People Tell Their "Cream Of The Crop" Revenge Stories

“For the context of this story, I was the weird goth kid in high school.

Especially at 14 years old. I wore all black, mostly trash from Hot Topic, or anime-related stuff (again… Hot Topic…) and few kids liked me or found me attractive. I was just convenient, I suppose, to the boys in this story. I’m currently 24.

When I was in high school, I decided to take Automotive Tech (literally a class in which you learn how to work on cars, normally a path to a career in the field.

A quarter of the classes were presentations from automotive tech schools. I took it to learn how to care for my own car and to learn how to not get screwed by a crappy mechanic being a woman and all). As one would imagine, my class was mostly boys. I was one of two girls in a class of 17 or so. I was 14 years old, and the age range of the class was 14 (me the youngest) to 17 (high school seniors).

I love bananas. Like a lot. I had one for lunch every day and often ate in my auto tech class seeing as that was my lunch period and didn’t want to walk across campus (like half a mile; I’m lazy) to the cafeteria if I brought my own lunch. Most of the class did the same if they had food. The teacher let us stay; I think he liked the company and conversation.

He was a super cool dude. Just some mechanic who worked weekends as an actual mechanic and weeks as a high school auto tech teacher.

Every lunch, the remaining boys would watch me intently every day eating my daily banana. I was getting annoyed with this crap. My male teacher would tell the guys to mind their own business almost every day, but they never listened and he didn’t have the same power as most teachers since he “only” taught an elective class.

He couldn’t assign detentions; he had to go through administration and they had to actually see the situation to side with him, which never happened.

About two months into this, I got soooo so tired of it. I brought the biggest banana I could grab in the bunch. I waited until just before lunch to pull it out, so every boy would see it and want to stay and stare.

Once lunch started, I oh-so-slowly peeled said large banana. Delicately. Excruciatingly slowly. My teacher almost said something, but I smiled at him and he just shrugged.

I then proceeded to grossly and uncouthly gobble up that banana. The boys all gasped. The teacher cleared his throat and looked away.

I ate that banana as viciously as possible. There were audible gasps of “sympathetic” pain. My teacher, upon realizing what I’d done, was hiding laughter.

I ate the remainder of the banana as aggressively as possible with the loudest, most ugly chewing possible.

Those boys never watched me eat a banana again, I’ll tell you that.”

Another User Comments:

“I’m a gay man. Trust me when I tell you, once you come out of the closet as gay, you can’t eat a banana around any straight person without them giving you a hard time about it.

They won’t just watch, they’ll comment, obnoxiously, and it doesn’t matter what their gender is. So you learn that you peel it, break it into pieces with your hands, then visibly bite the pieces with your teeth as you eat them. It’s about as suggestive as eating chicken nuggets.” themcp

The typical, “I didn’t see it, so it didn’t happen” excuse from school teachers is all too common, so this dude took it into his own hands, understandably so.

“For as long as I can remember, I had a habit of bottling up my emotions. My single father is a staunch believer in traditional masculinity, including the idea that men and boys shouldn’t cry.

By my early to mid-teens, I succumbed to this outdated idea and accepted my fate as a quiet, stoic drone that just took orders, respected authority, and did hard work (especially manual labor.)

Enter my high school, which had a huge problem with bullying. The worst kids by far were the trashy kids from the inner city who targeted anybody they considered weaker than them.

I was a pretty muscular 15-year-old, but that didn’t stop them from saying things like “Dude, you’re so fat,” or “Wassamatta, fattie? Lose your Twinkies on the way over?” In class, it was mostly petty annoyance: taking my pencil, sticking gum in my hair, insults. They got physical when the teachers weren’t looking. Tripping me in the hall and pretending it was an accident; slamming my head against the locker, hitting me with footballs or soccer balls, and saying a fake “whoops, sorry!” By themselves, it didn’t seem that bad, but enough grains of sand add up to a huge pile, and, at that point, I was up to my waist in it.

Of course, the school didn’t do anything about it. Teachers would either tell me “I’ll take care of it,” and then nothing ever changed, or I’d get something stupid like “I didn’t see it. There’s nothing I can do” or “You know, if I stopped class every time a kid was acting up, we’d never get anything done.” Sure, and if a tree falls in the forest, it didn’t make a sound because you didn’t hear it.

My father wasn’t any help either. He’d tell me things like “there’s gonna be people like that everywhere you go,” or “if you’re crying about this, you’ll never make it in life,” basically telling me to go******* up because there are worse things out there. As a kid, I was hurt by this, but I was 15, so my self-esteem had been run over by a Combine a few times by now.

For months, I just kept ignoring and waiting, hoping my teachers would keep their word about dealing with this problem. Sadly, it seemed they’d rather prioritize pep rallies and Career Aptitude Tests than do their job in keeping kids safe.

By around Spring, I’d had enough. By now, my sadness and annoyance had transmuted into boiling rage that I’d been keeping in me for far too long.

If nobody was going to fight for me, I’d do it for myself, literally. I devoted the majority of my weekend to prepping for a showdown on Monday.

One of the few good things about my father is how knowledgeable he is in self-defense. He believed it was important for a man to learn to fight, so he had me take several different kinds of martial art classes.

The problem here is that I’m not fighting against another student or in a monitored match; I’m up against a bunch of jerks who’d likely tear me a new one before I could try doing any high kicks or even just a basic takedown. I wanted to learn to fight as if I was up against multiple enemies at once. I then researched Krav Maga, a branch of martial arts that’s basically a military-style form of self-defense, meant to train you how to fight if you were ever in danger in the real world.

No rules, no balanced teams, no referees; just you and your need for survival. One of the components of Krav Maga is knowing the body’s biggest “weak spots,” ones that maximize the most amount of pain when hurt. Things like the lap, toes, and eyes were obvious, but you could also hit the knees, solar plexus, and even the spine. Since my classes didn’t teach Krav Maga (you had to be 16 at the time), I watched many online videos, making mental notes of the techniques used. I was still an amateur, but at least I had a plan in mind instead of just blindly throwing punches and kicks.

It was almost always the same kid or group of kids that bullied me, so I already knew what they looked like, and, more importantly, where to strike.

On Monday, I waited for the next chance to come for the bullies to attack. To my surprise, they kept quiet for the most part. Maybe this was one of my lucky days where I’d actually get some work done.

Then, while I was crunching for an exam during lunch, one of the bullies, a regular, spilled my water all over my textbook, and said, “Whoops, sorry!” As he and his pals started walking away laughing, I got a good look at the back of the guy’s neck. I raised my fist, aiming for the middle where I thought I’d hit the spinal column.

WHAM!

I knocked the guy over to the ground. That’s when all heck broke loose. His friends tried tackling me away, and I tried remembering to hit all their weak points: eyes, throat, groin, solar plexus. It was a sloppy attempt at Krav Maga given my inexperience, and the other kids trying to fight back, but whichever punches and kicks I did land were definitely effective.

Of course, I didn’t come out unscathed. The other kids noticed us fighting, with some going to get a teacher while others watched in a mix of shock and excitement. Eventually, the principal and a few other teachers pulled us apart. After our injuries were treated, we were sent to the principal’s office.

The principal talked with us individually while the assistant principal called all our parents.

When it was my turn, I explained what happened. At some point, the principal said, “Why didn’t you tell the teacher?” At that moment, I just snapped, somehow managing to sound even angrier than when I was fighting a few minutes ago. “I ALREADY TOLD THE  TEACHERS, LIKE A MILLION TIMES, BUT NOBODY WAS DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT! NOBODY! YOU TELL ME OVER AND OVER ‘I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT, I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT,’ BUT NOBODY EVER FREAKING DOES!

I WOULDN’T HAVE FELT LIKE I HAD TO DO THIS IF SOMEBODY HERE ACTUALLY DID THEIR JOB FOR ONCE!” We were all suspended for 2 weeks for the fighting, but I got an extra week for yelling at the principal.

Much to my surprise, my father was rather quiet about the whole thing. Normally, my father had the temperament of a dragon, but maybe this whole fight touched his inner “macho man” that made him go easier on me.

On the car ride home, he said calmly, but firmly, “What happened? And tell me the truth.” I told him, “They wouldn’t stop picking on me, so I defended myself.” I waited to hear my father make some snide remark about hurt feelings, but he just said, “Were you in danger?” I paused for a moment, and said, “…Yes.” I knew I was exaggerating, but maybe this could open my father’s eyes to see how much I was hurting.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, “I can’t judge on your situation cause I wasn’t there, but it’s in a boy’s nature to be aggressive sometimes, and it sounds like those bullies were just using it for harm. I also know you well enough to know you wouldn’t lay a finger on somebody unless you felt like you had to.” I nodded, holding back tears.

