People Share Their Cold Hard Stories Of Revenge

Sometimes the things we go through in life are just… harsh, and there’s really no other way around it. You might get a professor who, during the first few weeks of class, forces a 10-page essay on students just like that. You may receive the sudden news that one of your family members has fallen ill. You could even face some serious financial issues that you never saw coming. Life doesn’t always play nice.

You wanna know who else doesn’t play nice sometimes? People. Let’s just say, if you mess with the wrong person, you’re going to end up in a bad situation. While some people are too kind-hearted to fight back, there’s another group of people who would be more than willing to teach you a lesson. These are the people who you don’t want to steal in front of, fire for no apparent reason, cheat on, attempt to rip off or steal their work.

These people won’t put up with anything, and wow, they sure make revenge look so easy!

15. Managers Get Caught Stealing, I Get Them Fired And Get A Huge Raise

“This happened a few years ago.

When I was 16, I got my first job working for a franchise-owned pizza place. I worked there until I was 24. When I was 19, I received the shift leader and got a .30 cent raise. Our store was pretty slow, and we only had a handful of employees there, so I understood. One day, the franchise owner comes in when I’m running my shift to tell me I would be getting a new manager.

The franchise owner gave me his personal number and said if I needed anything to call him if the new manager had any problems.

So, the next day, I’m working my 10 am to 12 am shift, and the new manager comes in. We’ll call him Stan. We talk a little more, and he asks why there isn’t an assistant manager. I let him know we probably don’t make enough to pay an assistant manager. He said he would worry about that, and he left.

I jumped to the conclusion that he was going to make me the assistant. Wrong.

I closed that night and had to come in at 4 pm the next day. When I did, Stan was there with a girl I’ve never seen before wearing one of our uniforms. He said it was his roommate “Wendy.” She had never worked for a pizza place before, but she just lost her job. He hired her as the assistant manager and completely changed my schedule and severely cut my hours.

Oh, and guess who had to train her? Yep.

Before Stan and Kelly, I worked 10 am to 12 am 4 days a week then 4 to close on two other days. Now I just had 4 pm to 12 am, 5 days a week. No more overtime. That severely hurt me financially, but I sucked it up. This place was pretty much in my backyard, and I loved my job before all this mess.

The next couple of weeks are okay except we are coming up short every night that I close, usually no more than $10, but that’s a lot! And it was coming back on me because I’m the one who does the nightly inventory, paperwork, and deposits.

I brought the shortage problem to Stan, and he told me if it kept happening, he would start taking it from my check! I had never stolen a penny from this place, and I felt pretty attacked. He says he wasn’t accusing me, just letting me know what he would have to do. I said fine. Every day from now on when I close, I want to do a shift change. A shift change is basically counting down the drawers, which would help figure out where the shortages are coming from.

He agrees. The very next day, I go in at 4 and start clocking in and all that fun stuff before Wendy leaves. I look at the order screen for the day to see how well we did for lunch (moneywise), and I notice something.

It said at 12 am, a customer (just happened to be one of my regulars) called and ordered 10 pizzas for pick up. It said the order was canceled. They had never canceled before, so I was concerned.

Quick side note-I feel like I was being more of a manager than both of mine put together.

By the way, I was in the back office counting the drawers. Wendy was covering the front. I pick up the phone and call the customer from earlier. I didn’t ask why he canceled. I asked how his experience was today since we had a new manager. He said it was fine except she needed to learn how to work the credit card machine.

Apparently she told him she could only take cash. He said he left, went to the ATM, and came back and paid 80 in cash for the pizzas. He said other than that, everything was fine. I asked to confirm, and he said he most definitely didn’t cancel.

So, here’s one possibility. The credit card machine did go down, and she could only accept cash, so she canceled the order in the computer until he came back and paid, and she just forgot to ring it up again.

That would be harmless. Instead, I think she’s stealing.

I knew if I went to Stan, he wouldn’t do anything about it, so I call our franchise owner “Eric.” I ask his opinion, and he said he thinks I’m right. So, he tells me what to do. First, I wasn’t allowed to say a word about it to Stan or Wendy. He said let Wendy leave and finish out the day as usual. He said if she’s not stealing, you will come up 80 over at the end of the night.

If she’s stealing, we should break even. I finished counting. We were one dollar short.

The next day is when the magic happens. I go in at 4 as usual. Wendy is there waiting for Stan to pick her up. Then Eric walks in. He tells her to follow her to the office and tells me to send Stan back when he gets here. Stan comes in and asks why Eric is there. I shrug and tell him he’s wanted in the office.

Maybe 20 minutes later, Stan walks out, brushes past me, and gets in his car. Wendy comes out next and tells me she hopes I’m happy. Eric hadn’t come out of the office yet, so I went back there to talk to him. He said in three weeks, they stole over 1,000 between them, and he would have never known if it wasn’t for me. He then says, ‘Oh, you’re the new assistant manager. I’m gonna give you $13 an hour, and we will consider more after a preliminary period.

$13 an hour. I was making $8.50 before this.

I stayed a few more years after this and left to do the mom thing. I actually miss it sometimes.

Wendy and Stan Facebook stalked me for a couple of months after. It was pretty hilarious.” ifallupthestairsalot

14. Cheat On Me? I’ll Ruin The Wiring On Your New Scooter

How dare she ask him to fix her scooter after she cheated on him and completely shattered his heart.

“A brief description of me at the time when this happened, I was 18, I had been working my first real job for about a year or so and had bought my first motorbike.

(This is important but we’ll get back to that later.)

So, I was a late bloomer with the girls, and I had finally gotten my first girlfriend, Bex, who had just started working at a cafe near my work. I was stoked. She was hot, and most importantly, she seemed to really like me. I was from another country, had a “****” accent, and rode a motorbike. Turns out, I ticked all of her boxes, so we started going out, and within a few weeks, she finally punched my V card.

It wasn’t great, but hey, I finally got some!

After the first month or so, Bex took me to visit her parents, and I had invited her to come over and meet my family over dinner. My mom even made Bex a birthday present! Everything seemed to be going well, and young naive me thought this might last for a while, so we started planning a holiday overseas. Bex convinced me with her womanly wiles that I should stump up the cost of the flights and accommodation, and she would make sure that we had “fun” over there.

I grinned like a moron and only thought with my head and not the one on my shoulders.

I put all my savings together, and I headed down to the travel agent and put all my money down as the deposit for the holiday. All the flights were paid for as well as a majority of the hotel.

Everything was going amazingly, that was, until her best friend found out she had convinced me to put all my money into the holiday, and she took pity on me.

She showed me some screenshots of Bex naughty texting and agreeing on meeting up with 5 other guys within the same few months we had been together.

I confronted her, and she, surprisingly, admitted to it with absolutely no shame. She saw nothing wrong with it.

That’s what really p*ssed me off was the fact that she just said, “Yeah, I did see them. I just didn’t think you’d care about it!!”

Like, ****,* really?! I just put ALL of my money into an overseas holiday for us, you took my V card, we met each other’s parents, and I wouldn’t care about you cheating on me with 5 other guys!!!

After a few days of teenage anger and tears, I head down to the travel agents and try to get my money back from them.

I just couldn’t go on the holiday that we’d planned. Unfortunately, as I had put my money down as a deposit, it was not refundable. Not knowing the consumer rights in the country I’d moved to, I argued with the rep and was asked to leave.

Fast forward three weeks.

I’m at work, and my bitterness has just started to fade as Bex walks in looking for me. She comes over and asks me to help her with her brand new scooter her new boyfriend had just bought her because I knew about motorbikes.

I couldn’t believe this ****!* She takes my V card, cheats on me with 5 guys, I lose my savings because of her, and she has the balls to ask me to help fix the scooter her boyfriend (who she probably cheated on me with) had just bought her?

So, an idea sparks in my mind – time for revenge!

I smile and say, ‘Of course, Bex, I’m more than happy to help’ (whilst hating myself for even giving her the time of day).

She takes me over to her shiny, new scooter, and it’s just a flat battery, but I change out her 10amp fuse with a 40amp one as I tell her it’s a blown fuse. We try to turn it on, but, nope, still not working…

I then pull the larger battery out of my bike and put it into her scooter. As soon as the terminals are connected to the battery and the ignition turned on, smoke starts pouring from wherever there is wiring.

I can smell the insulation melting, and then there is a small lick of flame from the wiring loom under the footboards that I quickly blow out before she noticed it.

I swap everything back and tell her it’s a faulty scooter, and she needs to take it back to the dealership, so she can claim the repairs under warranty. She believed me and started pushing her scooter back the 4 or 5 kilometers from where she worked to her house (and up a fair few hills too in 30-degree heat as well!).

That was the last time I ever talked to her, but I did see her standing at the bus stop when she was going too or from work every now and again, so I can only assume that the scooter was never repaired!” turtlesludge

13. Teacher Throws My Work Away And Injures Me, Mom Gets Her Fired

“The events are mine, but I guess in a way, my mom is the one that got the revenge (or justice?).

To start off, I’m 25 now, but this happened when I was in the 4th grade (about 9-years-old), so 16 years and a couple of concussions later might have mixed the details a bit.

Me is me, M is mom, T is teacher (nothing weird there, ****):

So, when I was 8-9, I was having a not too good life for reasons unrelated to this story, but just know that my concentration wasn’t the best, but I wasn’t acting out or anything like that.

I had just started at another new school after moving into a new place, and it was as rough as you could expect at that age.

In 4th grade, we were still set up to have all our classes in the same room with just one teacher for the whole day, so I had Teacher all day, every day.

The problems started with a simple derogatory mark on my report card for participation points.

Next was the letters Teacher had me hand deliver to Mom saying I wasn’t doing my classwork, then it got to me not handing in my homework.

All of which I was completing.

Mom kept grounding me and taking away privileges (such as no reading because I was always getting distracted by books) to make me do my work, but the letters kept coming, and she was getting frustrated.

So, then comes the day Mom figures maybe I just don’t understand the material and am too embarrassed to ask for help, so she sits and tries to help with the work, but lo and behold, I perfectly understand it and finish with no problems.

Mom, seeing I had done it, happily sent me to school the next day thinking that was that.

Nope.

I come home in tears again with another note. Now Mom is confused and sliding towards anger. She takes me to school the next day and comes in to have a talk with Teacher. Teacher completely stands by saying I’m not handing it in, despite Mom knowing I had done it (why would a child do the work only to not turn it in knowing they’d get in trouble?).

Mom says she’s going to be signing my homework from that point on to ensure Teacher got it and hoped that would be the end of it.

Again: nope.

The confrontation apparently just made Teacher angry and so she started taking it out on me in other ways since she couldn’t get away with the homework thing anymore. She started taking my snacks, putting me in time-out (standing in the corner facing the wall and no talking) for upwards of an hour at a time, made me write lines (think Umbridge with “I will not tell lies”) as punishment for fake rules I broke.

Because of the other problems going on at the time, I didn’t say anything to Mom because of the stress she was under and just kept dealing with it.

Until the day Teacher went too far.

It was a day where we had a nature-related assignment (something like identifying birds and plants or something), so we were outside. Everything was going great up until we had to leave and go in.

It was the typical thing where we all lined up in a row, follow the leader style, but apparently, Teacher wanted me at the back of the line while I was standing more to the front.

Now instead of just telling me to go there, she decided the right thing to do was to grab my upper arm and forcefully yank me out of line and push me to the back. As it had seriously hurt, I cried out in pain. She just told me to stop being a baby because she “barely touched” me.

