People Open Up About Their Petty Revenge On Someone Who Did Them Wrong
28. He REALLY Wanted The Extra 5 Minutes In The Oven
“I work at a small mom and pop pizza place in a small town. We’re the only not-gas-station pizza place in town.
Friday nights get busy. So my boss is cooking and I’m waitressing. The cook cooks and the waitress does everything else. It would be nice to have 2 of us but we manage and the people of our town expect it and respect it after all these years.
It’s busy, I’ve got several tables and the phone has been ringing off the hook with to-go orders.
I’ve got piles of dishes, someone is constantly at the register and food is constantly ready to go out.
My customers are being great! Everyone is smiling and laughing and not worried that things are taking a bit longer than a Tuesday night. I was busy but not stressed yet.
Then he calls. Some guy from out of town (there was a high-school game so we had a few out of towners that night).
He orders a large thin crust (our thin crust is very thin, about as thin as a cracker crust but it’s not crispy like that) pizza with pepperoni.
Easy peasy. He wants it well done…can do! He wants us to put it in the oven for an extra 5 minutes…I say ok with zero intention of doing that.
We have a brick oven, our thins go in the oven for 3-4 minutes, 4 and a half for well done. That’s total. This guy wants 5 extra minutes on top of that. He wants a 16-inch charcoal hockey puck. I assume he thinks he knows what he’s talking about and just put on the ticket “well done.” We do our thing.
His pizza looks beautiful.
He comes to pick it up and before paying he opens the box to inspect his pizza.
This is normal and I’m not worried.
Him: ‘I asked for my pizza well done!’
Me: ‘This is how we make our pizzas well done.
Any more than this and your pizza will burn.’
Him: ‘I’m not paying for this, I’m not eating this, I want a new one and I want it how I ordered! Put it in for 5 more minutes!’
At this point, my boss taps me on the shoulder and tells me to take over the cooking while he handles the customer.
Our kitchen abuts the register counter, I’m literally making pizza 5 feet away from the interaction so I get to hear the whole thing.
My boss tries to tell the guy how long we usually cook the pizzas, what’s going to happen to his pizza etc. The customer is having none of it.
He wants this pizza cooked the normal time plus an additional 5 minutes. After a few minutes, I can tell my boss has had enough of this guy.
Boss: ‘Sure you don’t just want this pizza?’ (Meaning the one we had already made)
Guy says no so my boss brings it out to one of our regulars and lets him have it. He comes back to the guy and informs him if he wants his cooked for 9 minutes he needs to pay first.
The guy seems satisfied and pays.
I hop back to waitressing and boss takes over the cooking and making this guy his pizza. It goes in the oven looking beautiful. Boss sets the timer for 9 minutes and makes sure to show the guy the timer, he just smiles and chuckles a little.
I’m bussing tables and checking people out and answering the phone while we wait on this guy’s pizza.
The timer goes off for his pizza. The guy comes closer to the counter. It’s my job to cut the pizza as soon as the boss man puts it in the box.
He lifts this solid black, hard-ass charcoal hockey puck out of the oven and sets it in the box.
You can barely tell it’s a pizza anymore. I attempt to cut it but it is so overcooked it more or less just cracks and crumbles.
My back is to him so I can’t see his face but I can imagine. I close the box, turn and hand it to him with a smile on my face.
Me: ‘Enjoy your pizza sir!’ Guy: (stutters a bit) ‘I can’t eat that!’ Boss: ‘We made your pizza to order, if you want a new pizza you’ll need to order a new one and pay for that.’
The guy has this completely broken look on his face.
I was actually almost looking forward to a blow-up (my boss is a force to be reckoned with if you curse or disrespect us). He left his pizza on the counter and left. This is why I love my boss.”
27. 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. 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.”
26. 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.’”
25. Her Young Son Wanted To Try The Hottest Sauce In The Store
“I work in a hot sauce store in a busy outlet mall. We’re a well-liked locally owned business and have many loyal return customers, but at this particular location, we also get a lot of tourists who are curious about our challenge items, or ‘Hot Ones’ products.
We have a large variety of samples available every day.
Literally like 100 hot sauces, 50+ bbq/wing sauces just out on the table and we can pull another 50+ bottles or so from the fridge if one’s open.
Every so often we get people who come into the store and ask to try the hottest sauce.