“Next time you’re ever in that kinda danger, call me. Don’t wait for the teachers to fail you again. I’ll give ’em heck.” I was stunned, and, once I realized what’d just happened, I smiled. That’s one of the few redeeming qualities about my father. As toxic and narcissistic as he was, he was an expert on bringing vengeance to those who deserved it.

During my suspension, one of the bullies’ parents wanted to press charges on me, but my father threatened to counter-sue the school AND the parents for letting the bullying go on for so long.

Thankfully, nobody had to go to court as the bullies’ credibility sank faster than the Titanic. Once word got around that I fought back to stop the bullying (rather than the strong, quiet guy going psycho,) more kids decided to come forward to the principal about their experience being bullied, too, and how they also went to the teachers for help. This included a few girls who were being harassed by these kids.

This was a PR nightmare for the school that left a permanent stain on its reputation among the locals. In the end, the bullies got expelled, some faced charges for harassment, and I got transferred to a different high school. I guess I’m a little proud that I inspired some other troubled kids to come forward, but I really didn’t like violence. I’m built for self-defense, but I don’t like hurting anybody unless it’s to protect those I love.

I would’ve much preferred if teachers actually did their job, and “took care of it” before I had to.

I did get a gift certificate for summer classes in Krav Maga for my Sweet 16. Thankfully, I’ve never had to use it yet.”

“When I was around 17, I started seeing a guy. I’ll call him “Jake” for the sake of this post. We got on well, spent a lot of time together, and cared for each other a lot. We even started talking about living together once we both moved out. We were a perfectly happy couple.

Or so I thought.

You see, after we’d been seeing each other for a few months, something in Jake changed. He was getting a lot more distant.

Whenever he was with me, he’d be checking his phone constantly. We stopped spending as much time together and he started to get really funny about public affection, regarding things like hand-holding and stuff. He also seemed to start caring less and less about my feelings. He’d tell me how no one would ever love me and would pick on my insecurities. I actually broke down crying a few times when this happened. To give him a bit of credit, the first few times, he did stop everything he was doing and apologized/cuddled with me until I felt better, but eventually, that stopped too and he just began rolling his eyes and telling me to grow up.

He was like a completely different person.

The insults started to seep into our everyday life. He’d pick on my appearance a lot, bring up my family (I was dealing with a lot of family issues at the time), etc. If I got upset by it, he’d just leave the room and let me cry by myself. I started to feel like it was my fault our relationship was falling apart; maybe I just wasn’t good enough for him.

I knew deep down that he was having an affair and that was confirmed when I got a message from a guy, “David,” on social media telling me that he’d been seeing Jake. He apologized profusely and told me that he broke things off with Jake as soon as he found out he had a man. I couldn’t be mad at David; it wasn’t his fault.

We spoke for hours and I reassured David that it wasn’t his fault and that he’d done nothing wrong. David also helped me to stop making excuses for Jake’s attitude and the way he’d been acting. He was a godsend.

The thing that truly broke me happened not too long after the affair was discovered. We’d been arguing a heck of a lot more. Then Jake decided to do something absolutely unforgivable.

You see, I had a strained relationship with my father for years. He’d two-time my mother constantly, and eventually, he settled down and had kids with a girl he’d been seeing behind her back. He did try to have some sort of relationship with me till I was about 13/14 ish and then decided that he didn’t love me as much as his other kids and we stopped any and all contact.

It broke me and it still hurts to think about to this day.

Anyway, Jake went out of his way to find one of my step-siblings on the web and started a relationship with them. He bragged about it the next day and my step sibling actually posted about what had happened and I received a bunch of messages from their friends telling me how I had deserved it.

This was probably the lowest point in my life and I hated myself, partly for allowing it to happen and partly because I had started to believe what they were saying.

My only solace during this time was David (I didn’t want to burden my friends with my problems and David was one of the only people who knew, firsthand what Jake was like). We spoke for a few weeks and eventually talk turned to revenge.

I had tried calling things off a couple of months prior due to Jake’s awful behavior, but he started with the apologies and told me he didn’t mean it; he’d never do it again. He even spoke to some of my family members who, unknowingly, pressured me to get back together with him as we were “such a sweet couple.” I hadn’t wanted to tell them the real reason that we’d broken up so I kept the details pretty vague, though I’m pretty sure some of them had seen my step-sibling’s post and knew why I didn’t want to be with him.

After weeks of talking and planning, I had finally had enough and decided to do something about it.

My father wasn’t exactly a rich man, but he worked a pretty well-paying job and earned enough money to live fairly comfortably. He had begun spreading rumors around when I was younger (during a custody battle with my mother) that he had set up a trust fund for me and that there was enough money there to get me set up in my own place when I was 18, plus a bit extra.

I knew that this was absolute crap; he tried to get out of paying child support all the time, and, of course, he’d never set up a trust fund for me. However, Jake didn’t.

We’d never spoken about it a lot but he’d heard the rumors and I’d just always say what I told you, folks; my father was an appalling parent who grudged paying my mother-child support so why the heck would he set up a trust fund?

But Jake wouldn’t listen. He even did his own research into the type of job my father worked and came up with an estimate of how much he thought my father was earning. Though, to his credit, he did drop the subject whenever I asked him to, for a while anyway.

I decided to use this to my advantage. Jake and I were still seeing each other though I avoided him at any chance I got.

Until one night where I sat him down and told him that since I’d be turning eighteen in a couple of weeks, I’d started thinking about us getting our own place with the trust fund my father had set up for me. He immediately cheered up at this and honestly I think that night was the first time in months that he’d said anything nice to me when we weren’t in public or with friends/family.

This very nearly made me want to call the whole thing off, but I spoke with David later that night and he reminded me that Jake would go back to his usual degrading attitude in no time.

We started looking at apartments, though Jake was “kind enough” to let me have the final say and handle the paperwork (because how could he possibly go out and two-time me if he had to sort out the paperwork for a flat?).

I was a little surprised by this to be very honest as I’d always thought that he’d want his name on the paperwork and everything, so I couldn’t kick him out. But by this point, he’d been with my step-sibling, degraded me, smashed my self-confidence to pieces, and two-timed me regularly, so I think by now he thought that I wouldn’t kick him out no matter what he did.

Anyways, I started taking up extra shifts at work to try and save enough to actually move out. Not with Jake though, oh no. I was moving in with my friend, Emma. We had both been thinking about moving out for a while anyway and thought, why not just be roommates? We found a cute little one-bedroom apartment that was close to our college and work and started getting stuff sorted to move in.

I also didn’t want to bring any trouble to my mother’s door if Jake started kicking up a fuss. Emma had no issues with clawing the face off him if need be and told me not to worry about him coming to our front door.

Then came the next part of the plan. I waited till a week or so before Jake and I were supposedly moving into our own apartment and stole his phone for a few minutes.

He’d stopped caring about leaving his phone unattended and would sometimes flat out brag about how lucky he was to be with whoever he wanted and come home to “a little wuss” who’d make him dinner. So that day when he went for a shower, he wasn’t all too bothered about taking his phone with him. Perfect.

I went onto his phone, deleted my number from his contacts, and changed the name of his mom’s contact as mine.

Pleased, I went to the kitchen and smashed one of the plates (it was my mother’s, but it was a cheap one from a local shop and I did replace it as soon as possible). I left for work once everything was done (my mother had left for work a couple of hours prior, so she was safe). I just needed a reason for him to get angry.

And, oh boy, did he get angry.

His first reaction was to text me, calling me all the disgusting names under the sun. Except it wasn’t me he’d texted; it was his mom. I’d texted her in advance and told her that I hoped she’d forgive me, but she had to see what her son was really like. She’d never tried to defend him as much as she just hadn’t known quite how bad his behavior was.

She’d actually called him out a couple of times where he’d slipped up and been harsh with me when she was there.

She. Went. Bonkers.

I never found out exactly how their argument went as she phoned him to scream at him and call him out for his crappy behavior, finally seeing how horrible her son was. It didn’t help that she’d been sent screenshots of some of the times where he’d admitted to having an affair.

She was absolutely disgusted by her son’s behavior and phoned me to apologize on Jake’s behalf. It wasn’t her fault though; he’s old enough to know how to act like an adult. He wound up telling his mom essentially that her opinion didn’t matter as he’d be moving in with me anyways.

Needless to say, when he called me on social media (after I deleted my number from his phone), I took some satisfaction in telling him that we weren’t moving in together, that the trust fund wasn’t real (I’d already told him that in the past; he just refused to listen), and that I’d moved in with Emma.

I was called every terrible name under the sun. His voice sort of turned into white noise after a while. I told him we were over and hung up. Blocked him on everything.

