People Open Up About Their Untamed Revenge Stories
14. Big Bad Bully Gets Attacked By Crows
Who knew crows were so intelligent?
“This happened long enough ago, and the bully (let’s call him Tom) and his family have moved away, so I feel safe telling this story.
My nephew (let’s call him Ethan) went to elementary (primary) school about two blocks away from me. Since both of his parents (my sister and my brother-in-law) worked, we had an arrangement that Ethan would come stay with me after he got out of school until his parents could come to pick him up and take him home.
Since I worked from home, I was able to help Ethan with homework, make snacks, and play with him.
It was a pretty cozy arrangement. Ethan and I are pretty close, and we had lots of fun playing catch in the yard (he’s now pitching baseball), getting my butt kicked in video games, and even just relaxing with a good movie.
Overall, life was pretty good. Except for one problem.
That problem was named Tom, another kid who across the street from me and was in the same grade as Ethan.
Beginning in maybe 4th grade, Tom decided that Ethan would make a good target and would bully him on the walk to my house. It wasn’t unusual for Ethan to show up with bruises or tears in his eyes because of the various crap Tom pulled. Ethan never would fully tell us (out of fear/wanting to protect us) what the hell was going on.
This became such a problem that Ethan’s parents and I complained to the principal and even tried asking our local police department what we should do.
Unfortunately, their advice/response was all the same: ignore him – we can’t do anything because there’s no proof/not happening on school grounds, try making friends with him, kids will be kids, etc.
Since the attacks were happening during the walk to my house, I started showing up at Ethan’s school to walk him to the nearby baseball field to practice pitching and batting. This worked for a couple of weeks, and Tom was never a problem (probably because he saw the baseball bat I was carrying, and I’d look at him with, “I will not be afraid to use this on you if you pick on Ethan around me” glaring in my eyes).
Unfortunately… this just led to the bullying happening at school, and it was even worse this time around because “Ethan needed his auntie to help him.”
Once again, the school did nothing because they’re about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. We even went to Tom’s parents, begging them to knock some sense into their son. I won’t go too much into that confrontation because we’ll be here forever.
But let’s just say that home environment was probably a good reason for why Tom was picking on Ethan.
During this time, Ethan was miserable. He was too afraid to go outside and play because Tom would be there to harass him and he admitted to me later that while he loved me and was happy that I’d walk him home, he wanted to be a big boy and take care of his own problems.
To say that Ethan’s parents and I were at our wit’s ends is an understatement.
We wanted to help him more than anything, but with both Ethan being withdrawn and being out of resources, it was safe to say our hands were tied.
That was until one evening in the middle of Ethan’s summer vacation (between 4th and 5th grade). I was watching the news when I came upon a special on corvids (ravens and crows). A research team did an experiment on wild crows/ravens to test their memory, and it turned out that these birds not only had a sharp memory but would attack anyone who did another crow harm.
The best part? They never forget.
Even after several weeks/months, they remembered the good/bad people.
I knew we had a local murder (a flock of crows) nearby and decided to put this little tidbit of knowledge to the test.
With only two months to go until school started again (and Tom/his family away on vacation and summer camps), I didn’t waste time. I bought a huge bag of birdseed, and at the times Ethan would walk home, I would walk the path and drop little handfuls of birdseed in full view of the crows, always remembering to take a different route to get to the school so that way the crows wouldn’t get confused.
It took maybe a week or so before I’d notice more crows arriving, and they eventually started leaving shiny things (bottle caps, buttons, discarded gum wrappers, etc.) for me to find.
Once, I was sure I had the crows knowing I was the “good” guy. I brought Ethan into this. We’d walk the path and feed the crows.
Soon enough, the crows would start coming out, and we’d be friendly with them, giving them names, and listening to them “gossip” while sharing news of our own. We must’ve looked really weird to the neighbors, but Ethan really enjoyed it and even looked up things about corvids on his own.
He learned the shiny stuff the crows were leaving was a form of “currency/thank you presents.” Thinking this could be helpful, he started collecting other shiny things for the crows and would leave those in addition to the birdseed.
With two weeks to go until school started up again, I began phasing myself out of the afternoon feeding times, so eventually, it was Ethan who was feeding the crows/leaving gifts on the walk home.
The day before school started, I gave Ethan a bag of birdseed in addition to his shiny things and winked at him.
Sure enough, at the same time Ethan would come home, I heard the crows cawing and what I thought was a little girl screaming.
I stepped outside and saw Tom running towards his house, the crows divebombing him and pecking at him. Further down the path, Ethan was laughing so hard at the sight of his bully running and screaming like a little girl that he fell to the ground.
Tom peeled into his house and locked the door as I walked over to Ethan and helped him up. Of course, I had to get the juicy details, so I asked what happened.
Ethan was walking home, spreading the birdseed, and leaving the shiny things as usual.
About halfway home, Tom pounced, making some nasty cracks I won’t repeat here before punching Ethan.
And that’s when a crow divebombed Tom. When he tried hitting it away, more and more showed up until the whole murder (who were watching) were ganging up on Tom.
I was smiling sweet tears of revenge at our little feathered friends, especially when I saw the whole murder crowded around Tom’s house like it was a set from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.
Needless to say, Tom and his family did not have a pleasant experience the remainder of the school year.
There was at least one crow in front of his house watching and waiting for him to come out, so he could peck/chase him around. And every afternoon, the murder was protecting Ethan on his walk home.
Of course, Tom’s parents tried to protect their kid by swinging baseball bats and other things to keep the crows away, but we quickly learned that crows “talk” to each other, and soon, the whole murder was on them too.
They tried to take legal action against Ethan, his parents, and me for “training the crows to attack Tom,” but that got thrown out the window really quick because they had no proof of us training the birds as they had been gone all of summer break, and none of the neighbors wanted to help them (apparently, the murder of crows weren’t the only ones Tom’s family angered).
So for the rest of the year, Tom had to be driven to and from school, so he and his family wouldn’t get attacked. When summer started, they moved away, probably to be rid of the murder of crows.
Ethan has moved on to middle school, but we still visit the murder and leave shiny things for them.
Just in case.”
13. Can't Be A Nice Kid? I Hope You Like The Neighborhood Kitties
“I couldn’t stand this one kid who I went to high-school with, who lived a few blocks away in the neighborhood.
One night, he sent cops to my parent’s house where I was still living, telling them I had done something I didn’t do. Luckily, I had a receipt in my pocket from the restaurant I was at, in a suburb 10 miles away that was time-stamped half an hour later than when he said the incident occurred.
Regardless, my parents were woken up, etc. I wasn’t happy.
Well, a few days later, my mom bought some plants that she left in the kitchen window. Our family cat was a nutball, to begin with, but all of a sudden he was constantly jumping on the counters, eating these plants.
When I’d try and shoo him down, he would actually take a defensive stance and hiss and scratch.
10 minutes later, he would be back, chewing on the leaves.
I asked my mom what the plants were, and she said, ‘Oh, they’re catnip. They have a really pretty flower. I’m going to plant them in the backyard when the weather warms up.’ I was like, ‘Not a chance you’re planting these in our backyard. Look what you’re doing to the cat! He’s an aggressive stoner! You’ll bring every cat in the neighborhood, and they will all fight, all night long!!!’
Suddenly, at that exact moment, a revenge plot was born.
The following night, I snuck into the guy’s backyard and planted the catnip everywhere. My friend who lived across the street from him told me it worked perfectly, and that he was always complaining about cats fighting in his backyard after that. Revenge. No physical confrontation, no property damage, just stoned cats. Felt a little like some sort of super villain, sending out my cat minions to do my dirty work.”
12. Use Me For Child Support? That Money Will Be Cut Off Soon
“My parents divorced when I was just in kindergarten so no more than 6. My mom got full custody of us, and she suffered from mental illness (I believe she has borderline personality disorder, and she was also a typical narcissistic parent). Anyway, ever since the divorce, she would always tell us how it was not her fault we didn’t have enough money for things and blame my dad.
For example, if there was nothing to eat for breakfast, and we complained like small children do when they were hungry, she snapped, “It’s your father’s fault, so cry to him.”
I just learned never to complain and do without and spent my childhood taking care of her. My sister and I were trained from when I was about 8 (my sister 10) to come right home from school and do our homework and clean the house and take care of ourselves.
Don’t ask Mom to make dinner, make it yourself, and do all of the chores, so Mom doesn’t have to do anything. It sounds bizarre, but we thought that was normal as well as being hit and told on a daily basis that we were worthless.
It got worse my senior year of high school. My grandma died a few months before that summer, and my mom quit her job and blew through the money my grandma left her before the summer was over (this was close to 75k back in 2000).