I was wearing short sleeves that day, so as soon as Mom picked me up that afternoon, she saw the crazy, hand-shaped bruise on my arm, and while I admit that I do bruise like a peach, this was something else.

She asked me about it, and since I’m a terrible liar when asked a direct question, I told her.

Mom immediately parked the car and took me to the office and told them to get Teacher in there right away and that she needed to see the principal.

Teacher comes strolling in, looking put out about being called in, complaining that she had work to do for the next day’s class. Mom questioned her about the bruise and Teacher told her I must have gotten it roughhousing with another kid during recess, despite it being way too big to belong to a child.

Mom calls bull and explains just that.

The principal asked when it happened and I told him it was during the outside class, and he said something like:

Principal: “Well, we’ve got cameras on the outside of the building for security. Why don’t we just check the recordings and sort this all out?”

I’m pretty sure at that point, he didn’t think Teacher had done it, but he was able to quickly get the front office to take a look back to when it happened and saw that I was telling the truth.

The whole time this was going on, Teacher was getting visibly more upset and pale, obviously not knowing she could get caught.

Once he had seen the evidence, he asked Mom and me to step out, so we went out to the main office to wait.

I don’t know how much time passed (I didn’t then and still don’t understand the passage of time), but after a while, Teacher comes storming out, glares at me and Mom, and rushes from the room.

The principal calls Mom back in while I wait there, and Mom didn’t tell me what they talked about, but all I knew was that we had a substitute teacher the next day.

Later, it came out that she had been throwing my assignments away when I’d hand them in (which… seemed like an easy conclusion to come to in my opinion).

She ended up fired and recently Mom told me she lost her teaching license maybe for that, but maybe she had done other things, who knows.

I honestly have no clue what I could have done to make her single me out and treat me that way, but at least it eventually got taken care of.” ChellefLife

12. Claim My Work As Your Own? I’ll Expose You And Make You Lose Your Job

“The initial reason for the revenge happened in 2013, but the revenge only happened in 2017. I’ll keep everything vague as not to be recognized.

For context: back in 2013, I was a graduate student pursuing my master’s degree.

That was my last year in the program. (We had 24 months to finish all the work and the dissertation.) My advisor was a professor who was very well-known and experienced in my field of work. Let’s call her Janet.

Janet and I had worked together with research since my college days as I became part of undergraduate research with her. At that point, we had been working for about four years, and as any advisor-student relationship, we more had our disagreements quite often.

Janet was used to doing her experiments a certain, archaic way. I knew there were better uses of our grants money and always tried to push toward a more advanced method, especially correlating data collection and statistics.

However, our relationship was always good. I knew her husband and had been to her house numerous times. She was a little set on her ways, but we managed to make good progress on our field. Anyhow, by the end of 2013, I presented my dissertation to the department and was approved with flying colors.

My data still wasn’t published in any paper as I wanted to have more analysis in different areas to make a more robust and better paper. With that said, my dissertation was published, and by all reasons, that is my work and my experiments. After I got my MS, I decided to pursue a Ph.D. While I was still going to work int the same field, I wanted to use different techniques and thus talked with Janet about going to pursue a Ph.D.

under a different professor in another university. She always encouraged me to do better and look for ways to diversify my views.

I went ahead and contacted a professor outside my country in another university to pursue my Ph.D. I got approved and soon moved away. For the next two years, I still kept contact with Janet, but on the third, she stopped responding. Initially, I thought she had changed her e-mail or something but didn’t think much of it.

Time flew by, and in 2017, while reading papers and writing my own, I came across a paper that was strangely similar to my research. Interested in it, I opened it up to read.

From my shock, it was a paper by my ex-advisor. She was up as an advisor and another guy, who from his curriculum is her current master’s student. Reading the title, I thought, “Hey, that’s neat. She continued researching it.”

But, boy, I was wrong.

Reading the paper, I got increasingly angry. That wasn’t new research. It was MY research! My data was all in that paper, even my graphs and tables. Initially, I thought, “Oh well, she’s also an author, and if she is citing it, there shouldn’t be a problem.” But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. My name was no-where near that paper as they claimed that research as original.

Now, I was livid. I sent an e-mail to Janet confronting her, which was never replied to.

However, I am not a pushover and will never allow people to claim my own work as theirs. She made a mistake by using my data. I’m a researcher, and I keep everything I ever worked on saved in external SSD’s encrypted and on my own possession. All cataloged with date entries and even had my own dissertation to prove my work.

In my country, research is financed by governmental grants. I wrote an e-mail to the dean of the grant’s institution, explaining all the situation, with proof of everything.

I also sent an e-mail to the journal in which that was published contesting their paper and explaining everything.

It didn’t take longer than 15 days for me to get a follow-up. The institution responsible for the grant was furious. They cut all financial aid for her and her student and made a formal requirement to the university requesting her immediate termination. The journal retracted the paper and is now suing her for plagiarism.

Now, after all these years, I learned that she was indeed fired and hasn’t been able to work in the field ever since.

I never met her again and have no intention of ever doing so. Now, my work is published, and I’m recognized by my contributions in the field.

Maybe that was a petty thing to do. But I couldn’t allow people to get away with claiming my work as theirs.” RelativelySorrowfull

11. Blast My Mom’s Mental Health At Work? She’ll Get You Fired

“Not my story; it’s my mom’s as she told it to me over the course of it happening.

Mom started working in a supermarket when I was a baby because her previous work couldn’t give her part-time hours after I was born, and her maternity time ended. It was good enough – hard work, average pay, but really great coworkers and managers.

She stayed for many years, eventually working in the in-store cake shop, and got trained to be a manager in the cake shop. When the old cake shop manager left, she was told she would be promoted.

So, she took over all the duties – writing rotas (schedules), checking stock, filling orders, and sorting them as they came in.

Anyone who’s read posts on this thread probably knows what happened next – they never promoted her.

So, she took on all those responsibilities, on top of standard prepping, cooking and decorating cakes and pastries, packing it all up, putting it on the shelves, and keeping the department clean. She didn’t get any extra pay (she was meant to get something like a $3.80/hour raise) and was working close to 60 or 70 hour weeks.

For years.

I was just a kid, so I never really noticed anything other than, ‘Oh, Mom’s at work’.

Then things changed – the store manager Karen and another manager Sharon announced that a new manager was coming in, who would be Mom’s direct supervisor. She’s like okay, no problem. The new guy, Kyle, arrives and starts getting to know everyone.

Eventually, all the work starts getting to Mom, and she sees her doctor, who sends her to a therapist who diagnoses her with stress and anxiety.

She also had a lot of physical issues diagnosed, so she’s generally not doing great.

She starts medications, goes to therapy, and things start to improve.

Now I’d like to mention that Mom went above and beyond for her job – she reorganized the entire cake shop fridge, freezer, and kitchen to make things completely organized. She’d do all the monthly rotas about 2-3 months in advance. She helped other departments whenever they needed her. She basically never took a sick day.

Well, her health (physical and mental) goes downhill due to some personal stuff, so the doctor signs her off work for stress and anxiety. She tells Sharon, who she’s always reported to, who in turn tells Kyle since he’s Mom’s manager.

Technically, they should be the only people in the company who know why Mom was signed off. Everyone else was just told that ‘Tina’s taking some time off.’

Well, someone asks Kyle while they’re both on the shop floor.

Kyle tells her by shouting it to her at the supermarket rush hour, surrounded by customers. Most of them know Mom personally, so this was a big thing.

A woman Mom is friends without work messaged her told her the whole thing.

Mom was p*ssed. Anyone who has met my mom knows how pleasant she is and has never seen her angry. When she got to the store after hearing this, she was fuming.

She went straight to Sharon, who was Kyle’s manager, and reported the whole thing.

Store manager Karen gets involved while they listen to Mom going off about how her personal business was just shouted across the store – her mental illness.

She got her doctor to sign her off for even longer, lodged an official work complaint against Kyle, started planning her revenge.

The Revenge:

Long story short, nothing happened to Kyle. Basically a slap on the wrist, ‘don’t tell people where you can be heard,’ not ‘don’t tell people about your staff’s mental health.’ Don’t get caught.

So Mom starts planning her revenge. As I said before, she did the rotas. She already had up to November finished, signed off, and put up on the board. Which left December.

She came back from her time off for all of a week.

She went in on Monday and asked Karen and Sharon if they were sure they wanted to refuse to take proper action. As far as I’ve found in my working life, what Kyle did was a reason to fire him.

Karen won’t do anything, Sharon can’t go above her.

Mom says okay and gets on with her shift.

On Friday, she asks again. Same answer. So, Mom pulls out her notice, says she’s quitting with 2 weeks left. But she’s got a lot of holiday time left, which adds up to nearly 3 weeks. So, she’s done after her shift that day.

Karen looks a little startled but doesn’t know all the things Mom does for the company, so she accepts the resignation.

Big mistake.

Later that day, Sharon comes to find Mom and asks her if she’s really leaving. Yeah, she is. Sharon knows she can’t convince Mum, so she wishes her well and asks if she has anything lined up. She does, she’s not stupid. New job starts in a month.

When she clocks out, Kyle comes to ask her where the next rota is, since he needs to sign off on it by close of business that night.

She smiles, tells him she doesn’t work there anymore, and explains that as the manager overseeing the cake shop; it’s now his responsibility to create one.

His face drops. He stutters as she leaves, never looking back.

That’s when **** hits the fan.

Because guess when she left? Two weeks before Christmas.

For a supermarket cake shop, that’s devastating.

Nobody had put in new orders, nobody was organizing the fridges and freezers, nobody was prepared to suddenly receive 500+ specially ordered desserts for Christmas.

The department falls to pieces when the Regional Manager (who only showed up once a year for inspections) paid a surprise visit. He was horrified. Everyone blamed Kyle. Every. Single. Person.

Even Sharon admitted that the reason everything went downhill was because of what Kyle did, then because of the stress of working with him, Mom quit.

Kyle got fired. It took close to 2 years for the cake shop to get back to being half as good as it was when Mom was there.

And she started a store-wide walkout, with nearly every experienced worker leaving and getting better jobs elsewhere for more money.

And Mom? She’s back in good health at a job that pays roughly $20k extra every year and only has to work 40 hours a week.” Alex-Jay

10. Try To Fire Me? I’ll Get You Fired Instead

See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya!

“Starting out, let me explain why there wasn’t a mass walkout, and I am the only one that quit despite us basically being terrorized and treated like dirt.

The job market was in shambles in my city at that time with something like a 40% unemployment rate. I knew someone with a doctorate degree in theoretical physics working at a local fast food joint as it was literally the only place hiring (the city had quick access to 4 research universities, but he got “downsized” due to lower admission rates. He is now the dean of the physics department at his former school). To quit any job, no matter how bad, was financial ******* and a guarantee that you would not find a new one.

I always worked customer service, food service, and hospitality since I was 14. At 24, I decided it was time to find a job with benefits and potential for career advancement, so I took a job stocking shelves overnight with a global monstrosity that started out as a mom and pop store. I felt right at home.

I worked hard and constantly took the worst jobs and the worst days off to make sure I would be there on the weakest staffing days to rub elbows with management.

If there was anything that occasionally came up that no one on the shift was trained to do, I would come in on my day off, without pay, to get trained how to do the task (like keys, paint, accounting issues, etc.) to become less disposable and more versatile. It worked, and ten months in, I found myself with an offer to promote to low-level management starting January 1.

