People Tell Their Zinger Of A Revenge Story

Tangy or spicy, we all need a little sauciness in our lives. And, no, I'm not talking about the stuff that you put on your burrito or drench chicken wings in. In this case, we're talking about bold acts of revenge. Saucy revenge doesn't always have to involve extreme acts, but it does have to have that little zestiness, if you know what I mean. Without a little sauciness, revenge would be boring. However, believe me when I say these stories are entertaining to the max. This compilation offers a great variety of minor and major acts of revenge that will leave you feeling whole and fulfilled inside.

15. I Found A Loophole To Get Good Grades In Strict Teacher's Class

“I had this terrible history teacher for my AP U.S. History class last semester.

This dude had a habit of treating us like we were in grade school.

Example: Misspell a word on a test?

Get a big red circle and a huge comment across the page of “spell check!”

One day, we were in class and a kid called out a spelling error on the board and said, “Mr.

B, spell check!” We all laughed pretty hard because the guy was a stickler, and he had broken his own rules.

Well, my buddy, “Cindy,” laughed as well. Cindy was pretty quiet and shy, never makes comments unless asking questions. Mr. B tells Cindy to go to the principal’s office for disrupting his class. The class asks why. He just shuts down any asking, gives us all essays, and sent her anyway.

Cindy got suspended for half a day because of “unruly behavior.” I was pretty angry at this point.

She didn’t do anything wrong. I decided to skip my homework in his class as a protest since I would finish the class with a 92 without the homework.

Well, this apparently was an issue for my teacher. One day, he decided to pull me out of class and ask me point blank why I hadn’t done my homework. I said I needed to focus on my other classes and AP courses as I was running a solid A in his class and that even without the homework if I got an A on his final (I had an A on the midterm and every other test he had given us), that I would finish with a 92.

He then threatened me with flunking me if I didn’t turn in the homework by next week.

Mr. B, being a “facilitator” for his students, had put on his class curriculum an option for a “student project” if a student was involved in a time-consuming activity like sports. The student would submit to him an idea for an individual project, and he would approve it, and instead of a mid-term or a final, and the student would be graded on the project.

I asked him if I could do a student project instead. He asked me what I had in mind. I said a bet. He raised an eyebrow and asked me what I meant.

So I proposed my terms:

If I got anything less than a 4 on the AP U.S. History exam, he could flunk me, and I would repeat his class next semester. If I got a 4 or above, he would give me a 100% in the class.

He looked at me and said, “See you next semester, Mr. T.”

Well, June came, and we received our scores. Since the teachers were at the school until mid-June finishing their grades, I drove to the campus, walked into his office, and slapped the test results down on his desk. I said, “Thanks for the 100%. It’ll look great on my college applications.”

Before I left, I noticed (by chance) that a word had been misspelled on the board. I turned around and said, “Oh, and Mr. B? One last thing: spell check!'”

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StumpyOne 2 years ago
What a cow! I'm so glad you're okay <3
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14. Maybe You Should've Cared More About The Wellbeing Of Your Colleague Than A Customer

One word: inconsiderate.

“A little back story (it is relevant). Quite a few years ago (before there was a title of Karen), I worked for a bank. I worked in a small branch in a little local community not far away was a larger branch that had more responsibilities and services than we had, and although they were not responsible for our management, if people had complaints, they could complain to them.

We had a local clientele that would come in and only use us for their banking services as we were opened slightly longer than normal branches. A few of our clients were business owners who liked these longer hours and were quite well off so were very important to both branches especially the larger one as they were trying to poach them to sell them more accounts and services.

One day, I was working on the front as a teller accepting transactions I had a queue of about four or five people. I completed serving one customer and was just putting their money into a drawer, and I looked up and a man was standing in front of me he was not the next person in the queue (a lady was), and I was about to tell him to get into his position in the queue.

When the manager had realized what was about to go down (as he was wearing a mask that I had not noticed yet) and asked the man to come to his station where he pushed a gun under the gap of the security glass and pointed it at me and the manager. I completely froze, and instead of pushing the alarm, I just sat there (luckily the manager had); I just kept staring at the gun.

He was screaming at me to give him money or else he’d shoot. Police must have been in the area as I started to hear the sirens, and the robber decided to run. The manager ran out of the bank trying to see which direction he went and to get the police.

So I just sat there in shock all alone when the woman who was supposed to be next walked up to my counter and asked if she could withdraw money.

I just stared up at her and said nothing. The woman who was behind her said, “Can’t you see? She is in shock; they have just been held up, and I think we all have to stand here and wait for the police.” She said she needs this money now and hasn’t got time to wait, and I just sat there. The woman in the queue said to leave me alone, and the others in the queue were saying things to her (I’m not sure what).

I said nothing.

Within the next minute, the manager returned with the police, and I was told I had to go with them to drive around the area and see if I could see the robber. I could not spot him and had to have the police car pull over, so I could be sick. The police officer said I needed to go home, and he got onto the radio with this colleagues and told them to inform the manager that I was sick, and he was taking me home.

I was off work for the next few days as I couldn’t sleep and kept having nightmares.

When I returned to work the manager called me into his office initially to check if I was ready to be back at work as he was willing to give me more time off (we had a great manager there) and to offer me back-office work to start off, but I refused as I said the longer I stayed away, the harder it would be to get back and that I just wanted to get over it.

He then asked me a weird question which was, did I receive any flowers from the larger branch? I told him I had not. He explained that the woman who asked to be served after the robbery had made a complaint about me to the larger branch that I had treated her horribly, and she said that she felt like a criminal because other people in the queue had berated her because of my treatment.

So the larger branch had sent her a huge bunch of flowers and some vouchers as an apology for her experience when they never even checked with me or anyone else what happened or checked how I was feeling after the attempted robbery.

He found out because she came in while I was off and saw that I was not there and was grinning ear to ear (colleague’s description) asking if I was fired and went into the whole story. As I was off, the manager did not want to bother me, so he started his own investigation as he knew that was not like me.

The lady behind her in the queue was a regular, so he asked her what happened, and she told him I never said anything, and she thought I was in shock.

He then waited until I was back at work and checked with me if the other branch contacted me or sent me anything, when I told him no our plan went into action.

The manager approached the woman and the other two people who were in the queue and asked them if they would make a statement to back me up or even better to complain to head office (not the other branch) about what happened.

They said they would complain so we just had to wait. Two weeks, later I had given up the ghost when I was called by head office asking if I would be at work the next week. I told them I would be.

The next week, managers from head office arrived at our branch. I did not know but one of the clients was a wealthier client and had told them that he was so unhappy that he was considering moving his business elsewhere.

Also, he had convinced other clients to make complaints. This is why they had decided to visit our branch they wanted to “nip this in the bud” before they lost any clients. They took me and my manager to the other branch where the other branch manager had a huge bunch of flowers and had to make a public apology in front of his staff. I assume this manager was not a nice one as the staff there were grinning watching him make the apology also whilst making the apology the look he was giving me was evil.

This added to the satisfaction I gained watching him apologize to me as a lowly teller from a smaller less important branch.

I don’t think anything happened to the manager except a reprimand. Although the complaints procedure was updated at that branch. Quite a while later, I heard through the grapevine (as I had gained many a friend at that branch after the apology) that he was an awful manager.

That the promotion he was going for was rejected and were terrified that they would be stuck with him, but he transferred not long after as he felt did not have the respect he felt he deserved from his staff.