She refused to get another job and kept coming up with excuses not to work (i.e. “I need a break,” “Get off my back,” “I hurt my leg,” etc.) while she was going out drinking with her friend and acting like a carefree teenager. So, I spent my senior year working hard at school, at my part-time job after school, and pretty much taking care of an overgrown child who refused to work or help out.
Any time a utility shut off or there was no food left in the house, she just griped, “You have a job. Why can’t you pay it?”
If I brought up the fact that my dad sent her child support, she would just complain that she had my sister’s tuition (which I later learn was bs). She would flaunt that child support check and laugh and refer to it as, “Mommy’s Paycheck.”
Flash forward to when I am about to choose a college and my mom keeps bellyaching about the costs, and of course, has 0 saved in a college fund.
I couldn’t afford a private university since I only was offered a partial scholarship, so I decided to go to a reasonably priced and still highly regarded state university.
My freshman year, I was pretty much able to swing the cost of tuition and room and board (I lived on campus) since last year of high school, I filed my taxes and FAFSA as soon as my w2’s came in, so I had a decent amount of grants.
During my first year of college, I almost became unable to receive financial aid for my second year of college.
Why? My w2’s were mailed to my home address, and my mom being the caring and supportive mother she was, shredded them and threw them in the trash. I found out because my sister was home that weekend and saw it. My mom denied, and when I came home for spring break and pressed her for it, she lied and said her friend had them (her friend was a CPA).
My sister called my mom out on this bluff by calling the friend who said she did not have any of our tax information. She was very concerned and told me and my sister to request duplicate w2’s and have them sent home, and she will have my mom send them over to me.
My mom was angry that we had checked with her friend and called her out on her bluff, but true to her word, her friend did my taxes for me and my FAFSA (I had offered to pay her or at least babysit for her, but she told me it was okay.
I think she knew my mom was mentally unstable and felt sorry for me and my sister).
At this point, I learned that my mom had not been helping out my sister at all with tuition like she claimed, and my sister had mentioned it to my dad who had called her out and demanded to know where the child support was going to. My mom insisted he wasn’t paying her enough money, and that’s why she couldn’t’ help us out.
During my second year of college, my w2’s were once again sent home, and my mom once again “accidentally” threw them in the trash.
I had to request duplicate w2’s from my summer job not just once but twice because she kept throwing them in the trash. I filed my tax return late that year, and as a result, my FAFSA was filed late, so I wasn’t able to get the full amount I was receiving before.
Any time I complained to her about money or no food in the house it was, “Complain to your father.”
Well, the summer before my third year, I was burned out on my mom’s bs.
I was working full time for the summer and saving as much as I could but she was refusing to help me out at all while I was home with food or anything. She was livid that instead of paying the phone bill, so she could make long-distance calls to her online friends and spend all day in chat rooms (this was back when we had dial-up), I had the audacity to spend my hard-earned money on a cell phone and pay that bill myself.
She told everyone I should just drop out because I wasn’t applying myself hard enough (I was in the honors program), and she would play martyr with all her friends about, “it’s so hard when you have kids in college, and they eat you out of house and home and come to you for money.”
At the end of the summer, I had saved a thousand dollars, but the school won’t let me move into the dorm unless I paid 50% upfront, which was about 10k.
I didn’t know what to do as all summer, the university had told me I was fine and then on move-in day, told me I couldn’t move into the dorm. I called my dad in a panic, and he spoke to someone who agreed to give me 24 hours. I moved in, and the next day, my dad showed up first thing with a coffee and a donut for me and told me not to worry: he was going to fix this once and for all.
We went from office to office on campus and he cosigned a loan (which he later paid off for me) and then he paid the balance on my tuition for the loan didn’t cover.
He then took me out to lunch and told me the truth: my mom never helped my sister with her tuition (my sister had graduated the summer before my junior year of college).
My sister later confirmed this but was not surprised my mom had lied. My dad had cosigned a loan to help my sister out (which he later paid off for her), and my sister was able to get a scholarship and do coop to pay for her last two years.
He also advised me that my mom was not so poorly off: as part of the divorce settlement, he had to pay the mortgage and property taxes on our house, and even though my sister was now out on her own, he was still paying her the same amount of child support of about 2k a month despite the fact that I was living on campus for 75% of the year, and my mom was not given me a dime.
(just to give you some clarification: my tuition and room and board before financial aid kicked in was 15k a year, so she could have easily helped me out with school since after financial aid kicked in, when I was able to get it; the balance was usually 6k).
I was hurt to think my mom was just living off my child support and constantly making me feel guilty for wanting anything or for not being able to cater to her every whim (she would get angry that I wouldn’t come home on the weekends to help her clean the house that I was not living in).
I thought about how bad she made me feel growing up and made me feel worthless when, in fact, had it not been for me or my sister, she would have not had a roof over her head after the divorce.
He asks me to grant him access to my account, so he could prove my mom was not paying for college and that I was. He asked me how I would feel if he took care of college instead of paying my mom child support.
Sounded good to me.
He even told me I could spend my breaks at his house instead of my mom’s.
I called my mom and told her that my dad had taken care of the issue, and she had no remorse. She told me it was my own fault for not planning my finances better and for wasting away my money all summer. I just played it dumb and said she was right but pointed out I had done what she told me to do and complained to my dad.
A month later, my mom called me up seething! My dad had spoken with the court, and there was going to be a hearing in their divorce case.
My dad had proven that my mom had not been paying for mine nor my sister’s tuition for college, and that was the very reason my dad was obligated to pay child support till I was done college. Since I was living on campus, it didn’t make sense to pay her child support when I was not living at home most of the year, and she hasn’t given me one penny.
My dad told the judge he would gladly pay for me to finish college, but he was not going to pay my mom any more child support or pay the mortgage on the house. If my mom didn’t want to take over the mortgage, they could sell the house, and I could live with him over my breaks.
My mom was freaking out over this and calling me selfish.
I just reminded her that my tuition must cost a lot more than what she got in child support since she was never able to help me with costs of school. She just kept laying guilt trips on me about how I was selfish because she didn’t get to go to college right after high school and how she never got to have four carefree years of college.
I pointed out to her that she had not worked since my grandma died about 3 years ago and that I was working and going to school at that time while she got to live a carefree life.
She pretty much ripped me a new one at that point. She tried to get back at my dad by not paying utilities on the house to make it seem like she needed the money.
She then told me that the electricity and water were now shut off, so if I wanted to come home for winter break, I needed to help her out (she had moved in with her partner at his condo). I just told her that I would miss her but that I would just go to my dad’s for winter break. She cried about how selfish I was for not wanting to come home for Christmas.
[Sidenote: the Christmas before, my present was throwing out many of my personal belongings. Why? My mom was peed off at me that I didn’t want to come home one weekend to help her clean because to get home I had to take two buses, two trains, spend $20 one way and wait for her to hopefully remember to pick me up at the train station which was a whole 20-minute drive for her after I had traveled for 4 to 5 hours because I had finals, and I told her I would help clean for the holidays once I came home for winter break.
Her response? She took all of my things, threw them in boxes, and threw them out on the front lawn. Most of my things were destroyed by being left on in the rain, and I threw away most of them).
I told my mom that I would come and visit her over my winter break once she got the utilities turned on. I told my dad what was going on, and he said he and my stepmom and my half brother and sister were thrilled I was going to stay with them for winter break, and he can get me a job in his office as well for winter break! He also called my mom and reminded her that the child support had not stopped, and they were going to list the house in a few months, so what was this nonsense about the utilities being shut off? She was angry but magically came up with the money to turn them back on.
That spring, my dad took officially by the court took over my college tuition, and he even made sure I got my full financial aide since he had picked up w2s for me.
My mom lost her child support and was told by the judge that she better cooperate with the sale of the house and keep up with the utility bills, etc., so it would sell. Her man moved in with her till the house sold, and she moved to another time zone.
The real kicker? It was cheaper for my dad to pay college costs than to pay her child support!
No regrets!”
11. Keep Our Family Up All Night With Your Loud Phone Calls? Get Disconnected All Night Long
“This happened many, oh so many, moons ago (around 12,410 or about 34 years). I mean it predates cell phones, internet – yeah, back in those days. Everyone had a phone hooked to a wall, and you weren’t walking around with a device or phone permanently pressed to your ear or hip pocket; you were chained like a prisoner to the wall.
My wife and I lived in an upstairs apartment of a house.
We had two small children who were very young still. I was in the military at the time. The basement apartment always seemed to attract the strangest people. You know the type you go out of your way to avoid, I mean seriously avoid. Don’t want people to know you know them, avoid. Yeah, you know the type.
This really freaky couple decided to move out, and the girl decided to just hand the lease over to her sister and partner.
We didn’t know it at the time, but her sister was TOXIC. I mean stick your hand in a full septic tank, eat what you fish out, toxic.