He had to run back to his mom and dad, his tail between his legs, and they took him back for a little while. Though after a bit, the arguments became too much and his parents kicked him out, so he stayed with a couple of friends for a few months before he managed to get his own place.

His parents, especially his mother, have not been the same with him since. I still talk to his mom on occasion.

Lastly, David and I took the liberty of sending screenshots of Jake’s abuse to as many of the people he’d been hooking up with as possible. A couple of sleepless nights were spent trying to track people down on social media. Part of it was to get back at Jake but most of it was just to make sure that none of them got roped into a full-on relationship with him and had to deal with all the crap I’d gone through.”

“When I was in secondary school I had a teacher (Mr. Geller for the sake of this post) who absolutely hated me. He was pretty popular with the “cool” kids at school. He’d stop teaching to talk to them, joke around, and generally act like one of the kids in the class rather than the teacher. Which is fine, I guess, apart from the fact that he was so busy joking around with the popular kids that he’d fail to actually teach his class properly and our work would suffer because of it.

Over half his class failed their exams and the other half (bar a handful of students who were really good at the subject) managed to just barely pass after going to a bunch of tutoring classes in the weeks running up to the exam. I genuinely don’t know how he managed to keep his job for so long.

I had (and still somewhat have) some pretty severe anxiety issues to the point where I’d sometimes not go to school due to the panic attacks.

I was never bullied by any of the students but just the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of loud, hyperactive students was enough to make me physically ill. As a result of this, I would often be allowed to work in one of the “pupil support bases,” essentially a small room that I could work in by myself and would receive support from one of the learning support teachers if needed. This also allowed me to leave a class (with permission from the teacher of course) if I was having a particularly bad day and go to the base to calm down and complete my work.

Mr. Geller was not a fan of this.

Whenever I would ask him if I could go to the learning support base he’d always tell me no and then mock me in front of everyone about how this was the reason I was failing his class, I was just barely scraping passing his class. However, most of his class were in the same boat as me, and, again like me, the majority of them were doing pretty well in their other subjects.

This was clearly down to his teaching ability, nothing else.

My man, Alex, and a handful of other seniors would be in my class once or twice a week and would often help explain things to myself and some other students if we were struggling. Essentially doing Mr. Geller’s job. This wasn’t fair as they had to neglect some of their own work to act like a teacher.

Mr. Geller would again use this to mock me in front of the class, saying things along the lines of “now you boys make sure you keep your hands to yourselves” or “we can continue with the lesson when the lovebirds decide to stop their flirting and pay attention.” I know it seems trivial now, but at the time, it was humiliating as he never called anyone out other than me, and having the whole class essentially point and laugh at me and Alex (though they probably didn’t mean any harm) was enough to make my anxiety skyrocket.

I dealt with his behavior for months. The snide comments, mocking me in front of everyone, standing behind me when I was trying to work and scoffing about how awful my work was, stopping in the middle of a lesson to lecture me if I wasn’t taking enough notes for his liking, I dealt with it all. My mental health was a wreck.

The thing that finally broke me and made me decide to finally do something about it was when he failed me in one of my tests because I apparently copied off Alex, who might I add was doing an advanced higher class, not the National 5 course we were doing.

He was on a completely different topic from me so there was no way I could copy by looking at his page and he was sitting five tables away from me. I physically couldn’t copy off him if I wanted to.

At this point, I was angry. An emotional wreck, yes, but angry. Alex and I decided to get back at this disgrace of a teacher.

Now, for the revenge.

I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this at first. Alex suggested reporting him to the headteacher but if that happened then everyone would know it was me. I didn’t want to be the one that reported a popular teacher. Kids can be cruel.

So Alex and I, and a couple of Alex’s friends, came up with a plan. Alex and his friends were not pleased with having to do a bunch of extra work to keep on top of their work as they were too busy being ignored by Mr. Geller and teaching his class for him.

Plus they were leaving at the end of the year so if it fell back on them, then there really wasn’t a whole lot anyone could do about it.

Alex and his friends started recording all of their lessons on their phones. Mr. Geller joking around with his favorite students instead of teaching, telling Alex and his friends to help each other when they needed something explained to them, and having them essentially taking the place of teacher in his class.

They also managed to record a couple of instances where Mr. Geller accused me of “attention-seeking” when I asked to go to the student support base (after finishing all of the work he’d set in that class).

This went on for weeks. We all met up and sorted through the recordings, making sure that we’d collected enough evidence. It was a long, grueling few weeks but we managed, we’d been dealing with it for months anyway, we could last a few more weeks.

One of Alex’s friends suggested that I try and do my work elsewhere as much as possible so that I couldn’t be blamed for the recordings. So I did. There were a few raised eyebrows but I was still getting my work for the class done (I had to do extra work at home to keep on top of it, but I had to do that anyway).

Whilst I had some time to myself both in the base and at home, I essentially stalked Mr. Geller’s social media. It wasn’t too hard to find. I couldn’t find a whole lot on his social media. The only thing worth noting was his friends’ list. He had all his favorite students on his social media. I couldn’t find a whole lot of stuff that he’d been tagged in or anything though I did scan through the students’ profiles and found that he’d commented on a lot of their posts.

Most of it was harmless banter but there was a few comment thread that I found he was talking crap about some other students. He made fun of a boy whose mother was a recovering booze addict, a girl with dyslexia, and a girl who had reported a couple of the popular kids for bullying her (this is just to name a few). I was on the list of students he liked to make fun of when he thought no one would notice.

It did a number on my anxiety seeing my classmates and teacher saying these things but I pushed through and read them all. I decided to screenshot whatever I could find and sent it to Alex. I also took the screenshots of all the disgusting things he was saying about the other students and emailed them to their parents (or whatever parents I could get the email addresses of).

Needless to say, they were not happy.

After we’d gathered enough evidence, we sent an email to the headteacher with everything attached. We never got all the details on what happened to Mr. Geller, but we do know that the headteacher got some higher-ups involved. We’re still not 100% sure if he decided to resign or if he was fired, all we know is that after the summer holidays, we had a new teacher.

And surprise, surprise, she actually knew how to teach a class.

I heard through a friend that Mr. Geller managed to get a job at another school a couple of hours away, but that job didn’t last very long; he either quit or was fired. He hasn’t worked as a teacher since. According to his social media profile, he no longer has a wife. Rumor is that his marriage fell apart after he lost his job, though I’m not sure how true that is.

Hopefully, he’s a better person now (I highly doubt it though).”

“Back in the day, I used to go to a local internet café to play games. There was a guy who used to go there who we shall call Mr. Moron, he was a lazy sleazebag that was great at ingratiating himself with people.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of befriending this human trashcan (as did most of the people who went to that same net café) and over time he was borrowing off all of us and occasionally paying us back. The guy was on the dole (Australian Unemployment/Job finders payment from the government) and wasn’t doing great but we put up with it and we kept paying for him.

At the time WoW (For the Alliance!), was newly out and everyone was playing and I was also getting into it like the other attendees at the café. Unfortunately for me due to work and Uni, I really didn’t have the time (or patience) to level a character like everyone else. After lamenting this to the group one evening, Mr. Moron offers to level my character as long as I’m willing to pay for his services.

After some haggling he agrees to get my character to max level over the course of 3 weeks for $500, so I pay him and he says he’ll get right on it (pretty decent payment as a 5-hour session at the café only cost $10).

A couple of days later and I drop into the net café and I see him playing on his own account. I ask him how the leveling is going and he said that he’s been busy but he’ll hop on it soon.

I shrug and go chat with some of the others before I leave. A couple more days pass and I drop by again, he’s not there but I chat with the others and they all say that he’s been busy playing his own characters and hasn’t been leveling mine. I’m understandably annoyed and tell him that the deal’s off and I want my money back, he’s angry but agrees to pay me back in a fortnight.

Later that night I’ve headed home but hop on to play some other games with some of the guys who are still at the café. One of them asks me why Mr. Moron is a wussy. I explain what happened and also add in a couple of other choice words about his personage. Unfortunately for me Mr. Moron was sitting next to them, saw the conversation, immediately logged in, and told me to leave and that he’s not going to pay me back.

I’m furious at this point and decide that if he’s going to be a moron, then I can be a far better one.

First I started by turning the rest of the people at the net café against him. Everyone stopped lending him funds (we basically wrote off what he owed us). There was also a shared account that people would preload with credit so that if someone was broke they could still log in and play with us, we changed all the login details so that he couldn’t use it anymore either.

We then got him banned after he used another guy’s account and used up all their credit (fortunately the workers also disliked Mr. Moron and were just waiting for a reason to get rid of him).