The woman who made the complaint received a strongly worded letter from my manager stating that she obtained those flowers and vouchers through deception and would no longer be allowed to use our branch. She was one of the people who used our branch after she finished work sometimes using the longer hours that we were open, and she lived within a mile of it whereas the other branch is 5 miles away and not open as long as us. She tried to complain about that, but head office backed us 100 percent.”

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biha 2 years ago
What a bitch, you deserved all the upper hands you got against those morons 🙂
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13. Sure, I'll Keep Sweeping Until It's Absolutely Spotless

“A couple of summers ago, I took a part-time job as a server at a local pub/restaurant. I had a full-time job, so this was just for the experience and to pick up some tip money on the side. The pub had been closed for a few years after the old owner couldn’t afford it anymore, so when the new owners picked it up and got it ready for opening again, the town was pretty excited.

It’s a bit of a town landmark, right in the middle of our main street.

I applied as soon as I found out and ended up getting hired! I was one of the younger servers, alongside a few older ones. Most of us were women, and the older servers really looked out for us inexperienced ones. Overall, the others on the team were really nice, save for a couple of nasty ones.

My new boss Gary was… well… not as great.

Gary’s favorite saying was, “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” He thought if we took even a second to catch our breaths, he was losing money from us “slacking off.” On slow days, he would find menial, pointless tasks for us to complete – wipe the bar counter (even though it’s been wiped 3x in the past half hour already), re-organize the menus (even though they’re already perfectly organized), fill up more condiment cups (even though there’s already fifty salsa cups ready to go).

Stuff like that. The most tedious task, especially in the early months of the summer, was sweeping the side alley that leads to the patio. There were these massive maple trees along the path, and they would drop leaves and seeds like crazy, especially on windy days.

One afternoon in early June, there was only a handful of us working. It gets slow, and I get assigned the sweeping task.

I sweep up the back alleyway as much as I can, but the wind is blowing, and the trees just keep dumping more and more seeds onto the path. I do my best until a coworker calls me back inside to help serve tables – she didn’t want me missing out on tips, bless her.

I seat the table, get their orders, and start entering them in.

Just then, Gary storms up to me.

Gary: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Entering table 15’s order. Why?”

Gary: “The side alley is a mess. I don’t pay you to slack off.”

Me: “I swept up as much as I could before this table walked in. It’s a really windy day – that’s why it keeps getting full of leaves and seeds. You’re more than welcome to check the compost bin for how much I actually did sweep up.”

Gary: “No.

We don’t finish things halfway here. You’re going back out there and finishing your job. I want it to be spotless. Linda can take table 15.”

Gary then switched table 15 from my account to Linda’s (an older server) account. Linda and I got along great – she worked as both a server and a bartender, and used to be a General Manager with another restaurant chain.

She decided to join this team after her retirement as a part-time hobby. She taught me a whole lot while I worked there, and I’m grateful to have met her.

Linda: “I’ll hang onto your share of the tips. Best not to make Gary angry.”

Me: “He really wants me to make it spotless – does he know how impossible that is? I’d have to be out there all shift.”

That’s when Linda gave me a smile, and the lightbulb turned on in my head.

I still had two hours left in my shift, and it was going to be right into the dinner rush. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and got to work.

I would sweep as much as I could, but every so often, another strong breeze would come by and hundreds of more helicopter seeds would flutter to the ground. I kept going. At this point, it started to get busier.

A line-up soon began to form out the door. Linda was taking care of tables, but very soon it became clear that the other servers needed someone else to deal with everyone. Linda let them know what was up, and most of them, who tolerated Gary at best and hated him at worst, understood.

I kept on sweeping.

Like Sisyphus and the boulder, the task was never-ending. I scooped up pile after pile after pile of leaves and seeds, to no avail.

After 45 minutes or so, the side door opened suddenly, to reveal a red-faced Gary.

Gary: “Why aren’t you in there serving customers?”

Me: (gestures at the alleyway)

As if the gods themselves had heard the malicious compliance brewing, another strong breeze shook more seeds onto the partially-cleared alley, right in front of Gary’s face.

The look on his face was priceless.

He told me, in a quieter voice, to get back inside and start taking orders. I handed the broom off to him, and he began to sweep. And sweep. And sweep.

The other servers and I had a good laugh about it inside, and I managed to make decent tips that night. Gary realized he couldn’t exactly fire me for following his orders perfectly and ended up being more relaxed about the side alley – no one really cares about some leaves and seeds on the ground, so long as they’re not obstructing anyone.

I ended up working there for the rest of the summer before quitting. I hear the pub had to be passed on to new owners after Gary’s disorganization got the better of him.

My next shift, I found a broken broom in the garbage. I’d like to think it was the work of Gary, red-in-the-face and exhausted from battling against mother nature.”

Another User Comments:

“You can still hear Gary sweeping if you listen when the wind blows…” Historical_Turn_8748

33 points - Liked by leonard216, Bohkat, JudgingYou and 30 more

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dam. 2 years ago
Best user comment ever!
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12. Douse Me With Cold Water? Oh, It's On

But of course, nobody likes it when it’s done back to them.

“Hubs and I, along with our then-three children, were visiting my brother-in-law for 4th of July a few years back. The kids were excited to go splash in the kiddie pool with their cousins as they only got to see them a few times a year, and we were able to get out of the house for a while.

This particular day, it was HOT. Like clothing permanently plastered to the bod hot. And while the kids were having a grand old time in the kiddie pool, none of our big adult butts were fitting in it, and we had already exhausted our somewhat extensive supply of water balloons. So we were all dying. Then I got an idea.

Now, I married into a family of practical jokers, and my brother-in-law is no exception.

This day, I decided I’d help my bearish heat-hating hubs cool off by sneaking him with a full glass of ice-cold water. And I would have gotten him too, except my brother-in-law called me out. So I dumped the glass and thought nothing more of it. There would always be time for other pranks. But no.

So about an hour or so goes by, and I’ve been watching the kids and have pretty much forgotten all about trying to sneak hubs.

The problem is, my brother-in-law didn’t. So I’m sitting there nice and quiet having a smoke on the back porch and slowly roasting to death when suddenly the seventh wave of Antarctica crashes over my head, back, and shoulders like liquid ice. Turns out that in retaliation for trying to sneak hubs, my brother-in-law took this neo-personally and snuck me on hubs’ behalf. But where I only had a glass full, this jerk filled a five-gallon bucket with ice water from the fridge and dumped it on me.

I wasn’t even after my brother-in-law and he went and stuck his beak in it. Okay. Game on.

I hate the cold, always have, but it’s a wicked shock to the system equivalent to a taser, so once I was able to catch my breath and let my spine unclench, I stopped being cold and started to get mad. I am also crazy vindictive by nature. I was puzzling about how to get him back when I overheard him discussing his brand new king-size pillowtop and how he hadn’t gotten to use it yet.

My face probably could have rivaled the Grinch’s, because I had just gotten a perfect idea.

So after scoping out my brother-in-law’s bedroom (and which side of the nice new currently dry and fluffy bed was his), I proceeded to empty roughly 40 to 50 cups of water onto ONLY his side of the bed over the course of the next four or five hours. I had to have climbed the stairs at least ten times if not more.

How did I manage that many cups? Easy. I was several months pregnant with my daughter, and of course, when a woman gets bigger during pregnancy, her body becomes a leaky water balloon… “Sorry, gotta pee again” and all that. Lucky for me, that brother-in-law’s bubbleheaded partner was super strict about her kids’ teeth and toothbrushes and kept a HUGE cup specifically to put the brushes in on the sink in the bathroom RIGHT NEXT TO THEIR BEDROOM.

Easy peasy.