Now I worked days, and they worked alternating nights at some drug rehab halfway house or something. So, every night, one of them would be working.
On the first night they moved in, my partner and I put the kids in bed, and shortly after, went to bed ourselves.
I had to be up around 5:00 AM to get to the base (early morning exercise stuff – the go you, chicken fat, go stuff for all you older boomers out there), then work. All all of the sudden around 11:00 PM, the phone in their apartment starts to ring, LOUD, like warehouse phone loud. This thing woke both of us up and the kids. So now we are all wide awake.
The phone rang for 30 minutes before her man picked it up. The rest of the night, we could hear him talking very loudly into the phone. He was saying things that I didn’t want to know, personal things that nobody wants to know. Yuck!
The next night we get the kids in bed, we go to bed too. We are exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before.
At 11:00 PM, the downstairs phone rings, and it rang for another 30 minutes before she picked it up. For the rest of the night, we heard her on the phone. These people had one volume 11 (shout out to Spinal Tap fans). I think these two people were there start of the 1-900 phone calls. Again… YUCK! ALL NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT for about two weeks.
There were a few nights that the phone would ring all night long and never get picked up.
We were all really tired, no sleep, cranky kids. Neighbors that were made of the same stuff I find trailed on toilet paper before flushing. I started thinking, “I have to find a way to stop this insanity.” Now I have a mechanical background. I have worked in construction, wiring, building repair, and auto and truck repair.
There had to be something I could do.
Saturday rolls around, and I am in the backyard mowing the grass (part of my lease agreement). I notice two phone connection boxes on the side of the house. The gears in my brain start to formulate my revenge.
After I mow the lawn, I open my toolbox and find a wire with two “alligator” clips. I trace the connection going to my phone first, to experiment.
I jump two wires together and check my phone. Dead, no tone. Ha, got ya now you jerks.
Just before we went to bed, I went outside and jumped the wires to their phone. Oh, it was peaceful. All night we slept; the kids slept. I dreamt of sugar plums, unicorns, and fairies. Oh, sweet bliss.
The next morning, we woke up rested. I removed the wire, and we sat down to eat breakfast, and the girl comes home and tromps down into their apartment.
I mean the entire house shook; she had a purpose. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. You could hear the door get kicked, and she stomped her way through their apartment. I think she was foaming at the mouth, like a rabid skunk. The conversation went something like this.
I won’t capitalize, just remember volume 11.
Girl – “Where is she? What the eff were you doing all night?”
Boy – “What?” Just getting out of bed.
(You could tell by the area his voice echoed through the floorboards.)
Girl – “Who the hell were you talking to all night? I’ll kill her!”
Boy – “What??”
Girl – “Don’t you what me! I tried to call all night, and the phone was busy! All night the phone was busy! Who the eff were you on the phone with? ALL. NIGHT. LONG!”
Boy – “Nobody, babe.”
Girl – Throwing the first of many objects, you could hear it crash against the wall.
“Don’t you dare ‘babe’ me you, jerk. I want to know who else you are seeing. Who were you on the phone with?”
This went on for a couple of hours; crap was getting thrown. Yelling! Screaming! Words were getting used that would make a pig blush. I was desperately trying not to die laughing and wishing I had some popcorn. It was better than the old radio shows, excitement, thrills, drama, everything.
I think their voices are imprinted into the ceiling of that apartment. Her man was finally able to find a way to get out and drive away, still in his underwear. Peace resumed for the rest of the day.
I jumped their phone every night from then on. I slept well, still do.
After a few months, they moved out, and you guessed it: another creepy family moved in.
Sometimes I feel a little sorry for the poor guy and what I did but only for a nanosecond and then I roll over laughing. Yea, it was worth it.
I did talk to him once before they moved out, and he said she threw one of her high heels so hard, it stuck in the wall right next to his head. I never did tell him about the wire. So, if you are reading this, no, I am not sorry, and thanks for the good laugh that has lasted for years.”
10. Cheapskate Bosses Get Left High And Dry
“A few years ago, I worked at a staffing agency, like, I was the one trying to give people jobs, not the other way around. However, this area is full of people who don’t want to work. Sometimes they are just applying to say that they’re looking for work but aren’t really, so they can get money from the government (I know a lot of people who genuinely can’t work who need it; this is different).
About 25% are in that group, 60% work a few weeks and then drop off, and 15% actually want to work. We would hire for companies that are mostly warehouses, factories… That sort of thing.
People would come in and apply and have orientation for whichever job that we had available that they wanted to take or use our website to apply and then we call and set up a time for the orientation.
I was very detailed about the type of jobs that we were hiring for. I didn’t want them to go into the job blind; they know what they’re signing up for. We would make sure they qualified for the job and could pass a drug screen (yeah, I had to deal with their pee, bleh). We would set them up direct deposit (we didn’t do paper checks) to their bank, to a pay card, or whatever they wanted to use.
Most of the jobs had better pay than even I was getting. Everything was very out in the open. However, I still would get sworn at almost every day for THEM failing the drug test. One of the main things people would get mad at is if they hadn’t signed up for direct deposit by the time payday came around and they would get mad at me for them not signed up.
In the orientation, I was always very, VERY clear that we need that info asap. If they had scheduled an orientation, I would tell them to bring that with them. If they turned it in on that Friday payday, they probably wouldn’t get paid until that next Monday due to needing two days to get everything processed with the bank/pay card people.
Basically, it was awful and not even near how much I should have gotten paid.
The staffing company had a few different branches in the tri-state area. The owners would pop in unannounced whenever they felt like it and would get irritated if it didn’t look like we were working. Part of the job is putting all the employees’ info into the system, following up with those who didn’t come to their scheduled orientation (that happened all the time), calling applicants to schedule a time to come in…
That sort of thing. So, if we were sitting at our desk, they would be mad. And they would get really mad if we weren’t doing our jobs EXACTLY how they wanted. I had figured out a better system that worked for me that was faster. And they would say, “Do your job how I told you to do it!” I’m pretty sure they were kind of sexist, but I won’t go into that.
At my branch, it was me and my boss; she was the branch manager.
I did all the staffing, and she would try to find new clients that we could send people to work there, sales basically. If we started to get really busy, she would help me out, and we got along just fine! The job is super stressful though, so about a year and half into working, there my boss started looking for another job and found one and left two weeks later.
I don’t blame her at all; it was a sucky job.
The main branch said they were looking to hire a new branch manager, so I asked if I could be able to apply for the position, and they said no due to lack of experience. I kind of understood. I had only been working in staffing for a year and half. But, they kept not hiring a branch manager.
So, I was doing everything by myself. After a little bit, they sent someone from the main branch to fill in the position temporarily until they found someone. The person they sent was from accounting. Like, didn’t do any staffing stuff at all, and he didn’t even do any sales, making me do it. He (I’ll call him Fred) would basically sit in the branch manager’s office scrolling through his phone and then got mad if he saw me checking my phone really quick.
So, I was still doing everything. And had an evil overlord breathing down my neck which is almost hindering me from doing my job well. He was only there a few days a week, so I had some time that I didn’t have to deal with him. This went on for four. Months. Working a stressful job for sucky pay.
I had gotten engaged (yay!) early that year, and I put in a request for a week off for my honeymoon before my boss left, and it had already been approved by management.
Thank goodness. I asked Fred a few months before my wedding if they had any progress with finding a branch manager because it would need to be soon if was going to train the person the basics for the week I was going to be gone. Take a guess at what he said. “No, we’re going to just send one of the staffing people from the main branch to cover the week you’ll be gone.
Make sure you’re back that Monday after since you’re going to be using all your vacation time.” I had to use all my vacation time and had three days without pay because I didn’t have enough for the full week, which I found out I was supposed to get exactly three more days after working there a year, but no one told me until like six months later.
And when I asked Fred about it, he just said, “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that now. Oh well!” Yeah, that made me angry.
Anyways, I got married and had a wonderful honeymoon. When I came back to work that Monday, Fred asked me to come into ‘his’ office to tell me that they didn’t realize how much I was doing until I wasn’t there for a week and that they’re going to hire another staffing agent.
Not a branch manager… Another staffing agent. Which was fine with me – at least I wouldn’t need to do everything. But because of this, they gave me a little bit of a raise, so I wouldn’t get mad at having the same pay as someone who was just starting. Thankfully, though, it went from it always being Fred that came down a few days to Fred and another manager (Um…
Mary?) would go back and forth with who was going to be there. I liked Mary. She was someone that was a manager from one of the other branches that would go to few places we hired for, so she knew more about staffing.
We hired someone else about a month later, and she (let’s call her Jill) was good. It took a bit to get her trained, but she had never worked for a staffing company before, so I knew where she was coming from.