Mr. Moron also had a partner who basically paid for everything in his life (rent, food, everything) and even though this wonderful girl was working and paying for his lazy butt, he was still busy chatting up another girl.

Well, that was until I “accidentally” informed both girls that he was two-timing them. His partner promptly booted him out of the apartment and life, other girl blocked him on everything.

Seeing as he was now, even more, broke he started heading down to the local supermarkets to shoplift food, every time I got wind of him heading down to the supermarket I’d follow and as a concerned customer let the security team know that there was someone suspicious in the aisles (the cops got called in the 3rd time I did it).

Then I contacted Centrelink (guys who look after the dole) about him. You see, at the time the government was enforcing a program called “Work for the Dole” essentially anyone on the dole had to attend regular job interviews to show that you intended to find full-time work and become a valued member of society. Mr. Moron as you can probably guess was doing one of two things.

Failing to turn up to interviews or if he got a job, would turn up for a handful of shifts get paid then refuse to go back thus forcing the business to fire him and put him back on the dole. Imagine Centrelink’s surprise when I informed them that the person who was scheduled for an 11 am interview was sitting at a local net café playing computer games.

Never saw the outcome of this one, but I heard from the g*******e that they were going to cancel his payments unless he started attending interviews again.

Finally as a special screw you, I contacted one of the local television shows that loved to run segments on Dole Bludgers. I caught up with his Ex and she said that they came looking for him one time, but because she no longer had his contact details they left it at that.

This was over a decade ago now, last I heard he had to move interstate cause he’d burnt so many bridges that no one wanted anything to do with him anymore.”

“This one came from my brother-in-law after a recent conversation. They had a family friend, we’ll call him John, that had a wage dispute with an old boss, we’ll call him JF, for jerk face.

John used to work for JF back in the ’90s on a construction crew. JF was the general contractor. John was a good employee, but JF was a stingy penny pincher that was notorious for shorting wages and paying late. It was a terrible work environment, so of course, John quit.

JF owed John $200 on his last paycheck and refused to pay it. John threatened to take JF to small claims court to recover his funds.

JF’s response was “Fine, sue me!” So that’s exactly what John did. John brought the case against JF in court, and guess who didn’t show up for the hearing? That’s right, JF ghosted. John won the judgment by default.

John then took the judgment and recorded a lien on JF’s house for the $200 he was owed. As you can probably guess by now, JF is an idiot, and never had a clue that John recorded the lien.

15 years later, it’s 2007 and the housing market starts to crash. JF wants to get out from under his house and, lo and behold, discovers that no one wants to buy his house because of John’s lien.

JF calls John and berates him, threatens him, and does everything short of strangling him through the phone to try and get him to remove the lien.

John doesn’t budge an inch, and tells JF that the only way he’s removing the lien, is if he gets back his $200 plus additional terms.

JF is furious, and after several more expletive-filled conversations, agrees to pay John off. He asks John where he can mail the check to, as John had moved several hours away. John says absolutely not, the only way he was going to accept the payment was if JF hand-delivered payment to him, in cash.

The next day, JF drives four hours out to John’s new home. John’s terms on the payoff were $200 at 25% interest compounded monthly, over the previous 15 years. For you math junkies out there, that’s a grand total of $8,182.80 that JF handed over. John took the cash, gave his old boss a clear view of his middle finger, and shut the door in his face.

He then happily removed the lien from JF’s house.

Should have just paid the man his $200 bucks when he had the chance.”

“So this didn’t happen recently, in fact, this happened in middle school almost 6 years ago but this is one of the only things I remember about my short-lived time at the school. Jumping straight into what happened the story begins in the cafeteria.

I went through the lunch line as usual and when I was done I was at a loss as to where to sit (as usual). Most days I ate my lunch in the corner of the room with my earbuds in while trying to ignore the people making fun of me a few tables away. This day I decided to sit somewhere different and when I sat down I noticed something was wrong.

At the opposite end of the table, I saw my old acquaintance from elementary school (let’s call him Matthew) crying, and he wasn’t alone. Across the table was a group of girls pointing and laughing at him. I could hear exactly what they were saying to him and it was horrible. Let’s call the ring leader of this group Brooke. Brooke and her female goonies were telling him how much of a fat piece of garbage he was, (and to be honest, he wasn’t even a heavyset guy) how much a cry baby he was, and how much he should just go end his life.

At the time I didn’t have much courage but I walked over and with as much courage as I could muster I confronted the girls. I told them off and said that no one should treat someone else the way they were treating Matthew and to leave for making him cry but they just laughed, got up, and left. I tried to comfort Matthew as best as I could but he was beside himself in sorrow.

The next day during lunch I witnessed the same thing and was just as appalled as yesterday but this time I hatched a plan to get these little jerks in big-time trouble. I knew that without solid evidence, teachers couldn’t do crap against this because they could just deny it so when I got home that day I charged my video camera and plotted.

The following day at lunch it was just as I expected, Brooke and her adolescent associates were harassing Matthew. I had no idea why Matthew simply didn’t pick somewhere else to eat but nevertheless, I sat close to him (but not too close) in order to discreetly film what was taking place. I partially unzipped my backpack and placed the camera in such a way that the lens was able to peek through the crevice in the backpack but not be super obvious.

This day Brooke and her friends were being crueler than I had seen the previous two days. She literally poured her cup of apple sauce all over his food while constantly insulting him. Matthew glanced to his side at me with a ‘can you help me’ kind of face and I obliged. I gave him half of my sandwich as Brooke shrieked in discontent. She was slinging vulgarities left and right, I could see her face blotched in red anger.

Trying to hold in my utter delight in the amount of incriminating evidence I had gathered, lunch ended and everyone went to their classes for the rest of the day.

At the end of the school day when all my classes were over, I went into the office to see the vice principal Candi (the head principal was out sick for the day IIRC) and I presented my evidence to her.

Only a quarter way through the video I could see the look of shock and disgust on her face and knew that I had done well. She asked me a lot of questions about what I had seen and if this was the only evidence. Even though I didn’t know this for sure I went ahead and told her that I had seen them do this almost every day of the school year.

She thanked me over and over for doing the right thing and vowed to me that she would make things right with Matthew. I didn’t have any classes with Brooke but I did have a class with one of her cronies and the next day while we were watching a video in history she was called down to the office. The rest of the school year I never saw any of the three girls around the hallways or cafeteria so I assumed that they were expelled because of the zero-tolerance for bullying rule that our school had in place.

After that, I sat with Matthew every day during lunch but I never told him about what I had done to save him from his harassers.

Due to popular demand, I came in contact w Matthew to check up on him and he is actually currently enrolled at A&M University. He said he is doing well and next time he is in town we should grab a bite to eat.

As for Brooke I did some investigative work and found out that she is going to Michigan State. I don’t know how her personality changed since middle school but I’m sure that she developed into a more well-rounded soul.”

“This happened to a friend of mine and someone who I have worked with for over 20 years.

Let’s call him “Scott.” This story always gets a laugh out of our group, especially since he does voices and acts out what happened.

In the late ’80s, Scott worked at a Burger King while still in high school. For the first few months, he always worked the late shift, and business was usually slow. The owners were a husband/wife team who, as you can imagine, came down hard all the time on the kids working.

For the most part, Scott did not have to deal with them outside of them parking late at night with binoculars as they spied on the late crew to make sure they did their job. Then summer hit.

With summer vacation, Scott was moved to the lunch team. He was not used to how busy it was and was a bit overwhelmed. His main job was on the fryer.

He took care of the fries, onion rings, and chicken sandwiches. The lunch crowd was really starting to build up that first day he was on the day crew, and the wife-owner walks by Scott, looks over his shoulder, and in a very harsh voice tells him, “Put down more fries” which Scott does.

A few minutes later, she walks by again, even more agitated, and screams, “PUT DOWN MORE FRIES, WE DON’T HAVE ENOUGH!” Scott puts down more.

A third time she comes by and grabs him by the arm and pulls him around. She got right up in his face and said, “Are you some kind of idiot? I said put more fries down NOW!”

So Scott did the only thing he knew how to do. He filled every fryer with as many fries as would fit and loaded every single row with as many fries as you could possibly put down.

Soon, the basket that held the finished fries was overflowing because he had so many.

Well, the boss comes around, raises her hands in the air, and starts screaming, “YOU MADE TOO MANY FREAKING FRIES,” at which point Scott had enough. He picked up a mustard and ketchup bottle and squeezed them both right into her face and clothes, yelled “I quit,” and stormed out of there.

He said he was shaking so bad driving home and was worried the police would show up, but they never did.”

