People Gives Us The Dirt About Their Revenge
36. He Hurt His Rabbit, So I Stole Her
“I went to a party, and the guys who lived there kept his rabbit in a tiny cage meant for hamsters and blew smoke in her face all the time. They never gave her veggies. Instead, they were feeding her wet cat food, so she was very malnourished.
My friend created a diversion, and I grabbed the cage and booked it to the car. I took her to the vet, and they kept her for two weeks to get her back to normal.
She was apparently seizing from the withdrawal combined with dehydration. She was also incredibly mean due to the abuse. The vet said there was evidence of prior broken bones that had never been healed.
The dudes who owned her had no idea who took her and were posting pleas on MySpace to give her back. Fat chance! She required intense care, so I gave her to our vet tech who was also our petsitter because I couldn’t take care of her the way she required.
I don’t feel bad about the theft (bunny-napping?) for a second.
For those who read this, her name was Sasha. She lived another five years afterward in my vet tech’s house. She had a hutch in the backyard she shared with a few other rescued rabbits, and her favorite thing to do was to lie on her lap and watch TV. She loved to be cuddled, loved belly rubs, hung out with the dogs inside, and was basically a dog herself.
If any parents are reading this, please don’t buy an Easter rabbit for your children tomorrow. They might be cute, but they are difficult animals and not toys.”
35. Say What I Need To Say? I Won't Even Sugarcoat It
“So I have worked in IT most of my life
One day, it was slow, so the manager asked me to check the firewall logs for anything dodgy.
Pretty soon I find indications of a female staff member accessing some racy content of the adult nature.
This staff member had a reputation for blaming her slow productivity on her computer/network/mouse etc so she was given no quarter.
I go up to the large office where she was is surrounded by many other staff members but her monitors are facing a wall and only she can see them.
I politely as to speak to her in private for a moment in a meeting room.
Her response. ‘No, I don’t have time I’m too busy.’
Again, I quietly said it would be in her best interest to have this conversation discreetly.
She says, ‘Look! Stop wasting my time and say what you need to say.’
I pause. Clear my throat and say loud and clear, ‘OK the IT manager has asked that you stop accessing lewd adult material on your work computer.’
There’s a moment of stunned silence where the staff member turns scarlet red and everyone looks at her including her manager.
I say, ‘Ok, see you later.’ And I turned and left the office.”
34. You're Not Budging Until You Get An Upgrade? Better Get Comfortable
“This one happened a few months ago at the airport in Madrid (Spain).
I witnessed it, but I am not directly involved with this.
I was seated near a gate, well in advance for my flight. The previous flight to use the gate was still boarding its last passengers.
It was a pretty short one to Lisbon, so probably less than an hour flight time.
In comes an entitled woman with her suitcase, going straight to the counter, and without any form of politeness starts complaining to one of the two gate agents.
The conversation was more or less:
Entitled Woman: “I know you have a free seat in First (the airline publishes seat maps online). I am a loyal member of your airline. Can you upgrade me?”
She slams a card on the counter
Agent: Entitled WomanI am sorry, but I cannot randomly upgrade people. Plus, you have an economy basic ticket, even if I could, we would upgrade any standard economy passenger before you.
Finally, this is a silver card, while we do have gold and platinum members on this flight, that we would also upgrade first.’
You have to note that European airlines typically do not automatically upgrade passengers as in the US.
Also, the difference between first and economy is usually not that much: seats are the same, but in front of the plane, with a blocked middle seat and slightly better food.
Entitled Woman: ‘They have already boarded. If you don’t upgrade me, I won’t use this airline ever again.’
Gate Agent 2 makes an announcement about the final call for passengers, that the entitled woman ignores completely.
Agent: ‘Ma’am, I repeat that I don’t have the power to upgrade anybody as per airline policy.
It would not be fair to those who actually paid for the ticket.’
Entitled Woman: ‘The seat is free, I’m sure you can make an exception.’
Agent: ‘Once again, I cannot.
But I would recommend you to board …’
Entitled Woman: ‘So, will you upgrade me, right?’
Agent (annoyed): ‘For the third time, this is not something I can do. You are the last passenger we are waiting for, can you please go to the gate?’
Entitled Woman (yelling): ‘I WON’T MOVE FROM THIS COUNTER UNTIL YOU UPGRADE ME.’
Agent: ‘You should really…’
Entitled Woman: ‘Unless you are telling me I’m upgraded, I don’t want to hear about it.’
Passes like one or two minutes.
Entitled Woman: ‘So, have you made up your mind and have me upgraded?’
Agent: ‘Actually, ma’am, the gate is closed. We are not accepting late passengers anymore. I would suggest you go to the customer service desk to rebook.’
Entitled Woman: ‘WHAT? I have been here for like 10 minutes.’
Agent: ‘Yes, but you refused twice to board the plane, and made it clear that you would not move from this desk until I upgrade you, which I told you 5 times I cannot do.
We couldn’t delay the plane because of you.’
Entitled Woman: ‘BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!’
Agent: ‘I’m sorry, but you made it clear that you didn’t want to hear about it if it was not about your upgrade, which, once again, I cannot do.’
At this moment, the entitled woman left with at the same time a defeated and infuriated look. It was pretty fun to watch I have to say. I have no idea whether the entitled woman could be rebooked for free, but I hope not.”
33. Want To Be A Penny-pinching Employee? I Won't Be A Returning Customer
“All restrooms in downtown Denver require a purchase to use the bathroom. Not a big deal to me, and I have no problem abiding by that rule.
Yesterday, I took the wife and kids downtown to shop around and eat dinner. We stopped in a little store where my wife bought a purse for just under $200.
We left and about 30 minutes later my daughter needed to use the restroom.
We happened to be close to the same store, so we went into there to the same employee who rang us up to ask to use the restroom.
She said we’d have to make a purchase. I had my receipt and showed I did make a purchase, she was the one who rang us up. She argued that we’d have to make a purchase again now to be considered customers to use the restroom
My daughter was struggling, so I grabbed a chapstick off the counter and bought that, while the employee gave me attitude like she just pulled one over on me.
She gave me the passcode, and my wife handed me her new purse and went to the restroom with our daughter.
The moment she closed the door I turned back to the cashier and demanded a refund on both the chapstick and the purse. She argued that I couldn’t do that, but I pointed to her sign saying there is a seven-day return policy, no questions asked.
I took a picture of it with my phone and asked if she wanted to process the refund, or I’ll just have Visa do a chargeback and get my moolah that way.
She silently processed the returns just as my girls returned.
She tried to say something to my wife about me returning the purse, and my wife replied after her attitude, she didn’t want it anymore anyway.”
32. He REALLY Wanted The Extra 5 Minutes In The Oven
“I work at a small mom and pop pizza place in a small town. We’re the only not-gas-station pizza place in town. Friday nights get busy. So my boss is cooking and I’m waitressing. The cook cooks and the waitress does everything else. It would be nice to have 2 of us but we manage and the people of our town expect it and respect it after all these years.
It’s busy, I’ve got several tables and the phone has been ringing off the hook with to-go orders.
I’ve got piles of dishes, someone is constantly at the register and food is constantly ready to go out. My customers are being great! Everyone is smiling and laughing and not worried that things are taking a bit longer than a Tuesday night. I was busy but not stressed yet.
Then he calls. Some guy from out of town (there was a high-school game so we had a few out of towners that night). He orders a large thin crust (our thin crust is very thin, about as thin as a cracker crust but it’s not crispy like that) pizza with pepperoni.
Easy peasy. He wants it well done…can do! He wants us to put it in the oven for an extra 5 minutes…I say ok with zero intention of doing that.
We have a brick oven, our thins go in the oven for 3-4 minutes, 4 and a half for well done. That’s total. This guy wants 5 extra minutes on top of that. He wants a 16-inch charcoal hockey puck. I assume he thinks he knows what he’s talking about and just put on the ticket “well done”. We do our thing. His pizza looks beautiful.
He comes to pick it up and before paying he opens the box to inspect his pizza.
This is normal and I’m not worried.
Him: ‘I asked for my pizza well done!’
Me: ‘This is how we make our pizzas well done. Any more than this and your pizza will burn.’
Him: ‘I’m not paying for this, I’m not eating this, I want a new one and I want it how I ordered! Put it in for 5 more minutes!’
At this point, my boss taps me on the shoulder and tells me to take over the cooking while he handles the customer.
Our kitchen abuts the register counter, I’m literally making pizza 5 feet away from the interaction so I get to hear the whole thing.
My boss tries to tell the guy how long we usually cook the pizzas, what’s going to happen to his pizza etc. The customer is having none of it. He wants this pizza cooked the normal time plus an additional 5 minutes. After a few minutes, I can tell my boss has had enough of this guy.
Boss: ‘Sure you don’t just want this pizza?’ (Meaning the one we had already made)
Guy says no so my boss brings it out to one of our regulars and lets him have it. He comes back to the guy and informs him if he wants his cooked for 9 minutes he needs to pay first.
The guy seems satisfied and pays.
I hop back to waitressing and boss takes over the cooking and making this guy his pizza.