Starting the weekend before Thanksgiving, the overnight manager started to under-staff shifts – to preserve his end-of-year bonus – and acted surprised when people called out.

He would then bully us into staying over with threats of write-ups for not finishing our “assigned stocking tasks.” Upper management was notorious for just signing off on write-ups without looking into their validity, so each staff being assigned 13+ hours of labor to complete alone in 6 hours (while typically it was approximately 4.5 hours to account for tending to customers as well) was no defense. Since an employee could only get two of those write-ups in a rolling 13-month period before termination, we all would stay over, as well as skip our breaks and lunches to finish, those write-ups were also less job-threatening as he would simply turn a blind eye to us clocking out for break/lunch and returning to work.

But there was a catch: since any approved overtime would count against his $73,000 bonus – approximately $0.11 per approved hour – he would never file the approval forms for the OT. This meant that it was considered unapproved, meaning that we were required to get approval to cut hours off our regular shifts to equal out what we stayed over. He, of course, never approved us to cut those hours.

This was resulting in weekly write-ups, from the same manager, for unapproved overtime on those of us that made it to work every day despite the weather and missed holiday get-togethers with our families.

Every week, we would get our write-up, and he would get praise for getting everything done with less approved staffing hours then typically allocated.

Thankfully, write-ups for unapproved OT didn’t carry a lot of weight, but for three months they counted against your points for promotion opportunities. This went on until the week before Christmas.

When I got my weekly write-up, I was told by the store manager – who offered me my promotion – I would be suspended for “overtime abuse” the next time my manager submitted a write-up for unapproved overtime hours.

Determined to not lose my promotion, I started telling the manager no. The second time, I refused to stay over without him signing an “overtime approval form” and giving me a physical signed copy, and before I hit overtime, he wrote me up for “abusive actions towards a member of management” and “actions with the intent to undermine the integrity of management and store policies.”

This instantly cost me my promotion, which greatly upset me, and then, like the idiot he is, he left me alone in his office to sign the write-ups and the acknowledgement that I was no longer promoted.

Initially, I was going to just accept it and resolve myself to spending the next 13 months working my tail off for minimum wage and go up for promotion as soon as they fell off. When I started reading the acknowledgment form, I found I was not eligible to promote to management until I was “write-up free” for five years. This meant six years and one month before I could even try to get promoted again.

All because I followed policy.

So, rather than sign it, I wrote, “**** OFF,” in sharpie across his brand-new desk – which he got for being such a “great” manager – walked out of his office, handed him my vest and name tag, shredded the write-ups, tossed them into the air like confetti, and told his no-longer-smug face that it was now my personal mission to get him fired.

He lost his cockiness when it sunk in that I’d just quit.

I could see little beads of panic sweat forming on his forehead as he realized that the only person capable of performing certain highly-essential functions for his shift was walking out the door. He shouted after me, telling me that he could talk to the general manager and see if he could get the time frame cut down to three years. He offered to approve all of my overtime the rest of the season, offered me a cut of his bonus, and several other offers I can’t remember.

Honestly, if he’d offered to withdraw the write-ups – which was still 100% an option but he never offered – I wouldn’t have accepted it, but I might not have followed through on my threat. I was too angry and too determined, and I didn’t care if I became homeless as long as I never had to work there again.

Now, how did I get him fired? Well, due to certain ADA requirements, I was permitted to carry a voice recorder with me at work, so I could record important meetings, announcements, and reminders.

When I got written up the first time for unapproved over time, I started recording his “requests” to both me and coworkers. I never used them to dispute the write-ups, but I never deleted them, either. So, I uploaded all the recordings to my computer – nearly 18 hours of audio – and sent it to the home office, CCing every store manager and compliance officer in the district.

When I went in for my last paycheck, he was long gone.

I was offered my promotion back, but I declined. The regional director then offered me my old manager’s job with a $73,000 hiring bonus (wonder where that came from, LOL), but I still refused and said I was never returning to retail. My former manager’s boss laughed and told me that everyone returns eventually, and when I did come see her, she would find me a management spot somewhere.

After five months of being unemployed, living with my mom, and barely surviving, I moved to another state and got a job working in a state prison as a guard and am very fulfilled.” Ordinary-Diamond-158

9. Break Off Our Engagement Because I Have Cancer? I’ll Leave You Destitute

I guess she doesn’t believe in “for better or for worse…”

“This has been 4 years ago, so the sting is gone, and my “revenge” has been had.

We dated for 4 years and had what I thought was a great relationship. We were both well-established professionals who both owned homes in the same neighborhood and both with daughters in the home. Her daughter was 11, and mine was 16 when we met.

We had actually planned to get married, build a house, and raise the two together. We planned to get the house built because she had recently been diagnosed with a neurological disease that would eventually put her in a wheelchair and needed something ADA friendly.

During the planning stages, I began doing landscape and construction projects on her home to increase the resale value. All in, I invested roughly $30K USD into the home, running everything through my side construction business for tax, permitting, and resale purposes. We had a contract that “payment” would be made upon the sale of the home. I produced invoices for each and every project but never pushed for payment because of the prior agreement.

Fast forward 6 months, we’re looking at property to develop and finalizing drawings on the home when I began feeling ill.

I couldn’t eat, constantly vomiting, and passing *****. I began noticing that my abdomen looked swollen, which was odd because we were both very clean eaters and were at the gym every day. So, I went to the doctor and began having tests done.

During this time, she began having small cognitive issues, and the stress of her current position was exacerbating her condition, so she took a $20K per anum cut in pay along with a lesser position inside the company.

After a month or so of different tests, and a biopsy, it came back that I had a golf ball-sized tumor in my stomach and would need to begin chemotherapy. So, I began chemo and radiation treatments, which made me, expectedly so, extremely ill. She was spending time helping around my place on the weekends and staying over more, to the point that they were both at my home more than theirs.

At this point, I suggested that we go ahead and put one of our houses on the market and move in together until the new house was built.

I have great supplemental insurance as well as a long-term illness plan, so using that coupled with the sale of one of our houses would push us through comfortably and help ease the financial stress on her.

Shortly after this discussion, she became extremely distant. Her daughter wasn’t coming down and hanging out with mine anymore, and she had excuses for not getting together. She quit driving me to treatments and stopped staying over.

She then dropped a bomb.

A sentence that will forever be burned into my psyche:

“I love you, but I can’t see myself taking care of someone this sick in the long-term, and I don’t think we should see each other any longer.”

IN. A. TEXT.

It broke me. I won’t lie. This was the first woman I had ever opened up to and planned a life with since my wife died when my children were 1 and 3. However, I tried to be mature about it.

I forced myself to understand her position and to accept what I could not change.

I calmly, the next day, gathered all of her things, packed them neatly, loaded them in my truck, and took them to her house to leave on the back porch while she was at work, in order to avoid any awkward exchanges.

Walking around the back and under the porch cover, I sat down a box and saw her in her back living room on the couch having s*x with a man that she had introduced to me as a life-long friend.

I had dinner and drinks with this man and his girlfriend. We had gone on vacation with them as well.

I never spoke of the incident with her and simply sent her a text later, explaining that I would leave her things on my side porch to pick up at her convenience.

I discovered 8 or 9 months later from his now ex-girlfriend that they had broken up due to him confessing that he had been sleeping with my significant other, dating back to about the time we were finishing drawings on the new home.

Now I’m p*ssed. Revenge time.

At this point, I had finished chemo and radiation for the time being and was feeling healthier. I was going through some much-neglected paperwork when I ran across the file that contained $32,680.00 in unpaid, long overdue invoices, which were promptly sent to my attorney to begin lien proceedings on the home. It turns out that I couldn’t have done this a moment too soon because she was set to put her house on the market.

Coupled with interest over the course of, what was then, 19 months overdue – the invoices were hefty. That, along with the agreement of settling them when the house was sold and attorney fees left her with roughly $10K after the sale of the home and settling her current mortgage.

She promptly had to back out of the purchase of another home and moved in with her oldest daughter, son-in-law, and 2 grandchildren. She also had to leave her job and begin receiving disability.

I ran into her a little over a year ago, and she looked as if she had aged 20 years and was in the wheelchair we had talked about. We chatted cordially but briefly, and I excused myself and went on with my day. A few days later, her younger daughter called me and spoke of my running into her mom and asked if we could hang out sometime. I gave a vague answer, thanked her for calling and again, went on with my day.

The ex then called me a week or so later and began apologizing for leaving me as she did. Again, cordial but short, I thanked her for calling and hung up. She began texting and this went on for several weeks until one she asked if I could ever see us rekindling what we had, to which I replied:

“I can’t see myself taking care of someone so sick in the long-term. Remember the box on your back porch? Did you think that (life-long friend) brought that over to you from my house? Good luck to you.

Goodbye.”” Cordero_Biggs

Another User Comments:

“Well done my friend!!! My main question is, are you tumor-free and healthy now?!?” hucklebrrry

Reply:

“I am. It took another round of oral chemo later on, but I’ve been cancer-free for 2 years.” Cordero_Biggs

8. Entitled Teacher Gets Audited By Administration

“This is the tale of how an entitled (and borderline sociopathic) classmate of mine had her academic life ruined before it had even started over some petty *******.

Allow* me to introduce her. I’ll call her Karen Jr.

Karen Jr was a pretty decent student who made equally decent grades – certainly nothing to scoff at. However, she didn’t take any particularly hard classes, and it seemed as if she was merely skating by in high school, waiting for the greater things in life. She was also a mythic ****;* she had money and often flaunted it. She looked down on kids who didn’t have as much as she did and was a classic case of “spoiled *****” **************syndrome.

She also had a habit of sending her mom on anyone who dared to rub her the wrong way.

Speaking of her mom, let’s talk about her; her mom worked at the school as a math teacher and was very chummy with most of the other teachers, as well as the administration of both the school and the local county board. She was also an *****. She would intentionally fail high-achieving students who might make her precious daughter look worse in the long run.

We’ll call this teacher Karen.

As for myself, I was a senior in high school at this time of all of this, class of 2019. I am currently a college sophomore. In high school, I was one of the top students in the class. My undergraduate studies have been entirely paid for by academic scholarships, and I was one of a handful who was poised to be valedictorian for our class. Of course, this title didn’t mean much to me.

I worked my a** off for scholarship money, not for some silly title. I’m saying this now not to brag but because it’s important to the story later.

It’s also important to note that this story takes place in the thick of college admission season. Seniors were scrambling to write essays, get important documents together, and raise standardized test scores before it was all said and done.

I (mostly) only ever had class with Karen Jr when I was taking courses required to graduate.

These weren’t hard classes at all and certainly were not weighted. Typically, my other classes would be AP or dual-credit courses to academically challenge myself and to raise my GPA for scholarships. I rarely had class with Karen Jr in any of these courses, and the class size was so small for APs at my school that if she had been, we would have been in the same class for sure. This was very odd as she struck me as capable to handle the course load.

That’s when the tomf*ckery began.

You see, Karen Jr, like many other folks at this time, had also been trying to raise her test scores for college admissions. She claimed that she had anxiety, and as a result, she got some special accommodations whenever it was time to take tests, both for classes and standardized. However, she was notoriously extroverted in class discussions and never struck me as the nervous type. I have dealt with generalized anxiety disorder for years, and I wasn’t buying it.

I also didn’t wanna use this as a cop-out to get special privileges. But if that’s what the psychologist’s note said, I didn’t have an issue with it. For regular class tests, this meant that she got to leave the room and take her tests somewhere else. She typically went to the library where she could take it in a more isolated setting.