Fred was still ‘acting branch manager.’ Me and Jill figured out a system that worked pretty well for us. We would swap every week who was doing orientation/staffing and who was answering the phone and inputting things into the computer. But, there were things that Jill wouldn’t remember or didn’t want to do no matter how much I would remind her. We got along fine, but I could tell she would get irritated at me trying to help her out.
It was just a few things here and there. It wasn’t awful, so I would just take care of it myself whenever I would switch into whichever role. I was also doing sales, conducting interviews, and helping Jill if she had a problem or a question. So, I was basically doing the work of the branch manager.
Every few months, I would ask when we were going to get an actual branch manager, and every time, they would say, “Oh.
Well… We are trying to cut some costs, so we’re going hold off on that for now,” or “I don’t think there is a need for a branch manager.” Every time, I would get more annoyed. I was doing to work of the branch manager without the pay or title. This went on for a whole freaking year. I was getting close to my three-year mark, and I was just fed up.
I started looking for another job.
I applied and went to an interview. They scheduled me for a second interview, which I thought was a good sign. So I, for the last time, asked if I could be considered to be a branch manager on my three-year mark. I had a meeting with them where they went into details about why they don’t think I would be a good manager, a bunch of garbage excuses basically.
I kind of just brushed it off and just said, “Okay!” I saw them glance at each other with a perplexed look from that reaction as I left the meeting.
The next day, I had my second interview, and it also went really well. A few days later, I got the call that I got the job! Mary came in that afternoon, and I told her I needed to talk to her about something.
She instantly knew that didn’t sound good, “Uh-oh.” I told her I am putting in my two weeks. She said, ” Yeah, I kind of saw it coming considering your reaction in the meeting a few days ago.” She was sad that I was leaving and said she would let the rest of the management know.
The next day when she came back in telling that when she told management about it, they were all very surprised that I wanted to leave.
Like… What do you think would happen after all this? And guess what they did the next day… They put out on a hiring website that they were hiring. For a branch manager. This really made me want to screw them over. But, because I’m a nice (ish) person, over the next two weeks, I made sure everything was filed correctly and put the right things in the system – all the things that never got done without me.
I kept on asking if they had hired anyone, so I could train them, and of course, they didn’t. I kind of felt bad because I was putting Jill in the same position I was in when my boss left, but I was tired of being used. I really tried to help Jill to learn everything she’ll need to do, but I knew Jill wasn’t going to do everything that would need to be done and that it wouldn’t take long for that branch to start to suffer.
Whenever I left, it took them a few months to find a branch manager that would stay more than a few weeks.
Jill would keep me updated with things through text and would ask me questions about how to do things or where to find something in the system for several weeks. They had to cut down their open hours until they could find a branch manager. Even then, it was a fast revolving door of people that would maybe stay a few months. They also lost a few clients that they were staffing for because I wasn’t there anymore.
I had good professional relationships with several clients, but when I informed them that I was leaving and why, they dropped that place like a hot potato. Jill found something better about a year after I left, I am happy for her!
I’ve been at my new job for a little over two years now and am loving it! Everyone is so nice and professional. But my standards weren’t really that high in comparison to the staffing place.
My new boss and a few of the other clerical ladies took me out to lunch my first day… I almost cried. I honestly can see me working here until I retire, which is several decades away. The only thing that I got from the staffing place was more of a backbone, but no one deserves to be taken advantage of. Bye!”
Another User Comments:
“There are people like you and I count myself as one of them. Even if we hate the job, we still want to do our best and succeed. We end up being abused and shouldering so much of the work.
My friend recently told me that his attitude has changed a lot- it’s now much more, “Who cares? What’s the worst that will happen?”
I need that outlook more; it will make life so much more stress-free.” HelloJoeyJoeJoe
9. My Teacher Bullied Me Relentlessly, So I Got Her Suspended
“I was in 2nd/3rd grade at the time. My teacher, “Mrs. Peters,” rewarded us cupcakes one Friday for good behavior. Well, I was that teacher’s favorite target for several stupid reasons. The main reason was because I supposedly never paid attention in class. She probably hated me too.
That EVIL, OLD HAG suddenly decided that I don’t deserve any cupcakes knowing that I was looking forward to having one.
She also knew that I was on my best behavior, but for whatever reason, she changed her mind at the last minute.
She sent me away from the table where everyone seated and had me sit by the door. I cried my eyes out, and she LOVED IT! She was enjoying my suffering! She encouraged all my classmates to look at the injustice SHE caused and THEY.
ALL. LAUGHED. AT. ME.
She decided to be a witch by purposely including cookies as a treat with those cupcakes. She made sure I watched everyone enjoy their undeserved goodies. While I sat there in misery.
Anyways, she decided to be petty and punish me even more FOR BEING BULLIED BY HER! She didn’t allow me to go to first recess. So I sat there hating my life, and 2 classmates named “Matthew” and “Jared” decided to sneak back into the class and each stole a cupcake before running back outside.
By the time “Mrs.
Peters” came back from her coffee pot, she noticed that 2 cupcakes were missing. Guess who she blamed?! Your one and only. What did she do?!
She grabbed my face, impaled my skin with her filthy nails, and grabbed my tongue with her other hand, and forced my mouth wide open. I called for help. I couldn’t run. No one came to help. All because I was labeled as a “problem child,” so my cries were ignored.
She finally let me go when she saw that there were obviously no signs of me eating any cupcakes at all.
Not a single crumb. She decided to call my parents for my “bad behavior,” they picked me up, and I told them what happened to me. They didn’t believe me until they checked my face.
I don’t remember what happened after that, but what I do remember is that “Matthew” and “Jared” got in trouble for the assault they caused (Thank you, M+J’s parents!). They were an emotional wreck for a long time.
They didn’t want to be near me.
As for “Mrs. Peters,” she was gone for several months, and I only saw her during the last week of school. I don’t know how she was disciplined for all the crap she did to me. She was a different woman toward me. She was WAY TOO NICE to me. WAAYYYY TOO NICE to everyone. I didn’t trust her at all, and I never ever, ever saw her again after that.
That old hag might be already dead. Good riddance!”
8. Won't Give Me The Grade I Deserve? Lose Your Job
There’s always that one teacher.
“This story took place a few years ago when I was going to a private high school (I think since our education system is different. For anyone who speaks German: Wirtschaftsabschluss/Realschule and then Gymnasium) in Germany.
It wasn’t a rich private school. The fees weren’t too high, and the teachers really did a great job and helped me through my first degree, so I decided to go a step further in education and add some years to it to obtain a higher education level.
I should mention that I’m half German, half American.
I needed to learn English to communicate with my father, but I really didn’t speak it anywhere fluently per se. Although, I usually succeeded comfortably in English at school.
This time, I had a terrible English teacher.
You know the type of teacher. Surely, you’ve encountered them too: the ones who hate it when a kid sits in their class who already has a lot of knowledge on the subject they are teaching? I’ve seen it in multiple classes I’ve taken.
Well, I guess I was that kid this time. Now, I was in my 20’s, and I was not having it.
So let’s call this teacher Karen. I started my new year with new teachers, and Karen introduced herself as our English teacher. She told us she just freshly became a new teacher and is excited to work with us for the next 2 years. And you could tell she was new.
She seemed really nervous in front of us, always rocking herself back and forth and moving a lot, and playing with small objects. I noticed her accent was heavily German and that she often switched between both languages mid-sentence, but I thought maybe she had anxiety or just needed time to settle in.
But weeks pass, and the work she gave us was to be at the seventh grade level – mind you, this was grade 12.
At some point, I started helping the teacher out with translating single words back and forth or ending her sentences in English – sometimes when asked, sometimes when not. I didn’t care much about it and only acted when it was absolutely wrong. I would also help her in her class and start explaining and answering questions to my colleagues when she went to help others.
At this point, I questioned how she even got her degree in the first place.
My grades were solid A‘s no worries until my grade for communication in the class came back, and it was a D. Since my English seemed to be as good as hers, since I had to help her out so often, and I was active in class, I confronted her after class about the grade and an explanation for it.
She just tells me that I don’t say enough in class from her point of view and that I shouldn’t act like I already know everything and to not be too sure about my abilities and that I was being lazy.
I knew immediately she had it in for me, but she messed with the wrong one. She forgot I’ve been in this school longer than her, and I was taught by the most respected British lady in this house before her (she gave me grade thirteen-level stuff and let me listen to music cause she knew my experience.
(Honestly, I loved that lady.)
So I went rooming around school and ‚accidentally‘ walked into her with a sad face. Immediately she asked me what was going on, so I told her about Karen, how she acts so nervous, and about my grade. I also mentioned that I didn’t want to be too quick to make assumptions, so she should sit in the class herself to see what I was talking about.
