People Tell Their "Lay It On Thick" Revenge Story
38. Racist Doctor Loses His Practice To My Uncle Who Succeeds Beyond His Wildest Dreams
“My uncle is an Indian doctor. In the 90s there was a massive doctor shortage in Australia so the government gave him citizenship. Unfortunately, you still had to sit 3 expensive exams to work as a doctor in Australia. These exams cost thousands of dollars, only happened twice a year, had limited sitting spots/times and had arbitrary pass/fail marks. So many Indian doctors ended up becoming taxi drivers/small businessmen etc.
My uncle decided instead he would reapply and go through Australian medical school. Sure enough, being a doctor for 10+years makes medical school easy and my uncle was top of his class.
He decided since he was already pushing 40 + had a family, he would apply to become a GP (family physician) instead of applying to be a surgeon like most of his teachers had suggested.
At the time many desperate foreign doctors were applying for GP residency. They would essentially get treated like crap. They would be forced to work unpaid overtime. They would not be given proper study time or leave to sit mandatory exams. They would pocket the meals/accommodation/study/leave allowances that you were supposed to be paid by the training college. They would roster you to work every Saturday/Sunday shift and if you refused they would give you a bad review and your training would be jeapordised.
This mostly happened to foreign doctors as most of them would be in bad debt and highly desperate for any sort of work.
When my uncle graduated, he applied for GP training in a practice that is located within an Indian ethnic enclave so that he would have access to religious food/schools etc for the kids. My uncle would work every single Saturday shift. During his dedicated ‘study’ time he would have to come into work.
He got reprimanded for not overcharging patients in line with their framework. Worst of all, when my aunt was really sick and hospitalized, they wouldn’t give him any time off to look after her and the kids. The owner of the clinic was a racist GP who was openly racist against Indians, Asians and Aboriginal people (who were a large percentage of the clientele of this clinic).
My uncle bided his 3 years and as soon as his documentation came through making him a GP, he quit that instant.
He went down to the local bank and got a loan to open up his own practice. All his old patients quickly moved with him to the new practice. The first year he struggled but his practice quickly became known and word spread. Surprise, surprise foreign-trained doctors actually work well and care about their patients if you actually care about them and give them appropriate wages/living conditions.
More patients and more doctors looked to work with my uncle. Within 2 years my uncle had a GP practice that had 4 doctors, 2 nurses, 2 trainees and a manager. His practice easily rivaled his original teachers. He then started 2 more GP practices with the money he was pulling in. These practices trapped his old teacher’s clinic in a 2km triangle. He would advertise heavily and make sure he could take as much business from his old teacher as he could.
Within 5 years his old teacher’s practice went from hiring 6 doctors, 4 nurses and 6 trainees to just 1 doctor (his old teacher) and no one else.
His old teacher tried to sell up his practice to other doctors but no one would purchase it given how successful my uncle’s 3 surrounding practices were. He then tried to sell it to my uncle who refused to buy it even at a ridiculously low sale price. Instead, he waited for the bank to repossess his old teacher’s clinic and then purchased it for a bit more money from the bank. My uncle then re-purposed the building into his main offices from where he runs his other 3 practices. He made sure to redevelop his old boss’s room into a staff toilet just as one final tribute to the human turd that was his old boss.”
37. She Proved She Was A Member As Fast As She Can Pour A Coffee
“I work at a club/fitness center that is located within a gated community. Basically, a breeding ground for entitled people. I also happen to live in this community, but my mom and I rent and generally keep to ourselves and don’t get involved in the drama.
When you live in the community, a membership to the club where I work (that has a pool, tennis courts, gym, and dance studio) is included in HOA dues.
When you rent (like my mom and I do), the owner’s membership is transferred to you.
I work front desk/juice bar, which means I greet members, send emails, basically keep the place together. I also prepare all of the complimentary snacks and drinks and keep them filled throughout the day. The people are very annoying, but it’s good pay for a 16-year-old and my boss/coworkers are great.
Now back to Karen. It’s about 8 am on a Saturday, which means prime coffee time.
My shift starts at 5:30 am, so I am pretty tired and ready for a cup. I make all the coffee and complimentary food/drinks, so after I finish setting up, I usually have some. I have explicit permission from my boss to do so.
Members of the club can have all the complimentary food/drinks they want, so everyone wins.
Enter Karen. The giant canvas tote and terribly bleached bob are telltale.
I am standing at the counter, minding my own business, pouring a cup of coffee.
Karen asks in such a shrill voice that it could probably break glass, ‘Young lady, what do you think you are doing?’
Me, surprised, ‘Getting coffee.’ I was also pretty annoyed at being called ‘young lady.’ I am not her kid to talk down to and patronize.
Karen huffs, ‘You can’t do that!’
Me, too tired for this BS, ‘Why not?’
Karen, determined to combat the apparent danger of a minimum wage employee getting coffee, shrieks, ‘You aren’t a member! You can’t get coffee if you aren’t a member. Until then, no coffee for you!’
I start to hatch my ever so devious plan.
Cue UNO reverse card –
I don’t respond to Karen and walk over to the clock-in machine to punch out.
Members have a PIN number that they enter into a keypad so we can keep track of the number of people using the facilities. I walk over to the keypad, enter my PIN, and my name and picture pop up on the monitor, indicating that I am indeed a member.
I then walk over to the bar, passing Karen who looks like she is about to spontaneously combust with anger, to pick up my half-full cup of coffee and proceed to fill it from the coffee dispenser.
I then walk back over to the clock-in machine, holding my coffee and punch back in.
I sit back down at the front desk and start working on entering payments.
Karen is still standing by my desk, looking like she is about to have an aneurysm. I just ignore her until she proceeds to leave.
The 20 cents I lost from clocking out for two minutes was worth the look of pure horror on Karen’s face.”
36. I Am The Project Manager, Not The Secretary
“A couple of years ago I worked for a small team within a larger organization that ran a rather niche grant program. It was literally my boss, let’s call him Charles, me, and two part-time consultants who did our finances/bookkeeping.
My boss and I had a great rapport. He hired me to essentially run large aspects of our program, and gave me pretty much unilateral oversight of the key elements of it, from program design and development to execution.
He was a great manager in this respect. He provided a lot of mentoring and guidance, but mostly got out of my way, and only wanted me to escalate the big stuff that I felt rose to the level. While I didn’t love the job itself, I loved having so much freedom. I was sort of bridging that gap of moving from a young professional into a mid-career professional, and so this offered a lot of growth opportunities.
One thing that made my boss great was that he always had my back.
One day, I was in the office pretty much alone.
My boss was on the board of a few organizations, and he was off at a half-day meeting. Our offices were right across from each other, so I could typically see him when he came and left, and I could hear his phone when it rang.
That morning, his phone was ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Then finally, my phone rang. It was the Executive Director (ED from here on out) of one of the organizations we worked with, an older man, maybe in his 70s. The conversation went something like this:
Me: ‘Ouroborus13 speaking, how can I help you?’
ED: ‘(Sounding frustrated).
I’ve been calling Charles all morning but he’s not answering.’
Me: ‘Yes, he’s at a half-day Board meeting.
Is there something I can help you with?’
ED: ‘I doubt it. Maybe you could just check his calendar and put a call with me on there for when he’s back.’
Me: ‘I’m sorry, I wish I could but I don’t have access to his calendar, so I can’t see what he has in the afternoon and I can’t add things to his calendar. I’m sure he’ll be back soon….’
ED: ‘(Cuts me off).
That’s unacceptable! How does his secretary not to have access to his calendar?! Who sets his meetings?!’
Now here’s the thing.
While I am my boss’ employee, I am not his secretary. I don’t have access to his calendar, and my boss sets his own meetings. Not only that, but I had corresponded with, and even met, this ED in the past. My signature block and business card clearly say ‘Program Manager,’ as does my bio on our web page.
Alas, this wasn’t the first time someone had assumed that I was my boss’ secretary. It happens. I was in my late twenties at the time, and as a young professional woman working for a man, it seemed a common misconception. Usually, it’s not a big deal.
Normally, I clarify my role and people feel a little embarrassed, and we go on about our lives. So, I clarified my role for the ED.
Me: ‘Just to clarify, I’m not Charles’ secretary. He doesn’t have a secretary. I’m actually the Program Manager. Charles manages his schedule on his own. If you want to shoot us both an email, I’ll make sure that he responds and sets up a time to talk to you. Otherwise, when he comes back I’ll let him know you called so you can arrange a meeting….’
ED: ‘(Cuts me off again).
Well, I have an important question for him, and it’s unacceptable that I can’t set up a meeting with him, and I also can’t get an answer to it right away! How is this good client service?!’
Me: ‘Well, you know, I am the Program Manager. Why don’t you tell me what your question is about, and let’s see if I can help you.’
The ED explained that he called to talk about the application process and requirements for a program of ours, one that I actually ran.
Not only that, but the nature of his questions were not so complicated that it necessitated escalating to my boss. These were things I could easily help him with.
