People Deliver Their Deranged Revenge Story
18. You Said You Wanted Your Donuts As Fresh As Possible
Not much fresher than this!
“When I was 15, I got my first paid job working for the fair.
It was a pretty big fair that traveled across Canada and along the east coast of the US ending in Florida for Christmas. If you’ve ever been to the PNE (Pacific National Exhibition), CNE (Canadian National Exhibition), Red River Ex, Calgary Stampede, and whatever they call it in Edmonton and Regina, that’s the one.
I loved this summer job because it was short (only a week as I did not travel) and gave me enough money to get through the summer.
I worked for the privately owned donut vendor which tasted better and paid better than the show donut vendors.
Fast forward 4 years when I decided to travel with the show. I was 19 and it was easier to travel at this point cause I could sign my own forms, and being 19 I needed more stuff for school and the like.
We start in my home city and make our way across the country visiting city after city.
We were in Edmonton when our story really begins.
Now the travel crew is pretty small and we hire our bagging/cashier locally. I, along with senior crew members, are in charge of training the baggers, re-oiling the machines, switching out the dough canisters, and making sure they are running and putting out donuts in a consistent manner.
As I am checking dough levels and teaching a bagger how to efficiently fill bags for the evening rush I hear a commotion behind me.
Cue Entitled Woman.
Karen: “No! I want fresh ones!”
Bagger: “Ma’am these are fresh, I just made them.”
Karen: “No, I want them to be fresh. Make me new ones, I didn’t see you make those, they could be old.” It was 9 in the morning.
At this point in the day, most donuts are made to order so those donuts wouldn’t have been older than 5 minutes.
The Bagger calls me to turn on his machine to start the donuts.
These machines are so temperamental and really old because the owner built them himself many moons ago. But I love them cause they make perfect donuts that travel in a circular conveyor belt in 400-degree oil.
They’re a lot of fun to watch. I start the machine and scoop out the first few rejects and make 15 donuts.
The donuts fall off the belt into the glass case and the bagger slots them into the sugar and into a bag.
He hands them to her and she dramatically sighs
Karen: “Uuuugh, No. I want the fresh ones and those have touched the old ones.
How do I know you didn’t mix them up. I don’t believe they’re fresh. I want FRESH DONUTS!”
Bagger: “Ma’am those are fresh. I made sure to pick only the new ones out.”
Again she huffs and puffs, so I fire up the machine again, scoop out the rejects, and make 15 donuts.
This time I grab the new bag and place the bag right under the shoot so the donuts have no choice but to fall into the bag.
They do, I hand it to the bagger and walk away just to have to turn around again.
Karen: “No I want the ones directly out of the oil, that way I know they’re fresh. Those ones have cooled down and are not fresh anymore.”
Me: “Sorry ma’am but that is against the policy, the oil is 400 degrees, and besides, they’re not done cooking.”
Karen: “I want the fresh ones! Get me your supervisor.”
My “supervisor” is off doing supervisor things, and I don’t feel like calling her.
She’s also a lifer and doesn’t take flack from anyone and I know if I call her, and she’s busy, this woman will leave crying. So to avoid this I say:
“I am the supervisor on duty right now and the policy states we can’t give you donuts from the oil.” There is no policy, but it’s common freaking sense.
Karen: “I have been a patron of this company for so many plus years. I have never been denied a fresh donut. This is so unprofessional! I want to talk to the owner right now!”
At this point, I’m on day 5 of this show, and we work an hour before open to an hour after the close (depending on the show and after some new laws, roughly 16 hours daily).
I’m tired of her and in general. That’s when I get a brilliant idea.
I smile.
Me: “There is no need for that, I will get you your FRESH donuts.”
I start up the machine again and discard the rejects. I then grab a bag and let the donuts plop into the oil for half a second and scoop them out immediately. Not long enough to get hot, but also not long enough to hold a shape.
I then take the bag of dough and sprinkle in some cinnamon sugar and say as sugary as I can muster “here you go, sorry for the inconvenience, enjoy the rest of your day.”
She smiles smugly having thought she got her way.
About 10 paces later she stuck her hand into the bag and I hear a squeal, a snarl, and then swearing.
That’s when Gregg (not his real name), one of the senior machine guys, returned from his break.
Gregg was a FREAKING LEGEND when it comes to dealing with Karens. He makes it a hobby to seek them out for fun on his breaks so he can tear into them.