So she did, by surprise, just casually slid in halfway through class the following day and watched.
Karen was sweating like crazy since what she taught us this lesson was also 7-9 grade level stuff when we were supposed to be preparing for our final English exam at the grade 13 level.
My lovely British lady gave me a look, and one week later, I met Karen in the hallway with her stuff in her hands asking me if I was happy now because she got fired. I just looked her straight in the eyes and told her that maybe she shouldn’t be too sure about her abilities.”
7. Try To Make Me So Miserable That I Quit? I'll Play Your Own Game Better
“I used to work for a manufacturing company who makes waste containers, dumpsters and such, and at first it was a good job with a good manager and no problems. I enjoyed the work, it was a dirty, physically demanding job but kept me in good shape, I could just put in my earbuds and cruise through the day without any issues. My initial job was to prep the units for painting by polishing imperfections with a sander and grinding down the areas that were too rough, as well as cleaning them up after the welders were done with them, but after a while, they kept laying off so many people and dumping their jobs on me that eventually towards the end of my time there, I was quality control, helped the painter, was a warehouseman, finisher, grinder and also janitor.
Oh and for no additional pay beyond the small cost of living raises we got once in a while. After about a year of working for this company (prior to having all these jobs dumped on me) without any issues, new management showed up, and as they like to do, they started making all kinds of changes just for the sake of making changes, things that made jobs harder with no benefit, cutting corners that should not be cut and generally hurting productivity and workplace safety.
The change in management was bad, but it was not the end of the world. It made things harder for no real reason but all in all, things were still manageable – until I ended up off work for about a month with a collapsed lung that I still, to this day, believe was caused by working conditions there and lack of ventilation and PPE.
When I came back to work, I was on light duty for quite some time since I had surgery to repair the lung and prevent it from collapsing again.
I went from the golden boy who they called on when stuff had to get done to the redheaded stepchild of the company, and management was doing everything they could to get me to quit. They would throw my tools away, hide my stools so I couldn’t use them while I was working, hassle me over things like my earbuds citing ‘safety’ as to why I couldn’t use them, even though OSHA themselves told me it was not an issue.
The production manager would lie about things and write me up for non-existent violations, refused to fix my bay doors that had been crashed into by forklifts numerous times that had to be closed and opened with a crowbar by 2 people since the track was mangled. Other things include the company giving everybody in the plant raises except for me, catching me 5 minutes before leaving work to go on my weekend and ‘informing me’ that we had to work the next day and selectively enforcing safety rules, and even making rules up on the fly.
After about 6 months, I had had enough and decided that if they want to constantly cite policy and safety rules to mess with me, then I could play that game too.
I would make this manufacturing plant the safest company on the planet and ensure the policy was followed to the exact letter. This was now my mission.
I began to slow my work WAY down and only do the jobs I was hired and paid to do.
Instead of doing the workload of 10 employees with nothing in return, they now got exactly 1 person’s worth of labor out of me. Customers orders began stacking up, deliveries were late, bad welds and welds that got missed during production were overlooked causing the units to have to be repainted when they had to go back to the welding lines to be fixed.
The warehouse became a wreck with containers backed up to the point that people did not even have room to work.
I went from completing a large unit it 30 minutes to it taking me 2 and a half hours on the same one, not to mention all the repairs that needed to be done that were missed during production, when before I would have caught them before the units even left the production line.
Other petty things I did included not showing on Saturday to work when the manager would catch me at the last second and tell me I had to.
I took to cutting out the text in the employee handbook citing that working unscheduled hours required management to notify you 3 days in advance and leaving a letter with that portion of the handbook on his desk the following Monday. There was nothing they could do since I was following the handbook to the letter. At this point, it was a game of who would blink first.
They could lay me off and I could draw unemployment on them, or I would quit.
Next on the list was safety. They liked to hassle me so much about trivial things that I figured they would appreciate me going through the plant and documenting every single last OSHA violation, safety violation and anything else that was not right.
I had a notebook that was FILLED with violations from one end of the plant to another, things like crane lifts that were being used improperly with J hooks that OSHA previously warned the company about, the same J hooks they liked to hide every time OSHA came through the plant.
Welders that had frayed cords around puddles of water, tools being left on top of units that could fall off and hit someone, lack of ventilation, particle counts that were too high, forklifts that were not serviced enough, I tagged out equipment that technically shouldn’t be used in its current state, and locked out the forklifts that needed brakes or any sort of maintenance.
Eventually, the production manager took the bait and untagged one of the forklifts I had locked out due to having bad brakes.
Anybody who knows the lockout procedure can understand what a massive messup that is.
Once I compiled my list of improvements, I went to the government official who was overseeing safety and procedure since we often worked on government orders. I gave him my notebook, informed him of my manager taking the lockout off a defective forklift, then went on break and waited. About 30 minutes later, I saw my manager walking back from the head office and looking angry beyond belief.
Later, I heard from someone who knows him that he got punished severely, especially for the forklift. From then on, he avoided me and wouldn’t even speak to me or look at me. After that, I continued to slow my work pace down and got a bit of satisfaction each day from the complete crapshow the place had become and how backed up it was every single day.
After I left the company, I heard they hired 5 guys to do my job and that they still did a crap job at it. Had they treated me better instead of coming at me as they did, they would have been still getting the top quality of work from me that they got when I first joined them, and things would have gone along just fine.
I can’t even imagine how much money I must have cost that company by sticking to the exact letter of the rules.”
6. Think You Can Take Over Our Project? I Won't Help You Save It
“This is a college grade school project that my dad did in the 90’s. He was taking some sort of business major and was in a group of 8 students. My father was assigned as project leader.
My dad was always top of his class and amazing when it came to numbers and estimates. My dad is VERY business-oriented and understood anything and everything to run a business.
He could manage just about any business that he could be in charge of. (In fact, he had taken one of those high school career aptitude tests, and it pretty much spat out the word: Management.) I will call my dad Henry (not real name) from now on.
Henry went to RRC in Canada and was majoring in business. (I forget which class.) He was in the class of The Dragon Lady who, at first, loved Henry as a student, but he became her target after believing the lies of other students instead of him.
(This is important later.) The class was divided into groups of eight and assigned a very important project that was worth a large chunk of their grade. This project had something to do with creating a fictional business/product. You had to have price estimates, growth, costs, and everything else under the sun that an investor might want to know. Yes, they had to present this project to ACTUAL investors this year who would grade the “company.” Henry was assigned project leader, and he started to get the ball rolling since this was a very important project.
Out of the eight students on this project, Henry did most of the work, four others did their best, and the remaining three were slackers. I will refer to these slackers as The Three Stooges.
So, the project is going along smoothly in Henry’s care. He is trying to even the workload to the best of everyone’s ability. About a quarter of the way through the project, The Three Stooges hated that Henry was in charge and came up with a “great” idea to be in charge.
They befriended The Dragon Lady. She was feared by all students except those in her good graces. She liked to harass people for no good reason and would double down on others. The Three Stooges were telling lies about how lazy Henry was, how he sat around bossing others to do his work, and how The Three Stooges were doing most of the work. The lies went on for a long time, and Henry was no longer in her good graces.
Henry tried to defend himself even asking his other group members for help, but they were terrified of The Dragon Lady and remained silent. This was happening until halfway through the project Henry lost his position as project leader with The Three Stooges now in charge. They had gotten what they wanted and left Henry alone.
Henry stopped helping since The Three Stooges took over. These three knew nothing, absolutely nothing about business, and thought it was a good idea to throw some random numbers here and some random numbers there.
Henry had kept the first half of the project professional and logical, while these guys went off the hook to make it look impressive. Anyone who knows something about business knows that if you make $100 a day, and then suddenly start making $1,000 dollars a day with no explanations or anything real to back it up, won’t work in reports. Questions will be asked, and you will have to explain and show how it is possible.
This is exactly what happened when presentation day came by.
The group entered the room sat down in front of the investors while The Three Stooges presented the project. The investors took notes and were very impressed until the halfway point where everything went downhill from there. The investors started asking questions, The Three Stooges’ answers kept going around in circles, and they begged Henry for help.
He refused of course since this was their “brilliant” idea.
To put this already long post short, the investors tore the project apart, and Henry’s group got the lowest score. Since each group got points to spread evenly or where they deserve to go affects your final grade. Henry got the unanimous vote of getting enough points for an A, while The Three Stooges got F’s. The rest of the points were divided and the four neutral students got C’s. Also, The Three Stooges failed the class and couldn’t continue in the course.”
5. Think You Can Take Advantage Of Me? Everyone Will Find Out The Truth
“I have had migraines since I was 3 or 4. Sometimes they start slow and sometimes they hit like a hammer. I can be instantly unable to function if they hit quickly.