They love jalapenos in their burritos and have eaten habaneros straight and they’re ready to enter the ring, swallow some sauce and gain the admiration of a couple friends and bystanders at the cost of a stomach ache. We usually try to guide them to the 10th hottest sauce in the store, burn them with it, and move on to something mild or medium suited to their taste.
Today, while I was selling items to people who were actually paying for things when a 10-or-so-year-old boy enters the store. I always get wary when children enter the store alone because it is full of glass bottles. They usually dart straight for the shelves and pick something up, but this child came barreling towards me like a bullet.
While I make the change for the couple buying some sauce, he calls out to me, ‘Excuse me!’ in a horrendous whiny pitch. I ignore the rude interruption and continue my conversation with my customers. He parrots it again twelve times or so back to back as I thank these people and get them out of the store.
Finally, I turn to him, ‘How can I help you?’ Where the heck is this kid’s parents?
‘Hi, can I try the hottest sauce in the store?’ Not this crap again. I am not dealing with this, not with a 10-year-old kid.
I explain to him that the hottest sauce on the table is Heckboy: Right Hand of Doom. It’s spiked with a 6.66 Million Scoville extract, and honestly, if you’re not experienced with this kind of stuff, more than just a tiny bit can really mess up a good part of your day.
Take my word for it.
I explain to him he has to be 19 years old to try it and sign a waiver (which is BS, but I’m off in 30 minutes so eff this kid), and instead guide him to a tasty fermented habanero that he coughs his eyes out on before explaining to me that he could handle the Right Hand of Doom because his dad eats spicy peppers with him all the time.
‘Okay?’ I say. He leaves, thank God.
15 minutes later I’m interrupted by another customer. This time a gigantic woman, in a blue blouse, she’s set next to my sample table like a giant blueberry blocking up 20% of my floor space.
‘Excuse me!’ Apple doesn’t fall far. The customers I’m with are polite and excuse me to speak to her. ‘You didn’t let my son try the sauce!’
I explain to her that it has extract in it several hundreds of times hotter than anything he has ever eaten and that it can cause him severe discomfort and that I will not let him try it in my store.
I explain that she is free to purchase the sauce and have him try it at home if she so wishes. She explains to me that she married a Mexican man and that I wouldn’t believe the things we ate in ‘New Mexico City’ where he grew up.
When I asked what they had eaten there she told me ‘Things hotter than anything we have in the store.’
At this point her daughter interrupts our conversation, I kid you not, ‘Excuse me!’
‘What?’ I’m getting annoyed. I was annoyed from the second I saw the kid and now he’s back 20 mins later with three of him.
‘Why do you sell Valentina, it’s not even a hot sauce?’ OMG. Aren’t you from Mexico? It says Salsa Piquante on the darn bottle. It’s 5:50, I’m off at 6. I’ve had enough.
‘How about this, you can try the sauce and if it’s as mild as you think, I’ll let him try it.’ She agreed and grabbed her sample stick.
I reached for the Right Hand of Doom, and unscrewed the cap, its nuclear aroma sending memories of aches to my stomach. As she goes to dip the stick into the sauce, I warn her to ‘only take a small amount.
She grins at me and dips the stick all the way into the sauce. Trap card, witch. She slaps it into her mouth.
Immediately, she looks uneasy before she throws herself into pure agony. She is coughing, swinging her head back and forth, trying desperately to speak, but she cannot muster any words.
She dropped her sample stick in all the chaos. After a solid few minutes of coughing and dry heaving, she manages a single word, ‘water.’ I explain to her that water won’t help her now. My relief walks through the door just in time to witness the finish.
She tells me that the only reason she is coughing is because, ‘it went down the wrong pipe.’ She then immediately vomits into our garbage can.
She apologizes for ‘spitting up’ like she didn’t just rocket launch half a liter of barf into my trashcan and then leaves without saying anything else.
I tossed out the trash with a smile on my face and clocked out.”
24. His Manager Can’t Handle Anything Other Than Straight
“I work at a grocery store. My guy and I both buy our groceries there and sometimes he’ll see me and maybe wave or say hi, we don’t chat or waste any time unless I also happen to be going on break.
My department manager didn’t know I was gay when he hired me and he figured it out when he asked me who the guy that was waving to me was.
He made a weird face, not necessarily disgusted but you get the point.
