People Spill Their Thirst-Quenching Revenge Stories
23. Be Salty To Your Waiter, Get Salty Food
“I was not the perpetrator of this petty revenge, only a witness.
Preface: I love my family. Every member of my family is incredibly intelligent and has the capacity for great kindness. With that said, I do have one family member (my aunt) who is… well, a full-blown Karen (haircut and all).
Setting: I was staying with my grandma for a weekend and we decided to go visit my Aunt, Uncle, and my cousin.
Uncle was out at work, so Aunt, grandma, my younger cousin, and I decide to go out for lunch.
We decide on Applebee’s. (For you non-Americans, Applebee’s serves neither apples nor bees. They are an American restaurant and regular bar that has many TVs that show sports, but is DEFINITELY not a SportsBar)
When we arrive we are seated at a table near the very crowded bar.
We’ve recently been handed our menus when my Aunt notices what’s on the TVs attracting the large crowd – a wrestling match
Aunt: Waiter! Could I grab you for a second, please?
Waiter: Sure! Are you ready to order?
Aunt: In a minute.
Could you change the channel on the TV?
Waiter: Uhh… we have quite a few patrons watching that, if you want we could try to reseat you?
Aunt: No, we’ve already gotten our drinks and taken off our coats. Now, please, my daughter is 10 and she doesn’t need to be seeing that.
(The waiter changes the channel to golf, and immediately every patron around that particular TV is glaring at us from the bar.)
At this time my Grandma and I were firmly horrified, as my Aunt had managed to not only annoy the restaurant staff but a bunch of patrons.
Shortly after we order our food, which is delivered in a longer but not unreasonable amount of time.
Grandma, cousin, and I dig in – enjoying our normal diner-fare.
Aunt then takes a bite of her food.
Aunt: UGH. (she spits out her food)
Aunt: WHAT THE HECK?
Aunt: OP, Grandma, taste this!
Sure enough, Aunt’s food is about 90% salt and tastes like a big ol’ mouthful of chewy ocean water.
Me: Wow, aunt! I can’t believe that happened! (understanding immediately why our food tastes completely normal)
Aunt: Does YOUR food taste like that?
Me: Nope, definitely not quite THAT salty. Must’ve been a mistake from the kitchen.
Aunt wastes no time in flagging down a waiter and complaining at length about the salt.
She ends up returning it to the kitchen while angrily glaring at us eating our food.
Her food returns, she goes to take another bite, it’s just as salty.
Her rage inflamed even more, she flags down a waiter.
Aunt: Hey, what the goddamn heck, this is still salty.
Waiter: If the dish is not to your taste, then I guess you don’t like that dish.
At this point, Aunt is absolutely fuming and demands that we all leave.
Grandma/cousin/and I all quickly wolf down the little remaining on our plates as Aunt tells grandma not to pay for (aunt’s) meal shortly before storming out of the restaurant.
Grandma pays the bill and tips heavily.”
22. A Deal's A Deal Until It's Not
“Years ago I was moving cross country and was selling large or heavy items I didn’t want to move. I listed stuff on Craigslist at firesale prices. I guessed at what I thought each item would normally move for and priced it at 25-50% just to make the process quick. I wanted everything gone by nightfall.
Most items went smooth and quick, but as you might imagine, some people are gonna try to take advantage of this situation.
I put up a 300-pound weight set with a stand, Olympic bar, and curl bar for $50. I got an insane amount of calls even after taking the ad down and immediately knew I had priced too low. The later callers offered much more than $50 to sell to them instead. I told him I would abide by the 1st caller’s deal as long as 1st caller does.
1st caller shows up and tries to immediately load the items. ‘Nah man, money first then I will help you load.’ He pauses and says, ‘I only have $45. Can you do it for that?’ It is pretty obvious he wanted to pull this after it was loaded so he could save $5. After a day of dealing with Craigslist people, I was in no mood for these shenanigans.
I explained to him the number of phone calls and that I have a standing offer of $150 (small embellishment) and I was planning to do the $50 if he came correct. Since he re-opened negotiations, we no longer have a deal and he would now have to beat the $150 offer. He thinks and offers $151, to which I reply that bid increments are $5 and he needs $155 and he needs to pay now because the other offer is ready to go.
Wouldn’t you know it? He pulls out $155 that he had on him the whole time.
I take the money and sit on my couch and turn on the TV. He says, ‘I thought you were gonna help me load.’ I replied, ‘That is part of the first deal. Our re-negotiation didn’t include any help.’ He huffed and puffed but started loading, huffing and puffing more with each trip.
I did end up moving the weights just outside my front door so I could get him out of my sight.”
Another User Comments:
“I love this, perfect ending. Not entirely the same, but I had a friend who was in escrow on a townhouse and the sellers decided to jerk them around and not address any issues in the inspection report. The house was somewhat of a fixer-upper, needed some updating.
Around this time, his agent found out the neighboring unit was going to be listed, it was already updated and needed minimal work. Because the inspection raised issues they weren’t addressing, they were able to back out with no loss. They bought the neighboring unit, which cost more but was already upgraded saving that hassle/expense, and moved in. He said the original unit was on the market for weeks longer and he always greeted his new neighbor with a friendly wave and asked how the listing was going.” jfcmfer
21. Want Me To Do The Safety Inspection? I'll Do My Very Best
“Long ago I worked in the back warehouse of a home decor store, think tacky vases and such, only cheaper and worse quality junk than you’re imagining. No, still worse than that. Little further… there you go. Anyway, the store manager was all about the status quo: if he was at his desk playing Solitaire, things were good; if he had to do anything, they weren’t.
In his words, if he had to work it’s because someone else screwed up.
One thing that disrupts the status quo is safety issues. Why, that might make a manager have to reach for a form, or even get up from his desk! Fortunately for him, the warehouse supervisor, who was a personal friend of his (which was the only reason such a useless waste of employment could have any title other than ‘fired’) was responsible for the safety back there, so safety issues were well in hand.
Which is to say, ignored and dismissed.
Naturally, there were many safety problems, one of them being that boxes were often stacked too close to the fire sprinklers. One day I saw boxes actually leaning against them. I don’t know how fragile those little glass fuse things are, but in addition to not wanting to die in an inferno, I also didn’t want to be drenched in filthy water if someone jostled the shelf.
So I said something to the supervisor, not knowing that the manager happened to be walking by behind me. That meant that something might need to be done, gasp!
Naturally, the supervisor took responsibility and called a meeting to make sure everyone is aware of the law and not to do that—just kidding, he made me move the boxes. But that wasn’t enough petty punishment, so he also made me responsible for the monthly facility safety inspections.
The safety inspection is a full building walkthrough and check of equipment and anything safety-related: fire exits, ladders, pallet jacks, and so on. Or, if you’re a spineless half-witted beneficiary of nepotism, lazily walking around holding a clipboard and your phone, only paying attention to the latter (probably forwarding lame jokes to friends you think you have,) and pencil whipping the safety part. He saw it as pointless busywork and undoubtedly thought it would be the same for me.
But here’s the thing: if you sign off that something faulty is okay, then there’s an incident and someone gets hurt, you can be responsible because you signed off on it. Well, I’m not about to have that fall on my shoulders! You want a safety inspection? I will perform a safety inspection.
I tested every emergency light in the building; half of them were dead. Fire extinguishers not serviced at the required intervals? Noted.
More boxes close to fire sprinklers? Documented with pictures. Inadequately stocked First Aid kits? Written down. No safety pins on pallet racks? That’s not up to code. Shot wheel bearings on hand trucks? Why, a wheel could catch and tip a load on someone, we can’t have that. I asked coworkers for anything they knew of; thanks, I hadn’t seen that broken weld on a railing! Supervisor Boy’s ‘inspections’ took him a few minutes; mine was close to two hours.
The second best part of all this? The safety inspection reports went to corporate. A smarter idiot might have wanted to check mine first, but it never occurred to the useless supervisor. Even he would’ve noticed the supplemental pages stapled to mine; corporate sure did. And the best part? Responsibility for fixing every single issue fell on him, and on the manager to make sure it was done.
As a bonus, even they knew better than to retaliate against me right after I documented safety issues in writing to corporate. And because it would look bad to pencil whip documented issues or not take care of them before the next inspection, Supervisor Boy had a lot of work to do that month.
For some reason, he didn’t want me to do the safety inspections anymore.”
20. Won't Give Me A Raise? Good Luck Working Black Friday Without Your Best Employee
“Background: I worked in the phone department at Worst Buy for about 3 years. I came from a Radioshack before this job, so I knew how to sell phones.
Over those 3 years, everyone I had started working with who already knew how to sell phones moved on to greener pastures. Before I knew it, 2 years in, I had trained everyone on the team how to sell phones, including my direct manager and assistant manager.
It wasn’t too bad, I liked the people I worked with, my manager basically made me pseudo manager in his stead – because he wasn’t really willing to learn the intricacies of phone carriers. So I basically got final call on how to handle difficult situations with customers or carriers.
But then the penny dropped.
I was conversing with a new coworker I trained.