Me: ‘Well, you’re in luck! I am actually the one who runs that program, not Charles. I’ve designed that application process, and I would actually be able to answer your questions with a lot more detail than Charles would.
He would just defer you to me. Why don’t you tell me what questions you have, and I can answer them!’
ED: ‘(Long pause. Then, in a patronizing tone). Young lady, I’m sure you’re very bright, and I’m sure you want to be helpful, but I’d really prefer to talk to Charles. Why don’t you just take a message for him for me, okay?’
Now I’m kinda angry.
I’m about to tell him where he can shove his message when I see my boss coming down the hallway. So, I tell the ED that he’s in luck, I see Charles now! Let me go tell him you’re on the line and get back to you.
So, I put the ED on hold and intercept my boss. I kinda explain the situation. My boss chuckles to himself and says, ‘Transfer him over.’
I transfer the call and I can hear my boss pick up the phone.
Charles: ‘Chuck speaking… Oh hi there, ED, how can I help you…? Yes… Uh-huh… Yes I was at a half-day Board Meeting………….. You have a question about which program….? Okay, what’s your question…. Uh-huh, you want to know about the application process and criteria….. Uh-huh…. Okay, well have you spoken to my Program Manager Ouroborus13…….? Well, she’s actually the one who manages that program……. Yes, she actually designed the application process……….
Sorry, ED, I wouldn’t be able to answer that specific question……. No, I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to that……. Yes, that’s right, Ouroborus13 manages that entire program, and she’s really the expert on it…….. Let me go see if she’s in her office.’
I hear my boss put the phone on hold.
He takes a long pause before he gets back on.
Charles: ‘I’m sorry, ED, but it appears she must have stepped away from her desk.
Why don’t you send her an email and I’m sure she’ll get back to you……… No, again I’m sorry, but she’s really leading on that program, you’ll have to speak with her. I could transfer you to her voicemail if you wish……? No, okay. Do you have her email….? Great, so send her an email and I’m sure she will get back to you on all your questions ASAP.'”
35. Long-Sleeved Shirt To Cover My Tattoos? Ok I'll "Cover" My Ink
“Let’s set the scene. So this was a few years back.
I have quite a few tattoos (basically all my chest, my upper back, top half sleeves and one on the inside of each forearm (about 15cm across).
I worked for a cinema chain for a LONG time. Always had tattoos. I landed myself a management role (more like a supervisor). The standard uniform was a black shirt and black trousers.
I prefer a short-sleeved shirt due to being a bigger guy and cinemas being bloody hot.
My site manager quite liked my tattoos and other quirks that I had. My area manager, however, did not. She would come into the site, walk past 8 other staff with full sleeve tattoos and make a beeline straight to me, stating that my tattoos need covering up and I quote, ‘They’re not offensive just a lot of people don’t like them.’ Now my tattoos aren’t offensive they’re just patterns.
She informed me that I had to wear long sleeves to cover them up otherwise I would face disciplinary action.
I had read the employee handbook a few times because of other petty crap so I know it was the manager’s decision (my site manager) but she decided to overrule it. What she forgot was just because the normal retail staff HAD to wear black. Management was allowed to wear white.
Just Nobody did cos it was hard to keep clean.
So what should I do? I know let’s go and buy the thinnest cheapest most see-through white long sleeve shirt I can find.
Now if you could only see her face when she came in next when I’m basically wearing a shirt more see-through than tracing paper. (I’m talking you can see the color shift from my individual chest hairs) and ALL my tattoos are on show for everyone to see while standing behind the tills talking to customers.
Needless to say, I got to wear my short-sleeved black shirt again after that.
34. Steal My Personal Property? I'll Call You Out
“One of my best friends, Alex was a staffer in a state legislative office. His boss was head of a key Senate budget committee, so there were always people coming to solicit her support for a particular project or grant or whatever.
Someone representing an arts program who was looking for a $250K grant is waiting (I’ll call her LobbyAnn). She comes up to the reception desk and asks for a pen.
The Senator keeps giveaway pens with her name on them in stock – reasonably nice ones – so Alex reaches over to the can where the pens are.
LobbiAnn says something along the lines of, ‘Well then, the Senator will know that I showed up without a pen.’ (So what?) She looks across the desk. Alex has some work spread out with his own favorite pen, an expensive one with lapis lazuli inlay and engraved with his name and term of office of a campus organization.
Lobbyann reaches over, snatches it up and drops it in her purse. Alex, who is a very polite person, is completely gobsmacked and then tells LobbyAnn that’s his personal pen and it’s not up for grabs.
LobbiAnn gives him a contemptuous look and refuses, very rudely. One of the sad/funny things about this story is that she uses a slur that Alex was not sure was a reference to his heritage (Asian) or his perceived orientation.
Alex, confused and deeply upset, sits back down while LobbyAnn flounces back to the waiting area.
In a few minutes, the senator comes out to get LobbyAnn.
As they’re walking past Alex’s desk, he stands up and says in a very clear voice, ‘I’m going to need my pen back.’
LobbyAnn stops in her tracks, as does the Senator, and Alex says, calmly, ‘I may be a (slur) or a (slur), whatever you want to call me, but that pen is precious to me, you stole it right off this desk and I want it back.’
The Senator kind of gasps and says ‘She stole your lapis lazuli pen? She called you a (slur)?’ and then she turns to LobbyAnn, who is frantically fishing around in her purse and stammering something about just borrowing it, and says, “Give it back.” Once the pen is back in Alex’s hands, the Senator says to Alex, ‘Come on back, I need you,’ and turns and walks back into her office, leaving LobbyAnn standing there as the Senator shuts the inner office door in her face.
Then the Senator picks up her purse, smiles a big bright smile and says, ‘Want Starbucks?’ So she and Alex go out the side door and across the street.
They could see the front door of the office from Starbucks. It apparently took LobbyAnn about five minutes to realize how bad she’d messed up, and that she was not going to see the Senator that day or any day – and that the project she was going to ask for money toward was probably doomed as well (she’d lined up strong support in the House, so it might have made it through, though it was not the kind of project the Senator favored).
When she came slinking out, she almost certainly saw Alex and the Senator sitting there drinking their drinks.
Alex always ends this story with, ‘That was the best coffee I’ve ever had.’ “
33. I'll Give You Exactly What You Asked For On Your Pizza
“This happened today while I was at work.
I work at a gas station that has a pretty good pizza place in it and tonight I was working pretty much alone getting slammed with orders coming in nonstop.
About halfway through my rush, an online order comes through and almost immediately the phone rings. I drop what I’m doing and go answer expecting another order but it was just a customer (let’s call her Karen) wanting to confirm that her online order had come through.
I asked the name and confirmed the order with Karen, it was one large all meat pizza and I very specifically remember confirming this because she said that was correct and she would be using a coupon for it. I didn’t really think anything of it and went back to work making the pies.
Jump ahead about an hour toward the end of the rush and the phone rings, I again prepare to take another order but instead am greeted by an angry customer saying that I messed up their pizza.
I apologized and asked for the name so that I could look up the order and she says Karen. It has not been that long and I remember the name saying absent-minded ‘oh yeah, I remember the order. You called to confirm and I remember we agreed the order was correct.’
Karen: ‘Well the order I put in was for all meat but I wanted it with only double pepperoni on one half and only cheese on the other half.’
Me: ‘Ok, let me just pull up the record and we can get this sorted out for you.’
Karen: ‘The only way to sort it out is for you to make me what I ordered.’
By this time I had the order slip pulled up on the screen and could clearly see that there were no special instructions but was not really looking forward to telling that to Karen.
So I politely ask if she would mind holding while I talk with my manager to solve the issue and she agrees.
I head over to the manager’s office and explain the situation to her, she is a very easy going person and I love working for her because she will almost always just tell us to use our best judgment (the pizza here is super overpriced and the profit margin for a single pie is somewhere around 400%).
She said to just make whatever she wants and I agreed.
Back on the phone, I tell Karen that I would be happy to make the correct order for her and asked her exactly what she wanted.
She said it exactly like this. ‘I want a large hand-tossed crust with only double pepperoni on one half and only cheese on the other half.’ I repeated exactly what she said and was told yes that it was correct.
I tell Karen to give me 15 minutes and she could pick up her pizza.
Here is where the MC comes into play. I make exactly what she ordered. I rolled out the large crust, tossed it out to a large size, put it in a pan, added a layer of pepperoni on one half then put cheese over the other half.
I’m sure most of you know how a pizza is prepared and can tell that there was a skipped step in there.
You know, pizza sauce. Karen did not ask for the sauce on the pizza and I made sure that I let my manager know that I made exactly what she ordered to help cover my backside when she called in to complain.
When Karen came to pick up her pizza I had my manager take it out to her and ask her if the order was correct reading from the slip.
Large hand-tossed crust with only double pepperoni on one half and only cheese on the other half.
Karen smiled and said yes, then took the pie and left.