There was a rare situation where we did share a class: AP US Government.

The teacher was also great friends with Karen. At my high school, it was known as one of the easier AP classes due to the heavy focus on vocabulary and the lack of challenging concepts. We had tests in there on a two-week basis after covering the material in the textbook. I would study my a** off for each and every tests, and I always ended up with low-A’s. This was fine in my book since the other assignments would keep my grade above the 95 mark.

As per usual, Karen Jr would leave class every two weeks to take the test. That was all well and good until she got a 100% on every. Single. Test.

She’s a capable student, but she’s certainly no genius. She would also flaunt to her friends how she never studies for any of her tests because she just “gets” it. This continued for the first little bit of the course.

Until, one test day, the library was closed down after some water damage had been uncovered after a pretty bad storm.

She couldn’t take the test in the library as usual and had to take it with the rest of us. She seemed hesitant, but the teacher insisted that there was nowhere else suitable in the school for test-taking. And so, she took the test.

And gloriously bombed it.

I don’t know exactly what she got, but she had shed a few tears as soon as she saw her grade. She claimed that it had been misgraded by the ScanTron, and insisted that it was re-scored.

She got the same score.

I assumed that it was due to her anxiety, and I felt bad for her. That sympathy went away in an instant, when, during class, she whispered to one of her friends that she’d always go to her mom’s classroom instead of the library to take her tests. (I always had a skill for eavesdropping since I was a relatively unassuming person who didn’t say much in class.) I didn’t know what this meant for sure, but I assume her mom (Karen) had looked up the answers for it.

That explained immediately why she had gotten perfect scores on the previous tests and why she had bombed this one.

However, her blatant cheating didn’t affect me one bit, so I turned a blind eye and kept doing my own thing.

Then, the situation escalated a slight bit. See, her “anxiety” also allowed her some special privileges for taking standardized college placement exams, like the ACT and SAT. One of my friends had a sister who genuinely had a learning disability and absolutely needed the extra time.

She was incredibly sweet. We’ll call the sister Destiny.

Destiny explained to me that when you present to the ACT testing facility with accommodations, you had two options. You could either take each of the four ACT sections (5 sections if you took it with writing) on separate days under normal time constraints or take all of the sections on the same day with DOUBLE the time on each section.

Destiny also explained that all test takers with accommodations took the exam on the same day, different than normal test-takers so that they could ensure that each student’s needs could be met.

Destiny mentioned how Karen Jr got a special room to take her tests in, not unlike her regular tests. That’s all well and good, she thought. Except, when Destiny finished her exams, she noticed that Karen Jr hadn’t finished with the rest of the students. She assumed this meant that Karen Jr had opted for the extended time option.

Until, on Karen Jr’s social media, she posted about how she was “ready for day 2” of ACT testing.

Sure enough, she had taken it over the course of several days.

All of this meant that, somehow, Karen Jr had taken the ACT with BOTH accommodation options. I was never sure how this was possible, but in retrospect, it was probably her mom. Karen Jr got a spectacular score on her exam, something like a 32 or 33.

Again, this didn’t particularly bother me; her test scores didn’t affect me one bit. I decided to take the information with a laugh and move on with my life.

This is when *** went from annoying to personal.

You see, several students, including myself, were in the running to be our class’s valedictorian. I didn’t care too much, since the distinction wouldn’t have gotten me any extra money from the college I was planning on attending.

It was quite a shock to learn that Karen Jr, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was going to be our valedictorian for that year. To me, and many others, this seemed impossible; she hadn’t taken nearly as many weighted classes as the lot of us and was a good student at best.

Also, Karen Jr’s best friend was lined up to be salutatorian (2nd in class rank). She was also a pretty mediocre student. So, how did they BOTH manage to get a higher GPA than us? We had been taking APs since freshman year.

The answer came to me as I was eating lunch one day. One of my friends, we’ll call him Aaron, had been making up a calculus test in Karen’s (Karen Jr’s mom) room. While he was there, he had overheard some seriously juicy information.

Karen was looking at the student transcripts of high-ranking students (including myself) and had arranged for Karen Jr’s schedule to inflate her GPA so much that it passed my own and the GPA of other hard-working students. This included taking some online classes from a local college, which I was never permitted to take. This is because the classes were so specific that the credits didn’t transfer. We’re talking about a college class about proper walking/exercising techniques here.

Easy ***.

What’s more concerning is that these student transcripts contained VERY sensitive information that included, but was not limited to: the last four digits of social security, home addresses, phone numbers, medical history, approved medication, and academic records of all kinds. Why they’d openly whisper about this stuff with another student in the room was beyond me.

I didn’t want to take this information at face value, so I looked up the list of faculty that had permission to access student transcript information in the first place (only a handful of teachers could do this).

Wouldn’t you believe that Karen’s name was most certainly on the list.

I also ran the numbers myself; it was totally possible to arrange a schedule of ******* classes that would exceed everyone else’s GPA. The same had been done to Karen Jr’s best friend’s schedule, just not to the same extent.

I was livid. That was MY personal information, which, if leaked, could cause some serious privacy issues. Part of my SSN was on there, for Christ’s sake.

So, I decided that I wasn’t gonna take this lying down anymore. I looked up the regulations and codes regarding the share of a student transcript without consent and WOO BOY. All of that *** is under FERPA law. And if you don’t know anything about FERPA, just know that they don’t *** around in the slightest.

The state penalties alone for sharing student documents with a third-party without consent, either from the parent (if the student is under 18) or the student itself, was a hefty fine, possible termination, and further federal penalties.

We’re talking possible jail time if the information shared led to consequences for the student whose information was shared.

All I needed was proof. Along with Aaron’s testimony, I wanted irrevocable proof that Karen and Karen Jr were doing shady ***.

So, I hatched a plan.

I was in the show choir and so I had access to some decent recording equipment, including some single-use audio recorders. These were used by judges during competitions to give quick feedback on the show, and also for student auditions.

They were small, discrete, and silent. They also had a neat feature where you could set a timer on the thing to tell it to start recording after so much time had passed. I set the timer so that the recorder would start during lunch.

Before school one day, I went up to Karen’s room to glance briefly and see if she was in there.

She was not, and her room was not locked. Her classroom was on the second floor, so the stairwell door downstairs alone was locked at night.

However, they unlock these doors before school so that janitors could do spot-cleaning before normal class hours.

I taped one of these recorders under her chair, set the timer for around lunchtime and her planning period (they were back-to-back) and waited. I went back at the end of the day (I had choir practice) and retrieved the recorder before the downstairs doors were locked (they left them unlocked for extra-curricular activities because freshman and sophomore lockers were upstairs).

I got home and began playing the tape.

Bingo. I had my irrefutable evidence. It was all there – conversations about Karen viewing student transcripts and disclosing that information with a third party: Karen Jr.

Now, I had another problem. You see, Karen was extremely friendly with the administration, so I had to find someone who I knew would take me seriously and would cooperate while keeping my identity a secret.

Fortunately, my counselor (we were each assigned one based on our last name) was a real stand-up guy, and I knew he’d come in clutch.

I went with Aaron to his office, and I took my laptop with the audio file backed up onto it. We presented our case.

You see, to file a FERPA violation report, you needed the administration of the organization (this included my counselor) to go on record saying that the complaint was legitimate and that further investigation was warranted. The complaint was also anonymous. He gave me his sweet, sweet approval on the form. I filed the complaint and waited.

The fallout was glorious. The school’s administration was forced to do an objective audit on ALL of Karen’s activity at the school, where they confirmed that all of this ******* had been taking place. Karen Jr’s valedictorian status and her friend’s salutatorian were sacked, and some other (more deserving) kid was presented with the honor. I myself was awarded salutatorian; although, this didn’t matter to me too much. The school was fined by FERPA for breach of policy, and Karen might get fired.

I never found out; I was graduated before all of that took place.

But it doesn’t end there. During the audit, they also found evidence that Karen Jr had been coming to her mom’s room during regular tests and copying down answers from the internet, and she faced severe disciplinary action for that. That certainly wouldn’t look good on her record; we’re talking in-school suspension due to multiple documented violations.

The icing on the cake was when they discovered the f*ckery regarding her ACT accommodations.

Turns out, her mom HAD been pulling the string behind the scenes to get her accommodations for that “anxiety” we talked about earlier. The ACT company takes cheating VERY seriously, and so they voided her pristine standardized testing score, which had landed her a full scholarship to her university of choice. The same ended up happening with some of her SAT and AP scores as well for reasons that I never personally discovered. Karen Jr lost ALL of her scholarship money from the university and ended up attending an in-state college which took the few scores that were not voided (and also weren’t fraudulent).

Those scores probably weren’t NEAR as good as her voided ones.

All of this news was absolutely BUZZING around the school, and Karen Jr was disgraced. I did my part in my graduation ceremony a few months later and all was well.

I never intended it to go so far, but I don’t feel bad one bit. Revenge is sweet and best served by FERPA.” flannel_enthusiast5

7. Be A Horrible Flatmate? Both Of You Will Be Gone

Some people are just not easy to live with at all.

“Cast:

Me – OP

Steven/S – Horrible Roommate

Gina/G – Stevens Entitled Mother

Carly/C – Flatmate (Zack’s Girlfriend)

Zack/Z – Flatmate (Carly’s Boyfriend)

Rosy/R – Quiet Flatmate

Location – Student Dorms

Timeframe – First Year of University in England

Story:

So, twelve years ago, I went to my first university to study my bachelor’s degree following a year out (gap year here in England). I was quite excited for this as I have not been, and my older cousins and family friends have told me some of their stories of their time in university.

Hearing this, I was quite excited, so once I moved in and got settled into my room in our shared flat, I went into university for the induction. My flatmates, some of them had arrived (I believe Zack, Carly, and Steven had moved in already in the couple of days prior to me moving in), and Rosy was moving in the night that I was moving in. So, the time proceeds to night time when all 5 of us flatmates were there which is when the warden to our block of flats came over to introduce ourselves and to do an icebreaker session so that us flatmates could introduce ourselves to each other.

After that brief session, once the warden left, we went on to continue chatting, and I thought I had gotten some great flatmates. Boy was I wrong!

Fast forward a month, and now classes are in session. Being the somewhat responsible student I was busy studying when I hear shouting from the joint kitchen that we have. I move over to the kitchen under the guise that I was getting myself some water and asked Zack why Carly and Rosy were shouting at Steven.

Apparently Steven had not only stolen their food, which was a big no-no, but not only that Steven and his mother who was still staying with him in his room had made a mess and not cleaned up causing the food to solidify on the stove and make a somewhat bad smell. Once the girls ran out of breath and took a moment to calm down, they told him that the stove better be clean by Monday morning (that day was a Sunday) and left.

A point I need to make here is that Rosy was considerably more angry at Steven as the food that Steven had taken to eat was Rosy’s Halal food that she had bought with her own money. So, I then went to Steven and explained that although back when we did say that he is welcome to try some of our food as we each had cooked a dish and shared, that only applied to that food we made back then (3 weeks prior) and to please not do that again.

Steven agreed and proceeds to not clean up the mess made by him and his mother who at the time was not present as she had gone out to explore the city or do some shopping. (I can’t fully remember.)

Monday morning, I wake up early and proceed to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast (cereal for those concerned) and see that my fresh bottle of milk that I had just bought on Saturday and not used much of is almost empty.

