People Share Their Smooth Stories Of Revenge

Let’s face it, some people are just good at taking revenge. It’s like the split second they get mistreated, they already have an idea exactly what they’re going to do or say. It’s sort of a talent and one that many people think should be recognized.

Imagine standing in the line of the bakery at the grocery store and witnessing an entitled lady getting her panties in a bunch because nobody will let her cut in front of them to get blueberry stickin’ muffins. Then the perfect situation unfolds: one of those people in front of her decides to buy out the rest of her beloved blueberry goodies as a way to teach her a little lesson about respect. Or, imagine your partner telling you that since your mother (their mother-in-law) won’t stop eating all her food, that she plotted the perfect revenge: buy a bag of dog treats that look like Circus Animal Cookies and leave them out until dear mother-in-law gets hungry.

You can enjoy reading these revenge stories, among other great reads, below. I think you’ll be satisfied with what you come across!

20. I Sold The Ring A Jerk Customer Wanted

You said to sell it to someone else, sir.

“I used to work in a pawn shop as both a sales associate and a pawnbroker. I have so many stories I could probably tell, but this one always makes me smile because of how smug the man was.

When I was a sales associate, I sold a lot of jewelry and luxury items. I often had to tell people that we couldn’t hold items because A) someone might come in and want it and have the money right there, and B) we had a layaway program. So, unless you put some money down, 20%, holding it wasn’t an option.

So, one day, this man comes in and is looking for a very specific type of ring: diamond channel set anniversary ring set in white gold size 5.

The pawnshop I worked at had a VAST collection of these types of things in many sizes and with many different carat weights. He needed a specific size and a specific carat weight, and he was very much in luck because we HAPPENED to have it. Most pawn shops are you get what you see, and you can see what you get. Basically, we don’t have inventory/stock of any specific item and our jewelers are for sizing and dipping purposes only. So, I show him my ring that I have in the case.

Me: “Here you go. Exactly the size you need and just over the carat weight.”

Man pulls out a loupe, looks at diamonds: “Okay, they’re not AS clear as I normally like them.”

Me: “Yeah, I understand, but the price is only $350, and at a regular jewelry store, this would easily run around $1,500, so while the clarity isn’t as nice, it’s still a really good deal, and I don’t know if you’ll find another this size with the same carat weight.”

Man, sighing: “Okay.

Well, I know your sister store also has some rings, right? Do you think they might have a better one with better quality?”

At this time, there is a woman looking at rings and clearly listening to our conversation, but I’m positive he hasn’t noticed her. She sees the ring in my hand, and I see her eyebrow go up.

Me: “I’m not sure, but they are a smaller store, so their inventory is smaller. If they do have one, there isn’t a guarantee the ring will be the correct size or the same carat weight.”

Man: “Hmm. Okay, well can you hold the ring for me? I want to go see their inventory.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we can’t. Company policy is that all items held must be put on layaway for holding.

If someone wants to buy an item and it isn’t in layaway, we don’t want to stop them.”

Man: “Hmph, well, I’m gonna hold off and go check that store. IF someone comes in and sees THIS specific ring, yeah, go ahead and sell it, but I doubt that’s gonna happen.”

He walked away with a kind of smug look on his face. Just as he left, the woman who was listening to our conversation walks up.

Woman: “Can I see that ring he didn’t want?”

I hand it over to her. She slips it on her finger and smiles.

Woman: “I’ll take it.”

She didn’t even hesitate. She straight-up bought this ring after wearing it for 5 seconds. During ring out, I asked her why, and she said she had been searching for a channel set ring for a few years at the pawnshops, but none had caught her eye like that one, and it was her size, which can be hard to find.

I told her to have a nice day and cleaned it before she left.

45 minutes later, the man walked back in.

Man: “Okay, they didn’t have anything, so I guess I’ll take that one I was looking at.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but just after you left, a woman came up, tried on the ring, and bought it. I don’t have any more in the carat weight you’re looking for. I have some in the higher carat weights if you’re interested!”

Man: “Are you ******* serious? You knew I’d probably be back! Why did you sell it?”

Me: “Well, you did say I should if someone came in and saw it. Just because you doubt something is going to happen doesn’t mean it can’t.” Future_pink719

19. Blast Your TV at 3 a.m.? Hope You Like The Sound Of My Stereo

Sometimes you have to learn lessons the hard way.

“This was a few years back when I was living by myself in a cheap apartment during my last year of college. You know the type: thin walls, stinky carpet, and broken AC. I was only living there a year, so I just lived with a lot of the issues, but one that I had a lot of trouble with was my neighbor whose bedroom shared a wall with my bedroom. I never meet the guy in person since I was in college, and he was never home when I tried knocking on his door.

So, here’s the story…

After a few weeks of living there, I started hearing my neighbor’s TV through my wall. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem if he watched TV at a decent hour.

(He didn’t.) Instead, he would watch TV starting from 11 pm till 4 am or later! I’m a usually heavy sleeper, so as long as I got to bed before he started watching TV, I didn’t wake up to it. Of course, being in my senior year of college meant that I didn’t always go the bed at a good time and stayed up later to study, do homework, etc. These were the nights that his late-night TV binge-watching would keep me up. The first night this happened, I knocked on his door before class to ask him to keep the volume down at night. He didn’t answer, so I wrote on a post-it note and called it a day.

I came back in the evening and found the note on my door with a poorly scribbled addition saying that he could watch TV if he wanted to because it was his apartment.

I was pretty annoyed but wanted to at least give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he misunderstood my note. I knocked on his door again. No answer.

That night, I stayed up late working on a project when, low and behold, he cut on his TV and turned the volume up louder than it had been before. I was pretty mad since I knew he was doing it on purpose now and just made up my mind to call the office in the morning about it. (My apartment complex had a policy where you could put in a complaint about a neighbor, and management would contact them.)

This did not work! I probably called management 4 times about the noise, but the guy never stopped and kept the TV volume super high! I was p*ssed since my sleep is very important to me, and the now louder volume meant it was also starting to wake me up in the middle of the night.

I eventually learned that this guy had a job with pretty odd hours since he slept during the day (he actually had the audacity to complain to management when I had some friends over in the afternoon, and we had woke him up) and apparently was off to watch TV all night.

This is where the petty revenge comes in.

I was going back home for five days during a school holiday, and I decided to teach this guy a lesson. At the time, the apartment on the other side and above mine was vacant, and that gave me an idea. I had a stereo in my room that had a SUPER loud bass and came with a remote control. I set the stereo to repeat a CD after it had played through the whole thing and turned up the bass and volume as loud as it could go.

I packed up my bags, locked up my apartment, and then used the remote to turn my stereo on. It was so loud that I could just hear it through the door. I smiled and drove 3 hours to my hometown. Again, I was gone for 5 days. The whole time, my stereo was blasting a Celine Dion CD I had borrowed from my friend.

I came back with a notice from management posted on my door. The notice was about the noise, but since it was my first offense, it was just a warning. There was also a note from my neighbor, begging me to turn off the music and apologizing profoundly for the TV noise. I went inside, turned off my stereo, and I never heard a peep from my neighbor again.

Life lesson: don’t be an *****, *******************and others won’t be an ***** back to you.” WeirdPhysics8

18. Psycho Customer Throws Food At My Cowork, So I Call Her Boss

“So, I was a low-level manager at a restaurant. I was friends with all the servers. I worked my way up, and the rest of the managers were mostly brought in. I would work my butt off to help them. I’d clean tables, comp tickets even when it’s my lunch, refill drinks if they were in the weeds, etc. We’re in this together; these are my people.

I was getting married, and a majority of my guests and bridesmaids were my co-workers. I got my dress at David’s Bridal. My mom wasn’t there for the dress shopping; she lived 5 states away.

That weekend, we were going back for the fitting, and I was super excited to show my mom my wedding dress and veil.

Back to work: A lady comes in to pick up her to-go order of chicken fingers and fries. They had just been made piping hot, no problems or exceptions to the order. She’s wearing a branded David’s Bridal polo.

She comes back two minutes later, claims the order is cold and that we used old fries, etc. I watched them make the order. She must have opened the box in the car, so there’s no way it’s cold. But okay, we’ll make you another. I get the kitchen to drop the new tenders and fries. The general manager goes to comp the meal.

We always go over the top for customer service.

The lady then claims the to-go girl was rude to her. I was there. She didn’t do anything out of turn. She doesn’t care too much about fighting over chicken fingers. She said, “Okay, let me get a manager. We’re so sorry.”

Somehow in the 8 minutes to turn the order around, the lady is even more upset. The manager tries to give her a card for another free chicken finger meal next time she comes in. The order comes up. We give the new hot order to the now yelling lady. She’s mad because the to-go girl wasn’t punished enough in front of her. I guess the GM was supposed to humiliate my friend in front of everyone?

He said he’ll take care of the discipline problem.

He won’t, but he apologizes again. She opens her bag of food, opens the box, and hurls it. The sauce spills all over my friend’s shirt, and she has hot fries and chicken fingers thrown in her face. The lady stomps out.

I ask my boss to make a call after we all share the “Holy ***, she’s crazy.” He’s confused. I’ve never asked to use my cell on the floor, but he goes along with it.

I call David’s Bridal and tell them I was a guest at a restaurant, and their employee just dumped food and yelled obscenities while in uniform representing their company. Furthermore, I was a bride coming in for a fitting this weekend. I describe the lady and say I don’t want her anywhere near my appointment.

On top of being crazy unprofessional, I have people coming in from out of town. It’s a special time for me; I don’t want her vibe to ruin it. The manager there promises she won’t be and is appalled.