Me: So, how are you liking selling phones, bud?
Coworker: It’s complicated, and kind of hard, but at least now I see why we make what we do.
…make what we do?
Me: What do you mean ‘make what we do’? How much are they starting you off at?
(Keep in mind, this is a BRAND new employee. It’s literally his first job)
Coworker: Oh, $15/hr.
What? I was making only $14.50/hr and I had already worked there for 3 years.
So I immediately start looking into my job role – I found on the company website that the pay scale for my job role is $13/hr-$17/hr in my area.
The next day I ask my direct manager. He apologizes and explains that he doesn’t get to directly change pay scales that much and that that’s a decision for the General Manager.
So I go talk to the General Manager.
Me: Hey GM, I was looking at the pay scale for my job, and I wanted to see if we could raise my pay to the upper end of the pay scale ($17/hr) since I had been here for 3 years and have trained every one of my coworkers on how to sell phones, despite that not being my job role.
(GM’s eyes narrow)
GM: Hmm, OP, why don’t you walk with me?
Note: I’m not going to post the full conversation here, because he spent the next 15 minutes walking me in a loop around the store explaining to me that No he would not give me that raise.
Truth be told, I tuned out the majority of the conversation after that very firm NO, but I did pick up the following excuses:
- It wasn’t in the budget
- I hadn’t been at that store long enough
- That’s not how it works
- It wouldn’t be fair to coworkers with the same amount of tenure.
I was seeing red, and very nearly quit on the spot.
But, my cooler head won. I am not someone who’s going to go out when there’s such a prime opportunity coming up!
You see, this conversation happened in late October.
Now, tell me, class, what holiday comes next month?
I start my job searching. Eventually, I find another job selling phones for $17/hr plus commission. (BTW that job sucked worse, so, don’t sell phones, kids)
I bide my time, and 15 days out from Black Friday I walk up to the GM and hand him a note.
GM: What’s this?
Me: It’s my two-week notice.
GM: Your… two-week notice?
GM: Two weeks from Black Friday?
Me: Two weeks from Thanksgiving, actually, but who’s counting?
He retreated into his office, I didn’t get the begging or panic that I was hoping for. But, oh well, at least I’m getting out.
The days roll by, I get laxer in my job, but still help my coworkers when they need it because I loved all of them.
Two days before my last day, GM approaches me.
GM: So, OP, I was wondering… is there any way we can convince you to stay working here?
Me: Probably not, but feel free to shoot your shot.
GM: Well, I was thinking about it, and I think you are definitely worth that raise to $17/hr that you were asking about.
Me: Wow how gracious of you! But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that.
My next job is $17/hr plus commission.
GM: Well… what could I do to keep you?
Me: Well, you could have appreciated the work I put in before I found a better-paying job.
Fallout: Their mobile sales were a MESS on Black Friday. While all of my coworkers that I taught were fully capable of selling phones by themselves, they’d get confused or caught up on the intricacies of when things went wrong. If a phone number got stuck in a port, if the wrong sims were scanned, etc. They relied on me for ALL of that.
Most of the phones that ended up getting sold, were sold to resellers and fraud customers, which causes chargebacks from the carrier.
The mobile department had probably its worst month ever after I left.”
19. Blame Me For Everything? Yeah, You'll Be Begging For My Help Soon Enough
“This was around 10yrs ago. I’ve always been very technical-minded & was able to read blueprints, construct complex devices, weld (MIG, tig, stick. Certified in fact among other things.) I took a high-paying job with a company that made several things for railroads. The job entailed most of the skills I mentioned above. It was a very small department, in fact there were only 2-3 of us.
But we got along great & challenged each other. Which led to higher production. (Sadly the one other guy in my department left for a better job which left me by myself.) My supervisor was great as well; liked to joke around with me, left me alone to focus on my work & had my back when I needed him. We actually assembled Signal Enclosures & Mast & Ladder Houses for railroads.
Fast forward to 3yrs later & the owners buy a much bigger location & move the whole company. As you might expect, several departments get shuffled. Yep, my department gets folded into a completely different department that has no clue what I do. At first, it was fine but it starts to go pear-shaped pretty quickly.
My new supervisor seemed good at first. But I quickly realize he’s a ‘snake in the grass.’ For example, I had to help the prototype department assemble a new, lighter type of mast & ladder house.
So I’m printing out issues & suggesting fixes, etc. New supervisor is not happy. He keeps coming over huffing, groaning under his breath, standing over my shoulder, etc. He finally interrupts and asks in an angry voice, ‘How much longer will this take?!’ I respond, ‘I have 4 more hours today. And eights hours every day after that.’ He looks puzzled. So I explain, ‘This is my department.
This is where I work. These are my responsibilities. So if it takes two months, that’s how long it takes.’ Almost as if to get the last word in he says, ‘You work where & when I tell you!’ And storms off.
Next day I’m called into the office & they force me to sign a letter that states, I now work in my new supervisor’s department.
Fine by me. I watch from a distance in my ‘new department’ as all the stock, hardware, parts, orders, etc. of my ‘old department’ begin to rack-up. And since I’m the only one that works in that department, or rather, used to work in that department…lol. Nobody is doing a thing about it. After about 2 weeks, my old department is a disaster. With items being thrown wherever they would fit.
Orders had begun to miss deadlines and higher-ups wanted answers. Sure enough, I get called into the office where the new supervisor blames me for everything. But wouldn’t let me get a word in. Of course, they let me go without any reason or paperwork. The look of relief on my new, ex-supervisor’s face when I walk out was priceless. He had no clue what was coming… I leave with a smile plastered to my face.
Because I knew something they didn’t; I was the only one that knew how to build the mast & ladder structures.
I relaxed at home for around 2 weeks because I knew I would be getting a call from them. I ignore the first dozen calls. Then I answer: ‘can you come back & build, train new hires, etc for your department?’ ‘Sure,’ I say, ‘for $20,000.’ (Now that may seem like a lot but it wasn’t. They made millions from these. So there really was only one option; pay me $20k or lose millions.) Long story short, they went back-and-forth with me but finally conceded.
I received $20k for two days’ work & they were helpless. The cherry on top was my new, ex supervisor was fired for being a nitwit & costing the company $20k.”
18. The War Of The Writers
“When my two kids (13m and 11f) were little, circa 2011-12, I used to freelance ghostwrite, mostly for a website called Textbroker. The pay was garbage, but it helped at the time, and it was my first work from home experience. The site is set up so you can select assignments and fill and also featured writer forums, which served as a water cooler.
I made several friends there and grew close to this new writer we’ll call McBratterson.
McBratterson was new to writing professionally and had found Textbroker as her first gig, as I had. At this point, I had been working for this site and several others for a few months, and I was eager to help anyone out. McBratterson was, at first, very gracious, seemed to take on advice, and I figured she’d surpass my writing capacity as I was juggling being a stay-at-home mom and just trying to help make ends meet: McBratterson was dedicated to being a professional freelancer full time.
Great. I gave her tips and tricks, showed her several other sites that I was working for, even shared some clients with her when my workload was too heavy. I genuinely liked her, and am the sort of person who doesn’t compete. I want everyone to be successful, so why not my new friend? Everything was great at first, but McBratterson was very needy. She called constantly for reassurance, advice, and just to chat.
It got to the point, sitting in the parking lot of a grocery store with 2 kids in the car and she wouldn’t let me hang up, where I had to point-blank tell her that I didn’t have time to constantly prioritize her needs over my own.
She FREAKS OUT. Calls and leaves nasty voicemails. Texts over and over. Sends emails. Cries, screams, and calls me names in these communications.
I just block her and keep it pushing with my own life. This was unacceptable, so McBratterson goes to the Textbroker writer forums and talks a ton of trash to everyone there about me, how cruel and heartless I had been to her, how I am selfish and anything else she could to make me look like a monster. She wrote pages upon pages of posts that were all removed or edited by moderators for being inappropriate.
I defended myself on this forum and, eventually blocked her there, too (which was a function that didn’t even EXIST on the site before this whole thing went down). Ahem. Let me just also quickly mention that for every one article she accepted for paid work, she had 12-14 forum posts.
Over the course of our friendship, she and I had agreed to trade some written content, and she had never delivered on her end.
I filed a DCMA complaint to get my intellectual property taken off of her blog, successfully. McBratterson had broken the Textbroker terms of service by cutting them out as a middleman to one of her regular clients. Because I was feeling extra bitter, I arranged for another writer who had a similar bad experience with her to pose as a Textbroker employee investigating a TOS violation.
The client was more than happy to provide proof that she had gone through his website to contact him and cut her off. I slid that evidence to Textbroker, and they banned her from writing there too.
Anyway… all this happened because I DARED to prioritize my family and my own life over hers. And today, at 3:00 am, she has the brass balls to private message me on social media to thank me for getting her fired from Textbroker, hacking her email (lol), and ruining her life.
She ‘hopes that (I) have grown as a person.’
I didn’t HAVE social media when I knew her. I didn’t have the same last name. Since 2011, I’ve gotten married, earned a bachelor’s AND a master’s degree, moved across the entire country, and had the time of my life along the way. I write professionally, not as a ghost, with my own name attached to my work.