“So, in 2012, I found myself working as an overnight maintenance laborer for a family-owned collection of properties. Two shopping complexes, a winery, a few warehouses, etc. But most of the time, I was working keeping a grocery store built in the late 60s functioning.

Worked my way up to night maintenance manager and loved my job.

I was getting the kind of education you can’t buy: hands-on electrical one night, plumbing the next, welding after that. All taught to me by 3 men who could build a house, up to code, single-handedly. And we all got along great! It was the first time in my adult life I had real responsibilities and I was respecting myself because I respected the job I was doing.

The owners were all people who truly cared about their employees and they proved this when, in 2017, they sold the main grocery store; one of the many things they included in the sale was all current employees had to be offered new positions at their current pay level.

The company that bought us (I won’t say their name but think the opposite of “dangerous path”) does not employ an in-house maintenance team.

Something breaks, they outsource the fixing of it. So they really didn’t have a ready-made place for me to fit into like the other department managers. The store manager also did not like that I was making $18 an hour, 6 bucks over a new hire rate. Thus began the systematic (what I saw as) harassment and what has been later confirmed to me as the standard operating procedure for legally getting rid of someone at this company.

Some of my favs include:

Making my 35-year-old butt a bag boy. (Jokes on you; I love doing easy work for good pay.)

Writing me up for spending 20 minutes talking to the police about an accident I had seen while returning carts (I thoroughly enjoyed the district manager apologizing to me for that).

Cutting my hours down from full-time to 24 hours a week (which is completely allowable, but as the second most senior member in the store, everyone below me has to get their hours cut first).

No, you can’t force me to take a salaried manager’s position.

Yes, you can make me a cashier (a position you know I do not want), but you have to give me the $3 pay bump

And on and on and on, in addition to the many broken verbal promises and out-and-out lies. I became very well-versed in the union rules, my specific contract rules, and how to protect myself.

7 Union arbitrations in my first 5 months, all ended in my favor.

Meanwhile, the assistant managers love me. I can cover any department because I’ve done almost everything and I’m a quick learner for what I don’t know. Anything breaks down in the store (it was falling apart before they bought it), if I can’t fix it, I can at the very least make a detailed work request, so it gets fixed sooner.

I become the go-to cover guy, filling in any position that needs it.

Which at long last brings me to my malicious compliance. The store was not doing well, sales-wise. About a year-and-a-half in, they couldn’t get a closing butcher. So, the night manager taps me to work in the meat department for 3 hours every night just to close it out and clean it up.

In the department, there is a bandsaw that’s used for cutting meat with bones in it. It’s a pain in the butt to clean, so after reading the department manual, I realized you were not to use that piece of equipment if you hadn’t been trained on it.

Now I 100% had been trained on that bone saw. I knew how to take it apart, fix it, and put it back together.

But that training was with the old company and I had been informed many times that the new company only thought I’d been trained when they had trained me. Perfect! I can close down the bone saw earlier and get it cleaned. If any customer needs me to cut meat with a bone in it, I inform them that I hadn’t been trained on that piece of equipment.

Shouldn’t be an issue: This is late night and the store’s not doing that well to begin with. I clear all this with the assistant manager.

This goes on for months until finally I’m called into the manager’s office during the day. Turns out one of the customers I had informed that I could not use the bone saw was a secret shopper. The store manager is writing me up for failure to complete my duties.

She’s also writing it up as ‘malicious’ failure (I forget the term they use; it’s basically two write-ups instead of just one) and that coupled up with my previous write up (I was 15 minutes late once; that’s on me) gives her the three write-ups she needs to fire me.

As I have done so many times in the past with this woman, I invoke my right to Union representation and declined to talk with her until after I’ve spoken with them.

At this point I’m thinking “they can’t bust me; I was following the written directions,” but oh no!!! It got so much sweeter and so much worse.

While talking to my union rep, it quickly becomes clear that the butchers are a completely different union. The store is in violation of the butcher’s union contract by having a non-union employee work in that department.

So first my union fights the write-up, wins, and gets me paid for the four/five days I missed of work.

They then get me a lawyer who tells me I am not to speak with any store manager in any capacity, due to the butcher’s union complaint against the store. 2 weeks off, fully paid, for me; I can’t very well work at a store where I cannot speak to my bosses.

I then get two more days off paid while I speak to the various union reps for my testimony.

The store is fined ($50,000 is what I was told) for breach of butcher’s contract. When I return to work, my store manager does not work there anymore. Her replacement only accepts the job if his bonuses are not tied to the store’s overall performance, so he doesn’t mind I’m overpaid.

As icing on the cake, no one really liked her, so I’m almost a hero when I get back.”

“This happened at a New Year’s party. It was at my friend’s house; it was a fun atmosphere. One of my friends invited his friend who no one else knew, who constantly wanted to prove himself on being the bigger man, for example, talking about girls without anyone asking him, etc. Let’s call him Big Man.

We were playing FIFA, I just picked up a random controller. I was meant to play against Big Man and my other friends. I was in the main lobby practicing versus the goalie for a few minutes before everyone was getting settled in for a game. I play FIFA once or twice per year, so I just wanted to get some feel for it.

Then, Big Man asked me to swap controllers.

I said I was happy with mine. Then, he snatched my controller and gave me his. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I just let it go. Then, I realized he gave me a broken controller, which made it very difficult to play. I ended up losing the game.

Later, we were playing Monopoly. The game was going fine, only a few people were left. My friend, Big Man, and myself.

Someone landed on one of the utility spaces, then we started the auction. My friend quickly dropped out of it. So I was left with Big Man. I’m no Monopoly expert, but at the game state of the game, I knew that this utility piece wasn’t worth much.

Going back to Big Man’s one-up attitude to everything, he kept bidding higher and I kept matching him.

I didn’t really care for the piece; I just wanted to milk him for his funds. It eventually concluded on a large amount and he won it.

He was so proud of himself and telling everyone. He lost a majority of his money on it.

I told him I suspected that he wouldn’t give up on the auction, so I just wanted him to overpay the piece.

And, I reminded him about the controller incident from earlier.

He ended up looking like a fool and losing very shortly after this.

I ended up winning the game.”

Another User Comments:

“They say he’s still in debt to this very day.” 8419602

“Not entirely malicious compliance, but I feel like it is in a sense.

This happened about 8 years ago.

My sister had just gotten out of the Army and returned to live with my parents while she received physical and mental health treatment and tried to figure out her next steps in civilian life. (Brief informative sideline: she was in a very active combat zone in Iraq and left the military due to the damage caused to her mental health by being a combat medic that survived a lot of events when her friends she tried to save medically, didn’t make it).

I was home from college when she first returned, and as my parents went through their “empty nest” phase while I was still in high school, we were both put in my mom’s office on a day bed and fold-out trundle bed. My sister had to have the TV on to sleep at night as she would be back in past moments without something in the background (she still does).

The first few nights, I tried to sleep through it. But while I don’t need silence to sleep, I just could not sleep with a TV playing 4 feet from me. I approached my parents and asked about sleeping in the living room but was shot down. I even went so far as to offer to sleep on the screened-in deck but was still told I was to sleep in the bed provided or leave.

I told them I couldn’t sleep with the noise and was told, “Your sister fought for our country. You will let her sleep how she needs, and you WILL be in your bed at the stipulated hours and will also wake up at 6 AM as always.” I was then told they didn’t want to hear about this again and to figure it out.

So I followed those requirements to the letter. I would sit on my bed and stare at my sister from 9:30 pm until she got up at 4 am and then power nap until 6 am, set the office back up and repeat daily. I was constantly exhausted, falling asleep randomly and struggling with my parents’ “no napping” rule.

After about 3 weeks, we forgot to close the office/bedroom door and my mom walked past it at about 3:30 AM and then froze.

I was doing my usual staring and waiting for her to get up at 4 when my mom asked me what I was doing. I told her I was “letting her sleep. I’ll be up by 6 AM as demanded.” My mother asked me if I honestly did not sleep at all, ever until my sister woke up and I told her I couldn’t sleep with a TV playing.

That day when I got up at 6 AM and started to put the room back into an office, my father called me to him and told me, “Your mother and I have decided you can sleep until 8 AM now. Go back to sleep.” My sister followed me to bed and asked how I had gotten them to bend a rule they have had since we were in elementary school and I explained about the TV.

I didn’t sleep extra at all that day as I listened to my father and sister get into a rather loud shouting match. But for the next 4 weeks until she and I moved out into an apartment (she demanded I had to get out of that house and she was dragging me with her), I slept 4 hours a day. Basically the only win I ever had with my parents but it still feels great.”