I’ve never called anyone else out for bad behavior while in uniform, but my GM thought this was awesome. And I was totally rocking a petty revenge lady b*ner.” saturnspritr

Another User Comments:

“I’d like to think she got fired for almost costing them a sale, fake as it was since bridal stores make serious bank from even small sales.” DogiiKurugaa

Reply:

“They at least put her on probation because I saw her across the store super glaring at my appointment until anyone else looked at her.

She wasn’t allowed at the back/showroom at all when I was there. And after doing bridesmaid stuff and more fittings there, like a lot. I never saw her working again. She probably wasn’t too even-keeled a person in the first place.” saturnspritr

17. Demand Me To Move 30 Bags Of Concrete When I Don’t Even Work Here? You’ll Regret It

This story had me practically rolling on the floor!

“So… I live in Australia, and we have a supply chain of hardware stores here called Bunnings Warehouse. Picture a hardware store for everyone: both for tradesmen and your average Joe. I was a teenager at the time, and I was dressed in work clothes. I was working for a carpenter.  Steel cap boots, work pants, the whole deal.

The most important thing about this all is my work shirt. My company uses a black button-up shirt with short sleeves and a collar. (Search FXD SSH-1 if you are interested). My company also had our logos plastered all over these things. Now, the people who work at this hardware store, they wear red polo shirts with green writing, the logo for their company.

Now, I was riding shotgun with my boss. He had gone into the store while I was in the timber yard collecting some bags of concrete for the footings we were about to put in. I was moving some of the bags one at a time to my boss’s work truck. These bags aren’t overwhelmingly heavy, 20kg. (45 Lbs for the imperial readers).

But I was only moving one at a time. The walk wasn’t far, and this was at the start of the day. The last thing I wanted to do was injure myself before the real work has even started.

I was on my sixth bag out of 13 when this man came up to me. He was your average DIYer, certainly not a tradesman, just your average bloke: 50s, balding, and wanted to show off that they could successfully screw together a garden shed. He was just staring at the pile of concrete bags. (For context, there are several different kinds of concrete for different purposes: rapid set, mortar, cement, etc.) He then asked me what concrete he should use to put in some fence posts.

I told him he would be looking at the rapid set; it would suit his needs perfectly.

Considering he needed to ask what kind of concrete, I imagined that he hadn’t actually done any sort of work like this before, so I gave him the lowdown: dig your hole, pour the bag directly into the hole, wet it with your hose, dome it off. Pretty simple. So, he said thanks. No issues here. So, I grab my next bag and begin to take it to the truck.

Here is where the fun begins. “What? Where are you going?” He asks. Now, I’m quite confused at this point in time, and then I respond with, “Oh, I’m going to go put these bags on the back of that truck.

Is that a problem?” He replies with “Mate, my car isn’t over there. I’m the white Camry over there.” It’s always the dudes in the white Camry at Bunnings. Any tradesman who goes to Bunnings knows exactly the guy I’m talking about.

Anyways, I stand there trying to figure out what is going on. “Well?” He asks. I figure out that he thinks I work there. “Oh. Sorry mate, I don’t work here. I’m getting concrete for my job, and I’m on a tight schedule. Sorry mate.” Now, usually, if I didn’t have to be somewhere, I would have given anyone a hand. Moving these bags sucks. But he doesn’t seem to believe me. “What? Look at you! Of course, you work here! You got the right clothes and everything!” I try to reply, and he doesn’t want to have a bar of it.

He goes off and says as he’s walking away, “You better have all 30 bags on my car before I get back. Step on it.”

Well, my dearest friend, be careful what you wish for. It didn’t matter that I was busy; this was the new priority. Cue the malicious compliance/petty revenge part of my story. His exact words were, “You better have all 30 bags on my car before I get back.” His car had a box trailer. I knew exactly what he meant. But no. No, sir. I tried to tell you otherwise. But you did not listen.

I needed to move, so I started moving the bags, two at a time. I placed them all over his car: 12 on the bonnet, 6 on the trunk, and the rest, perfectly layering the roof.

I see him walk out. He sees his car, and this man’s jaw hits the God d*mn floor. He nearly had a heart attack. “MY CAR! WHAT THE *** HAVE YOU DONE TO MY CAR???” I had a grin from ear to ear. “I put all 30 bags ON your car, just like you asked.” I was giggling like a toddler.

Now, after much screaming, I told him to can it, and he could move it himself. I was late as it was, and my boss was getting impatient; however, he watched this all and was laughing too.

“Sorry mate, I have to go to my ACTUAL job now, so you’re going to have to move these yourself.” He was not happy, but hey, at least the bags were now significantly closer to his car.

He sucked it up, and began to move them. I was walking back to my car when I heard him yell.

The thing about these bags of concrete is that if you don’t support them underneath and just grab them from the sides, they tend to split, clean down the middle, dumping all the contents of the bag in a messy pile directly underneath the bag. He had split a bag, clean down the middle whilst trying to take it off the roof. This thing spilled its contents all over the roof and windshield of his car, and it was the funniest thing to happen yet. He got the job done eventually but not before splitting 3 more bags. His car was covered in concrete dust.

I left him there, car covered in concrete, whilst he admitted defeat.

This one’s on you Camry guy. This one is on you.” wing_nut_101

Another User Comments:

“Jesus Christ, how the **** did he mistake you for a worker? BUNNINGS IS FULL OF TRADIES AT EVERY HOUR OF THE DAY! My father goes to Bunnings a lot (we joke that he lives there), and he often goes there after work during the week from his day job as a ‘handyman’ for a company (basically, if someone needs something done, they call him — anything from pouring concrete to building work tables to sorting screws), so he’s still in his work uniform- high vis to the max. On the weekend, he runs his own business as a welder, so if he needs to go to Bunnings in the middle of it, he’ll go in his overalls and workboots.

In either of these situations, in the at least 20 something years he’s been going there, he has never once been mistaken for a worker.

In conclusion, you, sir, encountered a special kind of stupid today.” FourEyesDoeEyes

16. Since You’re Going To Eat My Food, You Might As Well Eat Dog Treats Too

“The year was 2006. I was a young, dumb girl that had gone and gotten myself married to someone completely wrong for me. He refused to work, and as a result of the financial difficulties of us both being in school and only me working, we found us living with his mom. Let me tell you, that is every newlywed’s DREAM.

Over the course of us living with her, any time I would buy myself a food treat, my mother-in-law would eat it. It didn’t matter what it was or where I hid it; she was a bloodhound for sniffing out things that I bought just for me.

The final straw was one night when we had gone out to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. I had taken my slice to-go and put it in the fridge. I was gonna have it after work the next day.

The next day at work is absolute ***, and THE ONLY thing getting me through my shift is the small luxury I had at home waiting for me – a slice of cheesecake I know is in my fridge. I go home and pop the lid off the container, and it doesn’t look right.

There are ************ fork marks all around the outside perimeter of my cheesecake like she could just sneak some off all around, and I wouldn’t notice. I was p*ssed. I went and handed it to her and told her she may as well eat the rest of it.

Fast forward a few days, and I am at the pet store picking up some dog food. I’m standing in line waiting to check out, and they have these little boxes of dog treats that look like the little red boxes of animal crackers you can buy for little kids. Now, it very clearly says on the front “Circus Animals For Dogs.”

About this time, I’ve got the little devil sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear, “Do it.” And then the angel pops onto my other shoulder and screams, “****** DO IT!!!” So, they magically end up with the stuff I am buying.

I drive home and leave everything in a bag all together on the kitchen counter.

Several hours later, she comes into our room and says, “I think there was something wrong with those animal crackers. They were the most awful ones I’ve ever eaten. I had to eat a whole thing of frosting with them just to finish them.”

All I said was, “Huh” and shrugged my shoulders.” Reddit user

15. Fire Me For Being An Honest Employee? Lose Your Business, And Go Bankrupt

“So, this happened about 5 to 6 years ago when I worked as an assistant bar manager for the worst bosses ever who we will call ScumBoss and LessScum.

BACKSTORY

These 2 are bankers who had too much money and decided to buy a bar whilst not having any hospitality experience between the 2 of them.

When they employed me, I was only a bar assistant, but because of their scumminess and micromanaging habits, it made the bar manager and assistant bar manager quit, and I rose to my position. (I was good at my job and have always been in hospitality, so I was qualified to be promoted.)

Our bar is open from 10 am till 2 am, so when I became the manager, I didn’t have anyone to do split shifts with as it took them so long to hire someone else. I’d be working from 8 am till 3 am 6 days a week without any complaints. I liked my staff, but I hated my bosses. I was able to form good relationships with customers, so we had loads of regulars coming in when we were open.

So, ScumBoss and LessScum had no idea how to serve tables, let alone, run a bar, but they refused to listen to any of our suggestions and still wanted massive profits. One way was to keep tabs on big party reservations. When the customers in these parties were drunk beyond belief, they wanted us to add items in their orders that they didn’t order and manually increase the price for any liquor that they bought by the bottle so that their bill would be higher. The previous staff were compliant in following their orders, but I had my morals, so I refused to cheat customers.

ScumBoss wasn’t happy that I wouldn’t listen to him, so he made sure to make it known that he didn’t fancy me.

He’d constantly berate me in front of new staff or his guests (he’d constantly bring his coworkers in the bar to show-off that he was some kind of bigshot in the bar), saying that the only reason why some of our regulars came was because they wanted to ogle at my breasts. LessScum would try to diffuse the situation and apologize for his friend, but when he’d get drunk, he’d end up doing the same thing.

So, finally, ScumBoss decided it was time to get rid of me so that they could replace me with a yes-man that wouldn’t question them, so they decided to sack me and accuse me of stealing tips, giving away free drinks to my regulars and abusing the staff.