However, I wasn’t done. I just didn’t feel like a soaked bed would be enough. So for added measure, I added a cup or two to each one of his workboots and new sneakers on his side of the bed. Then as an extra little screw you, I left a note on his bed that said, “I shore had a good time today! Sea you again soon!”

Got the call about two hours after we got home from my brother-in-law’s house that night.

He was laughing his butt off. Told hubs, “Yo, tell your woman she’s a bee with an itch. I didn’t even get to use this bed yet.” Found out later his side of the bed was wet for almost three weeks.

Added bonus: he didn’t find out about his boots and sneakers until the following morning. Got up early because his kids were breaking stuff again, grouchy because he’s not a morning person, went to put his boots on, and stuck his nice warm sock feet into about four or five inches of barely-room-temperature water. That one he was pretty angry about.”

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SlowlyInsane85 2 years ago
Good job!
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11. Give Me A Hard Time On The Road? We'll Add Over An Hour To Your Commute

“Between Italy and Germany, there are quite a few autobahns where you can practically drive as fast as you want. The left lane is reserved for faster drivers, and the right lane is for slower drivers or to move over so someone can pass. The autobahn almost always has a substantial amount of work being done on it somewhere along most routes to make sure the roads are in superb condition for driving at those speeds.

My wife and I are foreigners living in Germany for work and are cruising at 100MPH/160KPH for most of our trip without any rude drivers for about 9 hours of the drive from Italy back to Germany. I love driving, by the way. I find it quite enjoyable.

We come upon some substantial construction that slows both the left and right lane down. Without missing a beat, some guy, let’s call him, Jerk, comes up behind us and begins tailgating, and I mean HARD.

In Germany, if you want someone to move out of your way that is in the left lane, you turn on your left blinker, letting them know you want them to move over, so you can pass.

At this point, all of the traffic is going the same speed, and there is no need to pass as this won’t get you anywhere, and it’s almost impossible to pass.

Jerk puts on his left blinker, leaves it on, and even honks at us — a huge NO-NO as this is usually prohibited — since he wants to pass. My wife gives me a, “Please don’t do anything rash look” and starts looking at alternate routes on our GPS. I calmly drive for a few more minutes with all of the traffic going the same speed when I see an opening on the right to get over with enough room to also get back in behind our Jerk friend.

I signal, change lanes to the right, and then our friend moves one stupid car length forward to the car I was behind and turns on his left turn signal at the next car.

My whole life up to this point has been great, so why not chance it?

I signal, change lanes directly behind Jerk, and put on my left blinker.

Jerk quickly becomes Angry Jerk swerves to the right lane, pulls up right beside me, rolls down his window, and starts yelling at my wife and me while shaking his fist at us while hanging out his window.

It’s time for revenge, especially since we have our sleeping babies in the car, and how dare he yell at my children.

Angry Jerk keeps motioning for me to pull off at the next exit with the obvious intent to fight as he keeps motioning with his fist and yelling while swerving around his lane.

My wife is honestly, pretty dang smart, and purposefully has me keep skipping exits for a while until one specific exit comes up.

Right before this exit, she tells me to go ahead and let him know we are getting off at this SPECIFIC exit.

Angry Jerk steers hard into the exit lane, ready to bring the wrath of a middle-aged man onto everything I hold dear. I’m a redhead, I’m game for a bit of fisticuff, and I’m slightly stupid, so I begin to signal to change lanes and exit with him.

My wife with an extreme intensity just says, “Keep driving.” At this exact moment, Angry Jerk realizes he messed up.

He can’t get back onto the Autobahn since he drove too far into the exit to get back on, and has to exit the road. What I didn’t know and what Angry Jerk didn’t know is that THAT specific exit adds an hour and a half to anyone’s trip since there are no re-entries to the main road for that exit only.

My wife had looked up and planned this revenge from the start.”

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Mom_of_one8 2 years ago
Your wife is awesome
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10. Mistreat Our Employees? I'll Rage Quit When You Really Need Me

“I used to work at a popular sandwich chain. I had a manager, I’ll call her Linda, who was very hard to work for bc she was a total witch on top of being insane. I’m talking cuckoo banana bread cray-cray.

A couple of examples before I get to the revenge tale just so you have a clear picture of who I was dealing with here and just how satisfying my revenge was:

  • If she needed a shift covered, she would call everyone who was off that day to see if they could work.

    If you answered the phone and told her no, she would try to badger and guilt you until you agreed to work. For that reason, most of us would ignore her calls. But if you did that, she would blow your phone up for the rest of the day. One day, I had 13 missed calls and texts from her when I woke up – starting at 6:30 am.

    Sometimes she would even enlist on-duty coworkers to message people on social media and try to get to them that way.

  • The assistant manager was a recovering cancer patient. It was quite serious at one point, and he still had a myriad of health problems that would require occasional hospitalization, and some days, he was simply not feeling well enough to work. I remember one day he had to go into the hospital.

    I was at work when he called the manager and told her. She was very short with him on the phone, then she hung up in a huff, rolled her eyes dramatically, and announced to whoever was within earshot, including customers, that (coworker) was back in the hospital, ending with, “Ugh, I’m gonna kill him!”

  • One evening, I was working with one other coworker, which means we were already short-staffed as most shifts have 3 people, at least during peak hours.

    I got a call from my mom that my dad had been involved in a serious motorcycle accident a few hours away and that he was being taken by helicopter to the hospital. She did not know any other details besides that – all she knew is that he was in serious condition. She immediately jumped in the car and headed towards the hospital and called and told my brother and me to do the same.

    I knew I was definitely going to leave work – my dad could have been dying for all we knew – but I didn’t want to leave my coworker alone and completely screwed, so I took a few minutes before I left to call everyone who was off, explain the situation, and ask them if they could come in. No one could do it. As a last-ditch effort, I called Linda to see if she could possibly help out.

    I explained the situation fully, and at this point, I was having a very hard time controlling my tears because I was so worried. Her response? “Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it! I’m out of the state right now!” So I told her that I was leaving and that I likely wouldn’t be in the next few days either and then I left.

    I hated leaving my coworker alone, and he definitely wasn’t happy about it either, but he understood. Oh, and I found out the next day that Linda’s “out of state” was actually about 15-20 minutes away. We live right by the border between two states, so she was technically out of state but still close by. The next day she called to touch base to see if I was coming in, and she didn’t even bother asking how my dad was.

    Such a caring and compassionate manager.

Anyway. This is such a small snapshot, but I think you’re getting the picture. The only reason I stayed there was because Linda worked days, and I primarily worked evenings, and the evening crew was a freakin blast. Most evenings, we would have 3 people working – one to get done around 7:30, one to get done around 9, and one to finish up and close at 10:30ish.

When the busy times hit, it’s so much easier to have three people working. That way you had one person on meats, one on veggies, and one at the register. Two people was doable, but when it was really busy it would involve a lot of going back and forth between food and cash register, which made things take longer as you’d have to wash hands and put on fresh gloves every time.

At one point, Linda had the bright idea to schedule only two people during the week on a regular basis, and she would schedule three people only on weekends.

Suffice to say, it was awful. We would end up getting so behind because the line would be out the door, we’d be making sandwiches as fast as we can, and in between, have to deal with running out of ingredients and having to run to the back for more, dishes piling up, etc. Plus, we each had other tasks to do before we could leave.

I remember a couple of times being there until midnight and crying on the way home, or sometimes I’d stop at the bar I worked at as a second job on the way home and get plowed because I was so stressed out.

When Linda threatened to write me and another coworker up because we had stayed so late those times, I finally had it. I decided this part-time job was not worth all the stress.