As I was in a bit of a rush to get ready, I didn’t think too much and proceed to make my breakfast and devour it as fast as I could, get showered and ready, and go to university for a 9 am workshop that I had.

After all my classes finish at roughly 3 pm, I went back home to grab a bite to eat and chill before going for basketball practice at 6 pm. Once I was done with practice, I felt really hungry and decided to order a pizza for myself with some sides from Domino’s with Zack and Carly who I got along with quite well.

As Zack was ordering the food, I paid him back and proceeded to take a shower as I was quite sweaty from the practice. Once I freshened up I walked outside to go to the kitchen to grab some water and as soon as I was nearing the kitchen, a horrible smell hit my nose causing me to cough for a moment. I look up to see Gina cooking using my pot to make some food (don’t know what it was, but it had some beef); this caused me to become angry for 3 reasons:

1. I am a person who only eats chicken as his non-vegetarian food.

2.

Gina had decided to use my utensils without my permission.

3. The smell which I assume was coming from the food that was burning slightly.

Upon entering the kitchen, this is the conversation that ensued:

Me – “Ma’am, why are you using my utensils without asking for permission to use it?”

Gina – “I thought that as the pot was in the kitchen, anyone could use it. Plus, I saw Carly use it just yesterday.”

Me – “No, that’s not how things work in this flat.

First of all, Carly asked me to be able to use my pot to make her noodles, and secondly, just because my pot is in the drying rack doesn’t mean that you can use it as you please. Thirdly, what the **** on earth is that smell? Is the food not burning or something?”

Gina – “Oh no, I was making (some beef dish from their country) and had to smoke it using your pot.”

Me – “You are using my pot to make a beef dish when I explicitly told everyone not to make any food that isn’t chicken or vegetarian using my stuff even if I allow you to use my utensils.

Now I again need to explain something. Back during the first week of term, I had told everyone in the flat that I am very uncomfortable if you use my items to cook anything that is non-veg excluding chicken and to please not do so. Back to the story. Also, I am pretty sure you don’t use a pot to smoke beef (despite my lack of knowledge regarding cooking of beef products).”

Gina – “Oh, it’s fine.

I’ll make sure to clean it up and give it back to you.”

Me – “Last time you said that, it was returned to me in a messy state, so frankly, I find that hard to believe.”

Gina – “Oh, I said that I will clean it, so lay off, you sh*tty brat. Anyways, you gave us permission to use it back in the first week.”

Me – “Like **** I did. I said you could only use my stuff till you get your own, so use that!”

At this stage, Zack came over to let me know that the food is here and sees me in a shouting match with Entitled Mother.

“Zack – “OP, the food is here in my… (sees me shouting) What’s going on?

Me explaining the situation to Zack. Zack backs me up as he was there when I told Steven and Gina that they can only use my stuff till they get their own.

Zack – “Anyways why are you using OPs pot to cook beef when he told us all not to do that since he is uncomfortable with it? That’s so wrong. I sure as **** hope that you will clean it and give it back, otherwise, there will be an issue (saying sternly).”

Me – “I doubt she will, but there’s no harm in letting her finish cooking.

I’m not gonna just dump her food in the bin because she just chose to use my things. Anyways, I am hungry; let’s go eat Zack.”

Zack – “Yeah, let’s go.”

That’s where that situation ended. Literally the next morning, I go to the kitchen in the morning for some breakfast and see both Steven and Gina eating my cereal in my bowls. They notice me, and this is the conversation that proceeds.

Gina – “Oh, hey, OP. The milk is out, so can you go get some?”

Me checking the fridge to see my milk gone.

Me – “The *** are you eating my milk and cereal in my bowls for?”

Gina – “My son was hungry, so I decided to give him some food.”

Me – “So, because Steven is ****** hungry, you chose to give him my food and take some for yourself as well? Even if that was the case, why the **** are you still here? Everyone’s parents left the day we all moved in.”

Gina – “I haven’t been abroad in a while, so I thought I would stick around for a bit.”

Me – “Anyways, what am I supposed to eat now? Air?”

Gina – “I am sure you can figure it out; you are a university student after all.”

Me, furious, leaves.

Once I get ready, I head over to the accommodation management building. Once there, I say to them that not only are both mother and son are taking my food without permission, but they are doing so with my flatmates as well. I also told them how they are using what they want and taking what they want and essentially what a menace they are being. I also asked whether Gina is even allowed to stay in the same room as Steven despite it having been a month.

To this, the staff member says to me the following things:

Staff Member – “First, to address the issue of the mother staying until now, that is prohibited under the rules of the terms of the accommodation as you can only have someone stay for one night not multiple. For this, they will be sending our warden over to check out the flat. We shall mention the issues that you are having with the mother and son to the warden, and he shall help sort out the situation.”

Me (Calmer now) – “Thank you.

Just in case, what should I do if we have any other issues?”

Staff Member – “Either contact your warden through email, or come down here and explain the situation.”

Me – “Ok, I think I will do that. Thank you for the help!”

I then go to the classes I have that day that last until 4 pm. When I go in for my lecture, I send a message of what happened and what the staff member said to me into the WhatsApp group chat that me, Zack, Carly, and Rosy have made.

That evening, the warden knocks when I am warning my food up in the microwave, and I greet him in. He then proceeds to see the mess left by the mother and son combo in the kitchen/living room area. He asks me why is the place so messy. I explain to him that the mess is not caused by us as we as a flat made a cleaning schedule that we followed except for Gina and Steven.

He then proceeds to ask me where they both are as Steven is in breach of the rules for the accommodation. I say I don’t know; maybe in their room, I assume, unless they have gone out somewhere. The warden then proceeds to knock on their door to no answer. He then tapes up an excerpt of the rule that Steven is breaching by allowing his mother to stay in the room for more than one night.

He then proceeds to write that the mother has until the weekend to move out (so 3 more days); otherwise, a fine will be sent to Steven to pay (can’t remember the amount of the fine). Another item he writes is that they both have to go and see him in his office in the residential management office (the place I went to earlier in the day) to have the discussion with him regarding the issues that we have been presenting.

Following this, he then says some bad news to me. The cleaning inspectors will be coming to check out the place, and that if the place isn’t clean, then we could be charged the amount it would cost for a cleaning company to come out and clean the communal area of the flat (the hallways and the kitchen/living room area). I said slightly surprised that even if we are following a rota and that Steven and his mother are not doing their part, we can be charged.

The warden says, unfortunately, yes, that is the case. Now that all his work was done, he wishes me and the other flatmates well and proceeds to leave. I post a message that we need to clean up as the cleaning inspectors are coming soon (2 days time).

After eating me, Zack, and Carly proceed to clean the place to cleaner levels than it was before we moved in. Rosy did not join in as she had a very important test coming the following day; otherwise, she would have helped, which we understood.

The next day when Steven and Gina come back after having gone to visit a family friend in the nearby city, they see the notice and begin to scream at Rosy who just happened to be leaving for her test that morning. Me and Carly saw this and proceeded to back up Rosy and tell them that this is clearly not our fault and that they warden saw the mother still here despite the time period having elapsed a month ago.

We then told Rosy to leave for her test and that we will handle this, which she proceeds to do. To finish the argument there and then we then say that they better see the warden otherwise some other penalties may be applied to them (bluffing this part by the way). They shut up and proceed to go to his office.

As a result of the potential fine hovering over their heads, Gina proceeds to leave by the Friday morning back to their home country.

As the main offender had left, we breathed a sigh of relief and thought that, that was the end of that. Again, we were proven wrong. In the next couple of months, Steven becomes even worse than his mother somehow. Eating messily, not cleaning after himself, using our food and kitchen items as if it was his. Rosy broke down in tears at one point as Steven used her utensils multiple times, and as she is Muslim, she has halal food, and as Steven made his non-veg food from non-halal products, it had contaminated her utensils, meaning she could not use them as it would be against her religion.

She literally had to throw away those utensils in order to cook her own food and buy new ones just so that she could eat her own food. Seeing this and the numerous times we had to clean up, buy new food, and deal in general with piece of *** Steven, I decided something had to be done. So, after discussing the issues with Zack, Carly, and Rosy, I told them my plan. After going over the residential rules and memorizing them, I began my warpath.

Now for those that survived the buildup, here is the pro revenge.

The Revenge:

I began meticulously noting down and taking photos of everything wrong that Steven was doing. If he had a friend stay for more than one night, noted and photo taken. Doesn’t throw out the garbage or clean his assigned area? Photos taken and noted. He started smoking the green special plant 2 weeks the departure of his mother in the flat in the kitchen and in his room next to the window, so I took photos of the weed cigarettes and the packs of weed he left about and noted everything.

In the case I wasn’t able to take photos or videos and note it down, I asked Zack, Carly, and Rosy to do so to which they gladly agreed to do so. Any breach in violation or any law that was broken was noted. This proceeded for 4 months till March of the following year from the December of the previous year (2 months since university started in October). I also managed to sneak into this room and find his stash of weed (which was a hefty amount) and find the number of the dealers that sold him the *****.

I also took photos of the dealers that were selling him the weed with the videos of them doing the exchange in his room or in the corridor.

I saved all the evidence onto a cloud, and then after the four months, I decided to compile it and proceed to share the information with the residential management, university, and the police. The university proceeded to kick him out of the university and essentially leading to the cancellation of his student visa through which he was staying in the country.

The accommodation management was in an uproar about the ***** being not only smoked but dealt in the accommodation that they canceled his slot and fined him massively for the breach of terms and service. The police were very interested to hear about ***** and proceeded to raid his room when he was not there and find the stash that I pointed out. The police commended me for this and proceed to go and arrest him.

Upon finding this out is when the university proceeded to kick him from the university. He was shortly after deported back to his home country, never to be seen again. And that is the end of good, old Steve.

The Aftermath:

One thing that I do know is that Gina called us once Steven returned to his country. She started screaming about how we wasted tons of money (being that Steven was an international student) and essentially ruined his life.

Let’s just say that she had a colorful selection of words to use on us. I don’t know of anything else other than that. Most details of the police investigation were things that we as students and his flatmates were note privy to, so I don’t know much in that area.” FabricatedReviews

6. Commit Insurance Fraud? Go To Jail And End Up In A Terrible Financial Situation

“A long, long time ago and not far down the street from here, my girlfriends and I were cruising up and down the main thoroughfare of our city as teenagers that have just gotten their first cars tend to do.

This is the main drag through the heart of our city, and it’s where everyone would race on Friday and Saturday nights, kill time cruising before a movie, or just to hang out and be seen.

We’re driving along on a beautiful Friday afternoon when from the back seat, I spot a horde of teenage boys in a parking lot waiting for traffic to clear, so they can race. They’ve parked their crotch rockets and cars like they’re for sale, every door open, hoods up, underglow shining, speakers blasting.

And like half of these guys have their shirts off. Being a red-blooded teenage girl, I shout, “Oh my god, Kirsten, look!” But Kirsten was driving the car. To this day, we both try to take the blame for this because I should not have shouted for her to look, and she should not have turned around to look.

So, of course, we rear-ended the car in front of us at about 15 mph. Not bad at all! We got out, and Kirsten and Sarah called their moms from the parking lot, and I called the police while checking on the people in the other car.

The passenger jumped out and pointed at me, tells me to stay away, then went to the payphone (yes, this happened that long ago) at the fast-food joint we were in front of. I peeked into the car to ask the driver if they’re okay. She was leaned all the way back in her seat; she wouldn’t look at me, but she said she couldn’t feel her arms. So, I’m like, oh ***. “Hey dispatch, send an ambulance too.