By this time, I already had another job lined up as I had had enough of them, so I wasn’t really perturbed by losing the job.

My issue was that they refused to give me my last paycheck because they had to give my severance, any overtime pay, as well as pay any outstanding annual leave I had. I worked 19 hours a day when I only had to work 8 hours, so I had lots of overtime and had loads of annual leave left as I couldn’t take any vacations because no one could cover me, so they had to pay me a good $6,000-7,000 for firing me.

THE REVENGE

After holding my rightly deserved money back for 2 months, I decided to report them to some government agencies.

I reported them to the manpower department, telling them of my work hours and only being given 30 minute break times, the treatment of their staff, as well as their habit of hiring people on tourist visas. (If you’re on a tourist visa, you’re not allowed to work; otherwise, you’re classified as illegal.)

I also gave the Environment Agency a ring and reported the horrible environment of the bar (we had roaches and rats, and when I told the bosses, they just ignored me and said I should just keep it to myself), in addition to most of their staff not having the proper prior food handling training. (My staff resigned when I got sacked, so most of the leftover staff were their yes-men who loved sucking up to them.)

I then met up with some of my regulars who have become my drinking buddies and learned that ScumBoss and LessScum have been telling customers that looked for me that I quit.

So, when I told them the whole story of what transpired, they got furious and told all their friends and colleagues to not frequent the bar anymore. (They didn’t like the bosses as well but came to the bar because of me.)

Last I heard, manpower agents audited them and discovered that 80% of the staff were illegals and that they were overworking their staff as well as mistreating them. An environment agent came unannounced the following week and discovered the pest infestation, hence making the bar’s cleanliness rating as D. They got fined about $20,000 for this negligence. And because my regulars stopped coming to the bar, they only had 20-30% of their usual customers. They ended up going bankrupt and closing the bar.

I, on the other hand, got my money as well as a good story to tell.” AngryHammy

14. Steal A Parking Sticker? Get Expelled

Some people just don’t think things through too well.

“I live in Iowa. My father is a professor at the University of Northern Iowa.

We have a parking system at U.N.I, and it starts with “A” stickers which professors, staff, and graduate assistants have. Well, technically, we have a “G” sticker as well, but it’s kind of useless and only given out in a lottery system.

Below A is B and C. Each parking lot has a huge sign that tells who can park where.

My dad, the absent-minded professor, often forgets to lock his car, and one day, he called me to ask if I had borrowed his parking sticker.

I told him no, and he started to freak out.

Background about me:

I went to college for security and private investigations but was working at the time as loss prevention.

I only lived a few blocks away from his office and knew he would be raging and going a little off the wall at the indignity of having his sticker stolen.

When I got to the building, I went up the 6th floor and to his office. He was busy calling other professors asking then if they saw anything.

I asked if he called campus police, and he said no. (Facepalm moment.) I told him what’s where we needed to start because they have the tag number, and as classes don’t get out for another hour, we should have time to check all the A parking lots.

He looks at me and says, ‘How do you know this?’ I say, ‘Dad, this is what I do for a living. People steal things, and I track them down. I’m especially good at catching employees.’

We make our way to public safety and explained what happened. They said they didn’t have the time to track it down, and I said, ‘No worries; that’s why I’m here.’

We went back to the parking lot with the tag number and started walking down the rows looking at all the tags hanging from the rearview mirrors.

I found the car 4 rows over and 3 slots west. Dad called campus police, and an awesome officer arrives and matches the tag to my dad, not this car.

Class was due to get out in about five minutes, and we elected to wait for the thief and confront him. My dad is the epitome of, you’re only worth the deeds you do, and takes everything very personal and is the kind of professor you either love or absolutely hate.

We wait for quite some time making jokes and watching the students exit the building into the parking lot. I spot the thief first as he’s walking to the parking lot, earbuds in, nose deep in his phone when he glances up and sees us standing around his car. He stops mid-step and does an about-face. I point him out to the officer, and the officer yells for the student to stop and talk.

The student stops and turns around. The officer asked if this is his car. The student pauses, shrugs, and says yes. The officer asks him if he knew the tag was stolen, and he, of course, said no. The officer asks where he got it and what year he was. The student claims he’s a sophomore, and he bought it at the campus parking office.

The officer says nope, impossible because you don’t qualify for that tag. ‘Where did you get it?’ He said he bought it from a friend this morning. Officer asked who the friend was, and the student refuses.

The officer says he’s heard enough and that he needs to give the tag to my dad and apologize.

He does so and thinks he’s free to go.

(Lol, nope.)

The officer then proceeds to write tickets.

-illegally parking

-improper use of a parking tag

-possession of a stolen tag

The kid’s face is going from white to green at this point. He asks if he can leave, and the officer says no.

The officer has the car towed away at the student’s expense.

I ask the officer how much that all adds up to, and he says that after the towing, violations, and impounding, probably over $2,000. My dad only asks one question….

What was that kid’s name? The officer tells him, and we all shake hands and go our separate ways. Dad and I go grab lunch, and I can tell he’s not letting this go. I ask him what he’s going to do. He tells me he’s going to send an email with the information to the other professors on campus, the dean of students, and overall just blast this kid off-campus.

I say, ‘Remind me never to steal from you,’ and he reminds me that I had growing up several times, and it never worked out for me either. We laughed.

A few weeks go by, and I ask dad for an update. He tells me that the student was expelled three days after the incident and that I did a great job spotting and tracking down the student and tag.

I said, ‘Dad, I might not be a rocket scientist or teacher, but tracking people is what I do.’ Tilok360

13. Try To Cut Me In Line To Get Muffins? I’ll Buy Out The Rest Of Them

“So, this happened today. Just now, actually.

I’m doing my elderly neighbor’s shopping every so often during the pandemic, and they needed stuff from a couple of shops today as it’s been a while, and they needed a good amount of shopping done.

I’d been out for a couple of hours by this point. I was tired, and my feet were really hurting, and I was pretty much done with the outside world (very much an indoor kind of girl; don’t go out if I can help it for months on end).

So, I was at the last shop I needed and the closest to home. I’d already dealt with multiple grumpy/entitled/moronic people already, and as I said above, I. Was. Done.

This random woman (I’ll call her RW) comes barging past me in the cart corral, and whilst I’m walking towards it to get myself a cart, she pushes me out of the way to get her own. Okay, I think to myself, she’s just in a hurry.

Deep breaths and continue. So, I did.

I walk past her as she’s browsing the flower section, and I head towards the in-store bakery and wait in the orderly line that’s already there. Three people in front of me, two are a couple, so it’s no big deal that I have to wait a few moments for a couple of blueberry muffins.

Then in comes the RW. She tries to push in front of the couple and solo shopper in front of me. The person at the very front said he was in line for the bakery. She tried to stand behind him but in front of the couple. They politely say they’re in a line. Then she stands in front of me.

I nicely tell her I’ve also joined the line, and I think it’s just behind me by now to save her trying to jump in just behind me. She then looks at me, sighs, stamps her foot, and this ensued.

RW: “I’m only here for a couple of them purple muffins. Can I just go ahead? I’m not going to take long.” *as she’s trying to step back in front of me*

Me: *moving forward a tiny bit to make clear she’s not getting in but trying to keep socially distanced from couple ahead (She was getting up close to everyone.)* “Actually, that’s all I’m here for too, so I think your best bet is just joining the line; it’s not long at all.”

RW: *sighs loudly and rolls her eyes at me, clearly getting fed up, starts walking* “For God’s sake: 2 ****** muffins.”

In my head: I get it lady, trust me.

I’m standing here with sore feet in uncomfortable shoes trying my best too…

She eventually goes off to the back but is tapping her feet, tapping her toes, etc., grumbling about wasting time waiting for a couple of muffins.

So, I then get to the muffins. They have a ton of chocolate but only 4 blueberry. After seeing the 4, I was only going to get 2 for the neighbors so as to share, but I wanted 2 for me, and neighbors wrote 2 on their list (the reason I was in that shop in the first place.) I really do enjoy the blueberry muffins and usually, always buy myself 2 when I’m in there. And given the stress of the morning already, I felt I deserved a treat as it’s been months.

But given that she made the two people in line behind me leave the bakery line (one looked like he wanted to cry) because of her behavior, I decided I would like my 2 usual muffins.

She saw I had 4, 2 in 2 bags, and her jaw hit the floor when she saw none left in the basket. I was going to leave the 2 for me behind until she decided to continue the awful behavior after the cart incident. She asked the store colleague if they had anymore because some selfish woman just took the last ones. (He saw me take them. I’ve been shopping in there for 5 years, and most of the colleagues know my face by now.) He looked at me; I shrugged.

He said to her that they only had what was put out already for the day. So, she tutted and went about gathering multiple bakery bags and getting some other stuff. I continued on with my neighbor’s shopping and didn’t see or hear her again.

And then!

At checkout, with social distancing, we’re being asked to wait in the aisle near the checkout until we’re called up to the register. So, I stood there, clearly watching the cashier lady and then comes RW. She looks at me, walks past me, and dumps her cart (with about 7 bakery bags, one with chocolate muffins, so clearly didn’t just want 2 muffins) and started loading.

The cashier lady looked at me as if to say something, but I’m not the confrontation type, and after today, it just didn’t need to be said.

But RW looked at me, clearly waiting for an argument.

So, I simply said, after looking behind me to make sure she wasn’t about to inconvenience anyone else, ‘No, you’re okay. You go ahead. I’m not in a hurry. I’ve got the muffins I needed; a couple of extra minutes wait won’t hurt me.’