In college, this could be a huge problem. The only available medications just knocked you out so you didn’t care that you hurt and wanted to vomit. My freshman year (1987), I was at a party for my roommate’s guy’s birthday.
I had never had champagne and didn’t know it was a migraine trigger. I took a sip or two of champagne and instantly got a migraine. We were at someone’s house about 20 minutes away from the dorm. My roommate didn’t want to leave the party so she arranged for a guy she knew to drive me home. She had no idea what he was really like.
She just knew him from a few parties.
On the drive that I thought was to my dorm, this guy pulls over on the side of the road in an undeveloped area. No one was around. He sexually assaulted me and left me on the side of the road. I didn’t even know where I was, much less how to get back to the dorm or to a hospital.
After a while, some lady found me curled up on the side of the road. She thought I was dead. Cell phones were not a thing, so she half lifted me into her car, wrote down where she found me and drove me to the nearest hospital.
I could barely speak enough to tell the hospital people my name. I was beaten black and blue by this guy.
The hospital knocked me out for about 8 hours with pain meds and muscle relaxers, once they were sure I didn’t have a head injury. He only hit me in places that it would not show.
My roommate didn’t get home until about a day after I did. She was staying at her man’s dorm room. She probably wouldn’t have come home as early as she did, but her parents called at the same time every weekend and she HAD to be home for that.
She was shocked when she saw how beat up I looked. I asked her how she knew that guy and learned she didn’t really, he was just at a party now and then. I wasn’t happy with the situation, or that she let some creep she barely knew to drive me somewhere. She felt really guilty, but guys don’t advertise that they like to take advantage of girls.
She did have some information on the guy. He didn’t live in our city but instead went to a really Christian school with a great law school. He was in law school and was visiting for the party.
His dad was a really well-known lawyer for a televangelist’s church. That was the beginning of what I learned about him. Remember, the Internet was in its’ infancy and social media did not exist.
I called some other people who knew him from the party and got some information from them. I got his girl’s name. Then I went to the library and learned about this girl, the church, the law school, the college he was at, etc…. I had photos from the hospital. I had declined to press charges because even then I knew that it would be hard to prove.
Even with all the bruises. It would be my word against his. He was from ‘a good family’ and went to a Christian college and law school. My family was not prominent, and I was wearing a miniskirt that night. At the time, it was normal for lawyers to smear victims based on what they wore, if they had a drink (especially if they were under 21), etc… I didn’t want to have to deal with all of that.
I just wanted to ruin his life without having it ruin mine.
I got phone numbers for the Dean of his Law school, the head of the college overall, for his father, for his girl, and for the person who owned his apartment complex.
He lived in some fancy apartment owned by a guy who was a big donor to the college. It was for people getting Master’s or law degrees or medical degrees after they already had bachelor degrees.
The apartments were given out as a type of scholarship to the school, and they were supposed to be really nice (I never went there, so I don’t know firsthand what they are like, but I heard about them from this guy’s friends). I wrote some letters, including tear stains that made some of the writing blur a bit. I included copies of the photos of my bruises.
I said that I didn’t want to press charges because I knew it would be an embarrassment to the college/law school/televangelist/his parents (whichever one fit the person I was writing to). I just thought they ought to know because he could harm a member of their family/congregation/school. He could also be a HUGE publicity nightmare if he did this to someone else and I didn’t want that because I believed in their message (sent to the church and the school).
I called the girl (her number was in the phone book) and told her that her man assaulted and beat me.
She cried, and said he had beaten her too, but she thought it was her fault. I told her the violation was not my fault, I was trying not to puke when he attacked me. I told her to stop seeing him and have nothing to do with him if he treated her that way.
She said that her family would be upset as he was from such a good family and he was so well thought of at the law school. I didn’t tell her that I was working on ruining that for him.
I sat back and waited for things to happen after I mailed the letters.
His family was shocked but not surprised. They wrote me an apology, saying he had been in trouble before but they thought he had gotten better after the church intervened in his life.
Apparently, he hadn’t and they were cutting ties to him. The man who owned the apartments actually called me. He wanted to hear what happened from me so he could figure out if I was telling the truth. So I told him what happened and why I didn’t press charges. He believed me and started eviction proceedings. A representative from the church called me to ask me to stop telling lies about the guy.
I told them that they shouldn’t protect someone like him and to ask girls he dated how he behaved because his girl told me that he beat her when he got angry. They were shocked. I never heard from the college, but the Dean of the law school called me. He asked if I told the truth and assured him that I had. DNA wasn’t commonly used (it was 1st used in a criminal case that year), so it was my word vs.
his word. Just the accusation was enough to have the guy kicked out of law school, especially with the photos of my bruises and the tear stains on my letters (which was the reason I wrote them out by hand and let myself cry while I wrote them).
Apparently, those accepted to that law school should be above reproach. I don’t know if they would have handled it the same way if I tried to prosecute the guy, but since I ‘was trying to keep it quiet so I didn’t harm the school’s reputation,’ it meant I was a good Christian girl who could be believed.
I was actually surprised that the letters had so much success. I expected his father to send a letter telling me to stop slandering/libeling his son. The letter saying they were cutting all ties to him was a surprise, but a good one. Sadly, it indicated that I was probably not the 1st to accuse him.
About a year later I found out he was working for a company installing carpet in homes.
I called that company and told them that they were sending a bad person into people’s homes. I even offered to send photos of the bruises if they wanted them. The woman that I spoke to was horrified. Just the idea that he had been accused, and that I cared enough to call when I learned he was going into people’s homes was enough for her.
I learned that not only did the company fire him, but they also called other companies and told them what a liability he would be if they hired him.
He had started to drink heavily by that point, at least according to the friends who knew him at my school.
I went on with my life, got therapy to help me cope, eventually got married and have had almost 30 years with an amazing husband.
I don’t know what happened to this guy, but I know he never became a lawyer (his dream). I know that I made his life a LOT harder. I did google him a few years ago. He has had many arrests and has spent quite a few years behind bars. I like to think that by getting him kicked out of law school and getting his family to understand that he was very much un-reformed, I helped speed him into the defendant’s chair in a courtroom.”
4. Enjoy Your Ant Chocolate
I would have told her after she ate it.
“When I was younger, I was bullied relentlessly. It peaked when I was about 10/11, and it was so bad, I tried to kill myself by running in front of cars, multiple times, during recess or playtime, whatever you want to call it.
There was this one girl who I’ll call her Sophie. She was brutal. She turned the whole class against me because I was a little bit different than the others, and I certainly wasn’t well off like the others, and even more so, I had an English accent, and being in this area of Scotland, around some people, and having an English accent, is asking for it.
She was popular, and everyone wanted to be her friend. Her mom was friends with the teachers and very involved in groups, so nothing was ever done. Every day, I’d have hair pulled, I’d be verbally abused, held down and spat on, or targeted in some way or another.
The way classes worked in the school was you had one class, one teacher, and that was pretty much the only people you would have contact with during the school day.
Classes didn’t mix until lunchtime when everyone was outside, and even then, it was asking to be bullied if you spoke to younger years.
My parents went in all the time to speak to the head, which got out to Sophie because of Sophie’s mom’s connections, and it became worse and worse and worse.
Little 10-year-old me was with no friends, had no one to turn to, had nowhere to get support, and was very very miserable, all because of this one girl.
Come to the end of term, we went on holiday abroad.
We weren’t very well off, so it was very very exciting, and I loved it. We visited an insect place with all these exotic insects, spiders, scorpions, and all that. In the gift shop was a series of sweets, including chocolate. All the same brand, all similar packaging, despite having different flavors and different things in them. One of the things was ants. So I bought some, I bought some for nearly every single person in my class.
People who weren’t as bad or had stuck up for me once got non-ant chocolate. Only about 2 bars were non-ant chocolate. Sophie definitely got ant chocolate, as well as her closest followers.
When the holidays were over, and I was back in class, I handed out this chocolate. I got bullied for this as well as if I was trying to buy my popularity, and it wouldn’t work.
But she took it, opened it without even looking at the wrapper (I want to point out that I made no attempt to hide that there were ants in it, and if she read it, she would have known), and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth and ate it. Her friends, copied. She took the whole bag off me before I could hand it out to everyone, and they ate the whole lot. In front of me. I didn’t even bother shouting or trying to get it back. I just watched. Then they started laughing and walked off.
She doesn’t know. She still doesn’t know. But it made it a little bit easier going through that school knowing that she ate ants. And everyone else ants.
I hope you liked the ants, Sophie. You absolutely deserved them.”
3. Throw A Destructive Party While You're Supposed To Be Dog-Sitting? Court Will Ruin It All For You
“This didn’t happen to me, it happened to my sister.