This lady says she can’t feel her arms” and then I started freaking out. Did we just paralyze some poor woman because we’re dumb, hormonal sl*ts?! Oh God, we just ruined somebody’s life!

I’m asking the driver if there’s anything I can do. I think I actually asked if I could make her more comfortable. I was panicked and just repeating the dispatcher at that point: “Don’t worry, the ambulance will be here soon.” And then she turned her head towards me and asked who hit her.

I was confused and asked her what she meant. She wanted to know which one of us was driving. But I didn’t want to tell her for some reason? I was just like, “No, no. Don’t worry about that. You’ll be fine,” and she wasn’t having it. She got p*ssed and started screaming at me to tell her who was driving. So, I just screamed back that she was crazy, and I wasn’t going to tell her anything! And then the dispatcher says, “Miss, please just back away from the vehicle.”

Swear to God that dispatcher was psychic or something because I ducked out of the car right as the driver swung her meaty fist at my head.

And then it was ON. She ripped off her seat-belt (Ho, ho! Not paralyzed after all!) and launched out of the car, running around the rear end to come at me. So, I ran screaming around the front end. Straight out of a cartoon, she turned around and ran around the other side of the car, making me turn around to run the opposite way, back and forth around the front and back of the car until she committed to a side, and I just ****** ran the other way to the parking lot.

Kirsten was banging on the door of the fast-food joint, but an employee was holding the door closed and shaking her head. (I will never forget that poor woman’s face.) Sarah was on the phone crying. I could hear the sirens in the distance and dispatch was entirely too calm asking me to explain the problem. On the 911 recording, you can just hear me panting, “What the crap, what the crap, what the crap” with every exhale.

You guys, this woman was short, stout, and she ran like a ****** juiced up bull. She was so fast! I could FEEL her catching up to me, so I pivoted to the side, and she whooshed past me. And she continued right towards Sarah, clothes-lined her as she ran by, and headed to Kirsten, who at this point had seen the writing on the wall and was running away. But there wasn’t really anywhere to go except for the entrance of the drive-thru.

So, Kirsten and the enraged driver disappeared around the back of the building. I was picking Sarah up off the ground when an ambulance, fire truck, and two police cruisers pulled up. EMT popped out first, and we ran at him screaming nonsense about a crazy lady and the drive-thru.

And then Kirsten came flying around the far corner of the building with Beast Mode right on her heels. I’ve never seen somebody stop so fast. She came out around the corner, saw all the emergency responders, stopped, and dropped like a fallen tree before pretending to shake uncontrollably.

This lady tried to pull a fake seizure RIGHT in front of the EMTs and police. Her friend (the passenger), who had been on the payphone this whole time, dropped down next to her and started wailing that somebody needed to do something and help her and arrest us. Really coming hard with the dramatics. So, the EMTs loaded her up, and they went off to the hospital while the three of us gave our statements to the police.

And we assumed that was the end. Insurance was supposed to deal with anything else, right?

First, the driver tried to sue all three of us and the insurance company. Pain, suffering, medical bills, loss of income, the whole works. She claimed that after rear-ending her, I dragged her out of her car, and Kirsten was actually chasing her through the drive-thru. The 911 recording disproved her claim of being pulled from the vehicle and CCTV footage from the fast-food restaurant showed her as the pursuer.

The suit was eventually dismissed, and she had to pay our lawyer’s fees, which really sucked for her because Sarah’s lawyer got photos of her frolicking at a music festival when she was supposedly suffering from whiplash, double knee injuries, and constant dizziness. Boom, that’s insurance fraud. She spent a year in jail and paid a hefty fine. And we assumed that was the end.

But no. A few months after she was released, we all began to find dead animals left on our front porches, in our mailboxes, in the swimming pool, hung over the side mirror of the car, etc., definitely some unusual places to find dead animals.

The phone calls started: hang-ups, faxes, random screaming. Kirsten swore she saw a car following her between school and the coffee house. Sarah thought she saw a similar car in her neighborhood a few times. We all knew who was doing it, but the cops couldn’t really do anything without proof. Our parents were p*ssed because this was the dawn of the digital era, and we all had cell phones, but crazy driver lady was blowing up the landline, and it was harassing our parents more than us.

And the dead animals were terrifying our siblings. So, Kirsten’s mom bought a guard dog, and the next time somebody dropped a dead raccoon in their petunias, Duke was gonna give them what for.

So, everyone in Kirsten’s house was sitting back enjoying a little TV one night when a noise was heard in the bushes right before a dead squirrel was hurled through the open window. And Duke leaped right out the window and tackled crazy ****** driver lady in the God d*mn petunias! She had dressed in all black, ski-mask, gloves, and everything.

Literally the uniform of the nefarious. Kirsten said Duke had her WHOLE shoulder in his big a** mouth and was pinning her down while they called the police. She was hauled off to jail while the cops search her car found down the road. They found *****, stolen credit cards, pills, a knife, trash bags, and cleaning supplies. To get her to plea to a whole slew of lesser charges, the prosecutor threatened to pursue kidnapping charges even though it was a real stretch.

She ended up being sentenced to 5 years, served 3. Thankfully, none of us have heard from her since.

But it took over a decade for her to pay us off. The crazy thing is, she’s got money! She just refused to make payments, so the court started taking it out of her tax returns and depositing it on debit cards they gave us.” reasonablysureitsme

5. Refuse To Pay A Penny? I’ll Sue For More Than What You Owe

“I (22F) got my first job when I was 16 at a specialty restaurant with 5 locations.

I worked at the busiest location. It was summer at the time, so I was working 5 days a week from 12 pm-10 pm. The restaurant is set up like Panda Express/Manchu Wok or those other Asian restaurants in food courts where the food is laid out, and you pick what you want from the selection, except it’s not in a food court and has its own seating, so more like a cafeteria/Ikea setup. My job is to give/serve people their food, cashier, and some minor prep.

By 1 pm, all the cooks have left. I am left with a dishwasher/busboy until closing.

3 weeks have passed, and I haven’t gotten paid anything. Turns out, the owner, whom I’ve met a couple of times, is spending all her revenue in the casino, and a lot of staff aren’t getting paid. Some employees have worked here for years and have over $5,000 of unpaid work. I talked to the owner, and she said I can take my daily income from the cash register (cash, no tax) after I do all my closing as long as I write everything down.

I didn’t care at this time as long as I was getting paid. I didn’t know much about the law either since it was my first job. But I did provide them my SIN/SSN, so I was hired legally to my knowledge. The manager that hired me never mentioned cash payments when she hired me.

I was getting my pay from the register for about a week until one of my coworkers found out. Obviously she got jealous and told everyone.

Since these people have thousands of unpaid work, they felt like it was unfair that I was getting paid, and they weren’t. At this time, the owner was out of country, so I stopped taking my pay from the register to avoid getting in conflict with my coworkers. I mean, the owner will pay me eventually, right? (I was young, naive, and did not know better.)

During one of my shifts, a delivery came in, and they wanted to get paid on the spot.

I did not have cash at the register, and I couldn’t get a hold of my coworkers to deal with the situation, so the delivery guy eventually left with all the products. That night, the owner’s husband gave me a call, and he was furious that we did not get the delivery since we needed it for tomorrow because we’re low on products. He dropped by to leave cash for the delivery and made me wait until 12 midnight for the delivery to come, unpaid.

I was left by myself in the restaurant, and I was crying. It was a very stressful situation for me, and working here led me to smoke cigarettes. (I don’t smoke anymore.) This was my breaking point. I wanted to quit, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t get all my hard-earned money. The job is easy, but all the coworker drama and the sh*tty treatment of the owners got to me.

I kept working in this location until the end of summer with over $3,000 of unpaid work, not adjusted with overtime and holiday pay.

I did eventually get to talk to the owner on the phone, and all I got was, “It is what it is.” I did not show up for work on the last day of summer.

After I didn’t show up, I filed a claim with the Department of Labor/Ministry of Labor. When school started, the manager from their other location asked me to come work for her on weekends. Of course, I said no but eventually agreed when she said that I will be paid after my shift with cash.

The owner never came here to take the revenue for her gambling, and she’s still out of the country, so I did get paid after my shift. Everyone that worked here was a lot nicer too since everyone was getting paid. I asked my unemployed friends to drop off their resumes. The owner did not know that I was friends with these people, and she eventually hired one of my friends as a dishwasher/busboy to work with me.

The manager leaves early on weekends, and it’s just me and my friend in the restaurant, so I would give out food to my friends, customers that I know, and family, FOR FREE. Not my food cost, so I did not give a ***. I know it’s an ***** move, but keep in mind the $3,000 that they still owe me.

Everyone that worked here knows all the ******* that’s happening. Business has always been doing great to the point that the owner was able to have 5 locations.

Everyone was getting paid on time and were given bonuses during the first few years of the business until the owner started going to the casino. Her attitude changed and stopped taking care of the business. She would even get mad at the employees for paying the bills instead of keeping the cash for her gambling. We’ve had times that our electricity got cut off and couldn’t operate as a restaurant. Producers/Suppliers are also refusing to deliver products unless we paid right away.

(They aren’t getting paid on time as well.)

The owner mainly ever goes to the restaurant locations to take cash. Her husband does most of the work and even takes cash out of his pocket to pay for the restaurant expenses. From what I’ve heard, their marriage went down the sewage since the wife started gambling and coming home from the casino without her car. There were also rumors that the husband cheated which led to the wife’s gambling problems.

I believed all the rumors since it all made sense at the time but no confirmation until now. I also found out that one of their locations had to close down because they did not pay the lease; they’re now left with 4. We’re the only location (2nd location I’m working at) where the staff gets paid on time except for the manager who also has unpaid wages from years before and my $3,000 from summer.

Everyone else here is new and is getting paid on time.

2 weeks have passed since I worked part-time at the other location. I started getting calls from the Labor Department about my claim. I told them everything – staff not getting paid, or the owner is paying cash, plus all the ***y treatment that I did not mention above. Of course, the government doesn’t like it when we don’t pay our taxes. I kept a record of my hours in my notebook.

I also had text messages from my coworkers about the working conditions of this place. I kept working here while my claim was being processed and while the owner is out of the country. Eventually, they got the letter a couple of days after the owner came back, and she was enraged. “How do you have the audacity to work here after you file a claim against us?!” She wasn’t aware that I didn’t show up for my shift when I was working at the first location and was hired by the manager in the current location.

So, I got fired.

I went on with school and eventually got paid $5,000+ for my unpaid hours and the trouble. The Labor Department gave them *** as well for not paying a minor. It seemed like they were taking advantage. That was basically my first paycheck, quite a lot of money for a 16-year-old.

I started working at a food court elsewhere – totally legal; it’s a franchise. One day, I was approached by one of the cooks at the first location who recognized me.

They all knew what I did and that I got paid, and he wanted to know how to file a claim. I told him everything, what he needs to do, and all the proof/evidence that he can provide. I also told him that whoever files a claim will get paid, and I encouraged him to tell everyone.

Two months later, my friends that knew about the situation started tagging me on an article posted on Facebook about the restaurant.

Over 4 people have filed for a claim, and the owner is forced to pay over $50,000+ for unpaid wages, overtime, and interest, plus $2,500+ administrative fees. I later on found out that they got audited, and more people started filing claims. A lot of people that worked there before and are still owed their wages also filed for a claim. A food inspection in one of the other locations uncovered several serious health and sanitation infractions.