And her face turned bright red. I’m sure I could see the steam coming from her ears. But, she got herself sorted and went on her way. I made sure to pack my cart at the opposite end of the packing area. I purposely went slowly until she left; I didn’t need a round 3. Luckily by the time I was packed, she seemed long gone. I put my cart back and came home.

The neighbors are happy, and I’m enjoying my blueberry muffins with my sore feet up. They said they’ll enjoy theirs even more after hearing my story.

Now, I’m the first person to let people in front of me when they say they’re in a hurry or even look like they’re in a hurry, especially since the lockdown. I’m definitely socially awkward, and I beyond hate being out, least of all alone, but if I don’t shop for the neighbors, they’ll have no food, especially having no kids themselves. And after nearly being knocked off my feet, so she could get a cart first and saying nothing, I wasn’t about to be bossed around a second time.” Gemma_xo

12. Steal Our Artifacts? Say Buh-Bye To Your Business

“I work for a large scale tourism business consisting of a museum, various gift shops, online stores, and handcrafted artisanal goods.

We pride ourselves in being 100% family-owned, although I’m personally not related to the owners of the business at all, but my family is very connected, and my whole family has worked here for a number of years.

The museum was originally run as one unit by the whole family, but there was a feud, and they split, leaving the museum to one half of the family and the merchandising company to the other half. I won’t give any more details for privacy and legality reasons. I’ll just call the merchandising company, Company B, for brevity.

After the feud, the two businesses operated under one roof with Company B paying rent to the museum to stay in the facility, but in 2018, they made plans to move out.

They decided that they were going to build a brand new facility next to the museum, and as a result, they needed to bulldoze a couple of historical houses that the museum owned. We let them tear the houses down as long as we could take the artifacts stored in the basements because they were rightfully ours anyway.

This is where it gets interesting.

At this point, Company B wasn’t being owned or operated by family at all. They had previously fired every single member of the family shortly after the feud, and the company is now being run by a man who married into the family and then divorced out of it. He’s seriously bad news. We caught him in the museum after hours in the women’s restroom cheating on his wife with a cashier.

He also does some shady business practices, doesn’t pay employees enough, doesn’t follow safety regulations, the works. All around bad dude. We’ll call him BD.

Anyway, the historical houses had to be torn down. It was sad as they were some of the oldest houses in the area, but we were able to take the molding out and recover some really nice fixtures before construction started. The houses went down, and construction on the new building started. Honestly, it’s not that bad looking of a building. My boss always joked about how it would make a nice restaurant if it ever went under.

So, BD is getting things ready to be moved out of the museum, which means the entire first floor needs to be moved out.

It takes them about a week, and due to some heavy equipment being moved, we couldn’t operate during that time for safety reasons. No biggie.

Then we returned to work. Everything was gutted. I mean everything. They stripped the floor down to the cement, they took the light fixtures off the walls, they tore out outlets and lights switches, literally everything was gone. My boss was reasonably mad, but she decided we would remodel anyway after that.

A couple of months go by, and we realize Company B is doing…. oddly well. We had a coworker investigate to figure out what was going on.

They stole every artifact we kept in the basements of those houses: antique furniture, commando knives from WWII, an antique bicycle, historical documents, Native American carvings, and arrowheads, essentially advertising themselves as the new museum, stealing our customers, and displaying our artifacts that they stole as their own.

Very colonial of them.

Obviously, my boss sued the *** out of them. I don’t know the specific amount because it was never really talked about outside of rumors, but apparently, it was in the tens of millions. We won the lawsuit, obviously, as theft is pretty frowned upon in court.

This was during the final stages of construction, so Company B couldn’t pay the construction company on time, and they got smacked with all kinds of fees. They took out a loan of a couple of million dollars to be able to pay their employees about a year ago, which they haven’t even begun to pay off. They still don’t have a parking lot either because the construction company refused to build one for them when they were late on their payments.

The last remaining family member affiliated with Company B sold his shares to outsiders, and because they aren’t run by anyone in the family, we can copyright the family name and make them change their branding.

Looks like in a couple of years, we’ll have a nice restaurant.” max_maus

Another User Comments:

“Did you get the artifacts back?” pissedfemale

Reply:

“We got everything back that we reported missing and then some. Turns out, the basements had more than we thought, but since it belonged to us, they had to hand that over too.” max_maus

11. Keep Stealing My Brother’s Snacks? I Hope You Like Wasabi And Dog Food

I need this on video.

“There was a kid on the bus in middle school that would not stop stealing my brother’s snacks, so we decided to teach him a lesson.

This preteen imbecile, without asking, would snatch my brother’s backpack from the seat behind us and root through it for food. He would then proceed to loudly complain to anyone listening if there was nothing edible or if he didn’t like what he had stolen.

We repeatedly told him to stop, but this continued to occur over a span of several months. So, as anyone would do in this situation, we decided to fill a bag of very enticing-looking corn nuts with dog kibble and wasabi balls.

For those of you who don’t know, wasabi balls are the same size and weight of Corn Nuts, and you can’t taste the spice until they’ve been in your mouth for about three seconds. The kibble was also the same size/weight as the corn nuts.

As per our previous observations, we learned that the kid would tear these bags open and pour about a quarter of the bag’s contents into his mouth at once, so we planned accordingly.

We made a small incision at the very bottom of the bag, took out about half of the corn nuts, and replaced them with the wasabi balls and kibble. We then used invisible tape over the incision to make sure the thief wouldn’t suspect anything and shook the bag to mix the contents. In my opinion, it was great handiwork for two 12-year-olds barely passing math.

The next morning, we were more than ready to enact revenge.

Our plan worked seamlessly. When the kid took the backpack and stole the bag of Corn Nuts, we discreetly watched from the other side of the seat (he didn’t think to look around while tearing open his prize).

As hypothesized, he poured about a quarter of the “Corn Nuts” into his mouth. He chewed for about five seconds before he spewed the kibble, wasabi ball, and Corn Nut mixture all over the floor of the bus. He didn’t even look at us, which was probably a good thing, seeing as we were trying our hardest not to burst out laughing.

Needless to say, he did not steal my brother’s snacks after that incident, and he got in trouble for making a mess of the bus.

I have many, many more stories about this dude throughout the rest of middle school and into high school, but this is by far my favorite.” leeleegopeepee

10. Won’t Let Me Work My Scheduled Hours? You Can Pay My Unemployment

“Backstory: I work at a place offering childcare on my college campus.

When quarantine hit, the center closed, and the campus graciously continued to pay us.

At the beginning of May, an email was sent out explaining we would be opening again in mid-May and to let them know if we’d like to wait until the school year to come back, not come back at all, or give our availability. I put it in for Mondays and Wednesdays, 9:30 to 5. To get to work, I drive to the bus stop and take the bus to the train stop, a total of an hour’s commute.

Well, I worked one shift. It was quite an adjustment, and the very first day we were reopened, but I made it through like a champ!

Then came Wednesday. With the 1 hour commute, I wake up at 7, and my bus leaves at 8:21, so I leave my house at 8:10.

At 8:00, however, I receive a call saying that I’m not needed in the center today. Well, that’s cool, I guess; now I can sleep in. I’m just annoyed because I already got ready and was about to leave. I’m thinking, this is a one-time occurrence right? Wrong.

For the next THREE WEEKS, I get a call every Monday and Wednesday saying I’m not needed at the center, many of which came after I arrived at the bus stop, so I have to turn right back around as the bus pulls up. So, that’s one paycheck right there with 0 hours on it.

So, I contacted the person in charge of scheduling, and ask if I should switch days, plan on not coming in for a while, etc.

She tells me I can either switch to Tuesdays and Thursdays (when “less people” work), or she can let me know when they’ll need me again. I, naturally wanting/needing money for tuition in the fall and still being furloughed at my 2nd job and not working my 3rd at the moment, opt to switch days, even though it’s a little less convenient for my schedule.

So, I start on June 16th with my new hours. Again, I work the first day. It goes slightly better this time, though it’s been a few weeks since I’ve been in. I’m starting to feel excited about working again since I missed the kids.

Then, you guessed it, that same pattern continues of getting up at 7 and getting ready for work, only to be called at about 8:18 every day (when I’m already waiting for my bus at the stop) and told I’m not needed.

When there are “fewer people” working on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I “should” be able to come in.

After two weeks of this, I say screw it. If you aren’t gonna let me work when I’m trying hard to fit my schedule around YOURS, not the other way around, as it should be with a job, I’m gonna file for unemployment. I mean, there are at least a few dozen people working at this childcare center. It should NOT be me every day being told I’m not needed; that burden should be spread around, so we each get a day off once in a while or whatever. I’ve now suffered TWO empty paychecks. Yeah, screw that.

So, I filed on Thursday. And guess who got to work today, albeit doing the cleaning and the scummy jobs the entire time? Me.

Hmmm, I wonder if they saw that I filed and decided it’s cheaper to let me work than paying my unemployment?”

9. Want An “American” On The Phone? Sure, But You Didn’t Specify What Language They’d Need To Speak

“I’m an American that was born and raised in the south. It’s an obvious dialect. Also, English is a 2nd language for most people here. Language barriers are not uncommon. All of this comes into the revenge.

Years ago, I worked in a call center. It was a large company with English and Spanish departments. I worked in the English department but sat next to our Spanish department. I handled billing. No one calls billing in a good mood, but in general, they’re angry with the company, not the rep.

You calm them down, fix the issue, and you’re off to the next call.

Few customers are memorable, but this one I will never forget, and I still laugh. This call happened on a busy day with long wait times. This just made the revenge sweeter. The call went like this.

Me: “Thank you for calling blah, blah, blah.”

Lady: “I want an American on the phone.”

Me: “What?”