Jump to the end of my shift and my manager let me know that Karen had called in to demand a refund for her pizza because it had no sauce and was dry. The manager refused because she went over the order with Karen before she left with the pizza and told her she got exactly what she ordered.”
32. He Got Both His And Her Seat Back
“My country’s trains have a slightly infamous issue with people wrongfully taking seats that have been reserved in advance. When you book a seat – and you always get to pick your seat when booking online – your name (or reservation number, if you want to stay anonymous) gets displayed over your seat.
There were some issues with the reservations not coming up properly, which eventually got resolved, but people got used to the chaos of having to duke it out to get your correct seat.
In response, the railway company started introducing ‘Customer Service’ agents. In reality, the staff is part of ticket inspectors, part security. This story takes place about 1 week after these agents were introduced.
So I boarded my train, returning to the city I live in after visiting my family for the weekend. The train was about halfway along its route, and there were a lot of empty seats – this is important.
When I arrived at my seat – my name was above it – I found it occupied by a dude about halfway through a six-pack of beer. I told him that was my seat, and asked if he could move to one of the many, many unoccupied seats on the carriage. He refused and started cursing me out of it, saying he got there first and I could sit in one of the unoccupied seats.
Generally being a bit of a moron throwing his empty cans out into the aisle.
At this point, I could have given one of the Customer Service guys a heads up, and have them ‘persuade’ the guy to move to one of the empty seats.
But honestly, that didn’t feel satisfying enough. Cue petty revenge.
Looking above his head, I could see that the seat next to him was booked from three stops down the line.
I also knew that two stops down the line were when most commuters got on the train.
I plonked myself down in the other pre-booked seat directly next to this dude rather than sitting in one of the unreserved seats. The loser in my seat settled back down with his cheap beer and started blasting music from his phone. Two stops down the line, the train fills up completely. Standing room only from then on.
The stop after that, the lady who booked the seat I was currently sitting in got on. I explained the situation to her, and together we grabbed one of the Customer Service dudes.
I got my seat, the lady got her seat – and loser got to stand outside the toilet for the two hours left in the journey.”
31. He Couldn't Figure Out Why His Colleague Only Worked Half An Hour A Day
“Years ago one of my employer’s clients decided to set up a new office in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and I got chosen to spend three weeks there getting the new space set up.
Also chosen for the job was a guy from another division’s Chicago office, Dave.
I’d never worked with Dave before, but from the start, I didn’t like him much. He was never less than fifteen minutes late, he lumbered like a zombie, and I caught him dozing off more than a few times during the first week on site.
Still, he was the closest thing I had to a friend in Fort Wayne, so I invited him out to the bar on Friday for all the company-funded booze we could drink.
‘I wish!’ he says. ‘I’m going home and passing out until Monday, the commute has been killing me.’
Wait, what?
It seems Dave’s boss had been a jerk and, instead of paying for a plane ticket, hotel and rental car like my boss had, he’d instructed Dave to drive.
From Chicago, almost three hours away.
Me: ‘Dude. That is like, totally no bueno. Six hours a day just driving?!?’
Dave: ‘Yeah, it sucks.’
Me: ‘Still, it’ll be killer coin. That puts you at what, like 70 hours this week? Jeez. Make sure you put in for your gas and tolls quick though, the last time I had to get reimbursed for expenses it took ’em over a month.’
I could see what little light Dave’s eyes held fade.
Dave: ‘They’re not paying for any of that.’
Hearing that, I put in a call to my boss, who was as puzzled as I was. If he’d worked for our division, he’d be paid for his drive time and expenses at least, and we were both pretty sure it was corporate edict and not something individual divisions could choose not to obey.
Unfortunately, neither I nor my boss had any say in the matter and neither of us was familiar with Illinois or Indiana labor law, so all we could do was advise Dave to save his receipts for the IRS and complain to HR.
On Monday Dave was late again. After an hour I was worried and called his cell phone.
Dave: ‘I just passed Portage, making pretty good time all things considered. I should be there in about two hours.’
Dave sounded perfectly happy about it, so I figured he’d been required to stop into his office before heading out for some reason.
Me: ‘Okay, Dave. I’ll see you then.’
When Dave arrived a little after eleven, the first thing he did was take a 15-minute break.
Long drive, I understood. There was still most of the day ahead of us, and after the break, Dave finally got down to business booting up his computer.
He had barely logged in when he stood up and announced he was taking his lunch.
Oooookay. Something was going on, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what.
After lunch Dave finally got around to some work, putting in a good twenty minutes reading an email before stopping by to see me.
Dave: ‘I’m gonna take my second 15 now, then I’m heading home.’
Me: ‘Uh, what?’
Dave, grinning like a nut: ‘Don’t worry, I spoke to HR over the weekend.’
I didn’t see Dave on Tuesday, his cellphone was going unanswered, and neither my boss nor I had any luck finding out why.
We didn’t try hard; Not our zoo and not our monkey, after all. Ditto for Wednesday but whatever, he’s probably just sick.
And then on Thursday, I see Dave. Before work. At the hotel breakfast buffet.
Me: ‘Dave! I was getting worried when you were no-show the last two days.’
Dave laughed a little and after we’d piled our plates with bad scrambled eggs and burned sausage, told me a story.
On Monday the client had noticed him coming in late, doing no work, and leaving early and called our company to complain.
Dave, in turn, was called into a disciplinary meeting with his boss and local HR who were prepared to terminate him over putting in for 32 hours of un-earned overtime the previous week and not working at all the day before.
Dave said they were serious, too. One of the guys from building security interrupted the meeting to deliver a box containing the personal effects from his desk.
Dave had an ace though. Well, three aces.
An email from his boss instructing him to drive to Fort Wayne every day at his own expense as a ‘change in work location’ (1), an email from Corporate HR telling him he that while he wasn’t required to work overtime, he was required to report any overtime worked, including driving to or from a client (2), and a page from his division’s employee manual(3) which covered paid breaks off-site.
He then informed them that he was not working any more overtime and, after 3 hours of driving in, 1.5 hours of breaks, and 3 hours home it left him with just a half an hour a day to do actual work. Less, actually, if the traffic was bad.
Oh, and that Corporate HR was willing to stand behind him on it. He’d just spoken to them before the meeting.
Dave: It took them about three seconds to realize they were screwed, and well, here I am, back in action. And, since everything was booked last minute, I’m in a suite with a Jacuzzi and my rental is a darn Cadillac!”
30. If They Don't Believe You, You Just Gotta Show Them
“Background: Counsellor at Scouting Camp during summer for 10 days.
The youngest kids (6-8) sleep in the building and the oldest (9-18) sleep in tents on the terrain. For breakfast and lunch we eat sandwiches and for dinner, we eat soup and a main course. This one kid had been sick for quite a long time but could come to the summer camp. She had a feeding tube inserted into her stomach and couldn’t eat solid foods, the oldest kids (12-15 and 16-18) knew about the situation.
Her mom gave us the things for the feeding tube (I don’t know what it’s called) and some yogurt that was a little more liquid than normal yogurt so she could have that at breakfast and lunch.
She (Sick Kid) was 15-years-old and Entitled Kid was 14. Sick Kid didn’t want anybody to see she was sick.
Part 1. Some days had passed and we were having breakfast, I was sitting at the table when the following conversation occurs:
Entitled Kid: ‘Why is it actually that you (Sick Kid) always get to eat yogurt, like, that’s so unfair.’
Sick Kid: ‘Yea I think it’s unfair too, I would love to be able to eat a sandwich.
But that’s life, when it gives you lemons you make lemonade because you can’t eat the actual lemon itself.’
The whole table fell silent, everybody was awkwardly looking at their plates and nothing was said while eating the rest of our breakfast.
I give Sick Kid a careful under-the-table high five and after eating, tell her that if Entitled Kid ever confronted her again, which, she probably will, Sick Kid should just show her EXACTLY what’s wrong.
Part 2. I was visiting all the tents to make sure everybody was alright when I hear an angry voice. I look around and see Entitled Kid standing in front of Sick Kid:
Entitled Kid: ‘You know, you should be grateful for being able to eat special things because you’re “sick.” We eat plain sandwiches ALL week. You’re probably even faking.’
Sick Kid pulled her backpack from her shoulders and put it on the ground and did just what I told her to do, and showed Entitled Kid every little bit, starting with pulling her shirt up to show where the feeding tube was inserted, then what needed to be put in, giving a detailed instruction on how, showing her medicine, emergency medicine and showing how she needed to put a NEEDLE in her own arm just to not die, also telling the exact story of how she ended up in the hospital and what kind of surgeries she had.
All while keeping a calm voice as if she was teaching a toddler what 1+1 is. I walk up to Entitled Kid and say it is time to pack her bags and I will call her mother.
That evening we had a walk of shame. It’s a tradition at summer camp for when someone leaves early due to unacceptable behavior. This almost never happens, but when it does, it’s great.