“The shelter I’ve (30M) been working at for a couple of years now is over 30 years old and is quite notorious for keeping things that way. The daily notes are physically kept in binders, 80s-style punitive measures are imposed on clients in conflict, and the electrical panels are labeled with cards that went through a typewriter. You get the idea.

The floor supervisor (over 20 years in that position) emphasized that even though jeans were allowed, we needed to strictly adhere to the dress code.

That meant button-up or collared shirts, no logos, only long pants/dresses, no hats unless you’re outside, no visible tattoos, etc. In other words, dress nothing like the vast majority of the people we serve. “We’re meant to dress the way they should aspire to dress,” said the supervisor. I was told other staff, including staff above my paygrade, have long hated the dress code and unsuccessfully tried to change it for years.

None of them were bold little monsters like me, though.

Given my previous experience with underserved populations, I also knew this was a terrible idea. Generally speaking, what people in these communities lack in financial resources, they make up for in their abilities to read people and navigate emotions. If they think you’re an authority figure or acting inauthentic, many will outright write you off.

And for the most part, they have a great social/emotional radar.

The dress code said men’s shirts must, “… have visible buttons or a collar.” I sewed two buttons near my hip on a plain t-shirt and wore it in. They said nothing the first time but had a meeting where they “weren’t pointing out anyone in particular” and updated that specific part of the policy to prevent me from doing it again.

Next, I wore capris. After all, nothing about pant length was mentioned either. That time the code was updated and we were informed via email. Still no one-on-one conversation about it.

A few months and minor malicious compliances later, our workplace gave us logoed t-shirts with the institution’s name and website on them. Hooray, we thought! We will at least be able to wear t-shirts now.

Nope. After a week of several coworkers wearing the shirts they gave us, we got an org-wide email that the shirts did not comply with the dress code and should not be worn during work hours. Knowing me as the office rabble-rouser, several angry coworkers came to me independently to ask how they too could rebel. Enter this story’s biggest malicious compliance.

As a minimalist, I had no desire to hold onto a shirt that I would not wear.

We had no input on the design/color of the shirts, and I simply did not need it taking up space in my closet. The most reasonable alternative would be to turn the shirt back in and explain that, so I did. Coworker #1 was moving soon and didn’t need an extra thing to pack, so she also turned hers in. #2’s partner hated dark green (the shirt’s color), so he turned his in.

This happened all the way to 25 total employees, with some borrowing others ‘excuses.

After 5 days, the supervisor had a box with two-dozen shirts sitting in his tiny office. He actually has to keep them on his desk, and I can hear him bumping his hand against them when he uses the mouse. 3 months later, they are still there. He’s not dumb; he knows those shirts are a “screw you” that lives in his office.

He cannot donate them to the shelter due to some other ridiculous handbook rule about organizational spending, and he bikes 6 miles to work so driving them home isn’t a reasonable option. He’s tried putting them in general office storage, but his boss has said the shirts are the supervisor’s problem since he ordered them. Currently, he’s just stuck. We know it bothers him, but he knows he can’t bring it up since it’s his own rules that prevent us from wearing them.

No dress code changes so far, but the top-of-the-year meeting regarding our handbook has a dress code on the table. 3 of the people who returned shirts are a part of that advisory board of 5. I’m cautiously optimistic that we’ll finally be rid of some of the dumb, short-sighted elements of our dress code come February.

He just got owned big time!

“So this is a story about a guy I considered a friend. To this day, he has absolutely no idea that I am the main person who exposed him and I hope to keep it that way.

So Rebel Pilot is a pilot, as the name suggests, but he doesn’t work for an airline. He started teaching at a flight school in his 20s but decided to strike out on his own because, as he told everyone else, he could do it better. He spends the next few years trying to destroy the reputation of his first employer. Rebel Pilot is a very likable guy and lots of people think he’s awesome and believe him.

I am one of them.

Now when he starts out, he drives a super beat-up car, doesn’t have an office, gets evicted from his apartment for not paying rent, and so on. But people like him and they help him set up a school and help fix it up, and generally give him a hand. Every once in a while, people get angry at him because he does crappy things to other people, but his circle of friends defends him and just thinks he’s great.

He tells these pretty whopping tales, he’s funny, and people naturally like to be with him. A lot of his stories have made-up details designed to put other people down, but he tells them in a highly entertaining way. His behavior is a bit crazy, and some of the reasons people hang out with him are that he will do crazy stuff that is not normal, plus now he throws good parties.

He also has this cute partner, Partner1, and they end up living together. To be clear, she is pretty cool, definitely not a raging witch, is fun, throws him a huge party for his 30th birthday, and so on. Now, while he’s with Partner1, he is still coming on to other women when she’s not looking. A couple of times I have seen him totally love bomb a hot girl, usually someone in a vulnerable position like if he knows she’s going through a bad breakup.

He showers them with attention, gets them totally interested in him, says Partner1 two-timed him, and says they’re on a break or some other such story that isn’t true. He hooks up with them, and then he ghosts them and says they’re crazy, and does anything else he can to get rid of them, so Partner1 doesn’t get suspicious.

As an example, after he two-timed Partner1 with one girl, she tried to get in touch with him after he ghosted her, which is actually a reasonable thing to do.

Instead of talking to her himself, Rebel Pilot lied and told everyone she was crazy and was stalking him, reported her to his friends at the police department, and had the police call her and tell her to shove off. On top of that, he also starts telling these crazy stories about Partner1, totally criticizing her behind her back, telling everyone what a loser she is, and generally not appreciating having a relationship that most people would love to have.

So you get the idea of how he treats women.

When Rebel Pilot and Partner1 finally break up, he told everyone that SHE was two-timing HIM when it was the other way around. His excuse for tanking an interview for his dream job was that he discovered Partner1 was having an affair the night before; he was an emotional wreck and that’s why he flubbed the interview.

There were a bunch of inconsistencies with his timeline and I knew it wasn’t true, but he told the story to anyone within earshot and people just accepted his version of events. And so he made everyone hate the ex and feel sorry for him, which is a common theme.

So anyhow, he and Partner1 break up, he is partying all the time, and a bunch of us get a front-row seat as he comes close to destroying his life, parties hard, acts like a sleaze, and hits on women constantly.

A few months later, he hooks up with one of his students, let’s call her Partner2, and pretty much immediately moves into her house. This seems to stabilize him and help him get his life on track. Over the next few years, he gets a cush offer flying corporate charters. He’s a likable guy, which helps him get a sweet contract as a private pilot for a billionaire, which he brags about nonstop to everyone.

They also pay for him to get trained to fly jets. He gets a new car that doesn’t look like a piece of poop, and he lives in a nice house. His flight school is no longer a frat house and it’s more of a family-friendly environment. Partner2 helps him out at the flight school and life is pretty good for Rebel Pilot.

To put the icing on the cake, the FAA is looking for new b***d to fill a highly prestigious job of a pilot examiner.

These are people who are pilots with a lot of experience, well-respected members of the local community with good judgment and a lot of power over student pilots and other flight schools. They also tend to make tons of money because they can charge any price people will pay to get their license and there isn’t a lot of competition. Rebel Pilot has friends at the FAA who like him, and he gets the job.

He brags to people that it’s like printing dollars tax-free since students have to pay in cash (sounds weird, I know, but it’s true) and he says the IRS doesn’t need to know about it. So Rebel Pilot is now in his 30s at the pinnacle of his career, earning tons of money, and has lots of power over people in the industry. And the success really goes to Rebel Pilot’s head.

Now, as you might have guessed, Rebel Pilot is still the same person he was before, just with a lot more money, power, and success.

Rebel Pilot still likes to brag loudly that he is the best instructor around and he has the best flight school. He still tells people how bad other flight schools in the area are, even though he shouldn’t be saying anything due to his job as an examiner.

He talks about his friends and his students and tells embarrassing stories about them, but I don’t think much of it because they’re funny and they’re not about me. It doesn’t really register with me at the time, but he is really good at getting other people to pile on and hate the people he hates and really good at destroying people’s reputations behind their back with things that turn out to be total lies.

I start to hear him put down Partner2 and say things about her that I know aren’t true. I still don’t pay attention to it because there are lots of loud guys in aviation who like to brag and make up stories. I continue to think of him as a friend and have even confided in him about something that I am sensitive about and looked to him for advice.

So one day when I’m in town, I was hanging out with him and a bunch of people at the Rebel Pilot flight school. After I left, I realized I forgot something, so I came in the back way through the mechanic shop next door. I heard him talking in his very loud voice so everyone could hear, and that’s when I realized he was talking about me.

Not only was he talking about me, but he was totally lying about my embarrassing situation, made it totally different and a thousand times worse than what it was, and turned it into something that could potentially end my career. I thought he respected me and was my friend, but he was destroying my reputation and tearing me down behind my back.

