malicious at every opportunity. She fired half the staff, trapping some of them to do so, insulting people until they snapped and fired them.
She fired one cook after telling me to skip the cleaning and get off the clock, and the known neat-freak night cook threw a fit, rightfully so, at the dirty line. She fired him, then forced me to work the night off the clock for not cleaning. It was supposed to be my night off.
We are at this point critically understaffed. My wife and I’s schedules are pushing 80 hours every week.
The marriage was in freefall from our stress and the incessant berating from GM Karen. Every moment we had together was usually interrupted by a phone call demanding one of us come in. I had gone from mainly managing to go back to line cook/dish with my only real managing time is having to come in at 8 am to do soft opens (unlock the door for the staff, do paperwork, count safe, and help throw truck).
Some days, I was pushed to as many as 18-hour shifts (8 am-2 am the next day). Few days, I got breaks. No food during the day besides what I could sneak. Averaging 4 hours of sleep if I managed to steal a meal on my way out the door and not have to cook.
If I was lucky, I got a short day or two days off the same week.
My body began to fail, but I was that idiot too dumb to quit and willing to do almost anything that was expected of me.
My wife and I’s vacation finally came, and during it, I suffered some kind of respiratory failure. The doctors there brought me back with a bill as large as all of our spending cash for the trip, citing asthma as the likely cause without investigating.
I had found it weird that my activity-based asthma had been triggered while lying in bed and had suddenly resurfaced after years of dormancy, but I paid it no mind. I should have. But this did severely anger me, and I started to finally figure I needed to get out of there.
Over the following weeks, my lungs would dramatically drop in ability, but I chalked it all up to just simply asthma.
After all, that’s what the doctor said.
Onto the Story:
After weeks of grief for my wife and I’s vacation, which included even more insane hours and odd jobs, GM Karen suddenly decided to go on a vacation of her own lasting a full week. It was the last day of the pay period, and my clock-out was in the upper 80s the previous week and upper 90s that week.
I was hollow-eyed and barely able to breathe. I still thought it was just my asthma and lack of sleep.
On her way out the door, she whipped several cooks into a tizzy and attempted to get them all fired, and then handed me a massive list of chores to do while she was gone.
While all of this stuff should have long been done, years of neglect and the months of severe understaffing made all these duties simply impossible to accomplish.
Every new hire had been chased off by her and making up for it with ever-increasing overtime. A lot of progress had been made, but there were still months more to do to fix the neglect from the reign of Lazy Daisy. I told her flatly that this list was impossible to do in a week, maybe not even a month. Then she uttered the words I had not known I was waiting for.
She angrily screamed: “If this isn’t done, you and Wife, don’t even bother ever coming back on the day I get back. Do it or else.”
Before I could even say anything, she rushed out the door to go on her vacation, and I looked down in defeat. The whole of the staff knew I was at a breaking point, and the faces they had been making told me I was not going to survive doing this.
I would spend a lot of the week trying and trying my best, but my body was giving up. One day, I slept in the office as it was too late to bother driving home. By the last day of pushing ourselves and the staff to the breaking point, we had accomplished about 1/5th of her list and blew our labor far beyond what corporate allowed.
Everyone had significant overtime.
As the last day came to a close and I finished the floors around the dish-pit, I and Wife looked at the clock. 3 am. The meeting and the moment she returned: 6 am. We were both scheduled doubles the next day, 6 am-close, thanks to the meeting. Karen’s words were stewing in my head, and if it was not for that sentence, I probably would have slept in the office that night or kept working to finish the list.
We decided, you know what, screw this place. Karen said we shouldn’t come back if the list wasn’t completed, and well, it wasn’t. So, we complied. We left our keys, stole an industrial size box of chicken nuggets, and walked out the door.
We never came back just like she said we should. The time clock read about 105 hours.
The rest of the story is told to us second-hand.
Mainly the family friend and some coworkers at first, but after they quit, we got updates from a relative of the new manager that I happened to be working with. Small world. According to them, after we had left, staff morale had plummeted. The last dishwasher, I was the second to last after the other two were fired, would be brought to his mental breaking point and stormed out the door a few days later.
People began to quit left and right. The staff apparently looked up to me and my wife since we had stuck through everything with them shoulder to shoulder and in the trenches unlike other managers like Lazy Daisy and Karen.
The state of the store decayed as the downward spiral continued, and store revenue went through the floor. We were the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Last I heard, Karen had an empty store, few employees, and nobody to shout at. And that was before 2020 began to dawn. I’m sure that the store hasn’t survived this long.
My health was still declining but had dramatically slowed. Some days, it even felt like it had improved. I thought this was just where my body was going to be and that asthma was what was keeping me down.
Two months after quitting, I collapsed at my new job. My lungs were not working. It was an asthma attack on a level I had not felt since the vacation.
I was brought to the hospital by ambulance and discharged in short order as I recovered. Another massive bill and still lost as to why. A week later, I had fallen ill and took the day off.
I went to my doctor to get a doctor’s note when suddenly they wheeled me into intensive care. The nurse said I was as white as a sheet. My blood oxygen level was so low; I should have passed out on the drive. They discovered I had a minor nasal infection that had spread through my entire respiratory system and beyond, heavily entrenched in the lungs.
The doctor estimated that this level of infection of that strain would require a number of months. He estimated 7-8 months of progression and a severely weakened immune system.
When informed of my previous job, he said that the lack of sleep and constant work was stressing my body to the point where my immune system could not fight off the infection. Despite being out of that environment, the war on the infection was preventing the body from healing.
He said I shouldn’t have made it, and if I had not quit, he has little doubt I would have made it. To this day, a year and a half later, my lungs are still weak, but the infection is gone. They may never heal, but I am still around.
I have, due to recent circumstances, finally quit restaurants entirely. But that was how some malicious compliance and a walk out the door probably saved my life.”
Another User Comments:
“If this happened in the United States, get a labor lawyer. There are several serious violations you describe, and there’s a strong case for your illness being a work injury, which can get those doctor bills paid at the very least.
Please look into it.” Clever_Sardonic_Name