What it is is: All of the kids and staff at summer camp go wave the kid who leaves goodbye, while one is escorted out by a staff member holding a letter to the parents explaining exactly what their kid did while the kid has to carry all their bags themselves (Entitled Kid had 2 suitcases, a sports bag, two backpacks, and a purse).
That evening after dinner we all ate yogurt as dessert.
Part 3. So this is the last day of camp, all the parents and families of the kids come to see what we have done that day (we told everybody how fun the days where after Entitled Kid left and made sure to take A LOT of extra pictures on those days, most of which with Sick Kid). We gave out some prizes like the one for stupidest staff and kid and told all the details of the ‘walk of shame’ after Entitled Kid was forced to apologize to Sick Kid (she didn’t).
Entitled Kid’s mom told me her punishment: She was forced to leave the club altogether by her mom, even though Sick Kid wouldn’t be in the same group the next year, and because she liked Sick Kid’s food so much, she was put on a diet. Breakfast: yogurt thinned with milk. Lunch: yogurt thinned with milk. Dinner: soup without anything in it Dessert: yogurt thinned with milk.
I asked if that wasn’t a bit harsh, but Entitled Kid’s mom told me that Entitled Kid needed to learn somehow. This is what I call: sweet, sweet revenge.”
29. The Other Woman Started The Pettiness But My Mom Finished It
“This is a tale my Mom told me about an encounter she had with a wild Karen and how she got a little bit of revenge against her for being, well…a Karen.
This took place some years back when I was in High School. Not sure if they still do but at the time my old High School held an annual charity auction. All kinds of items of all shapes and sizes were donated to the school for this event.
A traditional auction was held in the gym for the bigger, more expensive items while the smaller items were delegated to silent auctions in the cafeteria and hallways. If you don’t know how a silent auction works, in this case, the items were set out on a table, each with a sheet of paper where interested parties could write down their names and how much they wanted to bid.
Each table had a little timer to indicate how long the silent auction last and a pen so guests could write down their bids.
One year my parents decided to attend the auction. The items on sale in the gym were a bit too pricey so my Mom decided to focus on some of the silent auction items. When they arrived she spotted a few she was interested in, wrote down a bid and she and my Dad went off to enjoy the rest of the event.
Sometime later my Mom went wandering again and happened upon one table just as the timer on it was about to run out.
This table had one of the items she bid on and she was still the highest bidder…until Karen entered the picture and outbid her. Under normal circumstances, my Mom would’ve been content to let the item go, wanting it but not bad enough to start a bidding war over it.
However, she changed her tune after witnessing what Karen did next. There’s only one pen per table and to ensure no one tried to outbid her, once Karen finished writing her bid she proceeded to hold the pen to her chest like Gollum clutching the One Ring.
Needless to say, Karen wanted to win no matter what and refused to give up the pen even when politely asked.
Not taking too kindly to cheaters, my dearest Mother decided it was time Karen was taught a lesson with a bit of Petty Revenge. There was a student monitoring the tables and she asked him if he had a spare pen, which he did. She took this pen and proceeded to write down her next bid very…very…slowly.
Remember when I said that my Mom arrived just as the table’s timer was almost up? Well, there was less than a minute left and my Mom wrote as slowly as possible to stall for time so Karen couldn’t follow up with another bid.
Karen tried, of course.
Upon seeing what my Mom was doing Karen took her coveted pen and tried to write in another bid under my Mom’s name while she was still writing. But my Mom, being left-handed and Karen right-handed, positioned her hand and arm in such a way that Karen couldn’t get in. When my Mom told me this story she demonstrated all the ways Karen tried to squeeze in and it was hilarious. Mom kept an eye on the clock and when there were only a few seconds left she quickly finished writing her bid and that was that. She won, the student prevented Karen from trying to write another bid and Karen walked away defeated.”
28. Say A Comment Like That? Get A Sweet Taste Of It Back
“I am mixed race (white and Middle Eastern) and I have a Middle Eastern name.
That said, I’m pretty much just your run of the mill Canadian – I drink beer, wear flannel, and have been told I have a pretty thick Canadian accent.
Some people can’t see past the name and treat me like a POC (usually for the worst) so I’ve developed a thick skin.
I was in a multiple-day board meeting and volunteered to make the mid-morning coffee run for everyone.
One of the senior board members requested chai (tea with milk), and when I asked how they wanted it, said: ‘You’re brown, you know how to do it.’
Hmmmm.
I let the comment slide and headed down to the coffee shop. Problem was, I legitimately did not know what “You’re brown, you know how to do it” meant. My dad always liked his mint tea with a bit of honey in it rather than sugar, so I had an idea.
I ordered the board member large chai and then proceeded to pour out about 1/3 of it. I then took the squeeze bottle of honey at the end of the coffee bar and filled up the 1/3rd of the cup that I had poured out.
It was less a drink and more of a slurry when I tried to stir in the honey, and it goes without saying it was sweet to the point of being inedible.
I brought everyone their drinks and handed the chai slurry to the board member. The weight of the cup threw her off, and she hesitantly took a sip before recoiling in revulsion.
I had already taken my seat by this point and was watching intently.
She looked at me with a mix of anger/disgust/confusion on her face, and said, ‘[my name], what the frig is this? How much honey is in here?’
With barely concealed glee, I looked her dead in the eye and said, ‘Oh, that’s how brown people like it.’
She said nothing. I was not asked to make a coffee run again.”
27. Don't Mess With My Dad OR He'll Throw You Around To Teach You A Lesson
“Before I was even born, around 30 years ago, my dad was left in charge of his sisters, as both their parents had died fairly young. As a result, he was always very protective of them. My youngest aunt (I think she must have been around 19 at the time) was living with her dumb partner. My father had never liked him. He would talk crap about our family in their backs, would pretty much control everything my aunt did, he couldn’t keep a job because he spent his time partying… Just not a great guy.
Anyway, one day, my aunt shows up at my father’s place, her face all bruised up.
Turns out the butthole had been less than kind to her. My dad, being the good man he is, let her move in with him. The thing is, she had left a few of her things at her ex’s place, records, clothes, etc. But he wouldn’t give it back and had the locks changed before she could come back to get them.
For a few weeks, no matter how much she asked, she just couldn’t get her things back.
Eventually, she let it go, thinking she’d never see them again. Until one morning, when she found a box on her doorstep, filled with her things. No note, nothing. She thought it was weird. Maybe he had finally come around? Maybe he decided not to be such a jerk?
Anyway, years go by, she hasn’t heard from the guy, almost forgot about him… And then, one day out of the blue, she runs into him.
But before she even has the chance to panic, he turns around, crosses the street, and basically runs away.
She came home, and told my father about it. “What if he decides to come back? I’m not sure I can face him again!” And that’s when she, and the rest of the family, found out what had happened.
A few weeks after their breakup, my father got fed up with seeing his little sister cry.
Fed up with this guy trying to reach out to her, holding her things hostage so that she’d come back to him, fed up with him hurling insults at her on the phone. So he went back to her former apartment, and picked her locks (don’t know when he learned to do that. or why.). He could have just taken her things, and left, but he didn’t.
He wanted to make sure this butthole wouldn’t come back. Now I think it’s important to state that at the time, my dad was military. You DID NOT want to mess with him.
So he sat down, in the middle of the living room, in the dark. And when jerk ex came back, my father grabbed him. Didn’t punch him, didn’t kick. Just grabbed him from behind, and told him to get my aunt’s things and put them in a box.
“And don’t damage them.” He told him to just leave them at the doorstep, to not even try to talk to her. “Because if you ever talk to her again, I will do something much worse than this.” And then he threw him out of the window of his 1st-floor apartment.
In the end, the jerk probably broke a few bones, and even though it wasn’t legal, and I do not recommend it, it worked. Because he never talked to my aunt again.”
26. Harass Me With Spam Calls? I'll Find The CEO Of The Company
“I lived in a corporate relocation apartment for 3 months while relocating for a job. I started getting collection calls for the previous occupant almost immediately. They called multiple times a day, it would wake up my kids during naps, after bedtime, weekends, you name it. I started by politely letting them know I wasn’t the person they were looking for, nicely, rudely, begging–you name it.
They were incredibly rude and refused to tell me their names, the names of their supervisors, etc.
I was at my wit’s end.
After one particularly nasty encounter, I snapped. I started researching their corporate officers, etc. I found that the CEO and CFO had very unusual names and quickly discovered they had publicly listed phone numbers. (Yes, it was not a huge bank and this was early 2000s before people were exclusively using cell phones).
This was approximately 8 pm on a Sunday night. I called each number explaining that since I kept receiving collection calls from their company in spite of not being the person they sought, every time they called me, I would call them. I left my phone number and name and hung up.
Not even 10 minutes later I got a call from their IT department asking for all the pertinent info, who the customer was, my name and how to spell it. I never got a call from them again. I hope someone got fired.”
25. This Is Why You Don't Park In Places You're Not Supposed To
“I think this is the pettiest I have ever been, and no need to ask if I was the idiot, cause I totally was. But it tickled me and a few others. This happened a few weeks back and still makes my friends I laugh about it.