I gave my two weeks notice – and I actually fully intended on working through it purely out of respect for my coworkers. Linda called me the next day, suddenly sweet as pie, asking what she could do to convince me to stay. I told her she needed to go back to scheduling three people during the week because it wasn’t working and it was the reason we had to stay so late.

I was stunned when she agreed. So I agreed to stay, and things were back to normal for, oh, about 3 weeks or so.

Then came The Day I Shall Never Forget. I came into work, and I knew I was scheduled to close that night. I immediately checked the schedule to see who else I’d be working with and discovered that I was only scheduled with one other person.

Not only that, but the other person was a newbie fresh off training. I hadn’t even punched in yet, but I knew right then I was quitting that night.

The shift pretty much went as normal; it was definitely a disaster but since I knew I was quitting, I didn’t really care and it was much less stressful than usual. I acted as normal as possible because I didn’t want the new girl to know what I was up to – she could have gotten in trouble had she known what I was going to do.

She was supposed to be done at 7:30, and as the closer, I was supposed to check her work to make sure it was all done properly. I barely glanced at what she had done and sent her frolicking home. I finished out the shift, almost giddy when the closing time hit, and I could lock the doors. I made my last employee sandwich and got ready to leave.

Enter my revenge.

Remember how I said Linda worked days? She usually started at 8 am, and she was going to be the one working the next morning after this. I didn’t do anything.

The only thing I did properly was to take care of the money in the till – I did that to the letter so she couldn’t accuse me of stealing.

  • I took all the containers off the cold bar and put them away as is.

    I didn’t refill anything. Some of the containers only had like, one ham slice or two pickles inside – we’re supposed to put everything away full. I also did not stock the cooler behind the line.

  • I didn’t do any of the dishes that were left after the 7:30 girl went home – including the meatball marinara pan which was very burnt on around the edges and would take forever to clean.

  • I didn’t clean anything at all, the kitchen or dining room.

    Didn’t clean the ovens or microwaves, didn’t wipe down anything, I didn’t sweep or mop or pick up mats or take out the garbage or clean bathrooms. After a busy night where I didn’t give a damn, the place was filthy.

  • I didn’t pull bread to thaw for the next day, which in itself is a huge issue because one of the first things Linda does in the morning is bake fresh bread.

  • There was at least one soda thing empty, and I left it that way.

    Plus, I didn’t clean the soda dispenser, so I know it was sticky as ever the next day.

This was a few years ago, so there’s probably stuff I’m missing here, but the long and short of it is, I didn’t do any of the work I was supposed to do to prep Linda for the next day – which meant she was going to have to spend at least a few hours doing all my work before she could even get started on her own.

The cleaning itself probably took most of the morning, and then there was the stocking to do. Oh, and she had to do all this by herself since she worked alone until about lunchtime. I still giggle trying to imagine it, I wish I could have been a fly on the wall. I just wanted to serve her one day of the frustration she had heaped upon me so many times.

When the money was put away and I was done chuckling at the carnage around me, I scribbled this masterpiece in bold black Sharpie and signed it:


  • Do not call me

  • Do not text me

  • Do not have my friends message me on social media

  • Do not pass Go

  • Do not collect $200


Then I grabbed my free sandwich, flipped off the camera, and strolled out like a boss.”

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Mom_of_one8 2 years ago
How is your dad doing?
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9. Think It's Embarrassing Being My Friend? This Friendship Won't Be Rekindled

“This happened a LONG time ago. I was 17-18 when the petty revenge took place but 15-16 when the offense occurred.

When I was 13-14 years old, I became really good friends with this girl we’ll call Bev. We got really close. She had a sister with Down syndrome, a really sweet girl, and I liked her a lot too. We had sleepovers, we hung out all the time, and she really was one of my closest friends for 2-3 years.

There was even a time in high school that I saw some kids picking on her sister (the one I mentioned above), and I took them to task, tearing them a new butt for picking on this nice, sweet person and what lousy excuses of human garbage they were to choose her as their target to bully. I never even told Bev I did this because I knew she’d just be upset that her sister had been the target of worthless high school bullies.

One day in our history class, a debate occurred over a highly political subject, and I participated quite vocally plus rather vociferously in the debate.

It happened to be an issue I was quite passionate about, so I didn’t hold back. I can’t remember if it was the same day or the next school day, but this friend of mine, Bev, who I had so much love for, told me she could no longer be my friend because it was embarrassing to be my friend when I debated in class like that.

She didn’t like being associated with me over my participation in the debate in class.

I was SO hurt. But I said okay. Obviously, I couldn’t go back in the past and change my behavior, nor would I. In my opinion, a true friend wouldn’t and shouldn’t hold that against me, but rather just say, “That’s who SHE is; it’s not who I am, and I still love her.”

So then after that year, I went to vocational/high school for my final two years of high school.

I still went back to my original school for dances, and my high school diploma would be from them, but my actual school day was spent attending the vocational school. So I didn’t see Bev for a couple of years. If she saw me at school events (as I was welcome to attend anything affiliated with my “home school”), I didn’t notice it.

I got a pretty serious partner between my junior and senior year in high school.

He had the same career passion as me at the time, and we even had discussed marriage (didn’t end up happening in the end, but we were a very serious couple). One day he and I went to the mall that had recently been built in our city. We were walking through a very popular department store in the mall about to head out to the actual mall area when someone called out my name, getting my attention.

I looked over, and what do you know, it was Bev!

I admit I was confused when I realized it was her. I had pretty much written her off after she was too embarrassed to be my friend, and I really didn’t understand why she looked so happy to see me or excited to be talking to me. We spoke very briefly, and I wasn’t rude to her (probably because I didn’t want to look like a jerk in front of my man), and it turns out, she was employed there.

I kind of fake smiled at her and nodded my head and may have given her a brief line about how my life was going, but I didn’t want to stick around very long; I’d never forgotten the way she wronged me in 10th grade! Right as he and I were about to get away from her, she quickly jotted her phone number down on a piece of paper, handing it to me, and saying we should catch up.

I took the piece of paper from her and exited the store.

Whether or not she saw what I did next, I’ll never know because I didn’t turn around to see if she was watching us walk away, but there was (very conveniently) a trash can just outside of there as you enter the actual mall part of the mall. I threw her number out, and I wasn’t discreet about it in case she was watching.

And I said to my man, “She thought it was embarrassing to be my friend, so we’ll just keep on not being friends.”

I felt like I took all of my power back in that moment. I was always a terrific friend to the people close to me, and she’d ended it for such a petty reason. I’m not forgiving when I feel I’ve been wronged or rejected for who I am, which was someone who will debate a topic I believe strongly in if given half the chance… So I got my petty revenge by tossing out her number when she wanted to revisit the friendship a couple of years later. I wanted to toss her offer of a renewed friendship out just like she’d tossed away our friendship previously.

It’s one of those life moments I look back on with a smile… even 20+ years later.”

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biha 2 years ago
I hope she saw and knew why immediately.
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8. Raise Your Standards As A Company? I'll Keep Resubmitting Tickets

“I (28M) work at a major grocery store that offers curbside pick up (let’s call it Groger’s). Basically, a customer places an order at least 4 hours in advance, and we pick it. We don’t shop for one customer at a time. Oh no, a shopper could easily be doing part of 9 or more orders are the same time. So naturally, we use these little handheld devices that are supposed to map out a route to make selecting much faster.