Lady: “I said I want an AMERICAN on the phone.”

Me: “Mam, I’m an American.”

Lady: “I WANT AN AMERICAN ON THE PHONE!”

At this point, I can only assume I’m not speaking the right language.

Me: “Un momento por favor.”

I put her on hold, transfer her over to the Spanish line, and just giggled to myself.

BUT IT DIDN’T END THERE.

The lines were starting to calm down, and I was chatting with one of the Spanish reps when his deskmate pops up and says she’s got a psycho on the phone.

IT WAS THE WOMAN I HAD TRANSFERRED!!! She was going BALLISTIC! The Spanish rep had her on mute while talking to us. I apologized and told her what happened. She started laughing. Then looks right at me and said, “I’m gonna put her back in the Spanish queue.”

The Spanish department had a blast laughing at this crazy **** as they kept putting her back in the queue. I don’t know if she ever got her issue fixed. Then again, we never found out what the issue was either. She was too busy yelling at everyone.

Moral of the story, be nice to phone reps.” AlfalfaFloozy

8. This Is Why You Should Touch My Music

“I used to work at a car manufacturing plant, and it’s quite loud and monotonous, so they allowed us to play music. When I first started, we had these giant radio boxes built out of a car stereo and a car battery. They were huge and got in the way, so they decided that they were going to install a sound system throughout the line, and people could just play the music that way. This meant that only one person could play music at a time, so you had to sign up for a specific run.

Our day was split between two different jobs for 2 hours at a time.

These were called runs. Therefore, in a given day, four people could play music all day long. When they first implemented it, I waited to see what other people would play. Unsurprisingly, it was either Lil Wayne or Five Finger Death Punch — radio dad rock or an endless loop of the same songs by Lil Wayne. I can listen to any genre of music no problem, but when it’s the same guys (let’s call them Z and Y) played the same 2 albums back to back to back to back of Lil Wayne, that was becoming monotonous unto itself, so I decided to start bringing in my music.

Being a metalhead my whole life, naturally, it took me a minute to cultivate a playlist that was work-appropriate.

If someone heard a curse word in my music, it was immediately shut off, but Lil Wayne’s albums went fully uncensored without a peep from anyone. So, once I started playing my music at the same volume that FFDP and Lil Wayne were played at, I got immediate complaints that it was too loud and too aggressive for a workplace setting. (This was not the office where the higher-ups worked but the loud floor.)

I ignored these complaints but eventually started making a few of my own. Mainly, it was Z and his friend Y who liked their Lil Wayne played at a volume of 20 who would constantly walk off their jobs and turn my music down to a 5, thereby making it impossible to hear at all over machinery and people talking.

This is when I started to put a revenge scheme in place.

I continued to bring in loud screaming and screeching guitars for weeks stoking the fires and watching them turn down my music time and time again. I complained daily to my boss knowing he wasn’t going to do anything about it. So, I filled up two flash drives with two distinctly different genres of music.

That day, I came into work and complained to my boss before work that if he didn’t make some sort of announcement against turning down other people’s music, I’d go to HR and file a complaint. He agreed to do so that day at our daily meeting before work.

I signed up for two runs that day: the first and third, both of which were while I was at my second job, which was too loud to hear whatever music was playing at all.

My boss made his announcement and said if anyone turns down anyone else’s music, they are getting a write-up and being sent to HR. I thanked him and plugged in my music before walking to my loud second job.

For the next two hours, LOUD Bollywood music played for middle-aged, white dudes and young 20-somethings. They went insane! Some of them literally stopped the line, walked over to me, and begged me to turn it off. Then they got the point and wouldn’t touch my metal again when I refused. They suffered while I made sure for them all to see me laughing hysterically every time they looked over and shot me middle fingers.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, and they knew what I was doing, they begged me not to do it for the third run of the day.

Some offered money to take my slot. I refused. So, the third run of the day, I played LOUD Italian opera music for two hours. Same result. Furious, old men losing their minds. “I can’t concentrate with this music,” my boss told me of their complaints. I agreed to not do it again if they all agreed to let me play my music at the same level they all enjoy. Nobody touched my music again.

A friend of mine told me later about Z and Y talking about all the rap music they were going to bring in and how p*ssed I would be. (I don’t dislike rap at all. I just don’t wanna hear the same two albums day in and day out.) So, my friend said this to them, “You guys don’t understand at all.

It’s not about him winning; it’s about you losing. The fact that this is driving you insane, that’s you losing. Bringing in music he likes isn’t going to hurt him at all. You’re just going to keep losing because he’s better at this than you are.”

I was so proud.” fnbigshot

7. Perform Illegal Dental Work? I’ll Share That Info With Everyone

“Way back in 2006 during my first year in high school, I was bullied by this new guy in class. Let’s call him BB (BigBully). BB was somewhat other people would call “cool.” He’s got the looks, the height, and most importantly, the manipulative personality.

This guy tormented me throughout my 4 years of high school through daily bullying. Calling names, threatening me with physical contact, humiliating me in front of other people, and spreading false rumors about me are just some of the things I went through.

Reason being? I don’t know, probably never had a dog in his life.

Fast forward, we finished our high school career, and I moved to another city to study for college. BB, I don’t know what happened to this guy, and I didn’t really care. I went from a shy, introverted guy to an outgoing, everyone-is-my-friend type of person during college where I finished my degree in dental medicine in 2016. I became really active regarding my profession (through community works and civic actions) and had expanded my connections.

After a year, my high school was about to reach its 50th founding anniversary, and the alumni association was planning for a grand reunion. I was added to the group regarding this event on Facebook, and there I saw BB’s profile.

He didn’t make it great in life. He was regularly changing jobs, most of the time unemployed, and had a wife engaging in illegal activities in which he takes part in. Now, the illegal activities I mentioned here are performing dental work without license for a very cheap price. They do install braces for 3000 Php (around $60) to curious teenagers and adults alike.

I cannot even describe the feeling I got when I remembered the nightmare I was in high school, and now I have the chance of revenge.

In our country, one law states that if you do dental works without license, you’ll be imprisoned for at least 2 to 5 years and must pay fines costing Php200k to 500k (~$4,000 to $10,000).

This guy didn’t attend college. This guy didn’t have a license. This guy is in no position to do dental work.

Having sworn to uphold my profession and prevent harm to others, I did what any licensed dentist here would do if they knew someone practicing illegally. So, I called up some people within our local dental chapter, so they can connect me to the other chapters and do some kind of entrapment operation within BB’s area. A cop went undercover and had him avail of the dental braces. Other cops went in as BB’s wife was putting the brackets in the cop’s mouth. Both of them went to prison.

BB never knew that it was me behind his imprisonment. He and his wife are still in jail, and the verdict is yet to come.

It’s a bailable offense, but I doubt BB saved enough for the two of them. The justice system here sucks, so it would probably take some happy time in jail while the case is in process.

Some notes: first-year high school here is equivalent to grade 7. High school ends at four years, then we can go to college. I was 13-years-old at this time.

In our country, people would do stupid things to look rich, hence dental braces since it costs a lot. The price for a dental brace is usually around Php50k (~$1,000), while the daily minimum wage of an average citizen is Php512 ($10.34).

Not sorry for his wife.” threeeyedghoul

6. Refuse To Let Me Help You? I’ll Let You Fail Miserably

“So, this happened a while ago when I was getting a certificate in chocolate making.

I go to a chef college, and other than my daytime program (I’m studying baking), I also take these extra classes.

Now, in these classes, it’s a hit or miss on who you get as a class partner. I took a course called Chocolate Confections and got a cool female partner BC (short for B*tchy ***).

At first, it was smooth sailing. Our chocolates always came out perfect. The teacher gave us full marks for good temper and shine. The world kept spinning.

However, in our last class, *** hit the fan. We were making goat cheese and goat milk caramel chocolates and also rosewater lychee chocolate bonbons. It got really stressful due to the amount of time needed to cook down the goat milk and the number of things to juggle.

I tried to be calm and just go with the flow. BC, on the other hand, was straight up panicking.

Then our goat milk caramel burned.

The teacher took one look at it and told us that we can salvage it…if we don’t mind the bitter taste. And do NOT mix it.

So, I stop mixing it and BC sees that.

BC: “What are you doing? Keep mixing it!”

Me: “But Chef said that if we mix it, it’ll just bring back more burned bits-”

BC: “I DON’T CARE, KEEP MIXING.”

So, I kept mixing. And the caramel brought up more burned bits in. BC didn’t apologize at all; she just blamed it on me afterward.

The last straw came after I tried to give some helpful advice about the caramel for next time.

She says, “Just because you’re in the daytime program and I’m not doesn’t mean that I don’t know things. STOP GIVING ME ADVICE.”

Oooooook.

See, when she told me that, she was filling up her chocolate with the caramel and goat cheese cream. (We got extra filling from Chef.)

Now the bonbons we did had three steps:

Make the chocolate shells

Make the filling and pipe it in

Cap the chocolates with tempered chocolate.

Here’s the thing…after we pipe filling into the chocolate shells, we have to put it in the fridge to allow the filling to set. After 10 minutes, we take it out of the fridge and leave it at room temperature so that when we cap it, the chocolate will not set before we can properly cap it.

Capping means that we take a ladleful of melted/tempered chocolate, place it on our mold, then use a scraper to flatten it so that our chocolate bonbons have a flat surface.

When I placed my chocolate molds in the fridge, I noticed that not only were hers not in there, but it was RIGHT NEXT TO OUR PORTABLE STOVE.

That means that her chocolate filling won’t set properly and will take a long long time to do so.

But, hey, she told me not to give advice, right?

So, I kept quiet for the whole thing.