I do deliveries around our town, and as such I need gas to do so. There is one gas station I hit up every morning before work because the gas is cheapest, it is on my route to work and it has a better selection of breakfast snacks and drinks than the others around it.
Since I have been stopping off there a minimum of 3 times a week for the last 6 years I have gotten to know the owner and a few of the long-time staff there. They are all good people and treat me nicer than normal employees do.
So I try to treat them with as much respect as I possibly can.
One morning while I am filling up, one of the female employees (we’ll call her Rachael for this story) was standing idly by one of the pumps.
She has a few mental problems but is one of the nicest people I know. So while my gas is being filled, I strike up a conversation. She tells me she ain’t doing so hot, because she is supposed to take out the trash from the outside bins and put it in the dumpster around the side of the building.
The way the building is designed, there is only one way to get to the dumpster to put anything in it, and that way is clearly marked with signs and paint saying, do not park here or block the dumpster.
I look over and there is a caravan of about 5 minivans parked around the area. Most were in legit parking spaces, but the biggest one with a massive roof-rack was parked awkwardly in front of the dumpster, completely blocking it off.
I asked Rachael if she had asked them to move and she said they would move when they were done, and that was over 30 minutes ago.
I feel for Rachael and her sad face at that time so I tell her I will make it up to her. After getting the nozzle put back up and got my car ready, I drove over to where the van was parked and parked my car in the first open parking spot behind it, effectively completely blocking it in.
I get out of my car and walk about 5 steps away when a screeching Karen pokes her head out of the front window of the van.
‘Hey! Can you move your car, I’m parked here!’
Me: ‘Oh, but that’s not a parking spot.’
Her: ‘Well, yeah, that’s why I am trying to get out of it.’
Me: ‘OK, but hold on. I’ll just be a minute.’
I proceed to walk inside the store to get my morning meal, as I hear Karen screaming for me to come back. As the doors shut in the store, I noticed the place is overrun with families buying travel snacks.
They are all milling about but a few are looking out the window saying, ‘I wonder what Karen is yelling about?’ They are clearly all in her caravan.
By the time I grab my food and drink and make it to the check-out line, she has stormed her way in and is trying to tell me to move my car now. I tell her ‘I can’t leave, that would be stealing,’ so I am going to buy my stuff and leave.
She huffs at this and notices everyone in front of her is a member of her traveling party, so she just glares at me the whole time.
I finally make it to the front after like ten minutes and go, ‘Oh wait shoot this isn’t what I wanted, I’ll go put it back and grab what I really want.’ Luckily I was still very early for getting to work so I was milking it for all it was worth.
Karen is fuming. When I make it back to the line someone else is getting in line in front of me and Karen is trying to tell him to move so I can go first. The owner (we’ll call Jess) tells her she isn’t allowed to talk to customers that way and one more outburst from her and she will kick her out of the store.
Karen mutters to herself but is silent. I go up to check out, moving and talking as slow as I can and ask for a lottery ticket as well. After paying, since no one is behind me, I scratch it off, what do you know, I won a free ticket. So I buy another one and proceed to scratch it off. Karen to that point had been mildly tolerable, but then she let out this unholy screech and told me to stop wasting her time.
To which Jess told her to leave. Karen started to refuse and Jess picked up her phone threatening to call the cops.
Karen is then swift to leave at this point, now yelling at her caravan as to why they have to wait.
I thank Jess for all of that she has done so far and explain what was going on, still really slowly. She laughs and tells me how much she hates people who park there, they get all defensive when you tell them that they can’t park there, but this is the first time anyone got their comeuppance over it. I left and saw Rachael standing near my vehicle, doing her best not to laugh. I load up my car and asked if everything is better and she nods enthusiastically.
I move my car to the other side of the lot and watch them all leave one by one, but not before Karen pulled out in front of someone and almost wrecked.”
24. Oh, So You Want To Play Musical Chairs On A Plane?
“I don’t travel very often, it’s even more uncommon for me to fly. Therefore, when I do fly I always like to get a window seat. So last week, when I was boarding my flight I was frustrated when I came to my seat and this lady was in my seat. She and her friend were sitting in the window and middle seat while the aisle seat was open.
Thinking she was just confused, I asked her, ‘Hey ma’am, I’m sorry but I think you’re in my seat’.
‘This is my seat kid, you’re reading it wrong (I’m in my early twenties and definitely have a baby face).’ I’m kind of mad now and I go to show her my boarding pass. ‘Actually I have my ticket right here and it says_.’ She interrupts me. ‘I do this way more than you do kid, sit down in your seat there.’ I am livid but I don’t want to hold the whole plane up so I quietly sit down and simmer.
While I’m sitting there, I overhear she and her friend mention how tight their connecting flight is in DFW and how they’re worried they won’t get off the plane quick enough.
Checkmate you seat jacking mofo. So I sit back and enjoy the flight. Anytime I want to look out the window, I careen over their laps in a way that is super uncomfortable for everyone because I will be getting the view I paid for thank you very much.
Then, when we land, I get my petty revenge. I take my sweeeet time getting my bag out from under my seat. Stand up slowly and stretch. And insist that the two rows behind us go before I do, seeing as the two worst players of aviation musical chairs in the nation can’t get out till I do.
I walk slowly down the aisle and shake both flight attendants’ hands on my way out. The girls RAN out of there as soon as we rounded the corner. I felt great.”
23. She Made Sure Her Ex Never Forgot To Treat A Girl With The Utmost Respect
“In 4th-grade gym, I discovered heartbreak, revenge, and victory all in one class period.
Moments before class had started, my man dumped me because I was too weird.
There I sat in disbelief and sadness, and he just ran around like nothing had happened. We were put on opposite teams, only making the chasm between us greater.
Now, I am possibly the worst person at sports, wiffleball being no exception.
I stepped up to the orange rubber plate, the bat heavy in my hands. The ex was pitching and called out to everyone in the outfield:
‘Don’t worry about this one, she can’t hit anything.’
I was embarrassed. I was heartbroken. Mostly, I was furious. I said nothing, watching as he casually cocked back his arm. His eyes gleamed as the ball flew from his grip, careening towards me.
I raised my bat and swung with all of my measly strength. The Wiffle ball met my bat with a dull, plastic WHACK. Next, the Wiffle ball met my ex’s groin, square on. I watched as he crumpled to the floor, a wailing heap. My team cheered for me as I ran around the bases, greeting me with high fives as I cleared home. It was beautiful.”
22. She Has To Answer When Nature Calls – Especially In A Plane
“I’ve been in India for the last two weeks on a course with my university.
Just a day before I flew out I must’ve eaten something dodgy because I got the infamous ‘Delhi Belly’ – diarrhea.
As someone who likes to think ahead, I decided to book aisle seats for all my flights, knowing I’d probably be taking multiple trips to the bathroom.
As I made my way to my seat, I realized an older woman had taken it for herself.
I pointed at the number above but instead of moving to her middle seat, she got up and motioned for me to sit in it. At this point, I thought about telling her what the deal was with my colonic calamity but decided to just let my actions speak for me.
As soon as the seatbelt sign went off after takeoff, I got up to take the first of many trips to the lavatory. She had actually fallen asleep at this point so I had to wake her up so she could get up (grumpily). 20 minutes later I had to go again.
A total of 4 trips later and we’re still 1.5 hours from landing, she’s getting irate. Finally, after my 5th and final defecation, she offers to swap seats. The cherry on the top? I didn’t even get up again until we landed.”
21. More Icing? Here's A Mountain
“There was this regular customer, older, probably in her 50’s, who always came into the grocery store where I worked.
She didn’t stop by the bakery (my department) too much, but I knew her because she was always really entitled and nasty.
She would either a) demand me to check if we had more cinnamon rolls in back, or b) demand more cream cheese icing on top. She always came to me and never bothered to ask anyone else, probably because I was one of the youngest workers in the department at that time.
Fast forward to about 2 pm on Mother’s Day, and the workflow was pretty steady. I hadn’t experienced any drama up until the lady walked in. I was the only one working with a customer at this point, writing on a cake for him with all my other co-workers standing around the gourmet case (a glass case with a lot of bakery goods in it).
All I hear is, ‘Umm….
excuse me??? I need some help!’
I looked up and asked someone to help her.
The lady was clearly offended, ‘Mm NO, I want YOU to help me! You’re not doing anything!’
I replied, after making eye contact with the guy I was helping, ‘I’m with a customer. I’ll be with you in just a moment.’
She just couldn’t handle no for an answer, and she raised her voice some more.
‘I want more cream cheese on my cinnamon bun right now!!’
We had single-serve containers for the baked goods if people didn’t want them in a plastic bag, so there’s plenty of extra room up towards the lid.
Usually, she wanted a lot, and I mean a lot of cream cheese. I put a little extra on, just so I could hear her say, ‘NO, that’s unacceptable. I want much more than that!’
She was angry, and quite frankly, I was too.