It goes in the oven looking beautiful. Boss sets the timer for 9 minutes and makes sure to show the guy the timer, he just smiles and chuckles a little. I’m bussing tables and checking people out and answering the phone while we wait on this guy’s pizza.
The timer goes off for his pizza. The guy comes closer to the counter. It’s my job to cut the pizza as soon as the boss man puts it in the box.
He lifts this solid black, hard-ass charcoal hockey puck out of the oven and sets it in the box.
You can barely tell it’s a pizza anymore. I attempt to cut it but it is so overcooked it more or less just cracks and crumbles. My back is to him so I can’t see his face but I can imagine. I close the box, turn and hand it to him with a smile on my face.
Me: ‘Enjoy your pizza sir!’
Guy: (stutters a bit) ‘I can’t eat that!’ Boss: ‘We made your pizza to order, if you want a new pizza you’ll need to order a new one and pay for that.’
The guy has this completely broken look on his face.
I was actually almost looking forward to a blow-up (my boss is a force to be reckoned with if you curse or disrespect us). He left his pizza on the counter and left. This is why I love my boss.”
31. What The Teacher Says, Goes
“So this happened years ago when I was in high school, but I smile every time I think of it.
My high school had a policy that anyone who has missed less than a certain number of school days could pick one class they had an A in to skip the final.
You could get a couple of extra days for college visits, but otherwise, it was very straightforward.
Awesome policy and we all loved it.
One year, we had this kid who was in eighth grade and had been diagnosed with cancer. He spent a lot of his year sick, getting treatment, going to the hospital, running to the bathroom to throw up, etc. Despite all this, he finished the year with an A in his Spanish class.
It was his only high school class, so it was the only final he would have been able to skip.
The administration was not going to let him skip the final because he had missed too much school. He and his parents asked them to make an exception, given the situation, but the administration wouldn’t budge. His teacher stood up for him but was told this kid had to take the final no matter what.
He had missed too many days and there would be no exception.
The teacher said ok but told her class not to study for, worry about, or exempt her final.
Then, the first day all her students showed up for the final she told them to take out a piece of paper and number it 1-3 leaving one line in between each number. She then asked three questions along the lines of, ‘What is your name?’ ‘How do you say yes in Spanish?’ and ‘How do you say hello in Spanish?’ Then she collected the final.
Everyone got a 100 that year, and she became a legend. The kid has been cancer-free for over five years now.”
30. No Chickens For Sale Here
“Two years ago I sold a motorcycle on Craigslist. The guy who bought it was an early 20s guy who didn’t bring any riding gear with him. Said he’d left it at home and saw my ad while he was at work. I rode the bike down the street and back for him. He said it sounded fine. Long story short, I let him talk me down $100 because he seemed like a nice kid.
I rode the bike to his sister’s house for him, had my wife follow and pick me up.
The next day it’s back on Craigslist. For $500 more than I was asking.
USING MY PICTURES.
I’m a professional photographer. I’ve had my photos on magazine covers. I was okay with a poohead kid conning me and flipping the bike, but not with using my pictures.
So I sent him a text telling him to take the ad down and post his own darned pictures.
So I posted my own Craigslist ad that said something like:
“Free Chickens. And Goats. I’m old and tired and I think it’s time to quit. I’ve got 600 hens and enough roosters to keep them laying. Also 40 milk goats. I just want to make sure they go to a good home. First come first served. Se habla espanol.”
And I posted his phone number.
I waited a day.
Called from my home phone at 9:30 at night.
“Hello?” He sounded tired.
“Estoy llamando por las gallinas,” I said. I’m calling about the chickens.
“Ain’t no freakin’ chickens! Gah! FUDGE! FUDGE! FUDGE! No chickens, jerk!”
I waited for half a second, then said, “¿Tienes cabras?”
“NO FREAKING’ GOATS!” he yelled, then hung up.
Then next day he texted me. Told me he’d changed the pics and could I please take down the ad for the chickens. I thanked him for taking down my photos, and asked him what the heck he meant about the chickens?”
29. Tell Me I'm Wasting Time? You're The One Who's Wasting My Time
“My boss is a lunatic who will often, without prompting, flip out and accuse me of wasting time.
(I literally do the work of five people. I run the office and the other employees, do invoicing, accounting, tech support, admin stuff, etc. but also graphic design, photography, website design, videography, content creation, and social media among others. I am dead by the end of every day, which is usually 12 hours long.)
This flip-out happens while he’s constantly interrupting me for stupid crap instead of letting me work.
He has no self-awareness of this no matter how many times I try to point it out to him, and if something doesn’t get done, he again loses it and accuses me of wasting time.
A few months ago, he demanded a full account of my time. This was after he interrupted me repeatedly for discussions about his religion, and I was at the end of my freaking rope.
Here is an excerpt from the Full Accounting Of My Time, as he requested.
11:45 – 12:20
Editing and working on hype video, including organizing, trimming, melding clips.
12:20 – 12:55
You stopped me for religious discussion, reading several Biblical parables aloud and explaining them.
1:00 – 1:22
Video editing, arranging clips in preparation for music and special effects.
1:22 – 1:54
You stopped me to show several lengthy Grant Cardone videos because ‘they annoyed you.’
1:54 – 2:29
Video editing, transferring files to HD for compilation.
2:29 – 2:40
You stopped me to have me watch a YouTube video of a duck. In total, he took up 3 hours and 28 minutes of my day. He’s mostly shut up about my ‘time-wasting.'”
28. She Showed Her What Happens When You Tailgate
“I’m a ‘live and let live’ kind of person but tailgaters really kind of enrage me. So, one day I’m driving home from work when a woman in a Corvette starts tailgating me. I’m driving 5 mph over the speed limit in an area where I recently got a ticket so I’m not going to speed up.
Since I know the road very well, I know that there is a huge pothole coming up very soon.
I mean, it’s big – like 2 feet deep. When I got to it I steered so my right wheel missed the hole by just a few inches and then looked in the rearview mirror. She hit that pothole hard and damn near ran off the road. She stayed way back after that and I was all the way home before the smile left my face.”
27. Tell Me To Sound More Professional? No Problemo
“Within the last 6 months, a new company came to the area and they are primarily a west coast company. Essentially my job is to process the company’s bills and take calls from customers in the downtime.
Since I am taking calls, I am subject to the Quality Assurance reviews on my calls and can get a bonus depending on how well I do. All month I have been doing fantastic on the reviews, set to get max bonus when my final QA review comes through.
They marked me down significantly because I used the word “okey dokey” which is relatively common in my area. They claimed that it was “jargon or slang” and that I should avoid those words. Now, I generally change how I speak depending on the call in order to sound nicer towards customers and in this call’s instance I used it because I was talking to a sweet older woman who even complimented me for using the word.
After disputing it and getting the dispute denied I instantly changed how I talked on the phone to the highest standard of professionalism I could do.
Now, fun fact, when someone is upset regarding an issue, speaking like you’re in a meeting with the President not only confuses them but angers them as well.
This week alone I have made people cry, scream, and more just from talking as properly and “professional” as I possibly could. I have also had a handful of complaints for seeming “cold.”
The quality department manager called me in for a meeting yesterday and said that I should tone down how I talk and change how I talk depending on the circumstances of the call, specifically telling me to , “use simple, friendly, and language more suitable for the average caller.” They then played a call where the agent used multiple “slang” words to calm the customer down as a perfect example of how a call should be handled.
The words from this agent included, “Yep” , “Alrighty” , “No problemo”.
I then brought out a copy of my quality report stating that not only did I get marked down for doing exactly what they are now claiming is perfectly fine, but that it was very clear that they were marking me down simply to avoid paying a full bonus. I took what they said and my report to the operations director today who then had to go back and review all of the qualities monitors on me. They had to write me a check for the missing bonus. The quality manager averts her eyes every time I pass her now.”
26. You Want A Man's Help? With Pleasure
“A couple of years ago, I worked at the big blue and yellow superstore as a member of the remodeling crew.
Our team consisted of about 30 workers from 4 different stores in the area. Our job was basically to move all the products and shelving around and putting up signage while also directing confused, frustrated customers to the new location of a product.
About a fourth of the employees on this team was Hispanic and spoke either very little or no English.
I was (and still am) a Spanish minor so I liked hanging out with them because they really helped me with my Spanish speaking skills.
This is relevant later.
So one day, as I’m moving some cosmetics to their new home, I overhear a man say he hates this remodel because all the products have moved (we heard this basically 5 times a day, every day) and he doesn’t know where the drill bits for a DEWALT drill are.
Luckily, I was moving the hardware product last week and knew exactly where the drill bits he wanted were.
Our conversation went like this:
Me: ‘Hello sir, I can help you find the drill bits, I just put them away last week.’
Rude Guy: ‘I’m looking for a specific set of drill bits.’
Me: ‘I know what section they are all in and I’m sure I can help you find the ones you are looking for!’
Rude Guy: ‘Well I was actually going to ask a male employee, they know more about this stuff.
Plus I see you’re busy putting makeup away.’
Me: ‘Really sir, I’m not busy, let me show yo –’
Rude Guy: ‘No! I want a male employee! You won’t know what you’re talking about. Just find me one!’