Luckily nobody saw me and I slinked out the way I came in.

I spent weeks feeling humiliated and betrayed. I reflected on the way I had seen him treat people and started to see things in a different light.

Now, I knew that he had tanked some careers. He has a lot of contacts in the industry, and he has bragged about calling companies that are hiring and telling them not to hire certain people. One of his favorite sayings is that aviation is a small world and you shouldn’t burn any bridges because it will come back to bite you in the butt.

He bragged several times about bringing people down a peg and making someone he disliked lose a job they had applied for by calling the company owner. Usually, he did it because he wanted to take revenge for something he thought they did to him, but he was also jealous of people who graduated college (he didn’t) and people who came from stable families (he didn’t).

He would always talk about how bad his home life was as a child and really try to get people to feel sorry for him. Keep in mind he’s an adult in his late 30s.

I also knew that despite becoming more stable with Partner2, he had not changed his ways with women. He acted like he respected women in front of Partner2. But every time he was off on a trip, and even at his own airport, he could get pretty inappropriate with women.

As an example, he flirted aggressively with the receptionist at the building next door to his flight school. The receptionist was young and relatively new and had no idea Partner2 existed. She called the Rebel Pilot flight school and left a flirty message for Rebel Pilot, totally in line with how Rebel Pilot was interacting with her. I was not there, but a witness said Partner2 played the message on the machine and made Rebel Pilot listen to it.

He sheepishly said he had no idea why she would leave such a message, and Partner2 told him in no uncertain terms that he was obviously leading her on, exploiting a young woman, and he needed to stop. Then, instead of taking responsibility for his own actions, Rebel Pilot took revenge on the girl. He immediately complained to the airport manager and got her fired. She ended up packing her stuff in a box and leaving that same day.

So, while Rebel Pilot is fun to be around as long as you’re on his good side, he will mess you up if he thinks you are against him. I knew I had to be careful.

I wasn’t sure yet what I was going to do, but I decided I needed to be close in order to get more information. So I sucked it up, pretended I wasn’t humiliated and had never heard him talking about me, and spent more days at the flight school when I had time off.

Everyone at the flight school was in and out all the time, so sometimes I’d be the only person there and I could easily sit down behind Rebel Pilot’s desk and start scrolling through his files.

That’s when I hit the jackpot.

Rebel Pilot was logged into all the same accounts on his desktop that he was on his phone, email, messaging, everything. And boy did he like to text.

Now one of the things some of his students complained about was that Rebel Pilot would not stop texting, even when he was supposed to be instructing people on the plane. He even lost a few students who were so annoyed by him texting during a lesson that they went somewhere else for lessons. And now I knew why.

His entire messaging history was full of naughty cyber stuff, photos, videos, you name it, it was right there on his computer.

I copied everything. I played the videos and recorded them on my phone, I took the snapshots, I took pictures of the texts. I must have spent an hour trying to copy this stuff and I ran out of time because someone came back, so I minimized the tabs and casually left the office.

I enlisted the help of another aviator that Rebel Pilot had messed over and we went through the treasure trove with a fine-tooth comb.

We had to research the phone numbers to find out who these people were and we classified them into “known aviation” and others. We even found that he was doing the nasty with a couple of people there at the flight school…not quite the family-friendly environment everyone thought it was.

It became clear that his online activity made him totally ineligible to be an FAA examiner.

Plenty of the texts were just plain harassment from a guy with a lot of power in the aviation industry, flirting with and pressuring women who were hoping to become pilots for everything from photos to inappropriate acts, sometimes pretending it was all just a big joke. He had no problems sending naughty pics to women. That in and of itself made him unqualified to be an examiner.

However, he went even further and had unprofessional contact with at least one person he tested. This is extremely dangerous because it compromises his ability to evaluate if someone is able to pilot a plane safely. If he is threatened with a lawsuit or criminal charge and has to test one of these women or even someone they know, he might be coerced to pass an unsafe pilot, which could result in death.

August 2017

My pilot friend and I decide the best thing to do is send the information to the FAA, but we know we have to do it anonymously because our careers could be on the line. So we carefully packaged up a bunch of evidence, sent it into the FAA office that he reported to, and waited for the fallout.

AND. NOTHING. HAPPENED.

The FAA literally ignored evidence that they had an inappropriate predator as a pilot examiner.

This is a pretty old boys club environment, so maybe not too surprising.

For our next attempt we approached a Young Female Pilot we identified from the evidence who seemed like she tried to stop Rebel Pilot when he got out of hand with her. We approached her to see if she would be willing to come forward and tell the FAA about her experience.

She basically said all it would do was get her shamed and blacklisted, especially after she heard that the FAA did nothing with the anonymous package we sent in. She said Rebel Pilot would most likely ruin her career and nobody would hire her and he would make sure her reputation was destroyed. I had to agree.

Fast forward to 2018: I Make Him Homeless

I thought maybe I should just tell Partner2 about what I had found, but I kept chickening out.

I also didn’t want to be exposed myself, as I have to protect my career and I was certain Rebel Pilot would try to destroy me if he found out. One morning I was sitting in the school playing with the iPad while Partner2 was behind the desk. Wouldn’t you know it, she is texting Rebel Pilot, who is flying, and Rebel Pilot is logged into the flight school iPad I’m using!

I can see her messages to him, and I can also see that he had online hookups with someone the night before and that he sent a video of himself to a student before that! I take photos for evidence, as usual.

Partner2 is reading and not looking up at me so I just mumble something and hand her the iPad with the naughty texts open full screen as I walk out the door.

I wait in the parking lot in my car, and about 10 minutes later, Partner2 leaves the school with the iPad in hand and drives home.

I made sure to be scarce the rest of that day as I didn’t want to raise any suspicions about my own involvement. Apparently, Partner2 owns the property where they live, so she immediately moved his stuff out and permanently banned Rebel Pilot, who started living at the flight school.

From what I pieced together that week, Partner2 was so alarmed by the evidence that she demanded that Rebel Pilot see a therapist or she would report him to the authorities and he could potentially be arrested. One thing I should mention is that Partner2 has a child, which is important. Rebel Pilot was using her child to set up booty calls for himself (set up a playdate with another child, hook up with the child’s mother while kids are playing video games).

Rebel Pilot slept on a cot in the flight school, stayed intoxicated, and looked like a homeless person for a couple of months before he ended up getting his own place.

We also let Rebel Pilot’s billionaire employer know that he was an inappropriate predator, as well as a few other people anonymously. I wanted to make sure Partner2 knew all the gory details of Rebel Pilot’s naughty activities in case she was even considering getting back together with him after he did therapy, so I kept sending her more information anonymously too.

Young Female Pilot kept in contact and apparently had some conversation with other female pilots. Nobody was willing to go on record but they all started sending anonymous letters to the FAA hoping they would at least investigate him.

The next thing I hear is that Rebel Pilot is telling everyone that he broke up with Partner2, that she is crazy and trying to destroy his reputation, and that she’s sending false anonymous letters to the FAA because she’s jealous.

From what we could tell, the FAA interviewed Rebel Pilot, but nothing happened because he blamed Partner2 for sending the letters. True to form, Rebel Pilot also made sure everyone at the flight school hated her and felt sorry that he was being victimized by her. He also called the police and told them she was harassing him and told them he was banning her from his flight school.

Nothing else happens. This all starts to die down and Rebel Pilot is still an examiner. He still works for his billionaire boss as well as a very wealthy owner of a car dealership who also races cars, and he still runs a flight school with plenty of students. Again, he starts sleeping with another student at the school, who will now be named Partner3.

Rebel Pilot continues to complain to everyone that he has been victimized by Partner2. Rebel Pilot gets Partner3 (who has never met Partner2) so wound up about her that she is spitting tacks every time she is mentioned. This is important later.

Fast forward to 2019: What the heck?!

Not only has Rebel Pilot not been punished by the FAA, but the FAA has INCREASED his responsibilities so that now he can also conduct instrument flight exams for students!

Young Female Pilot stays in touch and we talk periodically, sworn to secrecy, of course. We have a couple of male pilots who are also sworn to secrecy to protect our own jobs. When the FAA promoted Rebel Pilot to instrument examiner despite all of the complaints they had received, Young Female Pilot and her friends get really angry. They are still unwilling to risk their own jobs, however.

(Reader, please don’t judge me or Young Female Pilot for this…it is very expensive to become a pilot, easy to get blacklisted by someone at the FAA or someone like Rebel Pilot, and then you have no way to make a living or to pay back a huge amount of student loans if you’re in debt.)

So we hatch a plan to have her call Partner2 and tell her about the frustrations of the other female pilots in hopes that she will think of something to do.