Anytime my guy would enter the store after that, my manager would keep his eye on him. Now if he were to wave to me, my manager would start to berate me and try and make it out like I’m slacking, when I’m just stocking shelves and smiling in his direction, nothing bad at all.
He never cared prior, until he learned he’s my guy.
After a week, he has a private talk with me saying my guy is causing too much of a distraction and he should shop here while I’m on shift and that if something didn’t change I might be let go.
I was mad, told my guy about it, he was even madder. I didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it though, as this is a temp job and I probably won’t even have it longer than a year or two.
So I decided to prank my manager instead of getting into legal or corporate stuff. We have other gay friends who shop there. Crazy enough, we look just like regular people so no one would realize, including my manager!
Sure my guy won’t shop there but what about other gay people?
That shouldn’t matter he just doesn’t want my SO distracting me at work…right?
So, I mentioned what happened to my 5 friends who mentioned it to their friends and so on.
The next shift, I bore witness to 30 extremely flamboyant and openly gay men and women flaunting their stuff in the store.
My manager was trying to hide in the back but every customer needed the ‘manager’s’ assistance for the most mundane questions lol. He ended up going home early but after that shock, he actually stopped berating me for the past couple of months, he might just be happy that I’m not very open about my orientation so he can choose to ignore it.”
23. He Was Told To Think About What His Boss Said, And So He Did
“This is the story of my former employer. I work in the northeast US and my employer at the time was a very small company (boss and 5 employees) in a very specific industry where 90% of our work was on construction sites and finding a well-qualified person in this very specific industry is a very very hard thing to do.
My boss was the kind of boss that every employee hates. Corners were cut every possible way in order to keep overhead costs down. On top of that, he would constantly overbook on jobs (like signing contracts for 6 projects during the same week knowing full well that he only has 5 employees) which would result in the employees often working 14 hour days or more, which really sucks when you’re on salary (no overtime).
His worst attribute by far was approving time off and then during your time off calling or texting you asking if you would be willing to work a day or cut your vacation short.
Sometimes he’d even ask you to move your time off to the next week or next month ‘when the workload lightens up’ (hint: it never lightened up due to his constant overbooking).
After working at this company for 6 years, I got used to all the aforementioned annoyances. But then things changed, my son was born. In the months leading up to his birth, I made it very clear that I would be taking a 5-week unpaid leave of absence once he arrives.
The state we’re in allows new parents to take up to 8 weeks of unpaid leave. I told my boss that I know 8 weeks would be a huge strain on such a small company so I was willing to take 5 weeks but those 5 weeks would be completely ‘off the grid’ meaning don’t call me, don’t text me, if you’re going to ask me to do anything work-related the answer will be no so don’t bother.
I’m going to be spending time with my family. He 100% agreed.
Fast-forward to my son’s birth. He was born on a Friday and after a short stay in the NICU (don’t worry, he’s fine) was released on Monday and we took him home.
Tuesday morning (yeah…the next day) I wake up to a missed call, an email, and 3 texts all from my boss asking me to call him back ASAP. For reasons still unknown to me to this day I call him back and he tells me there’s a slight emergency (code speak for he screwed up the scheduling and has a job with no employee at it) and asks if I could maybe come into work that day and maybe work a couple more days that week until he finds someone to cover it.
I lost it. I literally felt something in my neck snap and unleashed a verbal assault on him that I still feel bad about now, a year later. I ended my rant with an apology…as much of a jerk move it was for him to be calling me in that situation it was still completely unprofessional of me to say what I said to him.
Obviously, he wasn’t a big fan of what I said and after a small rant of his own ended with the sentences that made this whole story possible.
He said, ‘You’ve got a pretty good gig at this company that most people your age would be thankful for.
I’d be impressed if you could find a better job in this field because I’ve been doing this for 30 years and I know how small this industry is and trust me, good jobs like yours don’t come along very often.
Think about that.’
So we ended the call and I did what he said. I thought about it. After thinking about it for about 30 seconds I got out of bed, sat down in front of my computer and started looking at job postings.
5 weeks later my time off came to an end and my first day back I came into work, walked into my boss’s office and handed him a piece of paper.
Boss: ‘What’s this?’ Me: ‘I thought about what you said about how you be really impressed if I could find a better job than the one I have here.
…so I did.’