I felt a bit defeated as this happened with female employees a decent amount of the time even though we all know where all the products are. Luckily for me, I knew the perfect employee to ask.
I went up to one of the Hispanic workers I got along with well, I will call him Mr. L, and in my best Spanglish explained the situation. He just smiled and nodded.
I took Mr. L over to Rude Guy and the conversation went something like this:
Me: ‘Here you go sir, Mr. L will be able to help!’
Mr. L: ‘¿Cómo te puedo ayudar hoy?’ (How can I help you today?)
Rude Guy: ‘What did he say?’
L: ‘Puedo ayudarte a encontrar las brocas.’ (I can help you find the bits).
Rude Guy: ‘This guy only speaks Spanish! This doesn’t help at all!’
Me: ‘Well sir, you wanted a male employee and I got you one. Everyone else in the area is busy so either he helps you or I help you.’
Mr. L: ‘Estaría encantado de ayudarte, cabrón.’ (I would be happy to help you, idiot).
Rude Guy: (huffs and turns to me) ‘Fine, I guess you can show me where the drill bits are.’
And I did! I knew exactly where they were, Rude Guy found the exact set he wanted and left.
It just goes to show, you shouldn’t undermine an employee because many of them know what they are doing. I didn’t stay at that job long and now work a job I love at my university’s library.”
25. Absolutely No Exceptions? That's Absolutely Ridiculous!
“The nursing home I work in has gone through multiple members of management. Every time we get a new Director of Nursing (DON) we have a mandatory meeting where he/she will introduce themselves and the new rules they put into place.
One of the ghosts of DONs past was one I’ll call Karen. She had the haircut, the attitude, and the shrill voice.
The first rule Karen set into place was that one CNA (Certified Nursing Assitant) had to be in the hall at all times.
Absolutely no exceptions. We were seriously understaffed so it wasn’t always possible to always be in the hall. Being one the CNAs who have to work the hall alone a lot because there are no people who will come in to help, I, of course, tried to explain what the flaw was in her rule.
She did that “I’m the dominant one” head tilt and interrupted me to say “You don’t need to question MY rules.”
The next rule Karen set was that there would be absolutely no cell phone usage in the facility.
All cell phones had to be left in our vehicles or in a basket next to the time clock.
No exceptions. This ticked off even the members of the administration. The scheduler will text people to ask if they will come into work.
The nurses use cell phones to communicate with the Director and DON when they aren’t in the facility. People grumbled but she yelled “These are the rules! If you don’t like it you can find another job! CNAs are a dime a dozen!” That is exactly what some of the CNAs did.
We lost 4 more people right after that meeting, making us even more understaffed. This ticked me off because one of them was the best partner I ever had.
So here comes my petty revenge/malicious compliance.
The first day I had to work alone after that meeting, I kept her words in mind. One CNA on the hall at all times. No exceptions. One of our “VIP residents” hit the call light within 10 minutes of my shift, wanting some brownies from the kitchen.
The kitchen is off the hall so I go straight to Karen’s office which luckily was in my hall.
‘Karen. I’m the only aide here and Ms. Kar wants some brownies from the kitchen.’
Karen: ‘Why are you telling me? Go get them for her!’
Me: ‘You said there has to be one CNA on the hall at all times. I can’t leave the hall to get them.’
Karen: ‘Then get another CNA to go get them for you!’
Me: ‘You said we can’t use cell phones so I have no way to contact another aide.’
She gets up from her desk in a huff and gets the brownies.
When she returns, she shoves the brownies in my hands and says ‘Don’t bother me for petty mess again!’ OK! Even more compliance! Because she was stubborn, this malicious compliance went on for a few hours so I’ll shorten it into a list. No residents were harmed during the malicious compliance.
Keep in mind that this all happened within one shift. I work in a very demanding hall with nearly 40 people on it.
Before you say that there shouldn’t be one CNA to 40 people. Trust me I know. 3 residents wanted to wash clothes or towels but I didn’t have any so I couldn’t go get them one. 5 more residents wanted snacks from the kitchen but I was the only CNA and couldn’t get them any. 2 residents wanted showers which I could have done but I wasn’t allowed to leave the hall to find an aide to watch mine while I did it.
The trash stunk like holy heck but I couldn’t leave the hall to take it out, so it stunk up the hallway and Karen’s office.
(I may have moved the trash bin closer to her door.)
I couldn’t pass out ice water because I couldn’t leave the hall to get the ice cart. Supper trays came out and I couldn’t leave the hall to go get it. I’ll never forget the look on Karen’s face when I knocked on the door and told her that getting the residents fed shouldn’t count as petty mess so I needed her to go get the trays.
Luckily Karen was staying late and this didn’t last longer than this one day. The residents kept complaining and finally, Ms. Red, our nosiest resident who crashed the mandatory meeting, lead a lot of the complaining residents to Karen’s office.
One of those residents was Ms. Kar. She yelled at Karen so loud because she couldn’t get her ice that people started peeking around the corner to see what was going on.
Karen tried her hardest to diffuse the situation and explain to Ms. VIP why the rule was in place. Ms. Kar was having none of it. Karen didn’t know that Ms. Kar used to be a nurse and that’s why the Director of the facility made her a VIP.
After her tongue lashing, Karen came up to me, seething with anger. Through her gritted teeth she said, ‘You can leave the hall as long as it is at pertains to patient care!’ She slammed her office door so hard that something inside of it fell.
I heard her say ‘CRAP!’ on the other side of the door after the crash.
Karen didn’t last much longer after this because the facility had a lot of demanding residents and an even more demanding Director. I don’t know what was happening on the administration side but I hear horror stories all the time about it.
FYI – When it came down to the things the residents were requesting but I couldn’t get, I was going to get them anyway once Karen left.
Karen tended to stay until 8:00 sometimes and the day I worked alone happened to be one of those days.”
24. Her Young Son Wanted To Try The Hottest Sauce In The Store
“I work in a hot sauce store in a busy outlet mall. We’re a well-liked locally owned business and have many loyal return customers, but at this particular location, we also get a lot of tourists who are curious about our challenge items, or ‘Hot Ones’ products.
We have a large variety of samples available every day.
Literally like 100 hot sauces, 50+ bbq/wing sauces just out on the table and we can pull another 50+ bottles or so from the fridge if one’s open.
Every so often we get people who come into the store and ask to try the hottest sauce. They love jalapenos in their burritos and have eaten habaneros straight and they’re ready to enter the ring, swallow some sauce and gain the admiration of a couple of friends and bystanders at the cost of a stomach ache. We usually try to guide them to the 10th hottest sauce in the store, burn them with it, and move on to something mild or medium suited to their taste.
Today, while I was selling items to people who were actually paying for things when a 10-or-so-year-old boy enters the store. I always get wary when children enter the store alone because it is full of glass bottles. They usually dart straight for the shelves and pick something up, but this child came barreling towards me like a bullet.
While I make the change for the couple buying some sauce, he calls out to me, ‘Excuse me!’ in a horrendous whiny pitch.
I ignore the rude interruption and continue my conversation with my customers. He parrots it again twelve times or so back to back as I thank these people and get them out of the store.
Finally, I turn to him, ‘How can I help you?’ Where the fudge is this kid’s parents?
‘Hi, can I try the hottest sauce in the store?’ Not this crap again. I am not dealing with this, not with a 10-year-old kid.
I explain to him that the hottest sauce on the table is Right Hand of Doom. It’s spiked with a 6.66 Million Scoville extract, and honestly, if you’re not experienced with this kind of stuff, more than just a tiny bit can really mess up a good part of your day. Take my word for it.
I explain to him he has to be 19 years old to try it and sign a waiver (which is BS but I’m off in 30 minutes so forget this kid), and instead guide him to a tasty fermented habanero that he coughs his eyes out on before explaining to me that he could handle the Right Hand of Doom because his dad eats spicy peppers with him all the time.
‘Okay?’ I say. He leaves, thank God.
15 minutes later I’m interrupted by another customer. This time a gigantic woman, in a blue blouse, she’s set next to my sample table like a giant blueberry blocking up 20% of my floor space. ‘Excuse me!’ Apple doesn’t fall far. The customers I’m with are polite and excuse me to speak to her. ‘You didn’t let my son try the sauce!’
I explain to her that it has extract in it several hundreds of times hotter than anything he has ever eaten and that it can cause him severe discomfort and that I will not let him try it in my store.
I explain that she is free to purchase the sauce and have him try it at home if she so wishes. She explains to me that she married a Mexican man and that I wouldn’t believe the things we ate in ‘New Mexico City’ where he grew up. When I asked what they had eaten there she told me ‘Things hotter than anything we have in the store.’
At this point her daughter interrupts our conversation, I kid you not, ‘Excuse me!’
‘What?’ I’m getting annoyed.
I was annoyed from the second I saw the kid and now he’s back 20 mins later with three of him.
‘Why do you sell Valentina it’s not even a hot sauce?’ OMG. Aren’t you from Mexico? It says Salsa Piquante on the darn bottle. It’s 5:50, I’m off at 6. I’ve had enough.
‘How about this, you can try the sauce and if it’s as mild as you think, I’ll let him try it.’ She agreed and grabbed her sample stick.