Suffice to say I haven’t thought about McBratterson in the last 10 years.
But she hasn’t grown as a person past stalking me on the Internet and demanding my attention, so I guess there’s that. Taking up space RENT FREE in her mind for a whole damn decade. I think that means I win on all counts. If you’re reading this, McBratterson, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this little waltz down memory lane and posting it here for everyone else’s amusement. But you can screw off.”
17. Don't Ignore The Signs? I'll Make Sure To Obey Each One
“This is from my older great uncle, with permission. Takes place in the 1960s in the midwest USA.
He worked in a small factory with an assembly line. Like a lot of factories, there were safety signs up that the managers secretly wanted the workers to ignore because it would slow things down. (I don’t think there was a union – if so, it was not a very effective one.)
One of his friends got hurt on the line, he’d reached where he shouldn’t and broke a bone in his hand; it could have been much worse.
The company didn’t want to pay his medical bill, they claimed it was entirely his own fault because he ignored the safety sign they put up. And they put up a new sign in the locker room, reminding everyone to follow the written signs.
So my uncle and his friends decided to follow all written signs. ‘Watch your step’ on the stairs led to people looking down and taking the stairs very slowly.
There were other signs people followed to the letter on the line itself, and work slowed way down for the day.
So my uncle (a known ringleader) was summoned to the office via the loudspeaker. The office was in the same building, not far from the factory floor, through a door that had a sign saying ‘This door to remain closed at all times.’ The shift leader would be waiting for him on the other side of that door, ready to yell at him.
(The way the office was laid out, the nice offices were upfront, and the closer to the actual assembly line area you got, the lower-ranked the people were and smaller the offices. People on the assembly line rarely got to the nice offices, they just got into the back offices where the immediate supervisors and clerks sat.)
So when he got summoned, my uncle went to the locker room, got his coat and outdoor boots on, left via the loading dock, and walked around the building, to enter the building via the front door.
It was February and snow and slush were everywhere, he got his boots plenty wet and dirty on the walk.
He marched in the front door and straight into the plant director’s office (right past his confused secretary) and stood there, dripping dirty water from melting snow on the carpet. ‘You wanted to see me?’
Director was confused – he looked at the clock, and at my uncle’s clothes, and asked what he was doing there and why he was going outside during the shift.
‘Following written signs, like I was told to. That door has a sign that says it has to remain closed at all times. So it stays closed. I walked around.’
Director called in the shift leader (the one that had called for my uncle) and got his story about the slowdown, and the ‘other side of the story’ from my uncle. The shift leader looked like he would bust a gut, but didn’t say anything to my uncle.
Director got his friend’s medical bill paid, mildly chastised the bean counter and the other line foreman that started the mess, and when both sides apologized, things went back to normal.
Except for the next week, the carpet cleaners had to be called in for the plant director’s office, and the door’s sign was changed to ‘Keep closed when not in use.'”
16. We'll Go All Out For Christmas Whether You Like It Or Not
“I own a big house. I am talking old Victorian type that I restored. An older couple moved in across the street this summer and started complaining about everything I did. They didn’t like the siding I was having put on, my front door color was ugly, they hated all the different colored flowers I planted. They didn’t like the idea of a young, single woman living in a house I clearly couldn’t afford.
They actually told me that.
I tried to ignore them until Christmas. I put up lights and a few blow ups but nothing the other neighbors don’t do. This couple started complaining right off. Christmas offended them. I just smiled and added more. At this moment my house can be seen on Mars. To add to the petty I told the neighbor next to me and he told another and then another.
You get the picture.”
Another User Comments:
“It’s past Christmas and I don’t live anywhere near you but I’ll go throw lights up right now for them. Screw these people.
I have an old couple across from me and the husband comes over any time I’m outside doing yard work to criticize it. It got to the point that one day I saw him walking across the road and I stopped what I was doing and yelled over to him ‘unless you’re coming over to pick up a shovel and help, I don’t want to hear any criticism or your opinion on anything.’ He turned right around and walked back to his house.” junebug2142
15. Marry My Girl? Here's A Gift For The Happy Couple
“For a decade, I lived and worked in a rural summer camp community. The staff body was only 50 people at peak season, and far less in winter, so we were all in each other’s pockets. Relationships could get intense real quick.
The year I arrived, I brought my college partner with me and we worked in tandem. It all went fine until the following season when an oafy, slick-haired British guy showed up to run the games department.
Two things were true about him. One, his accent sounded like Hugh Grant had a child with Beavis and Butthead; and two, he had a singular goal of finding an American wife as soon as possible so he could permanently root and escape some legal issues back home. He immediately started seeing a girl from the office, and things were whatever. She got weirded out when he brought up marriage 3-4 times in the first week, but she stuck around.
At the time, I was more focused on trying to keep things afloat with my partner, as it was rocky, and the high season schedule was 16/7, so no real time to ‘take it easy.’
The season progressed and everyone was exhausted, all day every day, giving everything they had. In the tiny bits of time I had off, I spent all my efforts trying to fix my relationship, but my girl just kept doing this weird hot/cold thing and never giving straight answers.
Finally, with the end of the season in the crosshairs, she comes to me out of nowhere and essentially re-pledges her commitment. It’s us, it’s you and me, let’s make this work. Great, I’m happy. Soon we will have a reprieve and we can go celebrate.
The season ends, people are packing up, etc. Suddenly I realize my partner is gone. Not just, oh I went to town gone, I mean GONE – all traces vanished, car and bags alike.
A few people give me weird looks and then scratch their heads awkwardly when I ask about it and I’m confused.
After a week of no contact, she finally answers her phone and admits to it: she has been sleeping with the British guy, and they are getting married… which they announce on social media shortly after. So, I, the office girl the Brit was seeing, and TWO OTHER girls he was messing with on the side all find out what’s up the same day.
Bombshell. To say people were upset is the understatement of the decade. There was blind fury.
Anyway, so we fight, I shout and hang up. We go dark, and I take a 6-month trip overseas to clear my head.
The following season rolls up and who decides to proudly come back and strut around the community again? The lovely couple. Yep, my ex and that bag of trash with rings on their fingers, and screw you for judging, all day every day in my face.
Those two jerks pranced around that community like celebrities, telling clients about ‘the proposal’ and how cute it was, getting his and hers towel sets, that stuff. And, the best part was that they even booked the site itself FOR the wedding, in the middle of the season, RIGHT IN FRONT of all four of the scorned exes that they screwed over. How exciting.
Anyway, I’m dealing with this the best I can, and one day, British guy shows up on-site from an off day with an ATV.
Not out of place, as camp already owned one for communal work (and we did live in the woods) but this was a personal one. He had just up and bought it for himself so he wouldn’t have to wait for the main one. It was flashy, brightly painted, and fast. He then made an immediate announcement to everyone at the next all-staff meeting that absolutely nooooo one but HIM and his fiancé were allowed to even breathe on it.
It was solely for their exclusive benefit. He then spent all day riding it around and showing off, stopping occasionally to brag about it and do his little huh-huh-huh laugh with pursed lips. And, that night, just to show off his prize even more, he parked it in a big swooshy display right outside the staff house for all to see.
That freaking guy…
Well, I finished my work that night in my mini yurt office around 1 am, and I’m walking back down the hill to my tent cabin with my headlamp bouncing in the dark, and I cross paths with this ATV.
I just couldn’t anymore. I tried, but I was all out of high road and all that was left was petty rage. This thing was the literal symbol of prideful betrayal, dancing in my face. So, I positioned myself, clicked off my headlamp, and let fly a stream of justice. No, not the ordinary quick and light kind, this was the all-day, running around in the burning mountain heat, dehydrated concentrate kind of justice.
The thick, lemon acidic, angry kind of justice. It went all over the seat, the dash, the throttle, the controls, the tires, the gas cap… loop-de-loops, oh yeah.
The next morning, no one noticed, so I went about my way. Watching them ride it around and sit on the seat was definitely satisfying. So, the following night, I finished late as usual and found it again in the same spot for round two.
For days, I peppered that thing with all the nighttime retribution I had. I wondered for a while if they suspected anything, and then one morning I saw them standing over it and talking about ‘is it tree sap? Maybe a dog or raccoon is jumping on it at night… we should park it in the sheds,’ etc. But, here’s the thing, I was a site manager and I had keys to all the sheds, so justice found them again.
That’s right. I kept this up for ten nights straight. No matter where they parked it, I found it and struck ever more true with the sword of yellow destiny. Finally, we just kinda stopped seeing them ride it, then one day it was gone for good. Sold, and at a loss, I heard. Poor little fellas.
Anyway, they eventually had their terrible little wedding (I left the site and got smashed), and moved away, never to return. While it may have been petty, I am still satisfied every time I think about it.”