My boss reads over what I handed him…a job offer from a competitor for the exact same job I was performing but at a 25% higher salary, an extra week of paid vacation compared to what I had AND a stipulation that company policy was that work hours are capped at 8 per day meaning that once I hit 8 hours on a job I pack up and leave it until tomorrow.
No exceptions.
Boss: ‘Well then…ummm…can I have the day to crunch some numbers to come up with a counter-offer?’ Me: ‘No, don’t bother. I just wanted you to see it because I know you wouldn’t have believed me otherwise.’
Gave my two-week notice and left for whatever job site I was on that day. That was a year ago and I could not be happier with my new job. I get to spend lots of time with my boy and that’s the best job perk there is.
For all you bosses and managers out there. Don’t mess with your employees…especially the good ones. Treat them how you’d want to be treated.”
22. 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!”
21. 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 extra, 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 $4,200 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.”
20. Treat My Girl Poorly? I’ll Make Sure You’re Behind The Bar Forever
“I’m a 26-year old guy 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.”
19. 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.”
18. He Had To Meet The Telemarketer In Person To Get His Point Across
“For the past few years, our business has been receiving telemarketing calls from an offshore call center trying to make appointments for ‘Optus Business Centre.’ Every time they call, we’d politely tell them we were not interested and to remove us from their list and they’d promise not to call again.
You can probably tell by my use of the words “every time” that having ourselves removed from the list didn’t work. It didn’t work the first time, and it didn’t work the 50th time. Offshore are cheap, and get paid per appointment.
So they would get quite aggressive. It was clear that a new strategy needed to be found as it was taking too long to get them to bugger off.
So I began to plot a more creative way.
‘Hi we’re calling from Optus business center and we can save you 40% on your mobile phone bill!
Can we come and see you tomorrow at 11 am?’
‘You can save me 40% of my mobile bill? That’s like sixty grand a month!
‘What? How many phones do you have?’
150 or so that I’m responsible for directly, plus a few others.
The appointment is quickly confirmed. The next day a salesman calls me up he’s running early – can we meet earlier. I refused. Our appointment is for 11am after all.
11am rolls around and in he walks – we sit down in reception and go through the greetings.
I then ask him if it’s possible to make the telemarketing calls stop now. He assures me that it is, and so I stand up, shake his hand and thank him for coming in.
‘What? That’s it? You could have said that over the phone!’ said the guy.
I point out that we did. Many times, and it didn’t work – and I hoped that this waste of his time (45 min trip from Homebush to Sydney) would perhaps teach him to mend his ways.
Over the past 2 years, they have sent out 5 different reps to see us.
They call for meetings, we accept them, shine them on about the value of the account and they roll in to be greeted by me dressed in a chicken suit; made to wait in our meeting room for 20 minutes before being asked to be removed from the list; being turned away at the door (they sent two reps that time).”
17. He Wanted His Bill Fixed, So She Did Exactly That
“I used to be a manager at a small family-owned restaurant. We had this one customer who I’ll call D.
D used to be a really nice guy. Always fun to talk to, had interesting stories, the works. However, after about 8 months of him being a regular, he asked me out.
I (VERY POLITELY AND KINDLY) turned him down. And, my god, you would have thought I threatened his mom with the way he reacted.
So, following that point, he turned into a giant jerkface. Always snapping at me (both literally and figuratively), complaining about food that he never had an issue with before, etc. A couple of months later, we had some changes to our menu and some slight price changes.
Notably, his favorite soup (elk chili) was 75 cents more.
He stormed in and sat and ordered elk chili. I said, ‘Of course! I just want to make sure you’re aware that of the change—’ he snapped at me and said, ‘How dumb do you think I am???
I can read!’ Ok, my dude whatever you can say. So he gets his soup, his meal, a few beers and a glass of one of our higher quality bourbons. I bring him the check and he flips out.
‘This is more than it was before!
You never told me that it would be more! This is fraud.
I’m not paying this. Fix it!’ Ok, I can do that. However, on the check, I had also charged him for only happy hour price beers, which was significantly less than our regular prices.
Happy hour ended before he even got there. I also charged him for a lower quality bourbon by the same company (the owner was ok with that since he was technically a regular and had spent a lot of money there).
So I fixed his check for him. But I fixed all of it. The new check was about $15 more than it was before. He was so mad he was lost for words, and I took that time to show him how I fixed his check.
He never came back on nights I was working after that.