I reached for the Right Hand of Doom, and unscrewed the cap, its nuclear aroma sending memories of aches to my stomach. As she goes to dip the stick into the sauce, I warn her to ‘only take a small amount.’
She grins at me and dips the stick all the way into the sauce. Trap card, witch. She slaps it into her mouth.
Immediately, she looks uneasy before she throws herself into pure agony.
She is coughing, swinging her head back and forth, trying desperately to speak, but she cannot muster any words. She dropped her sample stick in all the chaos. After a solid few minutes of coughing and dry heaving, she manages a single word, ‘water.’ I explain to her that water won’t help her now. My relief walks through the door just in time to witness the finish.
She tells me that the only reason she is coughing is because, ‘it went down the wrong pipe.’ She then immediately vomits into our garbage can.
She apologizes for ‘spitting up’ like she didn’t just rocket launch half a liter of barf into my trashcan and then leaves without saying anything else.
I tossed out the trash with a smile on my face and clocked out.”
23. Archaeology Students Don't Take Their Work Seriously, So I Set Them Straight
“I was in my third and final year at uni, studying archaeology. Due to recurring and severe illness in the second semester of my second year, I had been unable to complete several core subjects, and had to repeat them. This included an archaeological field school, held in the mid-year holidays, where you would implement the techniques you had already learned. This field school was compulsory IF you wished to enrol in a particular subject, but not everyone studying was headed in that direction.
I had successfully completed the previous year’s field school, but due to my illness, was unable to complete the associated course, so had to retake them both again.
This university has a number of campuses dotted around the country (and some overseas). The field school is offered to students on 2 campuses – the main campus, located North of Capricorn, and one of its offshoots, located even further North of Capricorn.
The field schools are held in the area of the main campus, so those participating are required to travel to attend – for some, it’s across town. For others, it’s several hours in a car. Needless to say, those attending from the sister campus do not do so lightly, or cheaply.
My lecturer, whom we shall call Matt, was a bloody legend. He was a brilliant lecturer, has authored 2 books, and is still working in his field, albeit at a different university than the one in this story.
He knew his crap, was easy-going, friendly, would sit and share a jug of beer with you on a Friday arvo, and I only ever saw him angry once. This is important for later.
Also note that grading went as follows, in descending order:
HD (Pass with High Distinction): 85-100%
D (Pass with Distinction): 75-84%
C (Pass with Credit): 65-74%
P (Pass): 50-64%
PC (Pass Conceded): 48-49%
N (Fail): <50%
Matt and his counterpart at the sister campus had been granted permission to conduct this particular year’s field school in a gully adjacent to an historic (and protected/listed) cemetery.
This gully actually split the cemetery in two, and was used basically as a garbage midden. Due to the nature of the gully, there was only space permitted for a specified number of dig sites. Groups were to be allocated a site once they arrived on the first day, after they had decided on their members. As I was living on-campus and had no car, I knew I’d be unable to arrive at the field school at the specified beginning times.
I’d be half an hour late on the Friday and Monday mornings, and a full hour late on the weekend. I’d spoken to Matt about this, and as we knew each other quite well (and had shared jugs of beer quite often), he agreed that I would not be penalised for arriving late, but that I’d most likely be allocated a group to make up numbers, rather than choose my own.
It couldn’t be helped, so I agreed. This is also important for later.
Friday rolls around, I arrive at the site a half hour late, all good, and I’m introduced to my group. There are 4 of us; myself, the only female in the group, but experienced in how the field school is run due to my previous year; Gazza, an older, grizzled male geology student who was taking the course just as a matter of interest; Bazza, a young male geology student who, by all other indications, was heading towards a lucrative career in the mining sector; and Dazza, another young male geology student, good friends with Bazza, also heading towards a lucrative career in the mining sector.
All 3 of my counterparts were from the sister campus, so had travelled at some expense to attend. They’d already been allocated a dig-site, and when introduced, Matt tells them I’ve got field school experience, so to utilise my knowledge. Bazza and Dazza smile and nod, giving me a friendly wave. Gazza grunts, but a little later, while surveying our area, we get to chatting. He’s a nice enough bloke, just a bit miffed he’s been put in a group with a bunch of ‘young bucks’, and was worried he’d be carrying us or keeping us in line.
Nah mate, I’m here to get stuff done, get the data I’ll need for next semester, and hopefully enjoy myself as much as I had the previous year.
Now, let me tell you, Lara Croft and Indiana Jones have royally messed the perception of the greater public when it comes to archaeology (no, Jurassic Park doesn’t count, as they’re palaeontologists, dealing with animal remains; archaeology/archaeologists deal with human remains).
A lot of what happens on an archaeological dig is repetitive and monotonous; you survey your area using surveying equipment, sketch and take photos of your allocated site before measuring out your 1 metre by 1 metre dig pit. You take more pictures/sketches of the as-yet untouched pit, as well as taking an initial soil sample. You scrape off a ‘spit’ of earth (this is a layer of a predetermined depth; in this case, 5cm), and once done, you test the pH levels of the soil you’ve removed, documenting EVERYTHING that you’ve scraped up (yep, more photos and sketches), before taking more photos/sketches of the pit and anything that may be lodged in there before scraping off another ‘spit’.
If you hit an object, you remove the soil from around it, but don’t actually remove the object until you are removing the layer of soil from beneath it. It must remain in-situ to preserve the data. Boring, I know, but is also very important for later. Also important to note is soil composition in relation to how deep you can safely dig your pit before extending the boundaries to prevent soil contamination or the walls collapsing.
Our dig site had quite loose, sandy soil, so it was announced that every 50cm down, we would have to extend the sides of the pit by 50cm on each side. It wasn’t anticipated that we’d get much beyond 1 metre down, definitely not further than 1.5 metres, so we’d only need to expand once, possibly twice. This was how they had divvied up the entire site to fit us all in.
It became very clear very quickly that neither Bazza or Dazza had anticipated how monotonous the next 4 days were going to be.
Both Gazza and I had to repeatedly call them over to assist us with surveying, and when it came to the soil scraping, they were excited at first, but then became bored as we had to yet again record every minute detail. As I was the only one who had thought to bring my camera along (one that require actual film, as this was before inexpensive digital cameras, smartphones were at least 10 years away, and I was a povvo uni student), I was the one responsible for taking photos.
This included ‘candid’ shots of the entire field school, other groups, the lecturers, and our dig site.
Day One of the field school ends, and we all head back to wherever for the night, to kick back, relax, and prepare for another day of toil. The next morning (Saturday), I arrive at the field school 1 hour late (so at 10am), as per the bus schedule. Seeing as how I’d already had this okayed by Matt, I’m not anticipating any issue with my tardiness.
I get to the cemetery, and seeing Matt, give him a cheery “Morning Matt, all good, yeah?” Matt turns and GLOWERS at me. I mean, if looks could kill, I’d be right at home in that cemetery with all the other dead people. You know how I mentioned earlier how easy-going and laid back Matt is, and I’ve only ever seen him angry once? Well, this was that time.
Matt was pacing, teeth grinding, fists clenched. He. Was. ANGRY. “Just get to your group and get to work.” Matt practically snarled at me. I’m worried now, that he’s angry with me for being late, even though we’d previously squared it. I’m nervous and worried, because we’d had a really good rapport in the past, and now I’m thinking that I’ve done something that’s going to make my last semester at uni a living nightmare.
“Have I done something wrong? I know I was late, but like I told you before the field school, this was the first bus I could get out here. I’m really sorry if that’s a problem.”Matt sighs and shook his head.“No Wraeccaniht, it’s not you, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just can’t deal with it right now, so just go to your dig-site and get on with it.
I’ll talk to you later.”I head to my dig-site, and what I find there almost has me in tears. When we’d packed up the previous day, our pit was 1 metre by 1 metre square, with a depth of 30cm. I now stand before a 1 metre by 1 metre hole in the ground, dug down to a depth of approximately 3 metres. There are mounds of sandy dirt surrounding our pit, and I can see a multitude of objects that have been excavated just sitting there.
Other groups are staring at us, but trying to look as though they aren’t staring. Nobody will speak to us either. Gazza is livid, the dude is almost apoplectic. Bazza and Gazza are both looking VERY pale, and like they want to puke. I’m all “What the ever-loving fudge has happened here? Who the frig did this?”
It turns out that after everyone had left the site on the Friday night, Bazza and Dazza, and another mate of theirs in another group, we’ll call him Kezza, got together and got wasted.
It was during this that they decided to ‘continue’ digging our pit, so they broke into the cemetery with a shovel, and proceeded to dig down until one of them passed out wasted at the bottom. Of a 1 metre by 1 metre hole, in loose, sandy soil. The fact that the dude managed to wake up and make it out of the hole without the entire thing collapsing in on him is a miracle in itself.
Matt had been called out to the site at 3am by the police, who had been called because one of the residents in the area saw something dodgy going on. Needless to say, Bazza, Dazza, and Kezza were all up poop creek in a barbed wire canoe with a rusty teaspoon for a paddle. They couldn’t leave until they’d sobered up, but had been told that, in no uncertain terms, after the field school finished that day, they were to pack up and go away.