14. The Only Way To Shush A Loud Neighbor Is With Louder Noise
“My neighbors (twin house) blast THUD THUD music 10 hours a day multiple times a week and it drove me to the point of utter madness. I’ve made numerous noise complaints and nothing has changed. Today I will make them complain about my noise, if I get in trouble I made a spreadsheet of every single time they were loud with audio + video recordings (which has over 113 entries, including dates and times btw) to hand to the cops when they arrive because they will.
Why? I borrowed $50,000 worth of speaker equipment… designed for concerts… aimed at my wall.
It’s Sunday night, they will not sleep.
Screw you, this is for every headache you caused me you jerks.
Buy some God damn headphones.
Update 1: I decided to go with a more evil approach, I commented how instead of playing it all night I’ll burst some audio for a couple of seconds at ear piercing volume (I will use double ear protection for myself) at random intervals.
I want to drive them mad.
Update 2: Don’t mess with a degenerate, folks. 5 am and I’m wide awake giggling at all the stuff I’m blasting. I started with baby shark a couple of times but I think bass really goes through the walls the best so I tried some Skrillex as well. Slow and insidious my friends, they will suffer.
Update 3: Got a note on my door lol it ain’t stopping me.”
Another User Comments:
“My brother had a similar problem with his old upstairs neighbors.
They were blasting awful music until 2 or 3 in the morning, every day. When he asked them to turn it down a bit, not off, just down, he was met with hostility and threats.
Thing is, my brother is a bit of a jerk who also happened to live next door to the front entrance to the building. He took a week off work and then went to work on dealing with them.
He slept while they were out doing whatever it was they did during the day and waited up while the music was on. Half an hour after it stopped, he opened the front entrance and held their doorbell until he heard someone coming downstairs (doors did not have an automatic release button inside the apartments, only an intercom), then he’d quickly hop back into his place and close the door. Then he’d do it half an hour later. Then every half hour after that for 4 or 5 hours a night for a week.
They brought him a single can of cheap lager and apologized and asked if he would stop on the condition that they kept the music down. He agreed. They never spoke again.” poignantname
13. You Know What, I Will Wear The Stupid Goggles
“I was in the Army and deploying to the National Training Center (NTC) for a month of training in 2011-ish (2010? 2009? who knows?). As it is super sunny and dusty at NTC, we were required to wear Army-approved sunglasses/goggles (and gloves and the ever-important PT belt) at all times outside when at the staging area. You are there for about a week before and after the actual training, FYI.
I was a relatively upper-level mid-grade warrant officer (relevant later) at the time, and our First Sergeant (informally called ‘Top’) threatened if we forget to bring APPROVED commercially acquired glasses/goggles we will be required to wear the Army issued sand/wind/dust goggles that were a required packing list item for everyone. I am talking about the old Vietnam era gigantic and super awful version. Not the swoopy Oakley style they use now.
Google ‘Vietnam War Army Goggles’ and you’ll see how ridiculously large they are. Us warrant officers are an interesting breed (those that know, know) and I saw my opportunity to drive my First Sergeant crazy.
We arrive and the first time I have to go walk around I pull out these ancient, worthless, piece of trash goggles that are so large you can probably fit two heads in them, slap my patrol cap on my head (which, because of the size of the goggles is cocked so far back on my head it barely stays on) and head for the door.
Top sees me and asks me in a cocky tone, ‘Mr. OP, did you forget your glasses back home?’ I reply, ‘Nope. I just like these, and they are approved for wear, obviously,’ and just walk away.
I spend the next couple of days walking around looking like a complete idiot, but I did not care as all the people who know me knew what was up, and all those who didn’t know me got a good laugh out of seeing a warrant officer rocking the goggles with pride.
The comedic appearance of these goggles cannot be overstated. The junior Soldiers would see me, giggle a little as they salute, and I hear quite a few just say things along the lines of ‘Niiiice, sir,’ or ‘Yeeah!’
After a few junior Soldiers in my company started wearing them, I was laughing my butt off. I started a mini-trend! Suddenly looking like a total goober had some swagger to it.
Unfortunately for them, they had already shown they had other options for wear, and Top quickly made them wear not-stupid goggles. He could not order me to do the same.
However, after maybe four days he walks up deflatedly and politely asks, ‘Mr. OP. I know those are approved. I know you seem to like them. But you look stupid and it makes US look stupid. The Sergeant Major (SGM) is asking me why you are wearing those. Can you PLEASE wear a different set of glasses or goggles, if you have them, so I don’t get reamed by the SGM. Please.’
I told him only because I liked him, he asked politely, and I didn’t want to hear about him getting yelled at, I agreed to change them out for normal glasses.
FWIW, I did enjoy wearing those stupid goggles!”
12. Just Do My Job? Sounds Great To Me
“I’m a young person working in a backroom position at a retail store. I’ve been working there for about a year now. My management when I started was excellent, and as a result, I am very well trained. I never got written up, am always on time, and I consistently do things well above my pay grade. I fill in for my supervisor in the backroom and can run it by myself if need be, and I trained our newest supervisor in her position (if you’re wondering, I didn’t take the supervisor job because it required changing my shift time.) I knew all the fine details and was a team trainer as well.
Basically, I was a supervisor but without the pay raise.
My managers moved on to greener pastures and their positions were filled by new management. The new management doesn’t compare to the quality of the old management. Our store manager – I’ll call her Karen – is the worst manager I’ve had the displeasure of working for. She loves workplace politics, acting snakey, and micromanaging everything. When suggested solutions to problems, Karen would rather take a less effective route just to be the one in charge.
When she messes up, instead of admitting it, Karen blames anyone but herself and makes it their responsibility to avoid looking dumb. Karen doesn’t help when she’s needed, rarely does her job, takes personal phone calls all day, and sits in her office on her computer. She’s rude, inconsiderate, and incompetent. All in all, Karen is an awful boss.
I tried to make peace with Karen at first, but we quickly started bumping heads and our relationship is shaky at best.
We’re cordial with each other, but Karen wanted me to abandon 100% of my authority while still running the back, which couldn’t happen because others come to me for direction a lot. We don’t speak to each other when we don’t have to.
Well, Karen screwed up. One day in the back, we finished with a group activity. Simply put, I had to pee, so once we were done I told my supervisor I needed a quick bathroom break and headed out to the bathroom.
The second I began my business, I got called on the intercom by Karen to come to the backroom. Sigh. I finished up quickly and got back to the stockroom. I was gone about 2-5 minutes tops.
When I walked in, Karen was immediately interrogating me on where I’d been and what I was doing. I told her I’d gone to the bathroom and she continued asking like the answer was gonna be different.
Eventually, Karen said this absolute gem to me, which she couldn’t have known would change the course of our time at this company forever.
Karen says: ‘You need to use company time more wisely, and do your job.’
Remember how I said I was basically the backup stock supervisor at this institution? My list of self-appointed management duties was actually pretty long. Training new people, fixing damaged items, fixing packaging, training the supervisors, doing paperwork, delegating tasks, giving instructions to people, taking garbages out, cleaning the stockroom…
the list goes on and on. When Karen said this to me, something clicked… you see where this is going.
I stopped all of it. All the managerial stuff went right out the window. Do my job? Okay, I’ll do MY job. Not your job, not her job, only mine. That’s what you asked, right? Direct your own team, do your own paperwork. Train your own supervisors.
Cause I’m just a lowly wagie, right?
Yep, my stockroom fell apart quickly. Suddenly the entire room was in disarray, new people weren’t being trained, faulty product was put out, my new supervisor had no idea what to do other than copy me so none of the paperwork got done. Garbages stopped being taken, people in the stockroom didn’t have direction, the floors were dirty, etc. I wonder why?
It was a MESS.
And management couldn’t say anything about it because those were management’s duties and not my problem. I know that Karen knew what I did, but all she could do was silently fume about it, suck it up, and actually do her job. She got angry with me after this and tried giving me fewer shifts, but that didn’t last. Management finally got involved with the stockroom. I’ve never been so satisfied with myself, all because Karen couldn’t accept that I had to pee.
What are you gonna do? Fire me for doing my job? Lol.”
11. Don't Like My Art? I Don't Like Your Ideas
“I went to a high school that had a specialized fine arts program. For most of my life, I loved drawing and painting and was ecstatic when I was accepted into the program. The first year was great, then in the second semester of the second year, Mr. Donkey became my art teacher. Because another teacher went on mat leave, Mr. D ended up teaching my class for 2 whole years.
They were awful. It wasn’t too bad at first: he clearly had favorites which was fine, but he started actively disliking me after a presentation where I said despite his mostly negative feedback, I was still pleased with how my piece turned out. After that, he just became mean. For reference, I had the third-highest grade in the class before he began teaching; after, I barely scraped a pass.
When my painting didn’t sell, he snidely told me, ‘I guess only you could like this.’ But the main plot begins here:
I had finished my work early and was chatting with a few friends when he started yelling at us to get back to work. It was stupid since his favorites were currently playing cards and clearly weren’t finished their work. I told him I was done and he made me bring my work to the front of the room.