I watched as she capped her chocolate onto her mold. She had capped it while the filling was not set, AND the white chocolate she used was out of temper by a few degrees.

When it was time to take out our chocolates, she SLAMMED her mold onto the table several times, but no chocolate came out. The few that did ended up being smashed because she didn’t notice that they came out and had smashed it repeatedly.

Everyone was staring at her. We all knew what happened; her chocolate wasn’t coming out because she didn’t temper it properly and was too impatient. The wet filling made the chocolates go out of temper and not contract properly.

The best part was that when MY chocolates were done, I only tapped the chocolate mold gently and about 60% of my chocolates came out perfectly. I didn’t have to smash it or anything.

Her face when she saw that was scathing.

She ended up having to take her mold home because most of her chocolates wouldn’t come out. And the ones that did come out were smashed.

Revenge is sweet.” shadowhood2020

5. Cheat On Him? He Has A Creative Way Of Getting Rid Of You

“Me and my friends sometimes hang out with a guy we will call Mark. Now, Mark is in his 40s, happily married to a woman, they have 2 kids in their teens. I will tell this story as accurately as possible from what Mark told us.

As you all know, married life can many times get boring with 9 to 5 jobs, mundane life in a small-time village, kids are growing up so you don’t have to look after them 24/7 anymore.

So, you do what you can to make life interesting. You get a dog, start some hobbies, etc., etc. Or so at least Mark thought. He also thought that his happy little life would last forever. Wrong.

Mark found out through the ********* that while he was playing sports, being at work, trying to break the boring life they were having, his wife (let’s call her Mandy) was tending to some hobbies of her own, hobbies that included getting sweaty and real passionate with another man from a few towns over. At first, the rumors didn’t bother him; they were rumors after all. But something in Mandy’s behavior started to change. No more fun time with Mark, she started to get distant, no more talking — just yelling, being annoyed, etc., etc.

It went on for a few months.

This struck Mark as off, and one time after we were done playing soccer, he asked us what to do. We came up with several solutions, like confronting her. But Mark didn’t want to ruin his marriage over some mood swings and a rumor. So, he did what every sane man would do. He set up cameras all through the house. And I am talking PI quality stuff here. He had cameras in the bathroom, living room, their bedroom, basically everywhere but the room of his children. He updated us on his new hobby and his set up, and things cooled off for a few weeks.

After a few weeks after soccer time, we went out for a few beers.

Mark wasn’t quite himself, so we inquired what was wrong. He told us that he after several nights of recording tape, he found out that Mandy, indeed, was cheating on him. He was furious, they were married 20+ years, they were high school sweethearts with 2 boys, and she betrayed him.

Now comes the revenge part. He didn’t confront her right ahead. Mark formulated a plan. Living only a few towns over, he had no problem getting the guy’s phone number. Now you all know those pesky advertising companies who call you to get you to buy products, right? Mark pretended to be one and called the guy with the pretense he was selling him some body cleansing pills and other ***.

He knew the guy was overweight, and being quite a smooth talker, he didn’t have much problem getting him hooked.

He got the guy’s first and last name (which he already knew), his address, SSN, job, address, and some other stuff that doesn’t really matter to the story. He told the guy he was in a ballot for different prizes from the company he was working for, and he would stay in touch in case the guy won anything.

After that came part 2. While Mandy was at work on a Friday, he packed all the stuff she owned: clothes, jewelry, collectibles, and other stuff into their family car. They have a VW Touran, so everything she had easily fit in. When Mandy came home from work, he told her they were going on a trip.

At first, she was against it, but again, the smooth-talking convinced her to roll over pretty quickly, and she got in the van with him. Before that, he took the boys to one of our friend’s house (they weren’t 18 yet, and he is a responsible father), and off they went.

Where did they go, you ask? Remember how he called the guy Mandy was cheating with? I think you know the answer. Sadly, or very hilariously, Mandy had no clue. He took her and all of her belongings to the guy’s address and called him on the way, telling him to come outside. He said he won the first prize, and he was on his way to give it to him personally.

Mandy still had no clue. She thought he was just pranking one of his friends. (I believe you realized by now that she isn’t the brightest one in this world.)

Imagine her and guy’s face when he rolled into the parking spot of guy’s house. He stepped out of the car, shook the guy’s hand, and told him: “Here is your prize, sir. I believe you know what it is.” He took one last look at Mandy’s white face and walked off.

He got custody of both kids since he was better off than her and also told the judge she was cheating and that’s why he was divorcing her.

This all happened last year, and as far as we know, the guy was an A-grade *****, and she left him soon after that.

(After a few beatings and some trips to the ER/police station.) Mark got over her after some time and a lot of alcohol, but he and his boys are doing great. They were both big enough to realize their mom was at fault and still barely talk to her when they go to visit.

She tried to return into Mark’s life on a few occasions, but he did the smart thing told her to *** right off.

He told us this story after we went out for a few beers after soccer again. I was laughing so hard imagining the whole thing that I had to go to the bathroom; otherwise, I would have peed myself.

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as we did.” uselesskarma123

4. Try To Take My Wife’s Job After Her Maternity Leave? Lose Your Position Instead

“Background:

We live in a country that needs a lot of improvement on laws, their application, and enforcement…. We are a lot better than a few years back, but still, sometimes people can get away with forging certain types of documents like medical records, education degrees, etc.

Also, English is not our main language, so job titles, degrees, and other details are translated to their best equivalence.

According to our country’s labor laws:

All female employees are entitled to 3 months of paid maternity leave.

Employers, at their own expense, are expected to cover for the employees on maternity leave, usually with temp workers.

Severance payments are mandatory when firing employees (without justified cause… crime, fraud, etc.) with more than 3 months on their jobs, so that’s the time limit to be considered a temp employee.

Severance payment calculation is rather complicated, but for firing people employed 4 years or less, it usually boils down to about 4 months of salary.

To fire pregnant women, employers have to pay them 6 months of salary on top of the severance payment they’re entitled to.

If an employee quits voluntarily, they effectively forfeit all benefits previously mentioned.

My wife has been working for a non-profit for 10 years now. I don’t want to give out much detail, but the company deals with, among other things, basic women’s healthcare (first care ob-gyn, birth control, pregnancy tests, etc). The company has 3 locations within 10 or less miles from each other.

I own a small tech support firm, and we’ve been offering services to this company for about the same time (hence my small involvement). We actually met through this professional relation. This is her second kid, my fourth… and first baby girl!

On to the story.

My wife is a very easygoing, introverted person. She can be shy when you first met her, and on first impression, she gives out a vibe of being a pushover.

In reality, she takes no *** from anyone, including (or especially?) me.

She was hired as the company’s receptionist originally, but thanks to her hard work, ethics, and professionalism (which I’ve witnessed myself even before dating her), she’s being promoted constantly.

Her apparent pushover personality has been a recurring theme at her job since for years she worked as an office manager (in charge of overseeing the company’s vehicles, managing the drivers, janitors, dealing with some external contractors, etc.) out of the receptionist desk. (This is a small to medium company.)

Sometimes when a new manager was hired, they tried to make her run phone errands (set appointments, pay bills, etc.) and other petty stuff (like serving coffee, etc.) that you usually have a low-level secretary Director of Operations do, thinking she was only a receptionist.

She promptly called for a staff meeting every time, having the Director of Operations set these ****** straight.

She foresaw the company’s need of having a human resources manager, so she talked me into helping her (financially and with domestic duties) get a master’s degree in human resources 3 years ago. (She’s a business major.) I contributed to the cost and did my best to take care of the kids and the house when she was in class. She graduated with very good grades, and the investment paid off. The position was created last year, following advice by external assessors, who promptly recommended the company to give my wife the job with a significant pay raise involved. YAY!!!

A few months later, we got pregnant again, so my wife and the Director of Operations hired this temp girl (Temp ****) to cover for my wife during her maternity leave.

My wife was very worn out on her last days of pregnancy when she trained Temp ****, and she also may have commented how relieved she would be without work stress for a few months while enjoying our baby girl… Temp **** probably got my wife’s pushover vibe as well.

Temp **** turned out to be an opportunistic, backstabbing ***** that thought that she could take over my wife’s position… She also turned out to be somewhat stupid.

As a weird coincidence, my employees knew her! A few months prior, she was employed as a consumer electronic salesgirl at another company that uses our services, and they knew she was not in fact a human resources/business major as she claimed to be. She was a marketing major fresh out of university.

At the time, my wife let it slide (didn’t alert the company) as she was after all a temp employee, and exposing her will mean my wife would have to either scramble to vet and train another candidate in less than a week or reschedule her c-section for a week later.

While my wife was on leave, some of her coworkers started alerting her in private that Temp **** was starting to get more and more comfortable into my wife’s position, among other things:

Overriding some of the directives and procedures my wife had put in place, trying to implement her (often inadequate/wrong) own.

Giving employees advice and directions that directly contradicted my wife’s instructions.

Giving **** to some of the suppliers the company and my wife have been satisfactorily dealing with for years.

Temp **** had the audacity to change the email footer on my wife’s computer, as well as the wording on the emails themselves, to appear as SHE was the OFFICIAL HR manager, not my wife. She was specifically told that she had to let everyone know she was acting on behalf of the actual HR manager.

She did this on specific emails to certain employees and suppliers, changing it back when she emailed or copied the bosses… I know, this sounds very stupid as she was leaving written evidence that easily proved she was misleading people. Some of these emails were forwarded in private to my wife by her coworkers.

This **** is a class A sweet talker, so she convinced the bosses to let her stick around for another month after my wife returned to work, to organize and help finish up some procedural handbooks my wife started writing (but were actually the Director of Operations’s responsibility).