Matt and his counterpart would deal with booting them from the archaeological programme on the Tuesday, after the field school ended. This left Gazza and I in a FUBAR situation. Luckily for him, Gazza was able to join the group that Kezza had been part of, especially since the group were all from the sister campus. I, on the other hand, was left hanging like an unwanted tampon string out of the gusset of a bikini.
There were no other groups that could take me, and besides, something had to be done about the disaster that was my dig-site. So, Saturday ended up with me trying to document whatever I could, and to keep Bazza and Dazza out of my hair, I gave them my camera and told them to take photographic documentation of every. Single. Piece. Of evidence that they had dug up.
They had to use the scale measurement and a title board that was supposed to identify the item by date, location, spit level, etc., so off they went with a miniature whiteboard, whiteboard marker, scale measurement, and my camera. This kept them occupied for most of the day, as there were in excess of 200 items that they’d unearthed in their inebriated dig for buried whateverthefudgetheywerelookingfor.
I ended up filling in that hole wishing with every shovelful of soil that Bazza and Dazza were still passed out wasted at the bottom, but such is life. Matt ended up tacking me onto another group in an ‘observational’ role, as the members of that group were all from my campus and would be in the same second semester class as me.
Now, as I previously mentioned, the field school was linked to another class held during the second semester.
This class essentially took all of the data and evidence that had been unearthed during the field school, and you examined, tested, collated, and then submitted a report based on those findings as your final assessment piece. Seeing as how I only had 1 day’s worth of actual data and evidence, I could not submit the field school report as required. As this was a core class, and I didn’t want to have to retake it for a third year, I approached Matt to talk about how we could rectify this into a situation where I would be able to pass and continue with my studies.
After some discussion, Matt agreed to allow me to do a field school critique, using what had happened to me as, essentially, a how-to on how NOT to conduct/participate in a field school. I had the data from the first day to use in the class, and then the photos and sketches taken by myself and the Dodgy Brothers (Bazza and Dazza) of the objects we’d ‘excavated’.
After developing the film of the field school, I noticed some interesting things.
The candid photos I took on the Friday included shots of Bazza and Dazza not only behaving inappropriately, but interfering with the equipment we were using, and therefore possibly contaminating the data we had legitimately acquired. They were also shown to be in areas that we weren’t allowed to be in, touching things that didn’t belong to them, and also damaging ornaments left on some of the historic graves closest to the dig-site.
Then, there were the photos that they had taken on the Saturday. They had apparently decided that, because I wasn’t overjoyed by the fact that they’d completely screwed me over by digging that hole, they’d make the only photographs of the artefacts they’d unearthed unusable by writing inappropriate comments and cursing/slurs towards me on the title board. One of the ones that has stuck in my head was a large clay/ceramic clam decoration, on which they’d written “Oh I do love a day beside the sea side – WITH A HAIRY CLAM”.
This was the only photo of the clam that had been taken (when we filled the pits back in, we had to re-inter the artefacts, so I couldn’t just take a new picture. Also, over 200 pieces had been unearthed, remember?), and Matt had told me to use everything I’d gathered to write my report. So I used every. Single. Photo. Including the ones that said I was a POC, and that alluded to wishing violence on me.
At the end of the semester, I submitted my report, knowing full well that the best I could hope for was a Pass, but that was enough to get me through to my final year.
I found this out from Matt at the beginning of my final year at uni.So, it turns out that when Matt had booted the Dodgy Brothers from the archaeological programme, they had been allowed to continue on with their degree studying Geology, but that they were not allowed to have anything to do with archaeology, and were on very thin ice.
When I submitted my report, and Matt saw the extent of what they had done (kindly documented by themselves on the most part), and just how badly they had screwed me over (Gazza was fine, as the group he’d been moved to had all the appropriate data, and had been able to submit a proper field report), he went ballistic. He called a meeting with the Deans from both campuses, the Department of Tropical Environments and Societies (Geology Department), and the Department of Anthropology, Archaeology, and Society (Archaeology Department) for both campuses.
He presented to them my field report, told them about how he’d been teaching me for the past 3 years, and had it not been for the illness affecting me during my second year, how I would have likely completed my degree at this point. He also spoke about my previous field school, my behaviour, and had I not been forced to withdraw due to my health, and based on previous work I’d submitted, I would have likely received a D or HD on my work.
The fact that I averaged C and D during the time I was ill showed my academic prowess. The fact that the only grade he was able to give me for the report he currently had in his possession was a PC was a blow to my academic record that was wholly undeserved. He said a lot of other things, but the end result was that Bazza and Dazza were not only expelled from the archaeological programme, they were now booted from the geological one as well.
Furthermore, they were expelled and black-banned/blacklisted from the university itself, which meant they could never re-enrol, and any other universities they applied to would be able to see this and the reasons why. Essentially, they were blocked from being able to obtain any university degree in that area, and to enrol in any university for a different career, they would have to wade through oceans of bureaucratic red tape and jump through so many hoops they’d make the Duracell Bunny jealous.
Unfortunately, this experience soured me on archaeology as a career path.
Luckily for me, I was able to pick up a couple of extra courses in History and English, that I graduated with a BA with a Major in English Literature, and a minor in History and Archaeology. I went back to uni after a gap year and obtained my Grad. Dip. in Secondary Education.
TL;DR – Immature losers decide to screw over my entire second semester course load during a group project by getting intoxciated and contaminating evidence and data needed. I write a final report on what they did (with evidence) which results in them getting kicked out of uni and blacklisted, screwing up their career prospects.”
22. Show A Receipt? Ok, I'll Take The Mode Of Transportation That Offers Them
“I used to travel for work fairly often, and the company I worked for had very strict reimbursement policies. You had to have a receipt for EVERYTHING or you wouldn’t get refunded for it. nOn one trip I was staying in the center of a mid-sized city, but the training I was attending was in the suburbs.
There was a bus route I could take, and while it took a great deal more of my time it was WAY cheaper to take the bus than a taxi.
$1.50 bus fare vs. approximately $40 for a cab. Problem is, there’s no way to get a receipt for riding the bus.
So, I email my company’s business manager and explain the situation. Ask if I can please get reimbursed for the bus fare without receipts.
The response comes — no, any reimbursement requests without receipts will be denied, and I will have to cover the expense out-of-pocket.
Fine. Cab rides, twice a day, for a week. Totally allowable within company policy. Fares plus tips, the total taxi expenses come to almost $500. My boss questions the request, I show her the email from the business manager and explain that I tried to take the bus (which would have totaled $15 for the week) but was told it wasn’t reimbursable.
Over the following weeks, a heated discussion ensues between the business office and senior management. Two months later, there’s a new policy — reimbursement requests for anything over $10 must have a receipt. Under $10? No receipt required.”
21. They Smashed My Wannigan All Over A Tub Of Margarine
“My friend was seeing a girl who I could tell just didn’t like me, but at least we were civil to one another, until the camping trip on the May 24 holiday weekend. She was adamant about keeping our beverages separate; that was fine. I had my mine and they had theirs, fine.
Then I got up early on the first morning and made pancakes for everyone.
Why? Because that’s just how I roll. When the campers rolled out of their tents to the smell of apple cinnamon pancakes and campfire coffee, she was the only one to flip out. I’d gone into HER cooler and used HER margarine. My buddy just looked pained and tried to keep the peace as I tossed her a few bucks and apologized. Her reaction was to grab a lock from his gym bag and lock ‘their tent’ with ‘their booze’ and ‘their food.’
Later, he came to me and asked if he could borrow the car so that they could run into town, get some supplies and have some words about being a bit easier with the other campers.
I said ok and handed him the keys.
When they returned hours later, the tank was empty, and the field kitchen (a wooden box with straps called a wannigan with plates, cutlery pots and pans, etc.) was missing from the back of the station wagon. We searched the camp. Nothing. It was my dad’s and had been handed down in the family for generations. I drove off to fill the tank and buy a new tub of margarine and was halfway down the country road when I saw the wannigan on the side of the road, smashed in the ditch.
There were marks along the back panels beside the flattened down seats where one of them had clearly pushed it out the back of the moving car.
After piling it all, stunned, piece by piece back into the wagon, I gassed up and drove back, then packed up. Not a word was said by anyone until I tore up the camping permit and peeled out with their shouts behind me in the dust.
Never spoke to either one of them again.”
20. The Passenger Really Didn't Get The Hint
“I was riding on an Uber Pool this morning when an incredibly inconsiderate individual got in the passenger seat.
He pulled out his phone and started watching videos at full volume and blasting music.
‘Do you happen to have headphones?’ I asked
‘No, why would I need headphones?’ he responded
‘Because you’re in a car with other people and it’s a considerate thing to do not to force everyone else to listen to your videos and music?’
‘That sounds like a you problem,’ he replies going back to watching his video.
So I pulled out my phone and blasted Baby Shark from the backseat for the remainder of the ride. If he turned around or got upset, well that’s a you problem.”
19. He Hid An Extra Computer Mouse
“I once had a colleague I hated (he was very condescending and really arrogant), so I put an extra Bluetooth receiver in his computer for a computer mouse and kept the mouse in my drawer. I would just open my drawer and it would mess his poop right up. Kept it going for like 2 months. He was about to murder the world when I thought I better stop.”