He proceeded to criticize the life out of it and I was so embarrassed since everyone was watching. He then said, ‘If you have time, you should deep-clean the classroom.’ I was just so angry at that moment, close to tears, and just didn’t want to draw anymore. So I cleaned the entire classroom, including moving huge boxes onto shelves, etc., and even stayed after school to make sure the classroom was clean (yeah, I’m kinda stubborn).
One of the assistant principals walked by and saw me. I was a student council rep at the time so I knew the office staff pretty well and when he asked me what I was doing, I said, ‘Mr. D told me to clean.’ She looked LIVID. Looking back, I guess she was thinking about how moving those boxes, etc. was a health and safety hazard.
Anyways, I’m guessing she said something to Mr. D because the next day onwards, Mr. D made sure to criticize my work any chance he got, he refused to display any of my paintings in the school gallery (which was a big deal) and on one occasion when I was so miserable that I wanted to drop out of the program, I had to get his approval to drop and sign the form and he told me how much more of a disappointment I’d be if I dropped.
He also said his wife would never hire me at her business (what the heck, now that I think of it) and as a high schooler, that scared me LOL.
REVENGE: I was elected president of the Arts Council at the end of my sophomore year. The council worked closely with the arts department and was in charge of organizing many of the more important school events (which were arts-related ofc).
I had to find a teacher supervisor, and luckily during the summer, I found out that the department head was retiring, and I reached out to her replacement, Mr. CoolDude, and he agreed to be my supervisor. We got along amazingly and my friends and I had suspicions that he and Mr. D didn’t like each other.
So here’s how things changed: in the past, Mr. D got a lot of say in how these arts events are run, he had the final say in the theme, whose pieces were displayed, whose isn’t, and stomped around like he was the boss.
But with me as prez? ‘I love your idea Mr. D BUT don’t you think XYZ would be better? I think so. Sorry Mr. D, guess we’re not gonna do your idea!’ Basically, I shot down every single idea he had.
You bet I smiled wide and did that every single time he wanted to contribute anything. When he got mad, I’d tell him that Mr. C (his boss) was happy with my plan.
When he refused to sign off on something that needed teacher approval, I had Mr. C sign it. When I spoke/MC’d at the events, I made sure to credit Mr. C for everything possible and Mr. D was angry since he used to get thanked at these events. Mr. D made thinly veiled threats about my grades but the joke’s on him, he’d effectively killed my love for art and Mr. C gladly signed my drop-out form for my senior year. To this day, I still can’t find his wife’s business online.”
10. Think You Can Ignore Me And Get Away With it? Yeah, I Don't Have Time For This
“I’m a truck driver and to say this time of year is stressful is an understatement. Between tight deadlines on loads, customers realizing they need something last minute before the holiday, and added traffic all over the country it’s a nightmare.
Yesterday I went to a customer to pick up a load heading to Iowa so I could drop it for another driver to get home, then grab my load back east so I could get home.
I walk onto the dock and the shipping clerk is sitting in the office with her back to me browsing Fingerhut, the 2 other people in the office made direct eye contact with me but didn’t indicate to the shipping clerk I was there. I tried unsuccessfully to get her attention, but she flat out refused to acknowledge my existence.
At this point, I realize it’s almost noon and they’re trying to blow me off and leave me until after lunch, I had been up since 03:30 and was having none of it, I had a long way to go and a short time to get there.
So I whip out my phone and look at the app we use to send and receive load info, usually along with the customer’s address and pick-up numbers is a phone number for them. I figure I’ll just call the shipping office and get their attention that way.
Phone starts to ring on my end, but instead of the shipping office, I get the company directory and the first listing on the directory is the plant manager.
Now if my time in the Army has taught me anything you get the best results by jumping the chain of command.
So I hit #69420 for the plant manager and put my phone on speaker. As soon as Fingerhut Fran hears the voice-mail for the plant manager she turns around and starts shrieking. I calmly raise my finger in the ‘just one minute’ sign and proceed to leave a voice-mail on the plant manager’s line explaining who I was, who I drove for, what load I was supposed to pick up and finished off by adding that his shipping office personnel were present, but too busy online shopping to acknowledge my existence.
I thanked him, left my number, and hung up.
By now everyone in the office was staring slack-jawed at me, Fingerhut Fran was beet red and fuming. The other person in the office just tells me to back into a door and they’ll get to me soon. I figure at that point my day is shot and they’ll leave me in the dock as long as possible to retaliate.
To my surprise, they started on me immediately and had me loaded in less than 20 minutes, when I went to get my paperwork the plant manager was there having a discussion with Fran while the other person apologized and told me to have a happy holiday.
I get it, everyone wants this week to be over so they can spend time with their families, but so do I, and that won’t happen if you ignore me instead of doing your job.”
Another User Comments:
For those not in the industry, getting up at 03:30 means you probably started your pre-trip at 04:00. Federal regulations mean that 14 hours later (18:00, or 6 PM) you have to stop driving. It was almost noon, so if they blew you off until after lunch that would mean an extra hour of being stuck at the plant that you could have used for driving.
This means that at shut-down, you’d have been roughly 60 miles further from the guy you were supposed to swap trailers with, which could have made the difference between staying at the same truck stop or having to swap the next day.
Short distance at the truck stop won’t kick your electronic log into ‘driving’, so you have the opportunity to swap trailers that night and start driving the next day as soon as you’re legal, rather than the trailer swap happening in ‘real time’ the next day. This could mean the difference between 2 days or 3 days to get home for Christmas. Delays tend to compound.” wolfie379
9. Disrespect Me? Get Your Mail Weeks Late
“Thirty years ago I had a job at the post office working night shift processing mail. I would sort the mail prior to it being delivered by the postman. After a number of years, I was promoted to team leader and was the senior employee in charge of the facility at night. The delivery center where I worked was in a separate location from the actual post office.
One night I answered the phone at about 3 am and it was a doctor who lived locally. He was urgently waiting on a passport that had been sent out by registered post and he was asking if I could look to see if it had arrived as he was desperate to catch a plane later in the morning and it was essential.
The registered mail was kept separate so it wasn’t a big deal and was happy to assist.
He gave me his details and I went to check. Luckily for them, it had arrived and I returned to the phone. He asked if he could come get it and I told him yes but that he would need to provide photo identification. I asked him if he knew the address and he replied, ‘I’ve lived here fifty years, I know where the Post Office is!’ before promptly hanging up.
I didn’t get the chance to tell him that the Post Office and delivery center were separate. I figured he would just ring back when he realized his mistake.
Four hours later the day shift had arrived and was all at work when a man entered the building and asked to speak to the manager. My boss spoke to the man who was yelling about his passport and how some incompetent moron had sent him on a wild goose chase.
He said if he missed his plane he was going to officially complain and that we should be worried as he was a very important person.
My boss came to me and asked what was going on, I gave him a quick rundown of what happened. I handed over the passport and my manager dealt with the irate doctor. I was good friends with the manager so nothing else was said but unfortunately, I had no closure.
I don’t like blow-hards and don’t tolerate being called an incompetent moron especially when I am not at fault.
Cue petty revenge.
I set about a one-man campaign to teach this person a lesson about insulting someone whose job it is to handle your mail before you get it. Each morning I would check the slot that contained his mail to see what was due to be delivered to him.
In my country, we have a public health system whereby you can go see a doctor without paying and the government reimburses the doctor. These days it is all done electronically, but thirty years ago the doctors were sent cheques. In envelopes emblazoned in the health care provider’s name and easy to distinguish.
I would take his cheques and drop them in the mailbags being redirected to other offices, some in different states. They would be kicked around the system and eventually be redelivered to us. He would eventually get his money in the end but it would have messed with his cash flow. I did the same with birthday cards, personal letters, postcards, and occasionally bills (particularly final notices).
As stated he always eventually received everything, just often days or weeks later than expected.”
8. Make Up Lies To Get Me Fired? I'll Ruin Easter
“Years ago I worked as the audio engineer for a large church. I loved my job, loved my boss, didn’t get paid much, but life was good. After a couple of years of working there, the church hired a new worship pastor, he was a great musician, but a terrible manager. Before this position, he had literally never managed a single person in his life. He certainly wasn’t hired for his leadership skills.
Things were fine for a while. About a year later, the church did a complete overhaul of the audio system. The old sound system has been designed for piano, orchestra, and choir and hadn’t been updated in 30 years. As an audiophile, I was over the moon. In a couple of weeks, we went from speakers older than I was and a system that had been patched together haphazardly to a system that would make most small concert venues jealous.
Little did I know, this would eventually lead to my termination. It’s important to know that I had practically nothing to do with this upgrade. You would think you’d consult your audio engineer when upgrading your audio system. I tried to help but was told to butt out.
The install company did their work, and it was quickly time for the new system to go live. I had a grand total of 3 hours with live musicians before the first service and every single one of my effect and eq presets was useless.
The lead tech from the install company and I had to redo everything on the fly. The first week was terrible. Volume spikes too high, balance was bad. I was frankly embarrassed. The second week was ok, but not great. The third week, I finally had everything sorted. Volume never peaked above set decibel levels, and the music sounded great.