Her contract was renewed for another month, so she could perform this very specific task. As this boundary was not defined in writing, she started to overstep it in every way she could:

1- Sign herself up on a training course on the company’s dime.

2- Setting up onsite training courses for the staff (already quoted and kicked off by my wife with the external providers before her maternity leave), to take credit for the coordination effort… leaving, however, loose ends. My wife decided to pick up the slack as letting it slide would have an effect on both the employees and the training providers.

3- Telling my wife in several instances (in front of other employees) that she needed to stay after hours to finish up certain tasks pertaining to her position (as a way to mark territory/establish dominance?)

4- Questioning my wife’s decision (again, in front of other employees) about scheduling meetings within tight schedules, as well as her ability to keep up with them.

5- Published a “before and after” manifest, detailing all the “improvements” she supposedly made to the HR managing position, contrasting her tenure against my wife’s.

6- Treating representatives of various supplier companies unjustifiably like dirt, in a twisted/sick way to assert dominance, maybe? A particularly nasty phone call was overheard by the Administrative Director.

7- Several similar instances of these 6 examples.

Here’s where my wife got fed-up, and she started her pro revenge. From each of the above instances, these actions were taken (please match the numbers):

1- My wife contacted the training company to let them know that an error was made with the trainee’s name, which should be the company’s HR manager. So, my wife set the training course for herself (as she was entitled to, being, you know, the ACTUAL HR manager) and deferred it for a later date.

She let her bosses know but not Temp ****, who showed up for the nighttime course only to find out she was not allowed to take it.

2- As my wife had way more time interacting with the onsite training provider, on the first day of the training week, the trainers came in looking for my wife to help them set-up everything. On the last day’s wrap-up meeting, they commended her for all her effort taken to make the training week a success. Temp **** left the room in a huff.

3 and 4 – My Wife replying to Temp **** right then and there, on each occasion, that she was in no way taking her precious family time to work after hours, and that she had enough ability to get done all tasks and meetings within her normal working hours… and then do exactly that, on some days even with time to spare.

My wife had a private meeting with the Director of Operations to talk mainly about the “before and after” manifesto, as well as everything else mentioned above. My wife’s point of view was that the company should not have allowed all this to happen unless, of course, they intended to fire my wife and keep Temp **** as HR manager. The Director of Operations apologized profusely to my wife, assuring her that this was not the case at all, and told her that the Administrative Director that after overhearing Temp ****’s nasty phone call, she decided she didn’t want her to be part of the company in any way, shape, or form and commissioned Director of Operations to take care of it.

The Director of Operations called Temp **** to a private meeting on a Friday, during which she informed her that her services were no longer needed. The Director of Operations replied she was aware Temp **** was past the 3-month mark, so she was entitled to some severance compensation. Temp **** asked to be able to respond to this the next Monday.

On Monday, Temp **** presented Director of Operations with a positive pregnancy test (yes, you read that right) and told Director of Operations they now had to “negotiate,” citing the 6-month salary compensation law for dismissing pregnant employees. Temp **** expressed that she saw “no need for her to be fired,” and she very much preferred to remain on the company as an employee.

The Director of Operations told Temp **** that she needed to get back on her about this and scheduled a meeting for a few days later.

The Director of Operations met with Administrative Director, who reiterated that she felt Temp B*tch should not be part of the company, so the Director of Operations turned to my wife to start the dismissal and compensation procedures.

Here’s where my wife’s revenge gets really pro:

With the help of my coworkers, my wife got more detail about Temp ***** previous employment and marketing major background, which allowed her to get publicly available info (from a job search/application website) about Temp B*tch, which constituted irrefutable proof she falsified her credentials to get hired by the company in the first place.

My wife didn’t even bother to tell me about this at the time, as at the moment, I was in the middle of a very stressful work trip.

She made a dossier of printed out emails on which Temp B*tch was making herself known as the HR manager to lower-level employees, suppliers, and contractors. (She was told when hired that she had to clear up to all suppliers, both verbally and in writing, she was acting on behalf of the HR Manager — my wife.)

My wife met with the Director of Operations, and presented her with all this evidence. my wife said that it took a great effort to pry Director of Operations’s jaw off the floor. My wife stressed that it was in the company’s best interest and that Temp *****hould be required to retake the pregnancy test within the company’s healthcare facility.

As I’m sure you already guessed, tests came back negative, with no evidence of a recent miscarriage.

The Director of Operations purposedly scheduled Temp ***** meeting on the same day my wife had to meet with company’s employees on one of the other locations, basically to avoid any uncomfortable situations, but she was told later that Temp *****omehow managed it to keep it together until she was shown the door. As it is part of her duties, my wife knows for a fact that a resignation letter, signed by Temp B*tch, is on file with the company, and that no monetary compensation whatsoever was paid to Temp B*tch.” echalopafuera

3. Bully Me At A Funeral? Enjoy Your Audit

“I usually do taxes for my whole family and most other paperwork and computer repairs and tech support.

For free. (Relevant later.)

For clarity, I was raised by my great grandparents. They have always been mom and dad. And the uncle is my great uncle.

This February, my uncle passed away. I agreed to rent a car and drive my great-grandma’s (mom) and three other uncles to Dallas for the funeral. Halfway there, it starts.

One of my uncles, let’s call him Willie, is absolute jacka**. I would be having a conversation with someone, and he would walk up and say, “Don’t listen to her. She don’t know what she’s talking about.” He called me stupid. He called me a worthless ****. He talked *** about me drinking a glass of wine (so I didn’t strangle him). Meanwhile, he drank an entire case by himself.

He’s the only one who drinks beer. Basically, he was spoiling for a fight for some reason.

Normally, I am a ****. I don’t take crap from anyone else, but I take a lot from three family members. But I refuse to ever cause drama at weddings or funerals. My mother had lost her son. I would not ever add to her grief.

I spent every night away, crying in frustration. I couldn’t eat for two days. (I literally ate a handful of almonds the first night.) My husband wanted to buy a plane ticket to bring me home due to the stress aggravating my health issues.

Yet, my uncle followed me around talking crap. My husband heard most of it. I was calling him at work, which I never do, to help me stay calm.

He talked crap about me to perfect strangers and spent twenty minutes in a tirade about me while we were gathering to leave for the funeral.

Finally, at church, I told him, “You better be glad we’re in church and out of town. When we get back, I’m gonna give you what you want.” He stopped for about two hours and then started up at dinner, always far away from Mom.

I bided my time.

On the trip back, I played nothing but country music (which he hates). When he complained, I switched to Tejano and then opera, which I sang as loud as possible to “Keep Me Awake.” I made sure all my vape smoke (which he made a big issue out of) was hitting him directly in the face.

I parked in the mud because he was the only one getting out on my side. I had on boots. He had on his slippers. I made sure all of our pit stops weren’t long enough for him to finish his cigarette, and I “missed the exit” when he needed to go to the bathroom.

Once we were an hour away from home, I didn’t hear a peep out of him.

Then, when we got home, he tries to tell my mother that I was starting arguments, but I had taken videos of his crap. And apparently, he had been doing similar crap to others, and we all backed each other up. And my sweet gentle giant of a husband, who hasn’t raised his voice to them in the decade we’ve been together, blew up about what he saw and heard.

Now my mom isn’t speaking to Willie.

Three days later, he has the unmitigated gall to ask me when I was going to start his taxes. I gleefully replied, with a Grinchy grin, “Never. I didn’t think you would want someone as stupid as me doing your taxes.”

He ended up paying $200+ to have his taxes done. The best part? Apparently, they screwed up, and he is now being audited.

Thank you, Karma, for your prompt service.” bemert1

2. Horrible Neighbors And Jerk Landlord, Meet The New Tenants

“The place we were renting is a duplex that is split down the middle here in Upstate, NY. My little 2-bedroom side of the house was next to the garages and driveway. It had a small side of the yard which was 15 ft x 5 ft.

We have a Chocolate Lab named Benny that uses that back yard for his bathroom, etc. The sh*tty neighbor in my duplex who I’ll call Rick had the bigger side of the yard and a staircase that leads up to the backfield where there was a nice walking path and horse farm. The back of our duplex was kind of built right into the side of the hill leading up to the horse farm/corn farm.

Rick was subletting one of his rooms to a Russian chain smoker that we’ll call Olga, and she was the same age as him (60ish). Rick is an ***** 90% of the time and demands we never use his staircase to go up to the walking trail.

His Russian friend and he also chain smoke in front of our living room window making our house smell like an 80s era bowling alley. Over the course of our renting this place, we got in numerous fights with these a**hats over where they could smoke so that our side of the house didn’t stink.

The landlord, Dwayne,  lives in Florida and uses the property as his retirement cash cow. He’s about 70-years-old.

The house itself was built in 1940 or earlier, and we lived on an old farm road with a pumpkin farm across the street. Just want you to have an image of the location because it’ll come into play.

The first week, we’re in the house unpacking, and my wife asked me to plug in the vacuum and run it around the downstairs to get up the Styrofoam from the packing materials.

I notice that the plug sparks when you plug it in or unplug anything. I call Dwayne and tell him and he says, “Ok….. Call around and get a price from an electrician, and let me know what it’ll cost.” This was a red flag for me. I’m paying $1,300 a month for this duplex, and now this guy wants me to do all his leg work since he is out of state. I figure whatever and find an electrician that’ll charge $200 for the house call plus the outlets he’ll end up replacing.

I call Dwayne, and he says, “No, that’s too much. I’ll send one of my guys over to do it.” This p*ssed me off because I just spent 20 minutes calling around getting ballpark quotes, but I figure, fine, as long as the work gets done.