One problem is that, if the location isn’t right in the system, then the mapping will be off. A normal route would start you at vitamins and over-the-counter meds then end at produce, but a messed up route could start at vitamins and over the counter, go through the rest of the store, then produce, and then go back to over the counter meds. Also, the device has the store mapped out by 4-foot sections, shelves, and how many tags over they are.

For example, store brand shampoo would be on 65.L.2.4.6 (aisle 65 on the left, the 2nd 4-foot section, 4th shelf, 6 tags over). If that is wrong, we have to look all over that section trying to find it. This wastes time which is a huge problem because we ARE timed. The company wants us to select an average of 29 seconds per item, which is stupid for a lot of reasons in my opinion.

On top of that, items that are discontinued can still be listed on the app, which leads to more substitutes. This hurts our accuracy, and we are supposed to have a 95% per person or a 91% overall.

One day, I got frustrated with all the impossible standards (I read the emails, and only a handful of stores meet their goals), so I decided to take action.

I asked my supervisor how to report items that were listed in the wrong spot, discontinued, or not listed at all. She gave me the instructions which I happily wrote down. After all my customers picked up, I grabbed an old handheld and started scanning UPC tags. You see, those old handhelds are finicky at best and well “time-out” when scanning an item. Naturally, I assume that item doesn’t exist in the system, so I write it down.

Lists items as the 1st tag for the 2nd 4-foot section when it’s the last tag for the 1st 4-foot section? Wrote it down.

Once I filled a page, I started reporting issues. Now, I could report them all at once, but why take the chance of them missing one? So, I reported them one at a time. Over 80 issues and I’m not even 10% down with the store.

Every chance I got, I’d send in issues or scan tags. It got to the point where one of their techs sent me an image saying that those items that are marked 1st for one section, but are actually last for another, are technically correct. Oh well, I’m still sending in issues.

Today, I just sent in almost 20 (I finished everything early, so I had a lot of time to scan).

Apparently, when they did the last re-set of this particular aisle, they didn’t correct the number of shelves there are. My system says an item is on shelf 7, but there are only 5. Now I could have only reported one item and stated the issue, but what’s the fun with that? So I sent in 20+ items that are listed on the wrong shelf. Everything else was correct (4-foot section and how many tags over).

I know it’s not IT’s fault these new rules were put in place, but I’d like to think some manager is pulling out their hair because of all the tickets I’m making.

My supervisor told me that some issues could come back when they do the next re-set, so I think I’ll keep IT busy for a while.

As an update, I got an email from the Account Manager for Marketing. Basically, she said there is an update going on, and everything should be fixed next week. For one aisle. She also said I could just submit one ticket with all of the problems, and I was just making more work for myself by doing it one at a time.

Nah. I figure someone is getting an earful for all of these tickets pouring in, so, until everything is fixed, I’ll keep it up. Don’t want any mistakes to fall between the cracks.”

Another User Comments:

“I’m IT, and I can tell you with a straight face to keep doing that. Not sure how it works on your end, but that sounds like an issue more for whoever is in charge of product placement and inventory, so every one of those tickets would get forwarded over to them, assuming the company isn’t dumb and lumps it all together as “an IT issue” because a scanner is involved.” Stabbmaster

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7. Be Annoying All Night Long? Enjoy This Celtic Music

That’ll change their mood real quickly.

“My brother and I (along with his friends) got revenge on terrible neighbors last summer. (We’re all between the ages of 19 and 26, if you’re wondering.)

They’d be blasting music all night, screaming at each other and their chi-pug hybrids that barked 24/7. (We’d call the cops, but they’d say it’s not against the law until 11:30 PM, which is when we can file noise complaints.

But, when we’d call to file one, we were told that “unless it’s a life/death situation, nobody will respond until 8 AM or so because the station closes at 5:30 PM.” So, the cops would respond after everyone passed out and find no evidence to support our complaints.)

Now; all our other neighbors are known Karens who have hated us since we moved in almost 20 years ago and have found every reason to complain since.

(My brother was sat by our firepit with his girl, and the neighbor kids hid in our bushes to spy on them, and the Karens called my mom about how “her son is traumatizing their babies.”) So when the cops would question them, they’d deny anything was going on with the loud, intoxicated neighbors.

So, we felt we couldn’t do anything (or at least my parents did.) When they went on a day trip, my brother and I, both adults with I being the “good and reasonable one” (that comes up later), invited his friends over and told them, “Bring your wireless speakers” and told them of our plans.

They showed up not even a half-hour later with speakers and booze, and things to cook over a fire; they wanted a party, and we’d have one. (Our parents would be gone until late into the night, and they wouldn’t have cared anyway since we were never loud or anything.)

They connected the speakers to my brother’s TV (his room is right next to where the intoxicated people party) and hid them around our property; I made sure they were all within our boundary line before securing them in place.

I then opened every window and prepared to test our set-up. First, we played low volume, more normal music and found that all speakers were functional and the sound carried well. Then, they asked, “What music/sounds are you using?” My brother smiled and told them how our parents are always complaining about me liking Celtic music: too much flute, bagpipe, and other noise for them. They all smiled and cheered like kids on Christmas.

I went inside, cranked the volume up as high as I could without damaging the speakers, and selected the loudest music I liked.

It was super loud next to it but outside? It was loud enough to be an issue but not enough for “public annoyance.” We knew the cops wouldn’t respond anyway. (Our poor neighbors were nursing hangovers that may as well have been contagious…)

Of course, it didn’t bother us too much since we were outback…

That music played into the evening; until the speakers needed to charge. Once the speakers were all collected, the music level dropped quite a bit, so I returned inside and cranked the volume more as well as playing the music on my TV as well.

(Thank you, Spotify.)

Of course, our parents would have killed us, so I also kept in contact with them, making sure I knew when they were coming. At about 10 that night, they called and said “15-minute warning.” So, I went inside, turned everything down/off, and went back out to resume our little get-together.

Sure enough, 15 minutes on the nose, my parents return home and our neighbors came out complaining about how loud we’d been.

They looked at us and asked what they were on about; specifically asking me since I was always such a goodie-goodie. I shrugged and said, “Well, we had all the windows open, so I was playing my music a little louder than normal since you weren’t home.” I’d counted on my parents being exhausted, and knowing that, usually, my brother and I could throw parties so silent that you’d have never known. It paid off; my parents told them to shove it and reminded them that noise complaints didn’t count until 11:30. “But they never have it going that long!”

They stopped, but this summer has yet to start, so we’ll see. Our cousins have professional-grade amps and speakers for their drums and guitars, so I have an idea ready just in case…”

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biha 2 years ago (Edited)
Destroy them XD every single one of those lying ass neighbors deserves the worst.
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6. Try To Destroy Our Group Project? I Have Evidence To Use Against You

“This occurred back in the late ’90s in Australia.

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 enroll 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 I 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 stuff, was easy-going, friendly, would sit and share a drink with you on a Friday afternoon, 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 on a ravine adjacent to a historic (and protected/listed) cemetery.

This ravine actually split the cemetery in two and was used basically as a garbage midden. Due to the nature of the ravine, 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 drinks quite often), he agreed that I would not be penalized 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, and 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 they had traveled 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 utilize 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 guy, just a bit miffed he’s been put in a group with a bunch of young yahoos 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 paleontologists, 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 meter by 1 meter 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 the earth (this is a layer of a predetermined depth; in this case, 5 cm), 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 50 cm on each side.

It wasn’t anticipated that we’d get much beyond 1 meter down, definitely not further than 1.5 meters, 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 requires 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 10 am), 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 see 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. LIVID.

“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 nightmare on Earth.

“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 meter by 1-meter square, with a depth of 30cm. I now stand before a 1 meter by 1-meter hole in the ground, dug down to a depth of approximately 3 meters.