Another User Comments:
“I once pulled this same trick on a coworker over the course of six months (we pulled pranks on each other a lot and I would never mess with it when he was busy).
One day he gets fed up and throws his mouse and keyboard on the ground, stomping on them and yelling. Then he looks at me, beat red, and asks if I had anything to do with it. I stare at him shocked and after a few seconds he breaks down laughing.
Turns out he recently found the receiver and so went and got a broken keyboard and mouse from recycling so that he could prank me back. I guess you could say he sure did get his petty revenge on me cause he really freaked me out.” jkb73
18. He Lost Many Potential Tenants Thanks To Me
“Well, my landlord saw my syringes for my diabetes and got into a loud, blood-boiling argument with me over the ‘obvious’ substance use that those represented. After I shoved insulin prescriptions in his face, following several threats to call the cops to have me locked up and my dogs that I pay pet rent for, euthanized, he left.
Well, following this, I noticed he always left apartments he was showing that day unlocked.
Towards the end of my lease, I would sneak in and leave lovely notes on the fridge such as, ‘Ask about the bed bugs!’ and, ‘Now twenty percent cockroach free!’
I was never accused of anything from doing it, but several occasions when he’d come out cussing to himself followed by confused prospective tenants, I’d catch his eye and give him a little smirk and a nod.”
17. Not Going To Change My Wedding Because You Can't Manage Your Team
“My employer decided to convert all of a certain class of our records from paper-based files to digital. There were three immediate problems. Our company was not going to buy a generic system, but develop our own unique, tailored system. It was to be done on the cheap, with net savings for record-keeping from Year 1. The guy in charge (let’s call him Genius) always (and I mean ALWAYS) thought he was the smartest guy in room.
Believe me, he wasn’t.
Anyway, one of the girls I worked with took on the project on the condition that she could have the next July off for her wedding and honeymoon. She worked hard, and the project was actually making progress. One of her duties was passwords, none of which could be written anywhere because Genius knew this was ‘bad’. She periodically reminded Genius about the July wedding and he told her it’d be fine, but never signed off the paperwork.
Come mid-May, the project is WAY behind, mainly because Genius told management it could all be done in-house at negligible cost, and Genius kept changing the design every time he read a new magazine article on IT. My friend was then told 6 weeks out from the Wedding that her leave was canceled. The project took priority and she’d just have to reschedule her wedding, honeymoon, the works.
Genius just could not see that this might be a problem. So she did her job, updated the passwords as required, never recording them anywhere, as required,……and resigned without notice the last day of June.
On her honeymoon, she gets a frantic call from Genius demanding all the passwords. “Sorry, I don’t work there anymore “ click.
That’s why a decade later our company still has a few hundred electronic case files we can’t access.”
16. He Claimed My Son Deserved A Heart Defect
Regardless of the circumstances, NO child deserves a heart defect… Or any person for that matter.
“My son was born with a serious congenital heart defect and underwent open-heart surgery when he was only two weeks old. My best friend at the time said he was coming to the hospital to visit us. I had known this guy for years, been in his wedding, and been in 3rd world countries on humanitarian missions with him.
We were close.
The guy said he was coming down that afternoon, but he never showed. I called to see if he was still coming and got his voicemail. I never heard from him again.
Found out my ‘friend’ thought my son deserved the heart defect because he was conceived out of wedlock.”
Another User Comments:
“My reaction at the moment he said that would be to punch on his chest hard enough to give him a heart defect…” monk_mst
15. He Had To Meet The Telemarketer In Person To Get His Point Across
“For the past few years, our business has been receiving telemarketing calls from an offshore call center trying to make appointments for ‘Optus Business Centre.’ Every time they call, we’d politely tell them we were not interested and to remove us from their list and they’d promise not to call again.
You can probably tell by my use of the words “every time” that having ourselves removed from the list didn’t work.
It didn’t work the first time, and it didn’t work the 50th time. Offshore are cheap, and get paid per appointment. So they would get quite aggressive. It was clear that a new strategy needed to be found as it was taking too long to get them to bugger off.
So I began to plot a more creative way.
‘Hi we’re calling from Optus business center and we can save you 40% on your mobile phone bill! Can we come and see you tomorrow at 11 am?’
You can save me 40% of my mobile bill? That’s like sixty grand a month!
‘What? How many phones do you have?’
150 or so that I’m responsible for directly, plus a few others.
The appointment is quickly confirmed. The next day a salesman calls me up he’s running early – can we meet earlier. I refused. Our appointment is for 11am after all.
11am rolls around and in he walks – we sit down in reception and go through the greetings. I then ask him if it’s possible to make the telemarketing calls stop now. He assures me that it is, and so I stand up, shake his hand and thank him for coming in.
‘What? That’s it? You could have said that over the phone!’ said the guy.
I point out that we did. Many times, and it didn’t work – and I hoped that this waste of his time (45 min trip from Homebush to Sydney) would perhaps teach him to mend his ways.
Over the past 2 years, they have sent out 5 different reps to see us. They call for meetings, we accept them, shine them on about the value of the account and they roll in to be greeted by me dressed in a chicken suit; made to wait in our meeting room for 20 minutes before being asked to be removed from the list; being turned away at the door (they sent two reps that time).”
14. He Wanted His Bill Fixed, So She Did Exactly That
“I used to be a bartender/manager at a small family-owned restaurant. We had this one customer who I’ll call D.
D used to be a really nice guy. Always fun to talk to, had interesting stories, the works. However, after about 8 months of him being a regular, he asked me out. I (VERY POLITELY AND KINDLY) turned him down. And, my god, you would have thought I threatened his mom with the way he reacted.
So, following that point, he turned into a giant jerk. Always snapping at me (both literally and figuratively), complaining about food that he never had an issue with before, etc. A couple of months later, we had some changes to our menu and some slight price changes.
Notably, his favorite soup (elk chili) was 75 cents more.
He stormed in and sat and ordered elk chili. I said, ‘Of course! I just want to make sure you’re aware that of the change—’ he snapped at me and said, ‘How dumb do you think I am??? I can read!’ Ok, my dude whatever you can say.
So he gets his soup, his meal, a few drinks and a glass of one of our higher quality bourbons. I bring him the check and he flips out.
‘This is more than it was before! You never told me that it would be more! This is fraud. I’m not paying this. Fix it!’
Ok, I can do that. However, on the check, I had also charged him for only happy hour price beers, which was significantly less than our regular prices.
Happy hour ended before he even got there. I also charged him for a lower quality bourbon by the same company (the owner was ok with that since he was technically a regular and had spent a lot of coin there).
So I fixed his check for him. But I fixed all of it. The new check was about $15 more than it was before. He was so mad he was lost for words, and I took that time to show him how I fixed his check.
He never came back on nights I was working after that.
I don’t work there anymore, I wonder how he’s doing.”
13. Two Volkswagons Against One Rude Driver
“You ever have that feeling of solidarity with someone who drives the same car as you? Well, I do.
And I don’t like seeing people being rude to them, so one morning the stars aligned to let me and another Volkswagen driver mess over a rather rude gentleman (who was NOT in a Volkswagen).
To start with, I’m driving in the early morning on a two-lane road. The speed limit is 50 km/h but due to the lack of traffic, everyone is doing around 60 km/h, except for one Volkswagen Golf who’s comfortably doing about 55.
Hey man, rock on, respect the laws! And so enters Butthead. Butthead is just ripping down the road, getting right up behind Golf, unable to switch into our lane due to me and another car.
So, being the genius he was, instead of waiting for us to pass him at 60, switching into our lane, and then passing the 55 Golf, then roaring past us, he decided to lay into the horn.
And it. Was. Loud.
Okay, Butthead, bully a Ford, I don’t care. Bully a BMW and I’ll cheer. But a Volkswagen? No pal. Not today.
So, taking my time, I pull up next to the Golf, with Butthead still laying into the horn. And thus our petty revenge began. I waved to the golf driver and we both began to slow until we were about 45 km/h, close enough to each other that Butthead couldn’t pass.
Dude goes ballistic. Tearing between both lanes, horn blaring, right up on our cars close enough to actually begin to worry me, the whole nine yards this guy is just losing his mind.
And so we peacefully drove down the road for a good 10 minutes before I hit my turnoff, and waved goodbye to my new Volkskomrade, and pulled off. I almost felt bad for Butthead, the veritable SCREAM from that engine when he got a clear passing lane sounded like he stomped that gas pedal harder than the aliens in Dead Space.
Go gently into that quiet night Butthead. But leave me and my fellow German engineering appreciating folks alone.”
12. He Wanted Hotter Hot Sauce, I Made Sure He Got It
“One time at my big family reunion, we had family from all over to eat at our house. I had a cousin named Blake, and I heard him bragging at the dinner table that the hot sauce he was using for his food was ‘weak’ or how he could ‘handle any hot sauce.’
So in my 12-year-old mind, a light bulb went off in my head: ‘Let me go get that atomic hot sauce in the fridge.’ It’s more of a gag gift because half a teaspoon, and you’re royally messed.