I don’t work there anymore, I wonder how he’s doing.”
16. He Dumped Up And Left Her So They Left Him A Shrimpy Surprise
“When I was 18 my friend Amy was seeing this guy Jack for a little while. Jack was 17 and used to be able to get into some of the pubs and clubs with us without ID and he attributed that to a jacket which he believed made him look older.
Anyway, Jack is seemingly really into Amy, putting a lot of effort in and yada, yada and then drops her like a hot potato as soon as they get it on for the first and only time. Amy is understandably angry and realizes that she has his beloved jacket in her car (which Jack finally broke his silent treatment to text her asking for it back).
So, Amy and I went down to Tesco, bought two little prawns and took them back home. We then created the tiniest hole in the lining of the jacket at each of the wrists and popped a prawn in each arm then sewed the lining back up.
Amy then kindly left the jacket at Jack’s front door for him.
I had recently read about a woman who had put prawns in the curtain poles of her ex-husband’s house so he’d struggle to sell it because the smell was so bad.
It is a shame that we didn’t get to see the results of our petty revenge, but we did see him out a few times wearing the jacket, from a distance, and I know it would have been glorious!”
15. Two Volkswagons Against One Rude Driver
“You ever have that feeling of solidarity with someone who drives the same car as you? Well, I do.
And I don’t like seeing people being rude to them, so one morning the stars aligned to let me and another Volkswagen driver eff over a rather rude gentleman (who was NOT in a Volkswagen).
To start with, I’m driving in the early morning on a two-lane road. The speed limit is 50 km/h but due to the lack of traffic, everyone is doing around 60 km/h, except for one Volkswagen Golf who’s comfortably doing about 55.
Hey man, rock on, respect the laws! And so enters Butthead. Butthead is just ripping down the road, getting right up behind Golf, unable to switch into our lane due to me and another car.
So, being the genius he was, instead of waiting for us to pass him at 60, switching into our lane, and then passing the 55 Golf, then roaring past us, he decided to lay into the horn.
And it. Was. Loud.
Okay, Butthead, bully a Ford, I don’t care. Bully a BMW and I’ll cheer. But a Volkswagen? No pal. Not today.
So, taking my time, I pull up next to the Golf, with Butthead still laying into the horn.
And thus our petty revenge began. I waved to the golf driver and we both began to slow until we were about 45 km/h, close enough to each other that Butthead couldn’t pass.
Dude goes ballistic. Tearing between both lanes, horn blaring, right up on our cars close enough to actually begin to worry me, the whole nine yards this guy is just losing his mind.
And so we peacefully drove down the road for a good 10 minutes before I hit my turnoff, and waved goodbye to my new Volkskomrade, and pulled off. I almost felt bad for Butthead, the veritable SCREAM from that engine when he got a clear passing lane sounded like he stomped that gas pedal harder than the aliens in Dead Space.
Go gently into that quiet night Butthead. But leave me and my fellow German engineering appreciating folks alone.”
14. The Passenger Really Didn’t Get The Hint
“I was riding on an Uber Pool this morning when an incredibly inconsiderate individual got in the passenger seat.
He pulled out his phone and started watching videos at full volume and blasting music.
‘Do you happen to have headphones?’ I asked
‘No, why would I need headphones?’ he responded
‘Because you’re in a car with other people and it’s a considerate thing to do not to force everyone else to listen to your videos and music?’
‘That sounds like a you problem,’ he replies going back to watching his video.
So I pulled out my phone and blasted Baby Shark from the backseat for the remainder of the ride. If he turned around or got upset, well that’s a you problem.”
13. His Roommate Stole His Belongings So He Gave Him A Taste Of His Own Medicine
“I had this roommate who kept using my stuff in secret.
I didn’t notice this in the first few weeks but soon realized that he has been not only using my toothpaste, but also fragrance, deodorant spray, shampoo and all kinds of stuff from the fridge (ketchup, sauces, etc.).
It just didn’t make any sense how quickly these different products emptied. He used them more than I did. For example, I only used the fragrance when I went out on the weekend, but after 2 weeks almost a quarter was gone.
Since I always had to leave early in the morning, he had the freedom to use whatever he wanted.
One evening I asked him about this.
He denied everything with big surprised eyes and swore that he only uses his stuff.