A detail I should mention, Partner2 does not fly for a career, and she has her own business not related to aviation. So Young Female Pilot calls Partner2 on someone else’s phone. Partner2 doesn’t know Young Female Pilot and we don’t think she would betray her, but the situation is still very risky for Young Female Pilot. She discusses how frustrating it is that a serial harasser gets promoted by the FAA with no consequences when the FAA knows about his harassment, and Partner2 agrees that she will try to make information public to protect other women.

She agrees to post a review on Yelp and maybe some other platforms.

I do my best to be at the Rebel Pilot flight school when this goes down. True to her word, Partner2 posts a very straightforward and factual Yelp review and heads EXPLODE at the flight school! People are forwarding the review on and it spreads like wildfire all over the aviation industry.

Other people have posted unfavorable reviews before, but Rebel Pilot has been able to have them taken down, falsely claiming that the review is a fake account or from a competing flight school. But there has been nothing like this that I know of. Rebel Pilot and Partner3 (who now appears to be a co-owner of the flight school and who has posted a positive review of the school on Yelp) go into damage control mode.

Rebel Pilot tries to get Partner2 arrested or at least harassed by his friends at the local police department. He’s frantically trying to get the review shut down with Yelp. His brain is literally exploding and I, along with everyone else at the school, am agreeing with him that Partner2 is a total lying, crazy, conniving, vindictive witch, and that she needs to be punished.

All while laughing on the inside.

Rebel Pilot next engages one of his instructors, who was friends with Partner2, to meet with her and ask her to take down the review, but she does not. Rebel Pilot is finally successful in getting Yelp to remove the review a day or two later. The same process also happens with another platform that shall remain nameless.

Rebel Pilot gets everyone to bombard Partner2 with hate mail, which makes me glad I am still anonymous.

Rebel Pilot also tells the instructors at his school that they are not allowed to be friends with Partner2 and they will be fired if they are.

Fast forward to August 2019: Mission Accomplished!

What happened to Rebel Pilot :

We later found out that the FAA ended up doing an investigation on Rebel Pilot. Finally. Rebel Pilot totally lost all of his examiner privileges. On top of that, his flight school had an FAA-written testing center, which was also permanently closed. And even beyond that, Rebel Pilot can’t have any affiliation with the FAA in any way, shape, or form.

He can’t even host an educational seminar or continuing credits class for the FAA.

While some up-and-coming pilots and people outside the industry might never hear about Rebel Pilot being totally humiliated and losing his examiner status, believe me when I tell you that everyone in the profession knows what happened. And it has got to BURN!

What happened to me:

I am pretty much back to enjoying my time at the airport like I used to.

There are still parties and flyouts, and ultimately some people don’t care that Rebel Pilot harasses women or destroys people’s careers. But he has definitely been taken down a peg, as he likes to say. I just don’t trust anything Rebel Pilot says and I don’t heap on other people he’s trying to destroy. I still feel a little twinge of delight whenever I hear Rebel Pilot tell new students that he used to be an examiner, but the liability insurance was too high so he quit.

Another thing that I get a chuckle out of is that Rebel Pilot has started talking behind Partner3’s back. I tried to warn her and even sent her (anonymously, of course) information about Rebel Pilot. But so far Partner3 is standing by her man, and I’m just sitting here eating popcorn watching the story unfold again!”

Never forget a man’s bacon.

“So back in college I worked at an on-campus fast food place and I worked at noon, the lunch rush, and it was insanely busy. I would get there at 11:53 and then just prep as many cheeseburgers as possible for the hot window since we’d go through about 100 by 12:45 or so.

The problem was Josh. Josh worked the early shift and thought he was a grill God. No one could touch the grill beside him, and in all his wisdom, he didn’t think having any more than 5-10 hamburger patties was appropriate, as per the “standards.” So, every lunch, I run in and immediately load the grill with as many burgers as I could fit, so we could barely make it through lunch with having a dozen or so customers having to wait for burgers.

I pleaded with him.

I pleaded with the managers. No one cared. The standard was “5-10 patties ready at any time.”

Fine Josh. Don’t be a team player. See, all of us poor college kids working there had decided a little trick. When you were off shift and came to order a burger, you’d always order “extra lettuce” and anyone in the back would see it, look out, and see you’re one of us, and you’d get bacon or an extra patty.

We all knew each other and what we want. Normally a ridiculous upcharge, but we were being screwed with our wages, so screw the man, right?

Well, I started spreading the word, and wouldn’t you know it, everyone else that worked with Josh hated him too. So going forward we all intentionally “forgot” his free bacon when he ordered. “Oh sorry, we didn’t see you!” “Our screen didn’t say extra lettuce, our bad.”

Lunches were still awful until we got a new manager that realized Josh was useless at everything but stock, but he never got his free bacon again.”

Another User Comments:

“Should’ve actually loaded lettuce on it…” Mhikeal

“This happened a few years ago when I was in my final year of high school.

Ok, so my high school geography teacher was one of the laziest people I’ve ever encountered. It would take weeks to get feedback on tiny pieces of homework, and midterm exams would be graded months later.

She also, despite being a geography teacher, lacked pretty basic knowledge of where places in the world were. Before a parent evening meeting with her, I had warned my parents that she was completely useless and to not expect much. At the meeting, she basically laid out how if any student failed her class, it wasn’t her fault because it was entirely up to the class to do their coursework and that she would not be responsible for giving feedback on them.

A few parents complained that it was literally her job to make sure that her class performed well. So she relented a little and allowed each person in class one meeting to discuss the progress on their coursework. Better than nothing, but oh well. Essentially the coursework required us to write a study about a way in which geography impacts the city we lived in, so I decided that I was going to do a study about how good the public transport links in the city were.

So when it came to having my meeting with her, she read over what I had done so far, and said, “Yes, ok, now OP, I think you could really go into a lot of detail here, you could really analyze a lot of stuff. I’d go into as much detail as possible.” In terms of actual advice on the project, she didn’t really tell me if anything was a good idea or a bad idea, just that it should be detailed.

So I did exactly that. Now an important thing about this piece of work, was that unlike other essays I had to submit for other classes, there was no word count, and instead a page count, with the maximum being 30 pages including citations. Most people in the class weren’t coming close to the 30 pages, finishing up at around 18-20 or so. So I decided I was going to write as much as possible and fit as much as I could into those pages, and I ended up writing about 15,000 words.

The content was really was not interesting either; it was just about how many buses came per hour on certain roads in the city center, so I knew it was going to be a pain to mark.

I submitted it in about February, and the school year ended in May, and I didn’t get it back until the week before I graduated.”

“This takes place a while back, probably about a year ago. My girl and I are currently in college and we would often find ourselves studying late at night in the library (usually because when I’m serious about it, I go through my schoolwork rather slowly). This particular night, however, I had a nitro cold brew with an extra four shots of espresso from the Starbucks in the campus library.

This really got the gears in my head turning and I managed to crank out my history paper in about 2-3 hours.

Since we had enough time, we decided to go get some dinner at this really good restaurant close to the campus. This restaurant is SUPER popular in my city and not just for the students, but they do add to how packed this place gets.

It’s hard enough to find a table inside since there’s not a table number/host system. The restaurant is set up so that you walk in and order right away and then you find your own table and wait for your number to be called, then you bring your food back to your table. This isn’t a small building; there are quite a bit of tables inside.

Yet there is still often a shortage of seating. I’m mentioning this to give you a perspective of how packed the parking lot is.

The parking lot for this place is SMALL. The number of parking spots is probably about 1/5 of the number of tables inside. So although this wasn’t a busy night for the restaurant, the parking lot was still packed simply because of the lack of parking.

There were three cars looking for spots for about 20 minutes, an SUV, my girl and me, and another sedan.

Finally, somebody is leaving, so we turn on our blinker and pull up to the spot so that we are the ones ready to take it. And out of nowhere, some jerk in a 350Z with his girl pulls into the lot (speeding), cuts us off, and steals our spot.

As this had already angered me the nail in the coffin was the little smirk that his girl gave to us. As I was unbuckling my seatbelt and getting ready to commit a crime, my girl stops me and I agree that it’s not worth it.

By the time another spot became available to us (since we didn’t steal anybody else’s spot), the restaurant was about to close.

So I did the only reasonable thing in this scenario and went to the nearby Walmart to buy sticky notes. After I acquired the pettiness vessels I wrote, “She’s two-timing you bro” onto the sticky note and stuck it right onto his windshield. My girl and I then proceeded to stop by In’n’Out, grabbed some Neapolitan milkshakes, and cooked something at home.

I’m not sure what became of that couple after that night, but I sure like to think I made an impact.”