All 4 of their locations eventually shut down.

I know it’s not an intentional revenge, and the restaurant could’ve closed down anytime due to their debts. Although my friends still joke about it to this day that I added fuel/spark to the fire/kindle that led to the closure of all their remaining locations. I’m just glad I got my hard-earned money.” _LondonFog

4. Harass My Girl? Get Exposed Big Time

Never mess with this man’s girl.

“This story happened a while back, and I truly hadn’t told anyone until now.

A while ago, I dated this girl. She was quite younger than me yet she had so much emotional conflict, She had to move quite a lot due to her father’s work and couldn’t even live in a single country for more than two years.

(She only lived in countries that speak the same language as us, so language wasn’t a big deal.)

During one of her longest stays in a country, she dated an ***** and kept a few questionable companies.

She was “friends” with the typical *****s that harass all the women in the school. You know the type.

She had to leave (of course) and ended living near where I live finally for good. (My country is her actual origin.) We met in music classes, and we started dating.

A couple of weeks into the relationship, and I start receiving harassing messages. At least ten guys tried cyberbullying me through Instagram. Because of their characteristic accent from the country they live in, I quickly deduced that they were my girl’s “friends.” These guys were making death threats, but they live in another continent and are just a bunch of entitled kids that think they have power over everyone.

I tell my girl about it and just ignore them or play their game for some laughs. This goes on for a week.

Then they do something that crossed my ****** line.

You see, I can withstand all that. These are just some stupid kids who think they can scare a guy an ocean away from them. I’m not the vindictive type. But when someone messes with a person I hold dear, they better prepare for I can become their worst nightmare.

They started making ****** assault threats to my girl, calling her a wh*re and sending her some *** pics. Now, I kept my head cold and calm, but my girl was TERRIFIED. She already dealt with so much emotional trauma, and this just destroyed her. These were her “friends” or so she thought.

I text these ****** and said:

Me: “Listen here, y’all little ****. I can play your games all you want, but if you say ANYTHING to [my girl] again, you will all wish you never crossed my path.”

They, all at the same time in a confusing voice note: We’re not afraid of you, you ****.

Me: “You better be…”

Then, I started putting together a plan.

I tell my girl to take screenshots of every threat, abuse, and explicit content they had sent her.

Now I have a pro-tip for you: If you are threatening someone, don’t use your real account, especially not if your account has your school’s name.

A quick search on Google revealed the school’s name. Then their website. Then the emails of their principal, their head of the student discipline department, and the psychologist.

When I told my girl, she simply said: “D*mn, poor soul, the one who makes you angry, lol.”

I write an email (not send) to the three of them, posing as my girl, detailing all the text messages with screenshots as evidence, screenshots that clearly showed the names of five of the abusers and the name of the account they all used. I also detailed the emotional trauma they pushed on my girl and said that we were willing to contact their country police if the school’s authorities didn’t do something.

I showed it to her and told her to send it.

The expression of, “**** yeah, this **** fire” on her face is one that still brings a smile to my face, even a while after going our separate ways.

She sends it, and we wait.

A few days go by, and the principal replies saying that their behavior was unacceptable and that there would be severe consequences, but oh boy, the ****torm that ensued surpassed even my most optimistic expectations.

The next part of the story I know it because a friend of my girl told her about the whole ordeal.

Shortly after the email, the school casually hosts one of those silly conferences about cyberbullying… With a twist. At the end of said conference, the principal enters the scene and calls out EVERY SINGLE ONE of the abusers and says in front of the entire school:

“I know you are responsible for severe ****** harassment of one of your ex-classmates over the internet, and I wanted to use y’all as an example.

That behavior is unacceptable, and you will all be meeting me in my office” (not an exact quote).

Turns out, even though we only had proof against five guys, one of them had his account used against his permission and instead snitched out on EVERYONE involved. A group of twenty guys that routinely harassed the school’s girls got called out to the principal’s office for their actions. All of their parents got called with them. One of them was the son of a teacher, who was LIVID about the situation, promising to take disciplinary action at home and school.

All of their academic expedients got marked forever, which in that country is a big deal.

The last thing I knew about them was that their harassment of my girl and all the other girls in that school stopped mostly for good. They didn’t contact me anymore, and one of them contacted my girl to say sorry about everything.

I don’t date this girl anymore. We had our differences, and we simply drifted apart. But that sweet revenge, what I did that time, still makes me happy.

Immature of my part, yes I know, but we were running out of options.” SomeInternetGuitar

3. Fire Me With Questionable Ethics? Your Career Is Now Trash

“Many years ago, I accepted a job in an industry I was trying to break into for many years before. This was my first “professional” job, and I was still pretty naive on the business dynamics, meaning I didn’t play the way they wanted me to. For many of the people I worked with, this was fine.

My boss (Nina) was something else. I learned pretty quickly to just go with the flow and remain under her radar. This worked for a time before I couldn’t handle it anymore. I’ll get to that shortly.

Nina prided herself on “getting things handled when NOBODY else can.” This was likely because of how relentless she was. She believed she was friends with everybody, but I think most people were doing exactly like I was trying to keep her happy, so she didn’t get worse.

One such event was the placement of a new temporary (only in the fact that the company did not want to build a new structure) building. There were many questions raised about the legality of the placement, but Nina “worked her magic,” and the building was placed right where she wanted it. This was ideal for her since she could pick the office with the best view. Keep in mind that this trailer was maybe two steps above a festival porta-potty.

The way she spoke about it, you’d think she was describing the Sistine Chapel.

As time went on, I learned why this placement was so important to her: her husband’s company was contracted to perform the work. Ethics be d*mned. This did not sit well with me, and I started noticing a trend in her contractor preferences. It ALWAYS leaned towards those that used her husband’s company. I tried to address this with her personally which would only result in her “using her experience” to teach me that there are many aspects I do not understand for selecting contractors.

I tried to bring this to the attention of people that could do something about it, but they all seemed to fear her as well.

This facility has a LOT of safety rules and for good reason with the number of hazards around. However, people had a habit of assuming a rule for a specific location of the facility applied to the entire facility. One being ****** hair. Specific areas required respirators, so ****** hair was not allowed.

I did not work in any of those areas, nor anywhere remotely close to them. I still shaved regularly, but I wanted a bit of growth for my wedding. Months prior, I asked Nina if it was okay to grow it out for a month prior, and she agreed. We discussed it every 1-2 weeks until that month prior.

The first Monday, I showed up with a week’s worth of growth. She lost her mind and began screaming at me.

I stood up for myself without getting angry, and she continued to scream at me. Eventually, I relented and tried to diffuse the situation. While I was able to get the safety department to “approve” my beard, I still received a message that I was “youthfully defiant” from my boss. From that point forward, all conversations were strictly professional from me – little/no emotion, to the point, nothing personal.

For the following months, Nina became much more critical of my work.

Directions she sent me in email and either matched or exceeded her requirements were immediately rejected, and I had to recreate them with a new set of requirements. Literally, math became a point a contention. Nothing complex, either. Basic arithmetic was scrutinized to the point that I had to explain (and this is not a joke) 8+1=9. My days were obviously numbered.

Earlier this year, I was rushed to the hospital for a possible heart attack. I’m in my early 30s, by the way.

Ultimately, it was determined to be because of major work stress (and my diet since I was forbidden from lunch in the end). After a few days in the hospital, MY WIFE is given notification that I am being fired. TO this day, I have not been given a reason for being fired.

The problem for my, now former, boss is that I have plenty of free time now. The first part started when my coworkers began reaching out to see how my health was, and I’d subtly mention being fired.

If they asked, I’d give as much detail without seeming malicious. This information started spreading quickly, and people began to put their walls around Nina. Evidently, I had built a decent relationship with my peers.

My next step was to call the corporate ethics hotline and leave an anonymous message about her blatant conflicts of interest with applicable project names and rough dates, making sure to mention her husband and his company by name. The first sign that this call was effective came 2 weeks later when I learned that her Sistine Chapel had been CONDEMNED for being placed on a fault line and had to be vacated immediately.

She was forced into a basement office with two other people.

The good news for her is that she doesn’t have to spend much time in that new office, though. She is spending more than 50% of her time in a remote location in Alaska that requires, at minimum, 2 days of travel one-way. Additionally, she has been denied a replacement for me. This means she must perform all duties I did on top of her normal tasks.

Not a great deal when you’re salaried.

In the end, she has alienated herself and is receiving no support. She travels mostly on her own time and spends more time in an airport working than in her office. Meanwhile, I have accepted a great job that has significantly reduced my ***** pressure. The last 5 years before retirement are going to be rough. I didn’t do much, but isn’t the best revenge to live your best life?” batkevn

Another User Comments:

“Not sure of the state laws where you are, but I believe that firing you while you’re off on temporary disability might constitute a violation of the ADA, depending on specifics.

Might be worth a consultation with a labor lawyer before the statute of limitations tolls.” genericusername4197

2. Kick Me Out Of Class? My Popularity Will Help Get You Fired

“So, this happened 2 years ago,.

My old school was one of those schools where they teach kids from the age of 3 to 18. The school itself is separated into two buildings: one for the lil kiddos from 3 to 11, the other buildings are for middle schoolers and up.

It isn’t important but best to clear up some ideas.

Here is something important to remember: I lived in Phuket, Thailand, so there is an abundance of international students. Since Thai education is ***, most of us go to international schools. My school was one of those company schools that is placed all over the world. We got branches from China to Russia, etc. However, due to weird Thai law, the land had to be owned by a Thai person.

That Thai owner happened to be the ***** teacher’s WIFE. So, this ought to be the main reason why he got away with so much ******* in the past.

Backstory: Mr. Frank (Not his real name) was a ****** *****. He was one of these, “I know everything because Facebook told me so, and I hate kids; yet, I am a teacher for some reason” kinda teacher. I had him as a teacher since the age of 5, and he was just mean.

He yelled at confused kids, called us some names, and his hobby was making kids cry. The guy was a lousy technology teacher; the majority of his technology classes were typing classes. I mean seriously- it doesn’t matter if you are 5 or if you’re 16.

Seriously, other schools were probably learning python codes and learning how C++ works while kids in my school learned the mystical arts of typing fast. The guy was also a devout Christian who is too gay for Jesus to get kids.

No shade to Christians, but he is the kinda guy who would totally march around yelling, ‘GOD HATES GAYS’ if he could.

Before this whole ordeal happened, Mr. Frank and I already had a debate if dinosaurs existed a few months ago. I Ben Shapiro-ed him, and he was probably really bitter about me in the post.

Onwards with the story!

So! I was a 16-year-old AP Psych and stat student! All of my AP courses were online, so I spent a good 4 hours in the computer lab, under the supervision of Mr.

Frank. He didn’t mind since I’m quiet, and I got permission from my homeroom teachers and principal.

Since the high school kids have lunch after the elementary school kids, my dumba** forgot my own lunch, so I got permission to finish my AP homework in the computer lab during lunch break. In the said computer lab, a bunch of 10- to 11-years-old were busy wring an essay. I wan’t sure what it was about though.

(Now- for some context.

This is a small school- everyone knows everyone. There were about 80 or so students in my school. Most of them I grew up with or vice versa. I was that one kid who wasn’t popular but knows everyone. I know most of the teachers and have a friendly relationship with most of them. These 10- to 11-year-olds knew me, and I knew them. Their teacher knew me. I was in that school for 13 years.)

The kids were talking to each other and typing before the topic about gay people popped up for some reason.