Now the problem with upgrading a 30-year-old system in a room where the same people hear it every week is that the perceived volume can feel much higher even if the actual decibel level was the same.
I tried to bring that up before the install, but what does an audio engineer know about things like that? Unsurprising, the small handful of rich old people who secretly ran the church with their checkbooks, and had been complaining about the volume since long before I was ever hired, redoubled their complaints. And the worship pastor made me the convenient scapegoat.
A couple of months after the install the worship pastor sat me down and gave me an action plan.
1. Lower decibel range and max dB. 2. Bring in the lead tech from the install team to ‘fix’ compressors. (Both myself and the install tech agreed what the worship pastor wanted to do would actually make the problem worse, but we did make other changes to eq to help fix the problem). 3. All complaints were to be handled by the worship pastor. 4. Worship pastor would not lead worship one week so he could be in the room and hear what the complainers heard.
We had a follow-up meeting a month later. Worship pastor thanked me for making the changes, told me I did a great job and complimented how great the music sounded when he listened in the room. Over the next year, I heard nothing else about volume complaints. I stuck to the updated dB levels and as far as I knew, the problem has been fixed.
A year later, I was called into a meeting with the worship pastor and executive pastor (head of HR).
The executive pastor told me I was being let go for failing to adjust volume levels as directed by the worship pastor. I had not heard one word since the aforementioned meeting where I was told I had done everything the worship pastor had asked. Apparently, my shock was evident because the executive pastor said this shouldn’t come as a surprise to me because of the numerous conversations the worship pastor had had with me.
I told the executive pastor that the worship pastor had not said one word to me about volume levels since he told me I did everything he asked a year ago. He showed me a folder full of documentation of ‘verbal warnings’ that the worship pastor had documented. Not one of them actually happened. The documentation of the above two meetings was there, with my signature acknowledging both, everything else was an email from the worship pastor to the executive pastor about conversations that never happened.
Until that moment I thought we had fixed the problem, and if the worship pastor had told me there was an issue, I would have fixed it just like I did the first time. Regardless, I was told they would need me to work the next 5 weeks and that Easter would be my last day. I should have quit on the spot, but I needed the time to find a new job to support my family.
I told them I would work until I found a new job, I would give them two weeks’ notice, but if that happened to be before Easter, I wasn’t going to jeopardize my new job for the place that is firing me.
I found a great job in an unrelated industry, gave two and a half weeks’ notice, and the Sunday before Easter was my last day.
For those who don’t know, Easter Sunday is the super bowl for churches. It is the single biggest day of the year. While working out my notice I tried to sit down with the worship leader multiple times to go over things they would need to know before I left. He couldn’t be bothered to speak with me. I tried multiple times to sit down with the new tech director to share this vital information, (my old boss and friend had quit quite a while before) he also couldn’t be bothered.
I loved that church, but I was livid. You fire me for nonsense reasons, lying to HR about it the whole time. And as I’m trying to be the bigger person, you can’t even find 30 minutes to talk with me about making this a smooth transition. Fine! I’ll ruin Easter.
Over the years I had worked there, I had asked multiple times to upgrade digital plug-ins for the soundboard.
That was always denied, so I spent my own money to purchase these plug-ins. Every single sound that was heard during a service ran through multiple plug-ins. EQ, compressors, reverb, etc. that I had purchased with my own money, and the license was attached to my own account. Every change and tweak I had made was saved to one of these plug-ins. All it took was me logging out of that account, and they were back to day one after the audio install, but without the plug-ins we had used to fix the problem, and they didn’t even know it.
This is one of the problems I wanted to discuss with them before my departure, but they couldn’t find the time. I heard later the sound on Easter was terrible. And many people who loved the new sound complained.
Additionally, the pre and post-service music were saved in my personal Spotify account, including the songs I had timed to go with the countdown timer. They also had multiple pieces of equipment out for repair at multiple different shops worth thousands of dollars that only I knew where. I tried to give them all this info, but they couldn’t be bothered, so I ruined Easter.”
7. Bad Attitude? Good Luck Reaching Anything
“So I recently started a new job at a ranch and my duties there range from moving hay bales, feeding the horses and cows, cleaning their water buckets cleaning the muck out of their pens, and various maintenance duties (fixing fences and equipment). I only recently started last month and honestly, if it weren’t for the problems I’m about to mention, I would thoroughly enjoy it.
First problem: awful pay and no benefits.
Second problem: I’m pretty much expected to cram a whole day’s worth of work in about four hours with zero help (I basically have to take care of an entire ranch by myself) which leaves me so drained and hurting.
Third problem: my supervisor who I’ll call Kashendra is a real jerk who apparently doesn’t get tired of pushing me around over the most insignificant of details.
Enough complaining about my problems, on to the revenge.
So, for reference, I’m a 250 pound 6’2 dude with long arms that allow me to extend my reach (if I go on my tiptoes) up to almost 8 feet and Kashendra is about 5′. So what I’ve started doing to subtly mess with her while I wait for my two weeks to be up is I’ve started to put away the equipment out of her reach.
You need a hay hook? Well, I guess you need the step ladder. You need the knife to cut the bale wires? Get the step ladder. You need the socket wrench to fix a gate? Step ladder. You need the duct tape to fix a leaky hose? Step ladder. You need the spare fly mask? Can you guess? Get the damn step ladder. One time I even managed to put the step ladder just out of her reach just out of spite of her attitude.
When she complains over that, I just use my excuse of ‘We got little kiddies running around during the riding lessons! We can’t have them grabbing things around the barn and getting hurt! Would YOU like to deal with OSHA, or worse, a soccer mom?’
I know it’s not much, but I get a little chuckle on my drive home imagining her jumping around the barn trying to reach something while looking like Dr. Hartman in that one scene of Family Guy when he tried to jump up to slap a pipe on the ceiling.”
6. Oops, Looks Like We Just Ran Out Of Your Size
“So, I work in a big clothing store. Since this is the last week before Christmas and our store is pretty big, I expected to have more people on a shift to cover up everything. But, I was wrong. The number of customers is double compared to other normal weeks, so we are pretty understaffed.
Yesterday I was working in the changing rooms. My job was to keep them clean, make sure that people are respecting the rules, and put back the clothes left by the customers.
There were many customers, a huge line, and a lot of frustrated people, but I was doing quite a good job. As I was minding my business, a lady shouts to me from the last changing room, ‘You there, bring me an S for this skirt.’ I went there and she told me that she has the perfect Christmas outfit in mind, but she needs an S for the skirt she was trying on now.
I told her that I will bring it, but she will need to be patient since I have a lot of work to do.
Five minutes later, as I was ready to go and bring that skirt, the customer once again shouts ‘Where is the skirt?’ I once again go there, and I nicely told her that I was about to go and bring it. She says, ‘Forget it, I’ll bring it myself, looks like nobody does any work in this store.’ I nicely explained that my job is not to bring clothes to customers but to take clothes from the changing room and put them back, but I wanted to be nice and do her a favor by bringing that skirt.
She said something about me being useless and went back to change.
At that point, I was really annoyed with her entitlement, so I went and took the only S left from that skirt in the entire store and I booked it for myself. The store allows employees to do that during work hours, so it wasn’t a problem. As I went back to the changing rooms, I saw that lady hysterically searching for an S.
I’ll put the skirt back right after Christmas.”
Another User Comments:
“When I was a barista at Starbucks, I literally had a man THROW butter, a lil container of one for the bagel I just warmed for him. He rudely tossed it across the counter, sneered, ‘Warm it!’ And stomped away back to his table. I was already having a bad day, I put it on top of the oven for 5 or 10, then while he was impatiently waiting, I tossed it at him and it hit him in the arm, and said nothing before I regretted it lol, and walked away without looking at his reaction lol. Ugh people.” jupitersdarling19
5. Do As I'm Told? It'll Cost You
“I worked for a trucking company, they made sucrose for different food plants in the area, Turkey Hill, Pepsi, etc. My job was to wash the inside of the liquid sucrose trailers so they could be reloaded, this was done by hooking them up to an automated wash system. I drove the lot, picked up an empty trailer, took it to the 2 trailer wash bay building, hooked it up and ran the cycle, then parked the washed trailer in the loading staged area.
I was hired as a temp to replace the previous 1st shift guy who injured his knee. When I was hired he and a guy who kinda knew the job taught me how to do it, but there was only one official 1st shift person who knew the job, the other guy just could kinda fumble his way through it. Then there was a second shift guy who knew the job as well.
The job required you to be extremely active, you worked in a room that would sometimes seem like it rained from all the steam condensing on the ceiling because you were washing 2 at a time with 190+ degree water for a 20-minute session. I ended up being hired full time from the temp agency (the company actually bought out my contract because I was doing so well and the 1st shift guy ended up retiring due to his injury.)
About a year later the second shift guy quits out of nowhere, so they hire a new guy, and now I have to train him.
This guy is less than good at the job. I keep telling management that but you know, they’re management. Eventually, he ends up dropping a trailer off the lift truck before putting the lift down, bending the landing gear, and doing $11,000 in damage. Anytime there’s an accident, they require a substance test, he tested positive and was fired. I ended up having to do the 1st and 2nd shifts by myself since I was the only person who knew the job.