My sister moved up to South Carolina from Florida about a year ago, but she still visits us periodically. We’re a big and close family. Shortly after Thanksgiving, she flew down with her husband and son for one such visit. She has 3 geriatric dogs, so she got a house/dog sitter.
MS (my sister) went through the basics of how they can only be fed at certain times.
They get let out at certain times. They need to be in their crates from X hour to Z hour. Most importantly, they don’t get treats. They get vitamins in place of treats, but those vitamins have to be given only twice a day.
No people food. Very strict diets. They’re all happy and healthy, but only because MS is so strict with their regime.
The lady MS hired to watch her dogs had stellar reviews on the site she was found through.
She’s a stay-at-home mom who does this as a side thing for extra cash.
MS left for Florida for a week. The first 5 days, everything is going well. DS (dog sitter) texts MS regularly or video calls. She shows MS pictures and gives her regular updates of when she comes and goes to MS’s house. MS just bought that house, btw. She’s been working her butt off to finally be able to afford it.
She put so much into making that a nice home for her family.
MS has had some health problems herself. She’s got a ton of prescription medication in her medicine cabinet. She brought enough for the week but left the rest at home. Stuff for epilepsy, asthma, and allergies, but she’s also got a ton of pain killers from when she had my nephew not that long ago.
She’s paranoid about becoming addicted, so she kept the pills for safety, but never used them. It’s a full bottle.
On top of that, she’s been a collector of rare beer for about 15 years now.
Beer that’s not even sold anymore because they were promotional from microbreweries. Beer she can’t get anymore because she doesn’t live in Florida. Those bottles, she keeps as mostly decoration in her kitchen.
On the 6th day of her vacation, DS stops all communication altogether. MS texts, calls, emails. Nothing. Radio silence. She’s got a bad feeling, but she doesn’t want to kill the mood because she doesn’t get to see her family very often.
Day 7, she gets on a late flight back to South Carolina. The plane gets there around 2 in the morning. They drive an hour to their rural town.
They get home. The front door is wide open. The lawn looks like someone in a truck (which DS happened to drive) just tried to go drifting over grass and a tree before vacating the premises super quick.
MS goes to handle my nephew who is groggy and screaming. It’s been a rough day. She’s thinking the worst; that someone robbed the house while this poor lady was there.
MS’s husband (BiL) goes inside to survey the damages. It’s all clear, MS and Nephew go inside too.
The back door is wide open. The couch looks like it exploded. The rug in the living room and the couch, and pretty much every square foot on the main floor is covered in the kind of pee and poop that can only be made from 3 geriatric furry buttholes.
The dogs are, thankfully, still in the backyard. But they’re shivering and filthy. There are broken beer bottles everywhere. Some have been stuffed deep in the trash to hide the evidence. Some have been refilled with water and put back with their tops precariously situated on top so they might look like they haven’t been touched.
82 bottles, each growler sized (roughly 64 oz) – gone. The medicine cabinet is like one of those Western ghost towns with a tumbleweed rolling through.
MS is already thinking DS threw herself a party. No way in HELL could someone 5’6”, 170 lbs., drink that much beer and take that many pills and not be dead.
MS called the cops. Obviously. The police get there to figure this must be a break in. They take a bunch of pictures, take an account of all the bottles and drugs that were missing. MS cleans what she can, but gets to sleep because thankfully the upstairs hasn’t been touched.
One day later, the police find DS. MS has assumed she’s dead and abducted, so the police were looking for her and her car. They found the truck run off the side of a highway with this lady about two miles up, tweaking OUT OF HER MIND walking along the side of the road, screaming at nothing.
They take her in for whatever charges. Her husband bails her out and picks her up.
According to her husband, this has happened before. DS has a drug and alcohol problem.
At first, she’s messaging my sister, super apologetic, saying she’ll reimburse MS and please don’t press charges. MS quotes her the price of the rug, a new couch, and the vet bills because her dogs had somehow gained access to 9 containers of doggie vitamins and one of them was having liver failure (The dog is fine now, but she’s an old Yorkie so who knows.
Also, MS buys in bulk from a wholesaler, hence 9 containers).
The total was somewhere around $800. MS didn’t bother with the beers, the meds, the lawn, cleaning the house. She could have. Hell, I would have.
On top of that, MS demanded DS never dog sit again and she had to refund MS for her dog sitting. MS works in advertising. I won’t say what kind, but basically, if she saw/sees DS advertising herself as a dog sitter ever again, she has the means to drag this lady until all she sees is mud for the rest of her life.
DS insists she’d gonna pay it back, but that MS has to wait until they get their taxes back.
Ok. So MS waits. Late February, she texts DS asking where her money is. DS immediately starts saying how she didn’t do anything wrong, MS is a bad dog owner and her dogs are miserable, none of the stuff MS says DS did was actually done. MS has all the old texts of DS admitting to all of it sooo….?
This goes on for a while.
Eventually, DS starts saying how ‘as a courtesy’ she has a friend who owns a furniture store. She will give MS a credit of $200 for a new couch. And she has an old rug she doesn’t want anymore that MS can have.
Erm… what?
She paid MS about $500 and insists she’ll get the coupon to MS soon. March goes by. Nothing.
Around March 20th, MS marches her happy butt to the small claims court and files.
Then she snaps pictures of everything. Then she sends DS the message. ‘As a courtesy, I’m letting you know that I just filed this at the small claims court.’
Then the fun starts. This lady goes OFF on MS. She says she’s going to sue for slander and undue distress and harassment and blah blah blah blah blah. MS saves all of it, including the fun bits where DS threatens her family and calls her the C-word 20-dozen times.
Fast forward another month. Things move fast in a small town. This lady shows up looking like she just got run through by a garbage disposal truck. She gives the judge her sob-story, talking about how she did nothing but give MS and her animals the best care, that MS is making all this up.
Yeah. MS has the old gangster of a cop with her. She’s got pictures of all the damage, the vet bills, the bottles, proof that she was out of town, police reports of both the ‘break-in’ as well as DS’s DUI the following day.
DS tries to spin it with that one law about how you can’t serve alcohol to a known alcoholic.
That obviously gets thrown right THE EFF out.
DS then tries to appeal to Judge and MS’s sense of humanity. She tells them how her husband just left her and is suing her for full custody (good!) and that if she can’t dog-sit, how is she supposed to support herself or ever get her kids back (tough cookies!).
The judge takes my sister’s side, for obvious reasons.
DS is homeless now, living with her parents. She can’t see her kids, who by the way, don’t want to see her. Apparently, she was a drunk who ran her hubby’s credit all the way down, she was abusive to her kids, and because of her heavy alcohol abuse -– one of her kids has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.
DS has 60 days to pay the remaining $300 or she faces jail time. Her husband filed for divorce already. Oh, and she lost her license thanks to that DUI.
As a former addict myself and someone who’s been through a DUI, I want to sympathize. That’s a lot of stuff to go through. MS gave her chance after chance, but at some point, you have to take responsibility for your actions.
It really seems like this lady has just been using her husband as a crutch while she tries to get better, only to backslide hard. It’s rough, I know. I hope she gets the help she needs.
MS’s dogs are doing well. She got a replacement couch on Amazon for $75 and a nice fluffy rug for even less. DS eventually coughed up that coupon. It didn’t even work. It was for something like 20% off with a purchase of $500 or more, so um…no thanks.”
2. Won't Pay Me For Doing Your Yardwork? I'll Do A Bit Of Rework
“I was 13 and I lived in a really ‘fancy’ neighborhood where every year we have the best lawn competition. The prize for the winner is a $500 check. Some of my neighbors are really nice but some are rich snobs.
I was managing my parent’s flower garden and I worked really hard for about 2 hours. When I finished it looked really good. An entitled neighbor was walking her dog and spotted me admiring my work.
EP is generally a jerk to everyone so I wanted to avoid conversation but she called out to me and the conversation went as followed:
EP = Entitled Person, Me = Me
EP: ‘Wow, did you do all this work?’
Me: ‘Yeah, I was out working for the lawn competition.’
EP: ‘You did a great job. Do you think you can do my lawn?’
Me: ‘Hmm if you pay me by the hour I’ll be happy to work.’
EP: ‘Ugh, why do I have pay?’
Me: ‘Because I helping you compete against me, I want some profit out of it.’
EP: ‘Ok fine, $10 an hour.’
So the next day, I do her very weedy lawn, and I think I did a pretty good job.
I pick up every single one of her weeds, I cut the grass, and I even buy some flowers for the patches of dirt where large weeds used to be. After 4 hours of work, I knock on EP’s door to let her see the work thinking she would be impressed. I was very wrong.
EP: ‘Ew what is this?’
(I was confused but I wanted to see if I missed anything.)
Me:’What?’
EP: ‘The grass is the wrong color!’