Mr. Frank looked annoyed at them, and I was there doing my work.

The kid beside me asked loudly, ‘Why do gays exist? You can’t breed gays! Gays can’t have kids!’ Though I know it was probably a joke, I felt that heroic responsibility to tell the kid what I know.

“You know, people are BORN gay. You can’t really change your *********. Tell me, kid, if you like girls, do you think you can suddenly like guys?” I ask the kid.

The kid paused and then shook his head.

Then Mr. Frank started to talk about Christian Gay camps and how THAT helped the gays to be straight again! He knows! He knows gay people who aren’t gay anymore. He knows the director of these super prestigious gay camps, and he can call them RIGHT NOW and prove me wrong.

I retorted, told him to find me a scientific source, and long story short, I got kicked out of his lab.

Let me tell you, I have never seen him so mad before. He yelled at me, he screamed at me, he was ****** furious that I DEFIED HIM! I have been his student for many years, and how dare a pupil do this! He allowed the talk about dinosaurs existing to slide, but THIS?? Gays are totally able to be straight through intense discipline and being near their same-sex all the time!

I went straight down to the high school side of the school and chill, trying to calm my nerves.

I was sitting in the art room, which is open for anyone to stroll by for some odd reason. I was LIVID! I ranted to the art teacher (who was practically the unofficial school therapist) about our homophobic ***** teacher who endorsed these ****** camps.

Mr. X, my EX Algebra math teacher, entered the classroom who wanted to get my side of the story. Apparently, Mr. Frank sought out Mr. X since the guy was practically the manager of the High school teacher.

Mr. X was a rational guy, though he wanted to know my side of the story. Why did I do it?

Do what, you may ask?

Throwing a tantrum in the computer room, flipping a chair, screaming to Mr. Frank, and harassing his student about gay people.

Let me tell you, during the entire ordeal, in front of a class of 10- to 11-years-olds, HE was the one throwing a tantrum. I, on the other hand, was calm as ever and a bit riled up, but my voice was drowned under his screams of how wrong I was.

He metaphorically REEE-ed at me.

I ****** lost it. Mr. Frank had no idea who he was ****** with. While he was busy being an ***** during the past 11 years, I studied the blade, the blade of friendship and common decently (at the most part)! I may have been feisty, but Mr.Frank seriously didn’t think that his entire class of 10- and 11-years-old would not be on my side? I have gained respect from most of the students, and my dad is from the PTA.

If it weren’t for my reputation, I would’ve been in deep ***. I have built a respectful image to the principal, the other teachers, and staff, so if it weren’t for that fact that I am close enough to the school, this lie could have gotten me suspended or worse.

I explained to Mr. X everything. I got a kid from the 10- to 11-years-old class to testify. I wrote a letter of confirmation of everything that happened, added my signature to it, and sent it to the principal.

I got the entire ****** class to testify and prove my innocence! It’s 1 word against a solid 10. The school was really small.

A few days after proving my innocence, Mr. Frank called me to his office. He apologized for booting me out of class, but he FORGAVE me for causing a scene. Of course, it was too late for that poor b*stard.

I told my dad the situation and convinced him to talk about the teacher being a homophobic ***** and his accusation to the PTA members.

I went to the kids of said PTA members and told them about the entire ordeal. I made sure that every single possible person was on my side. Since the PTA members tend to interact with parents from other school,s the news of Mr. Frank hopped to other international schools. Oops.

The land that my old school was on changed ownership by the end of June to another owner.

He was fired from the job at the end of the semester.

Looked like my influence spread wide as well as no other international school wanted him.

So, if you’re reading this, hi, Mr. Frank!” Super_Cod_Player1995

1. Try To Rip Me Off Hundreds Of Dollars? Pay Me Thousands

“Last year, I moved out of a house that I had rented for 5 years with no problems. I always had a good relationship with the landlord. There are 2 relevant bits of background to this story:

In the UK where I live, the standard practice when renting a house is to sign a tenancy agreement for a year.

At the end of the year, if you want to stay in the house, and the landlord is happy with that, you can just do nothing, and the tenancy will continue automatically until either tenant or landlord gives notice. Alternatively, you can sign a new 1-year tenancy agreement each year, which isn’t really necessary, but some landlords want it. My landlord wanted me to sign a new tenancy agreement each year – fine, whatever. So, since I rented the house for 5 years, there were 5 tenancy agreements in total.

By law, the landlord was required to protect my security deposit. That meant that she had to put it into a special kind of account within 30 days of receiving it. The tenant then receives login details for the account so that they can check that it’s protected and view various info about it. One point of doing this is so that the deposit is held by an independent party who can mediate if the landlord and tenant disagree about any deductions – there is a dispute process that the tenant can request and which is free (for the tenant) to use.

So, I’d been living in the house for almost 5 years, and I gave notice to end the tenancy because I was buying a house. After I’d given notice, the landlord emailed me to ask if I was planning to hire a gardener to ensure that the garden would be returned to the (pretty manicured) state it was in when I moved in. I thought this was strange because my tenancy agreement explicitly forbade me from doing the sorts of things in the garden that would have been necessary to maintain its original state (e.g.

it said that I was not allowed to lop any shrubs or bushes). So, all I’d been doing is cutting the grass and the hedge. Basically, that clause looked like something that a landlord would include if they planned to maintain the yard themselves, except she didn’t maintain it while I was living there. In retrospect, it seems that she didn’t read her own tenancy agreement properly.

I replied to the landlord’s email about the yard. I quoted the part of the tenancy agreement that forbade me from doing certain things in the yard and expressed my confusion.

I asked her to clarify what her expectations were about the state of the garden, given what it said in the tenancy agreement. She didn’t reply, but a couple of weeks later, I received an email from her husband/boyfriend telling me that the landlord was anxious about the garden, and I should ensure that it is returned to the same state as at the start of the tenancy. I replied to him and again asked for clarification, given the wording of the tenancy agreement.

He replied saying he’d have the landlord get back to me herself, which she never did.

Without any guidance about the garden, I just did my best with it. My boyfriend, who is an experienced gardener, did the work here – I asked him just to do whatever he thought was best. He cut back bushes and cleared loads of stuff. I spent a few hundred dollars on having garden waste removed. I knew that technically I did not need to do that but wanted to do what I could to keep relations good between me and the landlord.

I moved out, the tenancy ended, and after not hearing anything from the landlord for a couple of weeks and not having my deposit back, I emailed the landlord to ask about the deposit. Having ignored my queries about the yard before the end of the tenancy, she chose this moment to announce that she wanted to deduct $520 from my deposit to carry out work on the yard. There followed a really time-wasting, back-and-forth by email in which I pointed out that the terms of the tenancy agreement were incompatible with my being able to maintain the original state of the garden, and she just kept repeating that the garden was not returned to her in its original state.

In the end, I suggested that since we couldn’t agree about deductions from my deposit, we should use the independent dispute process offered by the company that was holding the deposit. That process needs to be kicked off by the landlord, so I asked her to authorize it. She didn’t do that. Instead, she kept wasting my time by sending me emails trying to negotiate an amount to put the yard right, which I wasn’t going to entertain.

Meanwhile, I could not log into the account where my deposit was being held. I contacted the company, and it turned out that my landlord had ‘accidentally’ input my email address incorrectly when registering the deposit … which I found very strange because she had emailed me successfully dozens of times throughout the time I was living in the house, so she definitely knew my email address. Without being able to log in, I was unable to officially dispute any deductions she was proposing.

There is a window of 3 months after the end of the tenancy when you can dispute any deductions, and after that you, either take what the landlord is willing to return or go to court. Apparently (according to Justice for Tenants, who I contacted for advice), it’s relatively common for unscrupulous landlords to register their tenants’ details incorrectly in an attempt to make it harder for them to recover their deposits in the timeframe available for disputes.

I had a long back-and-forth with the deposit company, after which I finally gained access to my deposit account. When I got into it, I looked at the info and noticed that the landlord had not protected my deposit until the day after I gave her notice to end the tenancy. That meant she protected my deposit well after the 30-day deadline by which she was supposed to do it by law. There are penalties for landlords that fail to comply with the laws around tenancy deposits.

If they break the rules and the tenant takes them to court, they have to return the full deposit PLUS between 1 and 3 times the amount of the deposit as compensation. Also, they are not allowed to make any deductions from a tenant’s deposit if they haven’t complied with the law.

I emailed the landlady a bit more firmly than I had previously. (Things had been cordial but increasingly frosty.) I pointed out that she could not make any deductions from my deposit because she had not complied with the law.

She responded by sending me quite a tantrummy, insulting email and authorizing the return of my full deposit. So, yay for the deposit back, but what a **** insulting me when I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I was p*ssed off by the fact that she tried to rip me off and wasted hours and hours of my time trying to sort this out. Not to mention the stress – just seeing an email from her land in my inbox caused my stomach to flip by this point.

This is when things started to get a bit more exciting. As I said above, landlords who don’t comply with the law around tenancy deposits have to pay between 1 and 3 times the value of the deposit in compensation, plus return the full deposit, if they get taken to court. The documentation from the tenancy deposit scheme proved that she had broken the law. I’d already had my deposit back, but it was clear that if I took her to court, I would receive a minimum of that amount again.

Except, of course, I didn’t have just the one tenancy agreement with her. As I already mentioned, she had insisted on my signing a new tenancy agreement every year. So, I’d had 5 tenancy agreements in total. I spent a few hours checking the law and going through old emails and documentation, and it turned out that she had failed to protect my deposit correctly in all of the 5 tenancies I had with her. I had a ton of documentation to prove that.

That meant that, if I took her to court, I stood to receive a minimum of not 1 but 5 times the amount of my original deposit (over $8,400).

It would cost me a couple of hundred dollars to take her to court, and I was 100% willing to do that – in fact, at this point, I was relishing that prospect. In order to take her to court, I first had to send her a ‘letter before action’ in which I set out my complaint against her and gave her an opportunity to make an offer to avoid going to court.

I had a barrister friend who was helping me out at this point with advice for free. The landlord replied to my letter quite dismissively, basically saying that it was ‘clearly’ just an admin error that caused her to fail to protect my deposit correctly every year for 5 years (lol) and accusing me of being motivated by a ‘windfall.’

I replied by email, correcting her various mistaken assumptions and repeating the need for her to make an offer in order to avoid court.

After a while, she replied and offered me $5,200. I told her that the minimum I would accept was a little over $8,400 (I forget the exact figure) since that was the minimum I would stand to get in court. She agreed, with certain conditions attached – perhaps conditions that she thought I might not be able to fulfill (things like sending her copies of all the documentation relating to the deposit for previous years’ tenancies) but which I was able to do immediately.

When the money landed in my bank account, I emailed her to explain that I would have dropped my complaint against her immediately had she at any point offered a sincere apology (which was true at least up until that final email where she insulted me). I also said that I hoped she would deal more fairly and reasonably with future tenants. She didn’t reply.

I hope that I will never again be a tenant, but having spent many years being d*cked around by sh*tty landlords and letting agents, it was satisfying to end my renting days with such a satisfying and profitable middle finger.” SnooOwls1775

Another User Comments:

“Wait, so did you take her to court or not? That part in the end doesn’t talk about it clearly.” Reddit user

Reply:

“They settled before going to court at about the minimum the court would have required in penalty, meaning OP got paid and dropped the complaint/suit.” aogmana

Are you satisfied yet? If you’re a fan of these revenge stories, I say share them on social media! I think your friends will be a big fan of them too.