I’m not even kidding. One of my family friends took a drop around that time and was like, ‘Forget that stuff.’
I didn’t even present it to him as normal hot sauce just to ‘try it.’ Then he proceeds to dunk his whole fried chicken wing in the sauce, and for the next 20 minutes resulted with lots of screaming and freaking out and little me dying with laughter looking like a little poop in front of the whole family with veins popping out of my head. Worth it.”
11. Sure Lady, I'll Fix Your AC On A Sunday So You Don't Have To Pay Me
This is not my story, its been a while since I’ve heard the story but I’ll try my best to get the details correct. I went to a local community college to get my HVAC certifications and the instructor was an old school, gruff, blue collar worker type guy. He owned his own HVAC company and would teach at nights after work. Dude was working like 60-70 hours a week and had been doing this since the early 90’s when an older guy I knew in the industry was taking classes from him.
Anyways onto the story, instructor will be refereed to as Joe.
His company and my school are located in Orange County California, an area with a lot of wealth. He lived out in Riverside so housing wouldn’t be as expensive so its a bit of a drive for him to get to his work territory. One Sunday he received a call from a woman panicking, her AC unit in her “wine cellar” has stopped working and needs Joe to come fix it asap because wine needs to be in a consistent temperature.
(I say “wine cellar” because down here we don’t have basements in Southern California.) Joe explains that since it is Sunday it will be a triple charge since he doesn’t get to relax much working so many hours every week. She agrees as her wine collection is worth 1000x the cost of fixing the AC unit. Joe rushes 2 hours out to her house in Newport Beach and she shows him to her wine cellar, which is a massive room with rows and rows of expensive bottles of wine on racks.
He gets to work, checking everything on the AC unit. He found it wasn’t getting power and after tracking down the circuit he found that the GFI had popped. You probably have one in your bathroom by your sink, and has a button to reset it if it pops. He resets the GFI and the AC unit kicks back on. Temperature hadn’t deviated to much from setpoint and all things are looking good.
Joe explains to the lady what had happened and to be careful with liquids around the outlet since if it trips it’ll take out the AC unit. He then tells her since there was no work needed she’ll just have to pay the Trip Charge which is $450 since its Sunday.
The customer, who we’ll call Judy, was not happy about this. “All you did was push a button I could have done this myself! I’m not paying.” Her and Joe go back and forth about her paying and eventually he leaves without payment.
Joe isn’t normally one to roll over but he’s tired and wants to go relax on his day off. He drives home and relaxes trying to put her out of his mind.
That would be a less than impressive revenge story if she didn’t call back a few months later, again on a weekend.
“Help my AC isn’t working again! I tried pushing the button like you did and its still not working and I don’t know how to fix it.
You NEED to come out and fix it!!” Joe reminds her that last time she called she stiffed him and that he would not do business with her. She begged and pleaded that she’ll pay for both trips in full and this and that. After some convincing Joe told her he would get to her as soon as possible. But since he is in Riverside it will take at least an hour maybe two to get to her.
She says fine and they hang up. Instead of getting into his truck Joe cracks open a cold beer and waits.
2 Hours go by and Judy calls Joe back, “Are you close? Its getting warm in the room, this is an EMERGENCY!!” Joe replies “I’m almost there, traffic was pretty bad but I should be there in 30 minutes.” 30 more minutes go by and she calls back “Are you close”???!!!“ Joe “Yes I’m just around the corner give me a few more minutes.” By this time its getting pretty late close to 7 PM and she calls back one more time “WHERE ARE YOU!!?!?!?!” Joe responds “Riverside.” That was not what Judy wanted to hear “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR IN RIVERSIDE YOU SAID YOU’D BE HERE MY WINE IS GONNA BE RUINED!!” And then Joe hits here with “You should never screw over people you rely on” and hung up on her.
Most AC places don’t take calls on the weekends or nights so we assume she lost her collection, but can’t know for sure. Anyways point of the story is GFI’s really only belong in the bathroom’s and don’t mess over people you need.
10. He Dumped Up And Left Her So They Left Him A Shrimpy Surprise
“When I was 18 my friend Amy was seeing this guy Jack for a little while. Jack was 17 and used to be able to get into some of the pubs and clubs with us without ID and he attributed that to a jacket which he believed made him look older.
Anyway, Jack is seemingly really into Amy, putting a lot of effort in and yada, yada and then drops her like a hot potato as soon as they get it on for the first and only time.
Amy is understandably furious and realizes that she has his beloved jacket in her car (which Jack finally broke his silent treatment to text her asking for it back).
So, Amy and I went down to Tesco, bought two little prawns and took them back home. We then created the tiniest hole in the lining of the jacket at each of the wrists and popped a prawn in each arm then sewed the lining back up.
Amy then kindly left the jacket at Jack’s front door for him.
I had recently read about a woman who had put prawns in the curtain poles of her ex-husband’s house so he’d struggle to sell it because the smell was so bad.
It is a shame that we didn’t get to see the results of our petty revenge, but we did see him out a few times wearing the jacket, from a distance, and I know it would have been glorious!”
9. She Used Me To Help Her Manipulate Her Significant Other
“I met this friend through work. Because we both worked in different (but equally horrible) departments under oppressive bosses, we bonded quickly, and it was a strong bond. We confided secrets to each other we’d never told anyone, we went to lunch together whenever we could, we supported each other through terrible work and non-work crap. We will call her Amelia.
She started seeing a guy we worked with (we’ll call him Dale) pretty early on in our friendship.
Where we worked, as soon as management found out you had a workplace romance, you got transferred apart from each other, so they kept it secret, but she told me. They eventually broke up, and she started seeing another guy we worked with (let’s call him Brian)…same story – in secret, but I knew.
So Amelia calls me up one day and tells me she is pregnant.
Asks if my husband and I will be the godparents. Both of us are on the phone crying our eyes out…I was so excited for her and honored. She thought she wouldn’t be able to have kids, so this was a big deal, even though it was unplanned. She told me Brian was excited too.
She and I had lunch plans, but she went AWOL. I heard that she’d had some sort of huge confrontation/meltdown with Brian and Dale and our regional manager Jake, and quit.
I tried to reach her for days in a panic and eventually called Brian to find out what was going on. He said he had no idea.
I later found out that Amelia had been unfaithful on Brian with Dale. (Brian hadn’t even known Amelia and Dale had dated.) She saw this coming, so she planted the pregnancy story with me, hoping I’d say something to Brian about it (she hadn’t actually told him she was ‘pregnant,’ despite what she told me), but I never did. She wasn’t actually pregnant at all; she made up the whole thing hoping I’d spill the beans (perhaps congratulating him or something?) and end up saving her relationship with Brian, because I guess, she figured he’d stay with her through that, and she’d conveniently ‘miscarry’ later?
I’m sure it’s no surprise none of this worked, and she lost me, Brian, and Dale.”
8. Change Your Number Or I'll Mess With Your Business
“This was pretty normal and the pizza hut was even aware of this and profusely apologized when we would call them. (Never giving us anything for free though, despite the massive inconvenience of the phone ringing off the hook.)
Well Pizza Hut Corporate then pays for an advertisement on paper, bill-board, and phone book. And guess what? They botched the number they put OUR number on the things for the phone number as one of the locations in our town for Pizza Huts pizza.
Why? Because 1’s and 7’s are the same number apparently.
The phone calls we get EXPLODES. It goes from like 3-5 phone calls a day to like 100-200. Initially, we were directing people with a message that simply said “THIS IS NOT PIZZA HUT! THEIR NUMBER IS XXXXXXXX” It didn’t end. We would get calls with people screaming into the voice recording “I WANT A FREAKING PIZZA THIS IS BULLCRAP I’M GOING TO KILL WHOEVER DOESN’T ANSWER THIS FREAKING PHONE!” (Aren’t boomers great? We got that crap all the time from older people.) I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been told to kill myself for trying to direct someone to the correct place, and for some FREAKING reason no one EVER listens.
Well upon this happening my Dad calls into the pizza hut and says “look, all we want is to not have to change our number.
If you guys will PLEASE change yours, or pay for ours to be changed (it was like a 10 dollar convince fee or something.) we will stop getting your damned phone calls.” The manager cussed my Dad, who had him on speakerphone, calling him crapload of names and for “getting him bad reviews” as well as losing customers to his branch, which is locally owned. What a freaking joke.
Its costing their business a solid 10 grand EASY over a phone number why not JUST CHANGE IT? IDK.
My Dad looks at the phone, hangs up and says “Ok jerk, you want to be like that about it?”
My dad then instructs My 17-year-old self (and my sister) to take all calls from now on. If it rings pick it up, take the order, and say “Ok your pizza should be there in (1.5 hours)” Then when they call back to tell them “Sorry the driver just left.” and if they call back a third time say “Well I can get you on the phone with my manager but hes probably going to kick your ass if you keep complaining.” And then switch the phone with someone else and have them say “Listen here witch, you aren’t getting your pizza and we are keeping your moolah, get over it.”
Or something along those lines anyway.
Two weeks pass and my Dad tries to get said Pizza Hut to change our number for free.