Me: ‘The grass is green, what color is it supposed to be?’
EP: ‘Orange-ish! I want my lawn to have fall colors!’ (Which I’m pretty sure is a made up excuse)
Me: ‘….umm, you didn’t say that?’
EP: ‘You should have known, now get out of here because you ruined my lawn.
I’m not paying you.’
Me: ‘Wait, what??!?!?!’
EP walks into her house and slams the door. I go home and start to plan my revenge. Around the neighborhood, I hear EP bragging about her perfect lawn. About a week later, I stay up till 12:00 am, and I go to a compost pile behind my house and gather up all the weeds I tossed from my own garden.
I go to EP’s house and spend another hour kicking up her flowers, adding bug bait, and re-planting the weeds in her yard.
The following day was the day of the competition. By the morning, her garden had some bugs and looked like the house was abandoned.
It was worth all the work to see EP’s face. Imagine a toddler who just saw his favorite Teddy Bear get ripped to shreds.
We didn’t win the competition but EP came in last and was humiliated. EP knew it was me and tried to get me in trouble but I asked her if she had proof. I also told the whole neighborhood about the situation so the other neighbors began to dislike her. EP never spoke to me again and eventually moved away, maybe because of the humiliation (trust me, rich people care about lawns very much).”
Another User Comments:
“They make these propane torches meant for killing weeds. All you need to do is briefly glance it over grass, and it will die within a day or two. I found this out after using one in my yard and waking up the next day to a zig-zag pattern of dead grass.” BigSwedenMan
Reply:
“Write, “PAY UP MOFO.”” Fat_Head_Carl
1. Evil Teacher Gets Sent To Teach In Another City
“In high school, I developed an interest in journalism after taking it as an elective with the super cool newspaper and yearbook sponsor, Mrs. Wolf. She was such a tough lady who encouraged my writing and wanted me on the newspaper staff ASAP, but I couldn’t make room for it on my sophomore spring semester. I applied for the staff the next year, but unfortunately, she had resigned in protest after the school administration decided to censor the paper.
I had to fight the new sponsor, my guidance counselor, and a vice-principal to get on staff without Mrs. Wolf there to recommend me. I really wanted to be a writer.
We had this new sponsor, Mrs. Boxwood, who was an alumnus from 10-11 years before my class or so. She had worked on the yearbook staff so she was coming back to what she had loved most about her high school experience.
That led to a lot of animosity between the yearbook and newspaper staff because of her blatant favoritism toward the yearbook.
At some point during my two years on staff, I made friends with an underclassman on staff named Shari who was a budding weirdo, and I took her under my wing, sharing mix-tapes and rock mags with her. She had a lot of problems at home, and she ran away a few times (some of which I helped facilitate) before her family slammed her in a mental hospital, and she came back out like a robot with preppy clothes, blonde highlights, and blank doll eyes.
To this day, I am not 100% sure why Boxwood made it her mission to bully and humiliate Shari every chance she got, but Shari was easily and obviously, the most vulnerable student in the room.
After berating the entire staff for half the class period over perceived misdeeds (e.g., hearing us roasting the yearbook staff), Boxwood would single Shari out for ridicule, punishment, and humiliation.
Zero instruction or mentorship. Just chewing us out. Over and over again. The part that made my heart hard toward this adult woman was this: our computer lab was enclosed completely in glass, and Boxwood would take Shari in there and berate her in full view of all of us for 30 minutes at a time. We had no idea what she was saying. A few times, my classmates held me down in my seat when I tried to intervene.
We watched her beat that girl down day after day after day. At the same time, Boxwood was unraveling too. After a while, if she even acknowledged us at the beginning of the class or after-school work periods, that was about the most we got out of her. She’d check out at her desk for hours or just put her head down and sob silently the entire time.
We knew her partner was a cop – he finished cop school in the two years she was our teacher – so he was just a rookie.
I suggested to my classmates that she was likely having marital issues with her partner. I really didn’t know. Maybe there was a death in the family. We never asked, and I didn’t let any of the soft-hearts offer her any kind of consolation or compassion.
So I bided my time because I didn’t have a good reputation with the administration as most of them knew me by name and my discipline record was longer than I was tall.
I knew the opportunity to strike hard and strike fast would present itself eventually.
Lo and behold, my senior year, I ended up with a full-ride scholarship to a state university and a bunch of national academic awards which were announced to the entire school, and I became a golden child to the administration. Surprise! Underneath my band shirts and anger problems and smirking disdain for authority, I was a smart kid with a bright future.
When I was sent to the office, they’d ask me my opinion of the teacher who wrote me up and treated me as if I was just some aw-shucks rascally kid, as opposed to open disgust on their faces for the delinquent with endless detentions and in-school suspensions for various petty infractions.
Lo and behold.
I also applied for editor of the paper my senior year and was denied because someone else had a semester more seniority than I did.
Instead, I was offered a brand new position created just for me which entailed me running all the advertising programs and coordinating other operations and funding for the paper. I was focusing more on marketing and advertising as my college major and had won a slew of awards at a major university’s summer journalism workshop, so I was okay with it at first. I still ended up proofing and editing most people’s articles and mentoring the new staff because I was that good.
I worked hard at my consolation prize position and crushed it.
However, because I was running the ad program, I decided that I wasn’t going to sell ads for the paper as required of all staff members. Cold-calling and outsides sales are still two things I hate more than anything. My refusal to sell ads led to a number of confrontations between myself, Boxwood, and the editor which culminated in me screaming my resignation in their faces.
Prior to my “go fudge yourselves” resignation, Boxwood had me, as a minor child without parental consent, sign what she felt was a binding contract saying that if I didn’t meet my ad sales quotas per publication, I forfeited my letterman jacket which I had already earned the previous year.
She had it in her possession and flat out refused to give it to me.
After I resigned, I went to the vice principal over the journalism/literary extracurricular program to file a complaint against Boxwood and demand the release of my letterman jacket. Vice Principal dismissed me saying I needed to provide him with a letter detailing my grievances as he “didn’t want to hear a bunch of crap about she did this, and she did that.”
I spent a week putting together a 7-page single-spaced typed letter that began, “Vice Principal didn’t want to hear a bunch of crap about she did this, and she did that,’ so I guess I can’t talk about how Mrs.
Boxwood…” with everything that witch had said or done. I showed it to my grandmother when I was finished and, God bless that hateful, old battleax who made my life a living hell until she died, she took up my standard and went to war against that wretch of a human.
My grandmother, Nana Mary, made dozens of copies of my letter along with all my academic achievements, the contract, my awards from the university workshop, and an award certificate which Boxwood asked me to create as the staff graphic designer to hand out at the previous year-end staff party – of which I received one (“Most Creative Newspaper Staff”) with her signature and a hand-drawn smiley face on it.
That dumb witch Boxwood literally did not believe that I would come for her to rain hellfire down upon her and left a paper trail a mile wide.
Nana Mary, the tiny witch whose demon-blood also surges through my veins, personally delivered packets containing my letter and awards to the principal, the vice principals, and every member of the school board. She even had the receptionist at the school board offices outraged on my behalf.
It didn’t hurt that I was also graduating with more honors credits than the valedictorian directly into a university honors program while taking for-credit courses at a community college my entire senior year. And knowing my Nana Mary, she probably barged into their offices unannounced and ran right up their bewildered butts demanding to know who this Boxface woman was and why the in hell they weren’t protecting her granddaughter from her garbage.
She actually called that witch “Boxface,” and no one corrected her because Nana Mary was a little, old lady who also brought cake and donuts when she wanted something from somebody.
A couple of weeks later, I was called to the principal’s office where the principal personally apologized to me for what Boxwood had done to me and put my letterman jacket on me herself. I asked if she had invited Boxwood to come congratulate me and tell me how nice I looked in my jacket striking poses with a big smirk on my face and the principal gave me this “don’t push your luck” look.
If I remember correctly, Nana Mary was there too demanding “that woman Boxhead, Boxface, whatever her name is” not be a coward and come apologize to me.
I don’t know what happened to Boxface immediately after I graduated, and I never cared to ask. She did have my name and photos removed from anything related to the newspaper in the yearbook. I know Boxface has been teaching in a different city for a very long time.
Her man is still a cop, and if he’s beating the crap out of her 40% of the time, I’m not mad about it. Also, she had a baby which died in infancy a few years after I graduated. I legit laughed at the obituary.
I’ve had other teachers and administrators mysteriously leave their positions after their bullying of me came to light and Boxface was the last and probably my most epic revenge. I wish I’d nailed more of them because they were out there ruining children’s lives day after day, year after year. And, I never wore that stupid jacket and ended up throwing it in the trash.”
You laughed at the death of a child.
You do not come off well in this story.
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