So I absolutely slathered on a grotesque amount of icing onto the cinnamon roll. It was disgusting to think that she would probably eat the whole damn thing, too.
I handed her the container. I couldn’t even see the cinnamon roll underneath the heaping amount of icing. She huffed and walked away.
Next time I saw her, probably a few weeks later, she was looking at the baked goods in the case and I asked, ‘Would you like some more cream cheese icing for your cinnamon roll?’ And she frowned and said, ‘No, I can’t handle the icing anymore.’ Victory.
I never saw her again after that.”
20. He Knew The Limitations Of His Contract And Tried To Explain It
“Many years ago (more than 15), I worked as a programmer for an Oil and Gas automation company.
This means we would design and build the computer systems for oil and gas plants, commission them, and support the operators during the day to day operations. Because of this, my company ran a 24/7 support phone. Every week a member of my team would get the phone and be expected to be available to answer calls 24/7.
We had enough people on the team that it would roughly equate to getting the phone twice a year. Most of the employees of this company were salaried, and the 24/7 phone was written into their contract. For every phone call they took, they could charge a minimum of 1 hour in banked time.
This was a good deal for them and made the 24/7 phone easier to handle.
I was a little different than my coworkers in that I wasn’t a salaried employee, I was an hourly contractor. My coworkers would bank their time but I was just paid out biweekly. My contract also stated that if I was being paid by the company, I had to be available exclusively to the company. This was added by their HR department because a few years before they caught an hourly contractor running side jobs for other businesses at his desk.
This also meant that if they wanted me to be available exclusively to the company, they had to pay for my time.
For two years I knew the 24/7 phone existed but had never had to take it because according to my contract, if they wanted me to be available they had to pay my hourly rate after normal work hours to ensure that I was available to answer the phone when it rang.
Then, as in most corporate stories, my completely awesome manager left for greener pastures and was replaced with an absolute tool. After a month of being in the office, he decided it wasn’t fair that everyone took turns on the phone except for me. He declared that I would be put in the rotation effective immediately.
I didn’t want to cost the company a ton of moolah, so I tried to explain that if I’m on the 24/7 phone that means they have to pay me 24 hours a day for 7 days.
He scoffed and told me I obviously didn’t understand how the business worked. I told him he didn’t understand how my contract was laid out and that I’m an hourly contractor, not a salaried employee. He insisted that to be a team player I had better take the phone or look elsewhere for employment.
I didn’t want to seem like I wasn’t a team player, so I accepted the phone..and started my clock.
7 days later I handed the phone off to the next guy, and submitted my biweekly invoice. It came out to just over $10,000, with $8,400 being just that one week of having the phone.
I waited about 15 minutes before I was pulled into the manager’s office. When I arrived the manager, the head of HR, and the manager’s boss – the head of the department – were there with my most recent invoice sitting on the desk.
The department head just looked at me and asked what the heck I was thinking when I gave them that invoice.
I explained that the new manager insisted I take the 24/7 phone even though my contract clearly stipulates that if the company wants me available 24/7, they have to pay for every minute I have the phone.
The new manager became redder with every word. When I was finished, the department manager turned to him and asked him why he didn’t know this, since it’s common knowledge that no contractors are ever put in that kind of position.
As he was stuttering for an answer, the department head dismissed me and told me to expect my cheque at the usual time.
The best part? During the entire week, I had the 24/7 phone, it only rang twice – both during work hours and both calls asking for a specific person in the department. All I had to do was give them a phone number.
Those two 3 minute phone calls cost that company $4200 each.
After that, the new manager pretended I didn’t exist and refused to talk to me for 3 months until he was moved to sales in a different department. I was at the company for another 2 years and never saw that phone again.”
19. She Was Quick To Judge And Was Slow To Arrive Home
“I was waiting at the elevators, it didn’t take too long since my apartment building is not that big. I get inside and right when the door closes a hand pushes through.
She looked like your typical middle-aged Karen.
She presses the 17th floor and she takes one look at my floor, which was on the 2nd. She scoffs, glares at me and says, ‘The second floor? Really?’
Didn’t take much to anger me.
Her comment was so unnecessary and uncalled for. Who cares if it was the second floor? It’s my decision whether to take the stairs or not. I just finished an overnight shift and I was exhausted.
I guess my exhaustion made me extra moody because when I reached my floor she was scrolling through her phone. I quickly run my hands through as many buttons as I could and said, ‘Have fun, bee with an itch’ right when the door closes.
And because I was extra exhausted, therefore, extra moody and petty, I pressed the up button when the elevator barely reached the 3rd floor so I can use the other elevator and press a bunch of buttons again to further inconvenience her just in case she decided to get off on the 3rd floor to take the other elevator. Take the stairs then if it’s not that big of a deal.
Just don’t be freaking rude to your neighbors for riding the elevators to the 2nd floor. You don’t know if they’re exhausted or if they have non-visible health conditions that make it hard for them to take the stairs.” c
18. Won't Switch Shifts? Ok I Won't Either
“So I work in this small, family-owned office.
There’s about 25 employees total, but in the office, there’s only like 12 of us. The rest work offsite.
There’s a woman who works here, we’ll call her Jill. Jill is almost 40 and has been here for about 10 years. (For reference, I have been here just over 4 years). Since I have been hired (and from what I hear, for her entire employment) she has never agreed to switch shifts with anyone.
Not once. Not a single time has she ever done anyone a favor, no matter what. Yet she has no issue constantly asking other people to switch shifts with her.
A year into my employment my brother needed emergency surgery and I begged her to cover my shift the next day and all she said was ‘Sunday’s my only day to sleep in. Sorry.’ I never forgot that.
Whatever, she’s not obligated to switch shifts. It’s her prerogative if she wants to be universally disliked by our entire office.
Anyway, Jill got pregnant about 7 months ago, completely accidentally and was actually quite freaked out about it for a while. She’s pretty much been nauseous her entire pregnancy and even keeps a trashcan next to her desk just in case she can’t make it to the bathroom.
Yesterday she was feeling really sick and around 12:30 PM she asked our boss if she could leave early. He told her she could only leave if she could get someone to agree to finish her shift. Our shifts are mainly 7AM-3PM, 3-11PM, and 11-7AM, with periodic split shifts thrown in as needed. I was working morning yesterday, scheduled to leave at 3 PM, and she was scheduled until 7PM.
The only other person who could have stayed for her had plans right after his shift so I was her only option. She waited until 2:45 PM and then sauntered up to my desk, puppy dog eyes fully engaged, and asked me to stay for the rest of her shift because she was really feeling ill.
Now I’m on Reddit a LOT and I never forgot that post about the witchy manager refusing to allow her employee to be at her dying son’s bedside.
There’s a line in that text exchange that I loved and have been waiting for the perfect moment to use, and this was it.
I swivel to face her, look her right in her eyes, trail my eyesight down to her bulging stomach and pointedly say ‘a lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part’ and just swivel right back and continue working without another word.
It. Was. Glorious.
Her face instantly dropped, it looked like someone farted into her mouth the way it twisted. She didn’t say a thing and just waddled away back to her desk, absolutely furious. 15 minutes later I stand up and loudly announce my departure and that if anyone needs me, I’ll be at home taking a nap.”
17. He Was Stiffed $20 But Makes The Other Guy Pay For It Every Year
“I have done this multiple times but here is the most recent story.
So I was coming back from this road trip with a few friends and holy crap, there was a Pretty Lights show (my fave band) on the way home! So I immediately buy the cheapest tickets available, which came in a package of 4. It cost $40 for each ticket, but the face value was $55.
Anyways, 2 of them went to my friends, and with no time to lose (the show was starting in 2 hours), I posted an ad on Craigslist asking for $60 for it.
It wasn’t long before I got a message. The guy sent me a text and agreed to meet me in front of the venue in order to pay for the ticket. When we met, it was kind of my fault because I didn’t check, but he shorted me $20.
I was furious. What kind of jerk rips off somebody who hooks you up with a last-minute front-row ticket, right?
So, I have his phone number. For every holiday I wait. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. I like to think he’s having a good time, hanging out with his buddies or family. It is then that I post an ad on craigslist in highly populated cities (San Francisco, New York, Detroit, etc.) casual encounters m4m that says something like: ‘Bicurious twink looking to go down first.’
I write a convincing message that ends with ‘send your pics to 123-456-7890 and I will pick the hottest one.’
I wait a day, and take it down, for I am merciful.”
16. They Made Sure Justice Was Served Not Only For Them, But For The Entire Town
“A crummy repair shop in Moab, UT messed up our car which left us stranded in a nearby National Park.
We called and demanded they tow the vehicle in, and while they said they’d come get us they never did. When we talked with park rangers they were quite familiar with the shop: the biggest in town, and with a terrible reputation.
We were on our honeymoon, and had more time on our hands than I imagine most travelers do.
We went to the shop, demanded a full refund, and when they refused we sat out front on the curb in our camp chairs for two days with homemade protest signs. I was overwhelmed with the support we got from locals, who honked and waved, stopped and chatted with us and shared their own stories of horror.