Fast forward 1 month, and his electrician finally shows up one day to do the work. He replaces 12 of the 14 outlets because he didn’t think he’d find so many bad ones. I figure that’s fine since the ones he didn’t replace are up in the room we never use.

2 months go by, and its early spring and raining a ton. One night, we get a HUGE downpour that lasts for about 35 minutes. My wife says she hears water in the basement. I run down in the basement, and we have 2 waterfalls coming through the windows that look into the backyard and 4 inches of water on the floor and rising.

I call Dwayne the next morning and tell him about the windows in the basement and the flooding, and he says I need to find a cleaning service to clean up the mess.

I tell him I can’t because I’m going to work. He says, “Ok, do it after work then.” I say, “Listen, I don’t own this house; you do, so find someone today that can clean this up and repair the windows, or I’m going to do it myself and take it out of the rent (which is NY state law).”He gets p*ssed and hangs up.

Later in the evening, he calls and says a cleaning service will be there in two days to clean the basement from all the mud and water. I tell him that’s fine, but he might want to repair the windows since it’s still raining pretty regularly. He says no and that that won’t be necessary since he’s still getting quotes about a French drain for the back of the house.

The cleaning crew shows up, and they clean the whole basement out. It takes them 6 hours with power washers and scrubbing machines, etc. They leave at 5 pm that day, and we’re thinking, ok, great; now we have the basement cleaned up, but the windows aren’t holding anything out since they are so old and have no sealant around the outside edges.

Two days go by, and it downpours again and fills the basement back up with water and mud. I call Dwayne, and he sounds defeated. He tells me that he’ll send the cleaning crew back out the same day the contractors are going to show up with the backhoe for digging the French drain around the backside of the house.

Fast forward two weeks, and everybody shows up. The work is completed, and we’re happy to have a normal basement again, even though I’m p*ssed that we have had a swamp down there for so long.

2 more months go by, and my wife one night screams while in the kitchen. She swears she saw a mouse in the kitchen run from under the sink to the under the oven. I ask her what it looked like, and she says big, grey, and had pink ears. I know right away this isn’t a field mouse but a full-grown rat. I open the drawer below the oven and all our cupcake pans are full of little rat turds, and it’s ****** nasty. Thankfully, we never bake, so they weren’t a big loss.

I call Dwayne, and he says he has an exterminator friend who lives nearby, and he’ll call him and get back to me. Dwayne calls back the next morning and says, “I spoke to my friend, and he claims that your dog going to the bathroom in the backyard is probably attracting the rats.” I tell him, “Rats don’t eat ***, so that makes no sense. We’ll need to have an exterminator sent out to deal with this.”

Dwayne goes on a tirade about how we’re the worst renters and that we constantly complain about little things. I tell him, “For $1,300 a month, I expect a rat-free, spark-free living space that doesn’t flood or smell like a bowling alley.” At this point, Dwayne says he’ll look into it and hangs up.

I’m super p*ssed at this point. We’ve had nothing but problems with this place from the first week, and now we’ve got rats in our kitchen.

I do a little digging online and find out that you can have health department investigate rat infestations, and if they see that the landlord isn’t doing anything about it, they’ll put a lien on the house until the work is complete. So, obviously, I decided to go that route. I call the health inspector, and he tells me that he’ll come out in a few days and do an inspection and get back to me.

Dwayne calls me back and says the rat problem is my fault because I have a dog and that I need to deal with the problem myself.

I told him no problem and that I just set up an appointment with the health inspector. Dwayne gets really upset and cusses me out. I call my lawyer and tell him to call Dwayne and arrange for us to break the lease since I don’t want to deal with him anymore.

Fast forward two months. The health inspector had found a bunch of rats and holes in the foundation and evidence that the colony had been living in the house for “years and years from the looks of it.” He contacts Dwayne and tells him about the lien if he doesn’t address it. Dwayne calls me and says he’s sending an exterminator. Now at this point, I had put the place on Craigslist to find new renters since Dwayne had decided to sublet our lease instead of letting us out of it.

I found some college kids that were desperate for a place, and they seemed like typical, rich college kids. I tell them that the place doesn’t have A/C, and they’ll need window units, etc. But I also tell them that the next-door neighbor is green-plant-friendly.  I tell them that he is super chill and that they can totally use the staircase in the backyard to use the hiking trails. One of the kids brought his mom that showed up in a new Jag and so I knew that Dwayne wasn’t going to be able to *** all over these people since I knew they’d lawyer up. I never mentioned the rat infestation or that this place was a nightmare because I knew that these kids’ rich parents would go nuclear with a lawyer if they had to deal with this stuff.

Dwayne accepted the new tenants and let us out of the lease. All it took was a few threats from my lawyer before I got my security deposit back.

Fast forward 3 months. I drive by the old place to see what’s happening. It looks like the college kids and Rick are off to a rough start. There is a plastic divider down the driveway to separate who gets what. There are beer cans all over the front yard, and Rick’s truck is parked on the side lawn. He never did that when we lived there, so I’m sure these kids were driving him crazy with parking. Olga is nowhere to be seen since she probably jumped ship when the parties started.

I don’t know what became of the rats, but 2 months later, I did another drive-by, and there was no furniture on our side of the house which tells me everybody had left, and Dwayne wasn’t making any money….which made me happy since he was a ****** pr*ck.” LedZeppelinRiff

1. Principal Refused To Stop Me From Getting Bullied, So It Cost Her, Her Job

“In the middle of my 5th-grade year, I was having an argument with one of my “friends;” let’s call him John. it was just some bickering and other stuff like making fun of each other. This progresses for a while.

John gets his friends, let’s call him Steven, to also bully me. I told my mom about this, and she emailed my principal about this multiple times, but we got no response.

So, fast forward to my school Thanksgiving walk. It was basically where all the 5th graders walked around our track in our last period. John gets his other friend, who was much bigger than me, to walk by me and insult me about me being Jewish. I’m not extremely invested in my religion, and it was 5th grade, so most of the stuff they said to me flew through my head. Now I know that they were saying some racist stuff to me like your nose is a big ’cause you’re Jewish. (This was 5 years ago, so I don’t remember exactly what they said.)

There is a good part of that day, though. My crush overheard what they were saying, so she just told me to ignore them and other stuff.

She walked with me for the rest of the walk, so that was really good.

Anyways, after school, I was going to go home with some of my friends and to play some video games. I need to mention two things before I go on with the story: in elementary school, my backpack weighed like 5 pounds, and I was doing some martial arts at the time, so I had some really good reflexes.

As I was walking over to the table where my friends were, Steven runs up behind me, and a lot of people were watching. I think someone was recording it too. So, Steven runs behind me and, as I said before, he was really big, so he hit his terminal velocity really fast.

That walrus hit an all-out sprint. It was really loud where I was, so I didn’t hear his panting behind me. So, as soon as I feel his paw on my shoulder, I realize what was happening. You know how people say that their lives flashed before their eyes? It was kinda like that; it was like everything was in slow motion.

I stepped back, grabbed his arm, and pulled/pushed it forward. What I mean by that is that I pulled his arm even more forward, so he went even faster. Then I grab the collar of his shirt and pull as hard as I can. I kid you not, his legs flew up so high that it was like his entire body had just flipped.

He landed on his back and hit his head on the concrete. Later I found out that he got a concussion.

I didn’t really know what to do, so I just walked over to my friends and told them that we would go somewhere else to wait for my mom to pick us up.

During the weekend, I told my mom what happened, and she emailed the principal. At school on Monday, I got called to the office, and I thought that I was going to get expelled because, on the way out, John whispers to me that I’m going to get expelled.

In the principal’s office, I see Steven sitting there. I can see a big, red rash on his neck. I thought that I also saw a scab on his neck too, but I wasn’t certain.

The principal tells me that whatever is going on between me and Steven has to stop. I try to intervene, but she cuts me off, “I don’t care what happened; it just needs to stop.” At that point, I kept my mouth shut because I was glad I didn’t get expelled.

I tell my mom about what happened when I get home, and she was fuming. You know how I said that someone was recording? I get the video from them and give them to my mom. In the video, it is clear that I acted from self-defense. I also got a bunch of witnesses to say that they heard what Steven had said to me. I left John out of it because I was stupid and wanted to protect him from getting into trouble.

Armed with all this firepower, my mom emails my principal’s boss; let’s call her Jan. She tells her the story of what happened (the name-calling and racist comments) and the video of the “fight.” We also say how the principal didn’t care about what happened. Jan emails my mom and asks my mom if she wants to have a conference with her, my dad, the principal, me, Steven, and Steven’s parents. My mom says yes.

At the conference, the next weekend, I can confirm that Steven didn’t have a scab on his neck, which I was mildly upset about, but then I realized that that was good because if there was a cut on his neck, I could have gotten into trouble.

Jan shows everyone the video of the fight and all the things that Steven had said to me. My dad actually laughed and had to mask it as a cough. He also gave me a high five under the table.

Steven’s parents are appalled by things Steven said and did to me. They profusely apologize to my parents and me and assured me that Steven would be punished. Jan asks to speak to the principal in her office to discuss her future at the school. They come out of her office after a lot of yelling. To sum the meeting up, the principal got fired because she wouldn’t listen to me, and that was no way to be when you’re working with kids.

Steven didn’t get expelled, but he got suspended for a couple of days. I can’t remember exactly. After he came back, his parents made him apologize to me. After that, we became acquaintances, not friends, but I forgave him.

As for John, we didn’t really mend our friendship, so we just slowly got new friends.” epic1563

Revenge may not be necessary, but I’d say it’s pretty satisfactory, even if you’re just reading about it and not witnessing it occur in person. Let us know: which of these stories had you on the edge of your seat?