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 has happened here? Who did this?”

It turns out that after everyone had left the site on a Friday night, Bazza and Dazza, and another mate of theirs in another group, we’ll call him Kezza, got together and got drinking. 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 meter by 1 meter 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 3 am 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 stuck 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 get out. Matt and his counterpart would deal with booting them from the archaeological program on Tuesday after the field school ended. This left Gazza and me in a FUBAR situation. Luckily for him, Gazza was able to join the group that Kezza had been part of, especially since the group was all from the sister campus.

I, on the other hand, was left hanging. 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 intoxicated dig for buried whatever the heck they were looking for.

I ended up filling in that hole wishing with every shovelful of soil that Bazza and Dazza were still passed out 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 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 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 artifacts 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 artifacts, 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 bee with an itch 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 program, 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 behavior, 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 program, 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-enroll, 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 enroll 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 diploma in Secondary Education.”

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5. We Won't Take The Nonsense Anymore - We Quit!

“This happened in the late ’90s when I worked for a concrete company. We were the ones pouring foundations, footings, floors, etc. It was long hours, but the pay was good. Most of the guys on the crews were awesome people with a great work ethic. We also had some that were slower but not too slow to impede the job.

Well, Bossman was micromanaging, interfering, and loud (I don’t think I ever heard him when he wasn’t yelling) and didn’t think anything about grabbing a worker to yell in his face.

One week before the walkout, we were working on a foundation for a kiln at a sawmill. There weren’t enough people in all the crews to do the job, so he hired some locals to work until the job was finished and paid the same as us. We didn’t care. More hands more work done and them getting paid the same as us we considered they were lucky.

No hard feelings and seemed to get along with all the new guys.

One of the new guys was not shown how to do a certain task and thought, “Who better to show me than Bossman?” So he walked over and asked to be shown. That is when all broke loose. Not sure if Bossman was already in a bad mood or if this caused it, but within a second of asking, Bossman had the guy by the throat against a wall and slapped him so hard he fell over the safety fence and had a 4-foot fall to the concrete floor.

Bossman just walked off the job site and drove away.

This was a time when cell phones weren’t very common, and none of us had one but the 2 way radio in the truck had an emergency channel. The foreman radioed for an ambulance and police. The foreman went in the ambulance with the worker and filled out his police report at the hospital. Lucky for the worker, he was okay.

Since the foreman was the second in charge, he had all of our home numbers and gave each of us a personal call to let us know the hospital report and to ask us to get together for a group chat.

All of us showed up. Except one, the guy who got hurt. We passed it off he was too sore and thought no more on it. Not only because it was at a pub and the first round was free but to find out what everyone’s thoughts were. Other than the new guys we were all happy enough to just walk away like bossman did and let him suffer the consequences of breach of contract with the sawmill.

They just wanted the money. This is when our ‘except one” limped in.

He told us he just came from home after talking to the officer in charge of the case and said Bossman just was arrested for assault causing bodily harm or something of that sort. I can’t remember right off. That settled it with the locals. They were all charging him with breach of contract since he hired them to complete this job, and now they can’t.

The next day we were all at the job site, and when Bossman showed up, we each walked up to him and said directly in his face, “I QUIT” then went to our vehicles and drove away in parade fashion.

He ended up with such big fines through his company for breach of contract at the sawmill that took up everything he had saved and he had to sell off equipment to make ends meet.

Then came the 6 or so temp employees with their claims. The court sided with all of them and he was made to pay out each contract in full. That broke him, and he had to let the bank take almost everything. I don’t know why, but his woman stuck with him, even though she admits he got his just deserts. She comes from a family of money so even if he is broke she is not.

Even more fallout.

Remember that guy he threw over the fence? Yeah, he won his case too, and Bossman had to spend close to 5 months in county jail, a huge fine he couldn’t pay, 1-year anger management courses, and volunteer at the local food bank. If there was more, I can’t think of it right now.

In the end, his in-laws loaned him the money to start up again, and for the last 10 years, has been doing good for himself and is actually a great man to work for. I like to think that his entire workforce walking out one by one had something to do with it. I hope this fits as revenge.”

23 points - Liked by leonard216, jeco, Nokomis21 and 20 more

4. Just Take You To Court Then? I Will

“It started in December 2019 and finished a few weeks ago! So context, I was selling an item of clothing in a social media group. I wanted either something bigger (trade) or to sell it. This guy, D, messages me and asks for a trade. That’s all fine and we both send off our items. Weeks go by, and I go to message him to say I haven’t received it, but he’s blocked me.

I got my girl to message him, and he instantly unblocked me and was cocky, saying that he’ll return my item if it’s that big of a deal.

Alright, fine. So I wait and wait, then August, I remember. He’s blocked me again! Again, my girl messages him, and he blocks her. So I told my mom (I know, I know), and he apologized and said he’d pay me at the end of the month.

Again, okay.

End of the month comes, and I get a message, “If you message any of my family, I’ll get you done for harassment, and I’ll get a restraining order against you!” Uh, I’ve never met this guy, so, like… Anyways, the message ends with, “Take me to court then.”

Cue petty revenge. I called so many lawyers on this, but because it was $62, they wouldn’t take it.

So I sent him a letter saying he’s gotta pay, or I’ll take him to small claims. He sent my item back (!!!). After 9 months and said… “It was stuck at the post office.” I opened it, and it was disgusting; it was covered in animal hair and had sweat stains galore over it. I messaged him saying it was disgusting, and he could have it back if he paid, but he replied, “Guess I’ll see you in court.” So I went through with small claims.

He sent his defense in, saying it was a gift and blah blah blah, whatever.

He also said I sent him abuse. So I’m seething at this point. Our court hearing was $34, and I’d paid $34 for it to be sent to court originally, so I was going through with it. I sent in every piece of evidence I had, every chat log, and pictures.

March came around and a few weeks before, I was going ham looking through court docs.

I even called the royal mail to ask them questions about post offices and times and shipping! I literally spent all day, every day focusing on this day. Court day arrives and I answer the phone, the judge is lovely then she tries calling him twice, but he doesn’t answer. After some back and forth, she’s angry and she said, “Given that I’ve called D twice, and he didn’t answer, and he hasn’t submitted any evidence, I rule in your favor.” So I’ve gotten $131 AND my item back.

I got the court letter yesterday and yup, it’s ruled in my favor and he has 21 days to pay or it’ll be taken further. Haha, I win.

All this over $62! I’m petty and proud.”

23 points - Liked by leonard216, jeco, aofa and 20 more

3. Throw A Fit Over Tires? We'll Waste Your Time

Karen’s back at it again.

“I work in the tire department of a major retail chain, but I sometimes bounce around the store. The other day, I had just come back to my department after covering a lunch break in a separate department. Upon returning, my coworker had a small line at the register. I immediately start helping her bag items as she rings out customers.

As I was bagging, I look up to see an older couple, the woman was fussing about us taking too long, so I asked her “How can I help you, ma’am?”

“I need these tires,” she says, handing me a piece of paper.

“Okay, let me check the computer to see if we have them in-store.”

I walk over to the computer and look up the size. We didn’t have any in-store. It was a smaller tire that usually isn’t requested, so not unusual.

“Sorry, ma’am, we don’t have these in stock.” “What do you mean you don’t have these in stock?” “Well, it’s an odd size, so we don’t keep them stocked up as much.” “Well, where else can we go?”

At this point, my coworker steps in, and I just watch.

It’s important to note that the lady has been entirely rude the entire time and the man with her, probably her husband, looks completely fed up with her.