It wasn’t that bad because 2nd shift didn’t have as many trailers, so a 10 hour day and I’d usually be done. Eventually, they hired a new guy, a very very big fellow and this… didn’t seem like a fit for him. About 3 months in the loaders come over cuz there are no clean trailers staged, they found him passed out on top of a trailer.
They honestly thought he had a heart attack or something, but it turned out he was just intoxicated, so he got fired. Guess who’s back to working both shifts?
At first, it wasn’t too bad, I could get 4 trailers done in an hour, so 32 in an 8-hour shift if I’m busting my butt. There was literally no way to do it any faster since there’s a 20-minute wash cycle and you still have to pull 2 trailers in and hook them up.
Normally there were about 25 trailers for the 1st shift and 8 to 10 for the 2nd shift. But then a company that took 5+ dry trailers a shift for 1st and 3 to 5 a shift for 2nd, tripled their order for wet trailers due to these onsite processing plants going down. I went from 10 hour days to working from 6 am to 11 pm for like a month straight, in the summer, in a building that got about 10+ degrees hotter than the ambient air was…
I kept telling my supervisor, my plant manager, and the company manager that I couldn’t keep this up, I kept being told I had to do my job, ‘do as you’re told.’ Well, the time I worked from was 6 am to 1 am Thursday and back in at 5:30 am Friday… That was the day I caused $5000 in damages. I backed a trailer out without unhooking it first, ruining the hoses, and pulling a pump off the mounts.
So now I had to get substance tested and since the last two guys failed, on the drive there my manager asked me if I was going to fail. I said it depends on what they test for. He said they test for everything, I asked if that included caffeine and exhaustion. He just kinda blankly looked at me then turned back to the road.
Substance test passed, taken back to work, now I only have 1 wash bay to use due to the damage I caused, and I have to back into it because it’s the first bay that’s broken in a pull-through setup and maintenance is there repairing it…
I ended up being there till almost 1 again. Monday I come in, having almost fallen asleep on the drive, I pulled my manager aside, the plant manager aside, and the owner’s son aside… They all said, just gotta ‘do the job I was hired to do, do what I’m told.’ They said they’re working to find a new person so I just need to keep doing ‘my trailers.’ So Tuesday, that’s what I did.
When I was hired I was told my schedule was 7 am to 3 pm and the trailers in that timeslots were mine, along with the first two 2nd shift trailers if they were there by 2:30 pm. So I got there at 7, did only the 1st shift trailers and second shift trailers as I ‘was told’ when I got hired and clocked out at 3 pm.
I shut my phone off and took my partner to the fair.
The next morning I went in at 7 once again and got to work. The supervisor and plant manager get in at 9, and at 9:05 they’re in my office. I get escorted to the office of the owner’s son where he proceeded to chew me out for a solid 45 minutes. I just sat there and let him rant.
Turns out once I left my supervisor and plant manager had to do my job, and you know since they were supervisors and plant managers obviously they were trained in the position and knew exactly what to do! They managed to do 4 trailers from 5 pm when they realized I left, until midnight… This is the same amount I could do in 1 hour.
So once his rant was over I said, ‘well, clearly you’re not going to fire me.’ He was taken aback.
I continued, ‘you have no one who can do my job, you didn’t take me seriously when I said I couldn’t do it alone anymore and so I decided I’d show you how important I was. I’ve got a kid, and a life outside this job, the pay is great but I’m not going to kill myself to get it and put in 90-110 hour weeks in the dead of summer.
You said 7 am to 3 pm when I got hired, that was ‘what I was told’ so that’s what I did. Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to give me a raise and 3 weeks paid vacation, you’re going to let me pick the guy who takes 2nd shift, if you can’t find someone willing to take 2nd I will train them on first and transfer to 2nd when they’re fully trained, but I’ll get the shift differential on top of my raise if I do that.’
He looked at me like I just robbed him, but then after a solid 5 silent minutes, he agreed.
See each trailer that didn’t get washed the night before, was assessed a late fee by the company who it went to, anywhere from $500 to $5000, and just last night I had cost them $21,000 in fees. I think he realized that would quickly be a problem if they had no one to wash any trailers.
We ended up pulling over the guy who kinda knew how to do the job from the first shift that helped train me when I started there, he took the first shift and I went to the second. I ended up being the highest-paid employee in the wet department (and any department that wasn’t management or QC actually) in only 2 years of being there when there were guys who had been loaders for 15+ years. I stayed another year or so but eventually, it was more nonsense and I had my fill.”
4. All I Wanted Was My Bacon
“There were several restaurants that were struggling last year. Several shut down completely and others fired all of their staff just to try to stay afloat. Around this time, my wife and I made it a habit to order takeout from our favorite establishments. We always tipped the standard 20+%, despite these always being takeout orders.
One restaurant, in particular, forgot to include the bacon that was supposed to come with our order.
The order was around $20 – with a tip of around $5, so around $25 total.
When you picked your order up from this restaurant, you had to park and come inside – there was no drive-thru or curbside pickup. On this particular day, I picked up our order as usual and drove home (~5-minute drive). We immediately discovered that the bacon we had ordered was missing, so I called the restaurant.
I expected to call and simply have them refund the ~$3 cost of the bacon. Simple enough, right?
This restaurant only had one person working the front – so when you called, you knew exactly who you were speaking with. When I called and stated that they must have forgotten to include the bacon, before I had a chance to ask for any type of resolution (refund, replacement, etc), this person informed me that there was a ‘large’ sign in the restaurant instructing customers to check their orders for accuracy before leaving the store.
As it turns out, the sign they mentioned was there. The instruction for checking your order was one of about 5 ‘notes’ hastily written on a piece of printer paper taped to a wall. It was out of the way, not obvious, and sloppily handwritten.
However, I had failed to read this note and I had failed to check my order for accuracy before leaving the store.
I admitted this and asked them to either refund the ~$3 or I could come pick up the missing bacon (definitely not a preferred option, but whatever).
The restaurant refused these requests, told me the missing bacon was my fault, and went as far as to question whether the bacon had actually been forgotten – stating that they ‘remembered’ packing my order.
This is where the MC comes in.
They had basically accused me of lying about $3 worth of bacon that was missing from an order. This conversation had escalated quickly – in the span of about 30 seconds – and I was angry. I informed this person that they had failed to provide what I had ordered, and that I would be forced to seek compensation – all $3 worth. I asked how they preferred I go about seeking this compensation – hoping that they would succumb and just give me a $3 refund.
However, to no one’s surprise but my own, the restaurant told me to ‘go ahead and file a chargeback’ because they had ‘video proof’ and that I would lose that chargeback case.
So, I did exactly that. I called up my credit card company and filed a chargeback. This chargeback was for $3 on a $25 charge – only $3, not the full charge.
The agent with my credit card company offered to simply refund the $3 several times, but I kept insisting that it was the principle of it at this point.
So, I proceeded with the chargeback.
There is paperwork that you have to fill out if a merchant contests a chargeback. About 3 months after initiating the chargeback, I get the paperwork in the mail that instructs me to provide all of the proof I have. I provided no proof, other than a recollection of what the merchant had stated – including them stating that they had video evidence of the bacon going into my order.
I felt like I had already won at this point – it was costing them time and energy – and I was happy to fight the fight – all for the sake of $3.
A couple of months after I submitted this follow-up paperwork, I get a letter from the credit card company stating that they had decided in my favor – and that the merchant was forced to credit me the $3.
A big win for humanity!
What many people don’t know is that a chargeback costs the merchant – especially small merchants. And this cost can easily be upwards of $100 – despite the chargeback being for only $3. Additionally, if a merchant has enough chargebacks, a card processor may increase the merchant’s rates, or discontinue a contract entirely. Basically, any chargeback a small merchant has on their record is bad.
So, in all, the restaurant instructed me to file a chargeback, I wasted a ton of their time, ended up costing them in the neighborhood $100 for the chargeback fee, and won the $3 that they should have just credited me in the first place.”
Another User Comments:
“Reminds me of when every time I ordered through Uber Eats from a particular branch of McDonald’s they would never include the dips.
Even with bloody McNuggets. McNuggets without the Sweet n’ Sour dip are just sad. I always try to ask for any rectification, even just asking the restaurant to be more careful in the future through Uber Eats. However, they would be unhelpful and rude. They literally said that the dips with 20 McNuggets were a free extra. I mean, sure, they are included meaning I don’t have to pay extra to get them, however, they are part of the meal and you are made to choose what dips you want.
I even compared it to them to having options of what cheese you want on pizza and then the pizza coming with no cheese to no avail.
So I just told my credit card company exactly what happened. Every single time it did. Mind you, this was about 20 orders, each worth about 10-15£ (I would usually get a burger meal and nuggets). I just said do what you think is justified in this situation.
Now, I have American Express. They said, paraphrasing, ‘This is unacceptable from our partners. We are refunding you for the full amount for all of the orders.’ I bloody love Amex.