So I had to set a trap for him. I chose the toothpaste tube, because it was almost empty. I took a straw and poured a bit of salt inside. Since the toothpaste had already some kind of crystals inside, it was perfect for the salt crystals to blend in the mix.
I placed the tube back where it was and waited for him to go brushing his teeth.
There he went a bit before midnight. Started brushing and a few seconds later I heard gagging noises. And after a few more seconds I heard him vomiting in the toilet.
I guess he didn’t like the mix of sweet toothpaste and salt. When he finally dared to come out of the bathroom, he was fake smiling as if nothing happened. And he stopped using my stuff after that, or at least didn’t use as much.”
12. They Gave Him A Hard Time So He Gave Out Free Food
“So I am a business consultant, and usually during the week we are at client site and get paid for travel, meals, etc. The meal reimbursement policy is quite flexible and doesn’t limit what we can claim, like some of the other consulting companies.
So we can claim lunch, booze, whatever. The policy, however, does lay down a GUIDANCE for a daily limit for food expenses, based on the country where you’re traveling. I capitalized the word GUIDANCE since that is exactly how it is written in the policy.
It is a guide, not a hard limit. For the UK, where my current project is, the limit is $40 per day, which is mostly ok but can be a bit low if you’re in the center of London for example.
Now I do Intermittent Fasting, so most of the days I don’t have breakfast and lunch, and just have one big meal a day, and have no problems keeping to the $40 (usually around $20). On some days, I might go to a fancy restaurant, have a couple of scotches with a steak, and run up a 60 bill.
But during the course of a 5 day week, my average meals would run about $30 a day, if not less.
I’ve never had a problem claiming these expenses in my 9 years with the firm, but recently a new project manager (read: bean counter) came on board, and he sent back a couple of my expense reports for having meal expenses in excess of the $40 for a couple of days, even though the average meal expense over the week was much less than $40.
I tried to reason with him, told him that anyway, it was a guide and not a hard limit, and I was keeping the costs down on other days, he refused to budge and said I could only claim $40 a day for food.
So guess what, I started doing exactly that. Every day, I made sure I was claiming $40 or thereabouts for food. I started buying meals for the homeless people around the train station to make sure I could make up the $40.
So now, where I was claiming less than $150 a week for meals, I now claim $200 and get some good karma for it.”
11. 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 money 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.”
10. 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.”
9. 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 jerk, 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 jerk 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 jerk got to stand outside the urinator for the two hours left in the journey.”
8. He Got Beat At His Own Rules
Here’s reverse malicious compliance…and done well too, I might add!
“I own an escape room company in a town which borders a pretty touristy area and is very close to an airport.
As such we tend to get a lot of bookings from people all over the UK who are visiting the area for the weekend or international people coming to do an escape room on the way to the airport.
We only take online bookings and don’t take walk-ins, therefore the site is only really manned whenever we have bookings. As such, our cancellation policy is that we only allow refunds if the cancellation is more than 24 hours before the scheduled start time.
If it is 2-24 hours before the start time, we can only reschedule the booking. Now, it’s worth mentioning that for the majority of cases (weekdays) we are pretty relaxed with our policy as long as it doesn’t cause any big issues and try our best to accommodate a group as usually, I am the one hosting them so there are not any additional expenses on our part (i.e. staff wages/loss of income from other potential customers).
However, the only day where this policy is really relevant is on Saturday where we are almost always entirely booked from morning to night and have staff members working for us. So any canceled slots would most likely have been filled by other customers, and we are of course still paying our staff for that time.
Although I must say, we have only ever had to enforce this policy a couple of times as we usually accommodate a group in some shape or form.
So I get a call earlier today from a gentleman with a thick Scottish accent that was scheduled to come in with his group in around 2 and a half hours from the time of the call.
The group said that they would be unable to make their booking as they were running late with some other activities or something like that, and asked to reschedule the booking for a later slot. I checked our schedule but didn’t have any slots left for today in any of our rooms. He then asked for a refund as they would be returning back to Glasgow tonight and didn’t know when they would be next down here.
I told him our policy and that our system only allows reschedules instead of refunds due to the time frame and explained that given it’s a Saturday we can’t refund so close to the time as the staff has been arranged, the slot would have been booked, etc.
Rescheduling wouldn’t have worked for them as they wouldn’t be in the area anytime soon.