Never pointing out that they messed up their ad, as apparently, they were completely oblivious to this fact. Again the manager screams at my Dad saying “I don’t have the coin to change your freaking number!” We even tried calling OTHER pizza huts to get the issue resolved, and their corporate with no real luck. Fair enough, it’s game on time now bee with an itch, why? For two reasons 1.
My dad got a phone with a transfer button and 2. Because summer was rolling around, and me and my sister lovedmessing with people over this. It was a really bad influence on us tbh.
We fielded phone calls every day all day long, we had friends come over and they loved partaking in the same thing. We had a general plan:
Every other call would get a pizza “delivery” On the other calls we would get them really angry talking crap to them and saying “Ok do you want to speak with my manager?” And just cold transfer them to the pizza hut.
It took 6 more weeks of us doing this, and the pizza hut closed. A few weeks before they closed we got a phone call from pizza hut corporate who more or less threatened us with a cease and desist sounded like they didn’t really understand what was actually happening as it accused us of “stealing their phone calls.” LMFAO. We called their corporate and explained what was going on, and even played our recordings of talking with them before about the issue and ignoring us.
All they said is “You had better stop! This is ILLEGAL!” over and over. We didn’t stop. They were aware of what was going on and didn’t want to do anything about it because to fix their FUBAR.
A few weeks after the owner lost his job he called our house and was trying to argue with my Dad about how “bad of a person he was because I lost moolah, and got my butt beat several times.” Apparently, we had angered a few people so bad they actually went in and attacked him and other staff… To this day it cracks me up that a company can be so oblivious, and is the single reason I don’t believe we live in anything close to a “Meritocracy” anyone in this position who has any merit would instantly change the number, but not a corporation who the means to sue, and not a middle manager who has an ego problem.”
7. He Introduced Me To A Lovely Lady, Only To Break Us Apart With A Lie
“My buddy introduced me to a lady-friend of his at a party. I took an interest in her, asked my buddy if he was cool with me asking her out and he told me to go for it. She and I had what I thought was a great date. My buddy called me the next day to tell me that the lady wasn’t interested and couldn’t see a way to let me down gently, so she asked him to tell me to break all contact.
About two months later, I was under the influence and dialing various folks, decided to call the lady up and ask her why she had blown me off. She said that my buddy had told her that I wasn’t interested and that I wouldn’t be calling her anymore.”
Another User Comments:
“Did you start seeing her afterward?” Reddit User
“I would find out later that my buddy had done what he did because he worked with her and had a huge crush on the girl, knew he wouldn’t ever be able to get together with her and felt that when I asked him for his ok, I had put him on the spot and couldn’t find the courage to ask me to back off.
Once everything was out in the open, we made plans to go out again but didn’t inform my friend that we had uncovered the deception. That was tough to do because I was thoroughly angry. I avoided the guy for the next month, ignoring phone calls, etc. He found out about it when I came to pick her up at work one night. Nobody said a word; he just looked at us like we had crushed his soul.
It had been her idea to do this, and I was gleefully happy with the idea of doing that until after I had actually done it. And then a really weird thing happened.
My relationship with this lady became all about getting revenge on my friend. Whenever there was a silent moment between us, she’d break it by reminding me of what a jerk he had been.
A few weeks into it, she’d break the silence by telling me embarrassing stories about him. It seemed like the only thing we really had in common was that we were angry at my friend. I broke it off after about two months.
It would be several months until I patched things up with my friend. Ran into him at one of the local bars, and after a talk about ‘Bros before hoes,’ it was all patched up.” thesink
“I’m actually ok with the way this turned out. While I wish you two had a long happy relationship and overcame the obstacle your friend gave you two – I was in a similar situation with a girl, and it ended in almost the same time frame. Only having that in common isn’t good grounds for a relationship.” venounan
6. She Went On A Shopping Spree... With My Checks
“I had just moved out of my ex’s house and needed a place to stay until I left for boot camp. So I moved in with my best friend and her ex.
For about 6 months, things were fine, with just a little bit of tension between me and her man (not chemistry; we just didn’t really like each other) and then I left for boot camp.
But before I left, I opened a bank account that I planned to use (keyword: planned; I ended up going with a military bank) while in the Navy and had the ‘Free checks’ sent home…to her house…
Skip ahead about a year, and I’m out of boot camp, settled into my station, and I go to buy a car. And the bank tells me, ‘I’m sorry Ms. PiranhasaurusTex, we can’t approve this loan for you because you owe Blah-Blah Bank $3000 dollars.’
Turns out, when the checks arrived in the mail, my ‘best friend’ decided to go on a shopping spree.”
5. He Made Me Steal A CD Without My Knowledge
He probably thought he was being funny, but come on, dude.
“It was winter and me and my ‘friend’ were in a store, I had a couple of bucks I saved and was going to buy some candy. So we went to a department store down the road.
My friend wanted to browse CDs so I went with him through the CD section, he then told me, ‘Oh, the hood on your coat is inside out.
Here, I fixed it.’
I paid for my candy, and on the way out, the door scanner went off. My friend bolted out, and I remained behind, got searched, and they found the CD in my hood.
They got my phone number, phoned my mom and the cops. Me being 10-years-old was blubbering and crying like crazy, and nobody believed me. Not even my Mom.
My mom proceeded to drag me home by the ear and then spanked me for what felt like an eternity with a wooden spoon on the bottom of my feet, causing them to bruise and making it painful to walk for a week.”
4. His Roommate Stole His Belongings So He Gave Him A Taste of His Own Medicine
“I had this roommate who kept using my stuff in secret.
I didn’t notice this in the first few weeks but soon realized that he has been not only using my toothpaste, but also fragrance, deodorant spray, shampoo and all kinds of stuff from the fridge (ketchup, sauces, etc.). It just didn’t make any sense how quickly these different products emptied. He used them more than I did.
For example, I only used the fragrance when I went out on the weekend, but after 2 weeks almost a quarter was gone. Since I always had to leave early in the morning, he had the freedom to use whatever he wanted.
One evening I asked him about this.
He denied everything with big surprised eyes and swore that he only uses his stuff.
So I had to set a trap for him.
I chose the toothpaste tube, because it was almost empty. I took a straw and poured a bit of salt inside. Since the toothpaste had already some kind of crystals inside, it was perfect for the salt crystals to blend in the mix. I placed the tube back where it was and waited for him to go brushing his teeth.
There he went a bit before midnight.
Started brushing and a few seconds later I heard gagging noises. And after a few more seconds I heard him vomiting in the toilet.
I guess he didn’t like the mix of sweet toothpaste and salt. When he finally dared to come out of the bathroom, he was fake smiling as if nothing happened. And he stopped using my stuff after that, or at least didn’t use as much.”
3. I Went To Surprise My Female Friend... Until My Best Friend Did First
“Fly up to see one of my best friends in DC (I’m a guy) to see her. We’d known each other for years, and she’d recently gotten out of a relationship. We had a thing you could say, and I wanted to surprise her at work for a fun weekend.
I let my best friend know a few days before I head out, and he wished me luck.
I get to her work and ask if she had made it in yet, and her friend said she’d taken the week off already and left with a guy. Crap. I check my social media and see my the girl has checked in at an airport:
‘Heading on a surprise vacation. Thanks Phil!’
Phil was the best friend.
I’ve never been so sad in my life. I didn’t have the fight in me to be angry at him. She had no idea, but it’s still too painful to talk to her today.”
Another User Comments:
“Talk to her, you butt-nugget.
Your friend is a loser. Just man up, explain why you stopped talking to her, and clear the air. Who knows what will happen, but leaving it like this is not right, and it isn’t good for either of you.” en_passant_person
2. She's Doesn't Spell Anyone's Name Right
“My boss sends the most illiterate emails.
One time he sent one out to everyone and told them to send their replies to ‘Sahara’ (meaning me) and one of the people included in the email responded to everyone and said, ‘Who is Sahara? She sounds exotic’ I DIED.
So, on every email I send, I attach my name, company, position, etc. ALL the time people will respond, ‘Thank you Sara’….but my name is spelled with the ‘H.’ I have started to reply to them leaving off a letter of their name. ‘No problem Rene,’ ‘Have a good day, Jon.’ They probably think I am an idiot, but it is worth it to me.”
1. I Got Him A Job, And He Fired Me
“I graduated from college a year before most of my friends and got a job at a great company. I rose up in the ranks. My dream was to one day take over my little division. The following year was a really bad job market, and my friends all had trouble getting placed. So what did I do? I spent some political capital in my new role and managed to get nearly a dozen of them hired for a seasonal project.
Some of them stayed on.
Most continued to report to me, but some spun off into other departments. My best friend, college roommate, and best man at my wedding also rose up through the ranks. When we got an entirely new executive team and our boss retired, I finally saw my chance to take over the division. This was my big break: I’d led my team to turn the only profit in the entire company during the 2008 recession: I was a shoe-in! Unfortunately, my buddy got another friend of his to make up a fake job and told the brand new CEO that he was being headhunted.
He parlayed this into getting the top spot over me, transferred my entire department to another manager, moved me to a newly created department as a ‘consolation prize,’ rejected all of my requests for funding, and three months later, I was laid off after ten years with the company because my new department was being ‘scaled back.'”