At this point I took a bit of a pause from ordering from them, however, the next time I did all of the dips were there, every time. Also, I was told the branch is under new management and they replaced most of the employees.
Made me happy.” ATABoS_real
3. Can't Have A Security Light? Things Are About To Get Brighter
“Years ago when my wife and I had purchased a home, the builder had told us it might be part of an HOA depending on how many homes they ultimately constructed. We were among the first 5 buyers so we pretty much had free reign to change what we wanted via permissions from the builders that those changes would be added to what was turned over to the HOA and for as long as we lived there, the changes could stay.
The one change we did was add a motion security light on the back of our fence cause my neighbor’s kid would smoke there and I didn’t want to smell it sitting on my patio or when I had the windows open on nice evenings.
Well, that went up my neighbor’s butt sideways for whatever reason, and she refused to believe her kid would be doing that, even though it didn’t point towards any other home, just the grass between my fence and the woods.
It kept the kids from smoking there without calling the cops on something so foolish and petty. But since it was cleared from the builder she couldn’t do anything.
Well, 6 mo later we end out with an HOA, and she makes it priority 1 to get the lights (several other neighbors followed what I did whose homes faced the wooded area) removed. The requirement to get it changed since they were builder-approved was 80% of the community, so the only votes to keep came from those of us on the back of the property.
So we have to remove them for being ‘permanent’ changes. Not even 3 days later, her kid is again back there smoking. The HOA counter to why I had it was to call the police non-emergency number, but that’s absolutely stupid to risk some kid’s life cause he wanted to smoke when that’s an issue his parents (who remember don’t believe he does it) deal with.
So now I’m pretty livid, this North American land whale cried to the point I had to remove a cheap and nondisruptive fix, she refused to be a parent and keep her kid from impeding on us, so it’s time for me to be petty.
The next day after her kid first went back there, I go out to buy a 12′ section of 4×4, wire, concrete, a large planter, and 3 6,000 lumen floodlights and build essentially a mini ‘portable’ stadium light set up, rigged to the motion sensor so whenever anyone passed by my fence instead of being a small area immediately behind my house lit up, the sun came out to the woods with one light giving her home an x-ray.
The first time her kid went back there it was glorious, I got a picture of him with substances in hand before he skirted off so I could show her proof, and it sent her through the roof getting those free x-rays. I showed her the picture and she still didn’t care, saying if it goes off again she’ll call the police, and I was fine with it, cause I told her they’d see the same picture I’d just shown her.
In reality, they wouldn’t but Martha the Manatee didn’t know that, and I didn’t expect her to try to call my bluff, which she never did. Just complained to the HOA….A LOT
In the morning time, I’d lay the contraption down so it couldn’t be seen, and raise it up after it got dark. About a week after this I get a summons to the HOA meeting that’s happening that week, and since it was ‘disciplinary’ for my contraption, their lawyer was there and they want to hear the case.
So I lay everything out from builder to pictures showing how the original light didn’t shine any brighter than the one on her porch and couldn’t be seen from inside the homes, her vendetta to change the HOA rules to suit what she wanted, 3 of the 5 other neighbors who had to remove their security lights were also there to argue for getting them back when I went.
After about 40min the lawyer comes back and pretty much said ‘well Mr. And Mrs. OP you are right, this isn’t a permanent structure so it technically is allowed, but you can’t have a light facing her property any longer, in addition by the first of next month you will all be allowed to reinstall your smaller lights as they did provide a measure of security that benefits the property as a whole.’
So Martha the Manatee was blessed with another week of the sun on a pole and being mad about it, those of us who lived facing the woods got our lights back, and after reselling the lights I made most of my money back I spent on supplies making that monstrosity. It was absolutely worth spending the few hundred dollars to out petty a bad parent and insufferable neighbor.”
2. Want Us To Be Platinum-Certified? Class Is In Session
“So I was reminded of this recently though the specific incident occurred almost 6 years ago. See the company I worked for at the time had a tiered training system. Bronze tier meant you were qualified to do your job, silver meant you’d gone the extra mile to really learn the ins and outs of the job and could be used to train new people in your job.
Gold meant you had mastered your current position and Platinum was generally intended to be the stepping stone to be cross-trained in different departments. Typically platinum training in one department was roughly equivalent to half-silver in two or three other departments. So like being platinum trained in repair agent meant you could lend a hand in Home installation and Car installation, that sort of thing. Well, my store manager decided he wanted to get the bragging rights of having his entire Geek Squad department platinum-certified.
So he started hounding us to do our platinum certifications. Not actually giving us time to do them mind you, because outside of bronze the training was voluntary.
The position I held at the time, its platinum level training was intended to be a stepping stop into management. And as a part of that, it included several transcripts from several books on management. So to be platinum-certified I had to finish 14 modules, with each module involving a 200-400 page reading assignment, followed by a report on the reading assignment to be ‘graded’ by the manager.
And also 4 one-on-one training sessions with the store manager on topics such as manpower management, customer reading, and personality conflicts. All in all, each module was estimated to take between 10-14 hours worth of work before a further 3-4 hours of work with the manager.
This was all something that the manager was apparently unaware of because when I asked him where he wanted me to turn in the first report, he brushed me off saying the modules don’t have assignments.
Only to have him come back three more times and get on my case and the rest of my department’s case about being platinum. But then inferring that he’s not going to read the assignments and sign off on the modules. So do this training, that I won’t sign off on. Oh, and do it on your own time. Surprise, surprise, we weren’t interested in wasting our personal time like this.
So initially we ignored it. Until he really started pushing the issue.
Remember how each of the modules for the platinum training for my position had a 200-400 page reading assignment? Well using the store’s printer, I printed each one of them. In color. Actually did the reading on the first one and wrote the paper. And went to talk to the manager about the report. I hounded him for a week about it until I was able to corner him and show it was about the platinum training.
He was totally caught off guard that he was expected to play school teacher and visibly horrified that he would have to do so for 14 modules, + 4 one on one sessions for 5 people.
So that was the last we heard about him demanding everyone in the department be platinum.
Remember how I printed out the readings? Well, that prompted an investigation to find out why the store had gone through more color toner in 2 months than it had in a year prior.
They eventually found that the majority was from the platinum learnings, and when they asked why, we pulled out the multiple email messages the store manager has sent us regarding platinum including the parts where he said if we needed to print something we could use the store printers. Turns out most of the platinum modules just have a 2-3 page worksheet and maybe a checklist. Some have a 20-30 page resource document. But only the platinum for my department had 300-page books.”
1. Want Me To Send Over My Files? Have Fun Refilling Your Fax Machine
“I was litigating against a large corporation pro se in federal civil court, and literally all of my discovery was stuff that the company I was suing had given to me in a lower court.
Now, mind you, this is federal court. So since I knew all my evidence for the case had come from that company, I didn’t give over the file since they already possessed it.
Their attorney tried to get sanctions. Judge told me to just send them the file by the deadline.
So on the last day, literally on the eleventh hour, I fully complied with the federal order mandating that I send in my whole discovery package… I sent the 400 pages via email, certified mail, and… facsimile.
Here’s the kicker: I had electronic fax while the law firm had a traditional fax machine.
For those of you who do not understand the implication of this… a traditional fax machine can only hold 150 pages while digital fax service is literally unlimited. Traditional fax machines will throw an error if the machine runs out of paper. Digital fax service will re-attempt a delivery until the fax service or machine transmits a code indicating success. And traditional machines, FYI, are s-l-o-w.
Several hours into the next day, I got a call from opposing counsel asking me to stop sending them the same 150 pages… the law firm had exactly ONE fax machine, every time the fax machine ran out of paper, a bored paralegal would stop by, fill the hopper with more paper, and walk away. Problem is that this sitch tied up the machine all day and the firm was left unable to receive inbound faxes until my job was completed.
I couldn’t stop the faxes because it was the third-party fax service that was the problem.
I got more calls, increasingly pleading and frantic in tone, and had to explain the situation.
Because the fax service was digital and nobody was aware of the limitations physical fax machines had, they didn’t put in a limit on the number of attempts to resend the fax… because maybe no one in their right mind will send 400-page faces in this day and age of email.
So this law firm literally had no choice but to either shut down their fax line for the few days that it took the fax service to fix their code – OR – pay a paralegal big bucks to do nothing but babysit the fax line and continuously refill the hopper through my 400-page fax.
MC alllll the way, baby. Don’t anger a software engineer, bc ruinous problems might arise.”
Another User Comments:
“I used to get fax screech calls all the time on my home phone line, generally from the same number.
So one day at work, I printed up 4 pieces of paper with big letters saying to knock it off, that my number was not a fax machine. I taped them together, started sending it through to their number from my work fax machine, and completed taping them so it was just a loop. I let that fax loop go all day and didn’t shut it down till the next morning when I came into work again. (Our fax machine just kept going, thinking the fax I was sending was a million pages long, and presumably, wasting a lot of paper on the receiver’s end). This was before email faxes were a thing. I don’t honestly recall if that ended it or not. We’d gotten fax calls for years.” NotThisAgain21