After a short pause, he asked if we had any free slots to schedule for next month. I checked the system and offered to move the booking to the same time on 16th November, to which he said, ‘Yeah I think that works.’
I changed the time on the system and informed him he would get an email confirming the new time slot.
He replied, ‘Great, so the booking is more than 24 hours away now right?’ Me: ‘Yes it’s booked in for 4 weeks time from today.’ Him: ‘Right so, the booking is more than 24 hours away, I won’t be able to make it, can I have a refund?’
I paused for a second trying to process what had just happened in my head and realized that he had found a loophole in the system!
TECHNICALLY, his booking was more than 24 hours away so he is TECHNICALLY entitled to a refund.
I started laughing and congratulated him on beating the system as I processed his refund.”
7. She Gave Her Customer Exactly What She Asked For – A Discount
“I worked at a pretty popular department store for years, and I have to say that the customers this store breeds are the worst of the worst.
This store is probably 90% of the reason that so many customers feel as entitled as they do. (‘The cashier had the hiccups, it was incredibly annoying, isn’t there anything you can do for me?’ Was an actual honest to God complaint one lady had for me when I was a supervisor.)
So anyway, I was covering a break up at the registers. I was a supervisor at the time and I had also already given my two weeks’ notice. I was beyond fed up. It was like spring of my senior year all over again.
So I’m up at the registers, and this lady who couldn’t have been more than 40 comes up with a huge cart full. Anyone who has worked retail, you know this woman. She’s got The Hair, she’s smacking her gum at me while she talks on the phone, the entire transaction is delayed because I need her to pay and she starts to ignore me because apparently, I’m the rude one for interrupting her phone call.
She proceeds to tell the person on the other end ‘give me a second,’ and finally turns to me and says, as if I’m an impatient child testing her last bit of patience, ‘Yes?’
‘Here’s your total, ma’am.
Do you have any coupons or rewards to use today?’
She nodded, and here is when she drops a few clippings on the counter in front of me, ignoring my outstretched hand, and turns her attention back to her phone.
As soon as I look at the coupons, I see that none of them are usable. She has one that is $10 off your menswear purchase of $50 or more. She has all women’s clothing. The next coupon expired two months ago.
Another one doesn’t start for another week, etc.
So I try again to get her attention. She’s just as lovely and accommodating as the last time.
She rolls her eyes, tells the person on the phone that she will have to call them back, and gives me another sharp “Yes?”
‘Sorry ma’am, this coupon is expired, this one hasn’t started, and this one is only for when you purchase $50 worth of menswear. Do you have any other coupons or rewards?’
She stares at me as though I had just called her mother some unsavory name.
‘UH excuse me, WHAT?’
What could I do but shrug helplessly?
‘You have GOT to be kidding me! That is the entire reason I came out here today, to use those coupons! I really can’t use them?? Unbelievable.
Some customer service here!’ All the while she’s packing her useless coupons back into her purse and glaring scorch marks into my soul.
Remember I said I was done? My patience before Shopzilla here was already at 0. She tipped the scales. I was officially in the negatives. I had negative patience left.
So when she said, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, being so rude to a customer.’ Something in me snapped.
I smiled sweetly at her, mustered up a bright and cheery expression that I usually reserve as my ‘waitress’ face, and said “I’m so sorry you feel that way, ma’am.
But on the bright side, since it’s Tuesday I can still apply your senior’s discount!
So at least you aren’t losing that one, right?”
I can’t quite describe her expression. I think she was angry, but I think she was more shocked. And in that state of shock, she sputtered out ‘I’m not a senior!’
I mimicked her shock, trying to appear horrified by my ‘accidental’ faux pas, and then immediately said: ‘let me take that off of there for you, then!’ And promptly took the senior discount off, bumping her total up another $20. ‘I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, ma’am.’
Oh boy, she was angry, but as I said, I think she was more shocked.
She seemed a little dumbfounded, she paid, she took her stuff, she left.
I will take that petty moment of satisfaction at her horrified expression to my grave.
(It was even worth the write up that I did end up getting after she called the store and gave my manager a piece of her mind.)”
6. 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.”
5. 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 that 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.”
Glad she was put in her place.
4. The Other Woman Started The Pettiness And She Just 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.”
3. 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 jerk, 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.”
2. 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 wench. 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.”
1. 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.
LobbyAnn 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.
LobbyAnn 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.’