My coworker is giving the man directions to a different tire shop in town. The man asks “Does insert neighboring town store have them?”

My coworker’s face lit up. She volunteers to call. Usually, we just give them that store’s number, but she wanted to call them instead, so she started calling.

The woman growing increasingly ill over the idea of driving to another town due to time.

After a failed call to the first store, the man asks about a different neighboring store, he’s also getting a smile on his face. You could tell he slightly enjoyed the idea of us taking up more of his lady’s time. My coworker called that store as well, and also volunteered to call the other tire store in town and a third neighboring town.

After calling around for about five minutes, no one was answering their phones, the woman was getting really upset, but the man’s face was lit up.

He was even kinda laughing. She eventually blurted out, “I just shouldn’t have woken up this morning.”

My coworker replied, “No, you don’t say that. What you mean is, ‘I shouldn’t have gone anywhere today.'” “No, I shouldn’t have woken up. I’m ready to go home to my lord,” she replied, raising her hand up in the air.

Now, my coworker slightly angrier at the woman just stopped talking with her altogether, just quit talking to the woman and focused on the partner. She continued to call around for about another 15 minutes until someone finally answered.”

Another User Comments:

“As if she’s going to the lord, lol.” megameh64

20 points - Liked by leonard216, jeco, aofa and 17 more

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Roadking 2 years ago
I'm sure the Lord doesn't want her. Probably the devil either.
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2. They Hired The "Wrong" Person

“Over twenty years ago, my life and plans that I had to stay in my hometown were drastically uprooted, and found myself moved to another city. Pounding the pavement almost every day looking for work wasn’t getting me any results and would from time to time find myself relaxing at a cheap diner and reading a complimentary newspaper… and there it was: a job opening for an assistant manager for an expanding, well-entrenched fast-food franchise in town.

So I called and basically set up my own interview (one of many more omens I seemed to have missed) and, tada, got the job. About 4 or so months in, I started seeing clues that I should have picked up on that this operation had some serious issues. That started when they had a custom-built location created in the city’s more desirable west end closer to the university, and they made so many mistakes causing needless delays, and to top it off, the restaurant district manager was driving the small Bobcat front loader while teenage new hires who have never experienced physical labor were laying grass sod, on the sidewalk.

Not hiring a capable crew for the work required was the least of the concerns that I managed to miss, overlook or otherwise dismiss. Also note that the owner and his head office was based a 4 hour+ drive north, and for all intents and purposes was an absentee to his own operation.

For a two year period, I personally witnessed the following;

  • general manager (my boss) smoking in office and food prep area even after being told repeatedly to stop

  • harassing phone calls to people from owner’s assistant when health department visited the above location and cited the blatant health violations

  • deep fryer catching fire and disciplining/terminating employees for calling the fire department

  • the above-mentioned owner’s assistant in Sudbury writing up employees with disciplinary action for breaking nonexistent company policy and making it visible to everyone before that person even saw it for a nonexistent policy…

    and then dismissing their actions as an oopsie even though this was yet another blatant law (privacy laws) violated by them

  • disciplinary action against hourly wage employees that don’t attend unpaid meetings on their days off — this is also a blatant violation of our provincial law that I should have looked up; internet access wasn’t something I had then as we all do now

  • that’s just stuff off the top of my head that I personally experienced.

    Edited to add, upper-level managers were fired after stealing substantial amounts of, at least one of whom was vocal in his dismissal of my concerns of how bad things were – he was finally fired after he came in after hours and submitted multiple fraudulent refunds on the new debit machine. While I was there, a long prolonged pattern emerged of multiple managers along with regular staff quitting suddenly and outright no-showing leading me and others to routinely do 16-hour shifts to cover absences – somehow we were led to believe this was somehow normalized.

And there’s more, so much more.

I kept doing my best and upper management still complained and told me I have all the tools I need to do things better, on the same day the deep fryer caught fire again.

I want to call what they did gaslighting for how inadequate I was made to feel when also they kept ignoring my pleas for them to do things right including hiring competent maintenance services. Despite my best efforts, pleas, and other attempts at pointing out serious problems with equipment and logistics, it was ignored.

Another omen that I missed was that the locations in the owner’s town and base of operations got shut down, but hey he was a professor of business at the local university…

more on that later.

The day came when served a paper saying I was the squeaky wheel, and I got greased – the wagon was rolling on without me. Initially, it sucked, a day off to myself, and I started feeling better and chatting with friends had them saying I should’ve said something earlier when I told them of the terrible things people experienced there. A week later I was working a better job with better people I kept in touch with.

In a few months, I’d leave that industry and that city behind as family needed my help at their home. I would also take solace in realizing it seemed I was the only manager that left who wasn’t doing or dealing substances, stealing, or carrying on other questionable acts.

Life went on and got much much better, even getting licensed in a trade that includes investigating employment violations, using my skills to prevent others from having to experience what I endured and/or seek appropriate remedy has been very fulfilling.

Some years pass, and it’s Halloween 2007.

I find myself back for a friend’s party in the city where those terrible franchises are run… or as I was to abruptly find out were run. Prized mall location, closed. West end location, abandoned. The original place I started, closed with pending construction nearby. Signs posted in windows are for a multinational holding company, mall staff say the location there is under renovation. I call nonsense; owner was adamant about running 24-hour operations and wouldn’t close down like this – and all of his franchise locations are shut down.

After some discrete inquiries and getting as far as I’m willing at the time, I reach out to the local newspaper with what I found, and the contradictory information being thrown about from various sources.

A few weeks later around mid-November, it’s front-page news about how corporate SEIZED all the assets and locations of the franchise owner in August 2007. The reason, many of the same problems I warned the franchise owner and his admin about!

Assets seized totaled around $10 million.

To highlight even more of the shadiness of the owner and his operation, when legal notices were served, the owner told frightened workers it’s a mistake and to ignore it and keep working…

and then shortly later, about 200 people were out of work and wondering about getting paid (edit, this information comes from reported court documents).

I sat back and laughed a bit. I felt horrible for the workers but I was also told they were compensated by corporate as part of the proceedings. Later on, I would go on to speak with another worker who told me that prior to the franchise getting shut down, the very same assistant of the owner who harassed and yelled and snapped at me and other employees broke even more laws.

This so-called operations manager at head office was recorded threatening the worker and telling her to return to work when she was off on workers’ compensation! For those unaware up here, that’s a serious offense and pretty much on-brand for how they ran their now terminated business. I’ll admit to making an honest error or two while working for that franchise, but holy, I’d never conjure committing blatant wrongs and unlawful acts like they did on the regular and with what they probably thought they could get away doing with impunity – it’s safe to say that a pattern of dishonesty, abuse, and incompetence can have a high price tag as it did here.

Oh, remember how I mentioned the owner was a professor of business at his local university, that one got shut down a month or so ago due to financial insolvency? Karma or irony, I can’t tell, but given the track record of the franchise owner, it seems like it was destiny.

Five years ago, a buddy I kept in touch with showed me the owner’s Linked In account. Instead of accepting responsibility for his involvement with the franchise time period cited in news article, he fraudulently claimed to be involved in government consulting instead… account got suspended. Petty? Maybe… providing some well-needed accuracy to Linked In? Definitely.”

18 points - Liked by leonard216, jeco, aofa and 15 more

1. Handle Rush Hour On Your Own? Go For It!

“So, this happened in 2018 when I was working at a KFC outlet in the UK.