The owner called the cops on us, but the joke was on him! We’d already notified the police we’d be protesting, and we’re well within our rights in doing so.
In the end, the shop owner refunded all our moolah and left visibly distressed when we told him that even with the refund, we weren’t sure we were ready to leave town. Eventually, we did, but not before filing complaints with the Better Business Bureau and every review site we could find. They’d already been booted from the Chamber of Commerce.
We ended up becoming friends with an awesome local mechanic and having a great story to tell.
Justice was served! And without a tinge of guilt.””
15. Call Me Out For Not Checking IDs? Yup, Yours Is No Good Here
“I work in a casual fine dining restaurant in a downtown area.
Prices aren’t crazy but high enough that we don’t get a super young crowd. The average age of our dinner crowd is 30 to 60 although it varies more on the weekend. I only include this information so you understand why I didn’t initially ask for identification (even though you should always check).
Thursday night a table of 4 comes in for early dinner; two entitles moms and their daughters.
Excellent. I’m ready for them to split entrees and tip me 15%.
Not the WORST type of table if we’re being honest, but nonetheless. They order a pitcher of sangria and I tell them I’ll be right back with that for them to which mom #1 says to me, ‘You really aren’t going to check these girls IDs? Her birthday was just last month. Aren’t you supposed to check anyone who looks under 40?’
She is correct, of course, that I should have asked for identification even though the girls were with their mothers and I was being lazy by assuming they were of age since their moms did not stop them from ordering drinks.
I agree with her and tell her that I actually am supposed to check ALL IDs regardless of age and proceed to look at all 4 of the ladies’ IDs. Unfortunately for mom, her birthday was a few days previously and her ID had expired.
In the state of Michigan, it is illegal to serve booze to anyone with an expired ID regardless of age so I had to deny her a glass for the sangria while her daughter and friend shared a pitcher.
She also threw a fit when I denied her a glass of sangria. She informed me that she, a business owner, is more aware of the law than I, a mere server, could ever be. I simply couldn’t ‘just do my job’ and bring her a glass. My generation doesn’t respect elders and blah blah blah. Her daughters were a little embarrassed but I tried to move past it and serve them the rest of their meal normally.
Mom kept huffing and puffing but said no when I offered to bring a manager over.”
14. His Grandfather Found The Jerk Who Messed With His Windshield
“So my grandfather was driving and an obviously intoxicated man threw a rock and shattered his windshield. My grandfather talked to him and told him ‘If you give me your real number, I’ll only have you pay for half of the windshield or we can figure something out.’ The guy turned out to give him a fake number.
A year later, my grandfather picks up a guy from Park & Ride (carpooling), and he happens to be the man that shattered his windshield. They’re driving on the freeway and the guy doesn’t recognize him. He’s being rude and talking on his phone. My grandpa asks to see his phone and throws it out the window. The guy freaks out and my grandpa goes ‘Remember me?’ He then made him get out of the car.”
13. He Used The Same Tactics His Bullies Did To Get Them To Stop Being Jerks And It Worked!
“Back in High School, the senior football players egged my dog (she was outside), house, and car. I had a few bros over and we ended up inviting some of the prettier girls from my school over. Football players didn’t approve of them being at my house and drove by egging and yelled ‘F you’ at me.
They also egged the girl’s cars that were at my house.
I felt embarrassed that this happened to them at my house. I knew which car they drove because of the yelling idiot and recognized the car. My friends and I hopped in my car and bought around 100 eggs to take our revenge.
We hit the driver’s house first, and all of his friend’s cars parked around the house. Then we went out looking for them. Ended up meeting them on your average 2-way street, leaned out the windows and absolutely pelted them while we were both heading opposite ways. They got out and yelled, and I stuck my middle finger out the window and we rode into the distance.
They didn’t cause any problems to the girls or myself after that.”
12. His Story Required Some Research And Cash, But Was Absolutely Priceless In The End
“I used to go to a public high school where the majority of students were low to middle-class Italian origin kids of immigrants (90% +).
Tough going to say the least. When I was in high school I used to get bullied by a guy called Renaldo. We had a few scraps, either verbally or fistfights over the years. I was always the type of guy who wouldn’t take other people’s crap.
When I went through puberty and became one of the tallest, largest guys in school, he somehow always managed to give me a hard time. It was a tough time but in a way, I paid my dues early and learned from a stern father that if people punch you, you punch back and you punch harder and you’ll know if they are men or not.
As luck would have it Renaldo ended up in the same college I went to and he always managed to somehow, someway be a jerk to me. What made things worse is that we fell for the same girl, Andrea who eventually became my partner of over 4 years. Everyone knew he had feelings for her and that it killed him she was with me and not him.
He always tried to ‘seduce’ her with random calls and emails. Being the son of a wealthy father who owned his own construction company, he always had nice cars, lots of moolah, a bunch of crap that I didn’t have and over the years worked hard to earn coming from a low-income family that was having problems making ends meet.
He was a constant issue the first year of my relationship and we had several conflicts.
Years later, after college and shortly after I broke up with Andrea, I received an e-mail from him out of the blue. I never corresponded with him (social media didn’t exist back then) and he went out of his way and told me in an epic letter (which went far too long) and swore at me in excess and used terrible English (no wonder he never finished college and dropped out to work with daddy) that ‘No one liked me in college and to F off.’
I haven’t seen him in well over 2 years, and we didn’t have any real friends in common.
As a way of keeping my cool, I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction to get me mad, I never responded to his emails (he sent several).
However, I couldn’t let his taunting go on without consequences.
So I went online and Googled his name. After searching around a bit, I easily found a complete profile of him regarding his career, where he worked, and what type of work it was.
His father passed away recently and he now owned his father’s business and had a team of employees working for him. I spied a bit more and hung onto the address of his place of employment for several weeks while I plotted.
One day, I proceeded to go into a local adult shop and I purchased the largest, fattest, floppiest toy that I could find and I went home, and wrote a special note for him to be included with said contents. I boxed up his naughty goodies in a standard box that couldn’t be traced back to me and sent it using priority mail that required him to specifically sign for it.
The note read, ‘Since you have so much time to search out people who never gave a crap about you to begin with, I figured you’d have enough time to go fudge yourself with this!’
One of our mutual acquaintances dropped me an email a few days later.
This acquaintance worked for Renaldo during his ‘internship’ and apparently the package arrived while they were preparing to head out for a team lunch on a Friday. He was very excited to get the box opened since Renaldo thought it was something he ordered online. He was expecting something totally different. Renaldo opened the box in front of a number of co-workers and instead of whatever he ordered, he pulls out….a giant black floppy adult toy. Priceless.”
11. In This Kid’s Case, The Only Way To Get Even Was To Get Messy
“Long story short, a kid I was friends with hit me in the groin 3 times in one night.
He then called me a ‘wee baby’ and got in my face. He tried to make me flinch by half-swinging at me. I didn’t flinch, but instead head-butted him with everything I had. Crushed his nose, blood pouring out of his face. I had a tiny cut in the center of my forehead, with one line of blood running down my face. I looked freaking psychotic, but like a badboy. Also, fudge you for that David.”
10. She Put Her Finances On The Line, And Wasn’t About To Give Up So Easily
“When I used to be a cheerleader, we were organizing a trip to Florida (from the UK) to do some training and to have an awesome holiday. I took charge of organizing the flights and asked everyone if they were OK paying me back if I bought all the flights together.
Yeah I know, bad idea.
Anyway, needless to say one girl changed her mind about going because she was starting a new job, and just before we were due to go I got a handwritten note in the post from her mother (we were in our twenties) saying that she never agreed to me booking a flight on her behalf and that she wasn’t liable to pay me because she had decided not to go.
I was in a bit of a panic because I didn’t have her home address, and she just ignored all my calls and emails. I wanted to take her to court but to do that you have to have their address in order to serve the papers.
After spending ages trying to ask around if people knew her address, and even trying to get her friends to give it to me without success, I stayed up all night figuring out a way to figure out where she lived.
It literally took me all night but I managed to hack into her Hotmail account and then her PayPal account, which led me to her home address I could have just taken the moolah from her account, but I did want to do this as by-the-book as possible…
She turned up in court accompanied by her mother, and they tried to use social media photos to prove that I had used her ticket to take someone else in her place.
I came armed with a printout of the airline terms which clearly stated that the tickets were non-transferable.
Judgment was swift. The victory was mine.””
9. This Student Taught His Awful Teacher A Lesson He’ll Soon Never Forget
“There was a teacher that I hated in middle school and he hated me just as much. One day I noticed that one of the magazines in our classroom had his address on it. I wrote it down and waited until summer vacation, so it would be less suspicious. I went to Borders and got a bunch of magazine subscription inserts and had a close friend who went to another school fill them out with his information.
I checked the bill me later and sent them out. When I got back to school the next year, I could tell he suspected me but couldn’t prove it and I was happy because I didn’t have any classes with him anymore.””
8. Goofing Around With Someone When They’re Operating Heavy Machinery Is An Open Invitation For A Losing Battle
“I was out snow-blowing the driveway one day.
Some dude who is a friend of my sister’s walks up to me and throws a snowball at me. He then gave that look like ‘What are you gonna do about it man?’ and laughed, putting his hands up as if to go, ‘Ohhhhhhh!!’
Dude? Do you not see this large snow-moving device I am pushing around?
Only took several seconds to completely coat him in snow, and the look of defeat on his face was glorious!”
Another User Comments:
“There’s a big field by my house and my brother (5 years younger than me) and his friends thought they’d be tough guys and take on the older university guys in a snowball fight. The look on their faces when we came flying across the field on skidoos was hilarious.” GenesisProTech
7. I Stood Up To My Racist Teacher
“I live in Venezuela and went to a crappy public school, so when the time came for my class to learn English, it was pretty shocking for all of my classmates to learn that I already knew the language – I was taught at home by my father.
My English teacher, however, didn’t buy it. She insisted I was being deceitful, and every time we had to take a test, she would isolate me from the others ‘so that I wouldn’t copy them’ (which made no sense since the others were barely passing the class).
She was openly hostile to me at any given chance, be it during class or in the halls.
At one point, she actually started yelling at me in the middle of class. It was horrible, and I finally asked what she had against me. She told me. ‘You want me to believe you already speak English when that’s an obvious lie! You’re black! Your father is black! You people are not smart enough to speak two languages!’
The whole class went silent, which made my answer of, ‘You freaking hussy!’ sound incredibly loud.
I stomped out of the classroom to call my parents. It didn’t dawn on me what I did until the next day when all my classmates were fussing over me since it was the first time they heard my nerdy, quiet self utter a rude word.”
Another User Comments:
“I HATE HATE HATE teachers who have vendettas against certain students for any reason. Their jobs are to teach, not to judge and treat students poorly. It affects how people learn in the present, and in the future especially if the teacher kills the confidence in the student. Really burns my beans.” obamaneborrabratwurs
6. Treat My Girl Poorly? I'll Make Sure You're Behind The Bar Forever
“I’m a 26-year old man who works as a program coordinator at my company. We’re a 1,000 person team that focuses on supporting the military with defense contracts.
My girl is 22-years old and works as a bartender while she’s finishing up her final year of university. She’s sweet, shy, and makes me laugh every time we hang out. I love her so much.
But one of her coworkers, Megan, is a complete jerk to her when they work together.
Cusses her out in front of diners, belittles her when she makes a mistake, reports every little infraction she makes to the general manager, etc.
This woman is in her late 30s and still acting like a high schooler. My girl has reported this behavior several times to management, but they just wave it off. Several nights she’s cried into my shoulder, talking about how badly she wants to quit as I reassure her she doesn’t deserve being treated that way and Megan is trash.
One afternoon I came into the restaurant while my girl was working at the bar. Sure enough, Megan was also there along with another young guy. The young guy and I are talking about our career goals when he asks what company I currently work for.
‘[defense contracting company],’ I respond.
‘Oh hey, Megan just applied there, right?’ he says, turning to Megan. ‘Didn’t you apply for [defense contracting company]?’
‘Yes,’ Megan replies, not making eye contact with me.
‘Oh? What position?’ I ask.
‘A warehouse one,’ she answers.
That’s all I needed.
That night I asked my girl what Megan’s last name was, and the following morning I immediately headed towards the warehouse manager’s office.
We maintain a good, professional relationship. I informed him that a woman named Megan _______ had applied for some type of position under his department and warned him that she was prone to cause trouble.
He thanked me for informing him and I went about the rest of my day as normal.
That was two months ago. Last I heard Megan was still working as a bartender at my girl’s restaurant. I applaud her for trying to move up in the world. Maybe she’s looking to get health benefits, maybe bartending is getting to be too much as she ages. But I don’t think anyone else deserves to suffer from her workplace attitude.
I think she’s exactly where she needs to be for the rest of her life.”
5. When He Got To Wrestle His Pestering Peer, He Took Full Advantage Of All The Painful Moves
“There was the kid in Jr. High that was always in my life. Not a bully, but just 2 parts jerk and 1 part bee with an itch. Constantly trolling me, following me around talking crap. I tried turning the other cheek, being nice and stuff like that, but it just was not working.
Fast forward to high school, we are both on the wrestling team. I’m like one weight class above him, so we have lots and lots of close contact and he was still being a loser.
Double leg takedown. Scooped that jerk’s head up in the air and dented the mat with him. Coach got angry and made me do extra cardio after practice. Felt really freaking good.”” J_G_B
Another User Comments:
“We had a kid like that on our wrestling team.
Unfortunately, I was the smallest kid on the team and he was way bigger than me. He liked to push me around and generally harass me and there was little I could do.
His game was to see if he could push me to the point of fighting so he could beat me up (I never let him).
Fortunately, the guy that ended up being my best friend (and the best man at my wedding, and me at his) who was a weight class above me as well as the 190-pound friend of his really didn’t like bullies, and really didn’t like that guy in particular (he was an asshat in general).
They helped me harass the crap out of him (our favorite was kicking the tires on his souped-up civic and getting him to run out of the locker room without clothes on when the alarm went off). I harassed him to the point where he was red-faced and ready to beat me at which point they would step up and remind him of all the time he harassed me.
Was it kinda wussy to have bigger “kids” protecting you? Sure. But when you’re small you gotta be smart and sometimes you have to swallow your pride and find your revenge where you can.”
4. He Taught His Thieving Comrad Never To Take Something That Isn’t His
“Canadian air cadets, summer camp, got picked on and things stolen from by one other cadet with issues for the duration of the camp.
Was allowed to go buy sundries at a local Pharmacy once a week. On the final day of camp, we did precision parade drills for friends, family, dignitaries, etc. Sort of like graduating from boot camp. A formal event where we were expected to be at our best.
Swapped the contents of a package of Chiclets for a package of Feen-a-mint (laxative gum). Sure enough bully takes the gum as I opened the package in front of him. A while later we are called up for drill. Since it was hot and in full uniform if we experienced exhaustion or were about to faint we were to drop to one knee and wait till we were taken out of formation.
He and one other guy dropped to one knee partway through. I don’t know if he pooped himself but I like to think he did.”
3. This Man’s Revenge Meant Driving His Ex Closer and Closer To The Edge Of Insanity
“My ex two-timed on me, moved out but moved out slowly over time, which meant I still lived with a lot of her stuff. Some of her clothes were left in the closet. I cut teeny tiny corners off of every sleeve, but barely enough to be noticeable.
You’d have to think you were going insane to notice it…but then again, over time, each sleeve did look…somewhat off.
She eventually asked me about it months later. I denied everything. I regret nothing.” mikelovenotwar
Another User Comments:
“When my ex and I broke up, it was a slow move. He lived at a friends but most of his stuff was still by me. Neither of us had a lot of coin, plus we had two and a half months left. I couldn’t afford to look for a new place until I had paid my last months rent.
He didn’t have room at his friends for his stuff but he’d come back periodically to pack up things like — cooler clothing, since the temperatures were getting warmer, software for his computer that he hadn’t packed initially, etc. Hence the slow move out, until the final, official move.”
Another User Comments:
“I had a slow to move out ex also, I wish I’d been this creative. All I did was give her until a certain date to get stuff, then when that date passed waited until the first rainy day and threw her crap in my yard with a text saying to come get it before the rain ruined it.” cloakingdevice
2. He Decided To Get Revenge In A Rather…Crappy Way
“Back in the summer of ’09, my girl and I were going pretty strong, anyway I found out she was hooking up with this guy on the side.
She admitted it and said she was sorry and I broke up with her. Anyway, I didn’t know the guy but it remembered his name. One night at a party, a few months later, I got introduced to a dude who turned out to be him.
I’m not a guy to hold a grudge generally but this was something else. I didn’t want to do anything to him but when I walked into a bedroom to make a phone call, there he was passed out on the bed.
I didn’t know what to do but I knew I had too good an opportunity to pass it up.
I was pretty not sober at the time and the first thing I thought of was to take a dump on him. I passed it off as a stupid idea but I couldn’t think of anything else so I went with it. I left the party just after and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Not a day goes by I don’t think about it. Needless to say I haven’t told anyone about this in real life. Vengeance is a dish best-served poopy.””
1. This Bully Learned Never To Underestimate His Prey
“When I was 11 years old, I was bullied by a 12-year-old boy. He would steal things from my lunch every day. I got sick of it and decided to do something about it. One day, I brought a super hot pepper in my lunch and pretended to be really excited about it. Sure enough, the boy comes over, snatches it from my hand and pops it in his mouth.
He practically exploded in pain. Writhing around the floor, unable to handle the heat.
I calmly looked at him and told him that drinking a nice glass of cold water would help immensely. He did so. This promptly magnified the pain 100x.
He never stole food from me again.
I regret nothing.”
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