Anybody who has worked fast food knows that there are times when the rush hour gets really hectic, especially if your franchise is on a busy street. I worked at this place on the weekends because it was the busiest time for the store, and it was the only time I could take out from uni studies.

At our busiest, we dealt with about 1,000 customers in a 12-hour workday, with about half of them being in these rush hour slots.

I was part of the front-of-house staff, which meant my job was to take orders, deal with and listen to the customers’ questions and complaints, pack their orders, make ice creams/shakes, and hand food out as well. At any given time, I was doing one, two, or all of these jobs together.

Since we would get so busy, we had always aimed to have about 2 people on the registers, 2 people packing, and one person specifically for handing out the orders by calling out the order number on the receipt. The handing out the orders job was the easiest part and involved literally just standing there, which is why most of our staff used to work that station when they were tired, myself included.

Fast forward to 4 months into the job, and one of our old staff members, we’ll call her Lisa, comes back to join the team again.

She had been working there before I had joined and so knew everyone beforehand. She was also kind of pretty, and this will be important later. Now before I proceed, I want to say that none of my coworkers had any issues with me and that my boss loved my work. I was so well received at this job that when I left, they gifted me a guitar as a going-away present.

I had good English, and I’m very friendly, so I was immediately settled in. My coworkers even playfully nicknamed me Skinny and joked around with me all the time. However, Lisa didn’t like that because she could see that I was the center of attention due to my hyper energy.

One fine Saturday, I go into work and realize that I’ve been made responsible for the part of the front-of-house process which is to yell out order numbers and give the customers their food, dealing with anything that might be wrong or missing.

Fair enough; I had a really busy Friday and was hoping for something easy to do. I spent the first 6 hours of my shift doing this job, and after the staff for the first half of the day left, I decided to help the remaining staff out until our coworkers for the second half of the day came in.

In comes Lisa for the second half of the day, and she’s been made responsible for packing the orders, which is probably the most taxing job.

This part of the workflow is so taxing that it always has at least two people handling that station. We were short-staffed that day and so Lisa was tasked to do this job alone which was probably not the best decision by my manager. However, since she had worked here before, he trusted her to get the job done. We also had a rotation for our posts, and it was her turn to handle that section that day.

As if by some stroke of luck, rush hour started right as she came in, so she didn’t even have time to prepare herself. What’s even funnier is that she came in with a bad mood, so she definitely didn’t want to work that day.

Now one important detail here is that we have a large screen right above the packing section that the customers can see which displays their orders with details of their order and the order number displayed on it.

Customers can have a look at that and be patient as they wait for their orders to be rolled out. Once an order is successfully completed, the order disappears from the screen allowing the rest of the orders to be bumped up the priority list. This screen also had a timer on each order which should under no circumstances be allowed to go over 7 minutes.

If that happens, the timer turns red, alerting us to work faster. Usually, this screen is not supposed to go beyond 7 orders at a time, but it has enough functionality to display up to 15 orders.

Now Lisa was trying her best, but as the rush hour increased, the number of orders waiting went up exponentially, and the customers started to line up. The screen went beyond 15 orders waiting with red plastered all over it, and at this point, it was obvious Lisa couldn’t handle the packing section alone.

One of my co-workers nudged me to go and help her out since I was basically doing the easiest job just standing around. I decided this was for the best and so I walked up and started packing orders next to her. As I did so, she stopped doing the packing looked at me dead in the eyes, and with the most threatening look said, “Go do your own job.” I tried to be nice as usual and explain to her kindly how crowded it was getting, but it was obvious that she didn’t want to listen.

Not wanting the business to be affected, I decided to go alert my manager, but just as I was about to go ask him for some advice, she says in the most condescending tone, “I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to work next to me, but it’s honestly creepy, and you should stop.”

Now I will admit, I’m an average-looking guy, definitely not in her league, but she was under some sort of misconception that I had somehow developed feelings for her.

She was probably used to guys running after her and placed me in the same row without even getting to know me which I found incredibly disrespectful. When I realized she was thinking I was some sort of simp, all my will to want to help her flew right out of the window. I casually walked back to my station and grinned knowing what was about to unfold.

In the next 30 minutes, the screen was now full with about 40 orders waiting.

In fact, there were so many orders waiting that you couldn’t even see half of them on the screen because they were so down on the list. Customers were standing around disgruntled and hungry, looking at Lisa as she was panicking, running around trying to do everything by herself. My coworkers had seen how she had treated me and so none of them approached to help her out.

She was all over the place with the orders, chucking the bags in the air towards me, dropping fries on the floor, missing items, and the customers were complaining to high heaven at this awful service. I mean, even by fast-food standards this was bad. Since I was the one handing out the orders, I was hearing all the complaints and trying to sedate the customers as much as possible with the biggest smile on my face.

It was pretty bad and the only time I had ever had fun listening to people complain. What made it better was that the customers knew I wasn’t to blame and so we silently judged Lisa together as we watched her run around in a frenzy. Making casual trips to the back as Lisa was visibly shedding her hair out of stress was the best part because I was “just doing my job” whilst Lisa was halting the entire business by herself.

“Lisa just dropped some fries on the floor; we’re gonna need a new batch.”

“That burger that Lisa just sent out, she put it in the wrong customer’s bag, and they’ve just come back demanding a refund.”

“A customer is complaining that the food is cold and wants a fresh burger.”

The thing is, the back of house staff were doing all of their work on time, so cold food and the like was not their problem.

But because Lisa was messing up, they had to follow and remake the food which meant wasting materials and also a bad mood as they had to work extra for no reason.

That’s when my assistant manager, whom I was really good friends with, ran out to the front befuddled, and asked me in a concerned voice, “What’s going on? Why aren’t you helping her out?” I explained causally what Lisa had told me after I had tried really hard to help, loud enough so that the customers could hear, and you could tell by the look on my manager’s face that this wasn’t his first rodeo with Lisa.

Dejectedly and quietly, he turned around and started helping Lisa to pack without saying another word to me. What made it even sweeter was that after about five minutes, another senior member of staff came to the front and chucked Lisa out of her station and towards the back of house staff because she was being such a hindrance.

In about 10 minutes, all orders were cleared, and the dust had settled.

I was then tasked with handling the packing because I was the fastest at doing that whilst Lisa had to prep burgers in the back over the smoldering heat of the fryer which probably melted all of her makeup off her pretty, little face. Imagining all the heat she was getting from the manager and the embarrassment she had just faced in front of an entire crowd of people was probably the most satisfying feeling I ever had.

Not because I was happy she was struggling, but because I got back at her for thinking I was below her just because she was a little bit better looking than I was. And the cherry on top was the fact that she had asked for this all by herself. Justice served (but the orders weren’t, lol).

At one point, I even walked to the back to see how she was doing.

I found her hunched over the fryer and couldn’t tell if what was rolling down her face was sweat or tears. However, the look in her eyes was the most delicious treat ever.

Needless to say, Lisa never worked the packing section alone again and tried her best to get along with me after the fact. But I never helped her of my own volition unless she specifically asked me to.

I didn’t want her to feel creeped out after all.”

Another User Comments:

“Kind of awful of the manager to let it get that bad before coming out to see what the problem is. Lisa deserved it though.” MaxSpringPuma


“I think he was out it in the back smoking and taking his 30-minute break for eating lunch since it was the change over from the first 6-hour shift to the second one. Honestly, he deserved more breaks because he was a really good manager.” ArzanishShumak

18 points - Liked by leonard216, Phoenixlight22, jeco and 15 more

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CrazyOldMan 2 years ago
You are very badly mistaken, young man. It is she who is not in your league. You displayed kindness as well as conscientiousness.
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