He once told a heavy customer in a scooter he would not sell her 50 bags of donuts because he didn’t want to be responsible for her coronary and could not have that on his heart and that she should take her business to the other donut stall.
He can be quite savage. I don’t condone his behavior and sometimes he scares me but this is also why I like working under him because it means Karens never get away with their nonsense.
The women came storming back and demanded a refund and demanded I be fired. He asked why and she screamed, “THAT WITCH SOLD ME A BAG OF DOUGH!”
Gregg asked me if that was true.
I smile sheepishly and said yes and explained she did not want the fresh donuts off the belt she wanted the fresh donuts from the oil and would not leave till I gave them to her.
Gregg turned to her and said “sorry for that but we don’t issue refunds to idiots so take your fresh donuts and leave before I start pelting you with these donuts.
You have 5 seconds. 5, 4, 3…” She tried to huff and puff at which point he took the bag of donuts she did not want and began pelting her with them.
After she left he told me he was proud of me and would let the Boss know.
I got an extra hundred bucks in my per diem for that week.”
17. Teaching A Big Wig CEO A Valuable Lesson For Getting Me Fired Over My Appearance
“I once got revenge on the CEO of a company for which I used to be employed. I didn’t cause him any of the detriment that he caused me. Instead, I was given the opportunity to teach him a very valuable lesson.
I was 16 and was given the opportunity to work at the grocery store in the small town where I lived. It was basically the only place for a teenager to work in town, so I was lucky to have the job.
I never worked past 10:30 PM, my boss made sure my work didn’t interfere with my school activities, and the work made me happy. In the beginning, my duties included stocking shelves at night and cleaning the entire store. My boss quickly recognized and rewarded my hard work with more responsibilities. I went from stock boy/cleaner, to cashier, to evening manager (once I graduated high school).
My duties as the evening manager included running the store at night, reconciling sales, taking deposits to the bank, and locking up after work. I had a great relationship with my store manager and the regional manager over our area of stores.
The store was one of a few dozen in a chain started by the owner of an oil company as a way to distribute his gasoline.
The employees held high regard for the owner. In the few times he visited the store, he was kind and thanked us for our work. He was working toward his retirement, and his son-in-law was transitioning into the CEO role.
As many teenagers in the 90s did, I grew out my hair. As my hair was growing longer, my regional manager asked me kindly to keep my hair out of my eyes (either in a store cap or in a ponytail).
There were no rules for appearance in the small company, but he wanted me to be as professional and approachable as possible since I was in a position of management. I was happy to oblige.
In the late 90s, the store was being remodeled and ownership and C-level folks in the company were coming around more often. Evidently, one of the ‘good-ole’ boy higher-ups in the company didn’t like my appearance and said something about it to my regional manager.
I was a valued employee, and my regional manager made it clear that my appearance was a non-issue. He reminded him that there were no rules against my long hair in the company guidelines. Nevertheless, my regional manager made me aware of the situation and warned me that this higher-up might be around again and to be on my toes if he said something.
A couple of weeks later, this ‘good-ole’ boy came back to the store with some paperwork to deliver to the store manager.
I had been instructed ahead of time to take the paperwork on her behalf, but she did not know who would be delivering it. I had just cut off my long hair days before and pierced both ears. The same guy-with-long-hair-hating guy walked up to the counter where I was checking groceries and asked for the manager. I told him that I was the manager on duty and I was expecting some paperwork to be delivered. I don’t remember the exact words, but they were something like:
“You couldn’t be in charge. Our company would never put someone that looked like you in charge.”
I was completely caught off-guard. I asked him what he meant.
He said that I looked like a girl with my ears pierced and that there’s no place for that here. He said that I had to take off the earrings. I respectfully defended myself. I told him that there were no rules established for appearance.
I had been a model employee for several years and was entrusted with the store every evening that I worked.
He reprimanded me in front of some of our regular customers for talking back to him. He left the paperwork and walked out of the store. I saw him pull out his cell phone to make a call as he was leaving.
It was only a few minutes later when my regional manager called the store to talk with me.
He wanted to hear my side of the story. He apologized but told me this guy was bent on making an issue of my appearance.
A week went by and I saw that I was scheduled for a Saturday morning. That was unusual since I was the night manager. I arrived for work, and the regional manager was there. He talked with me in the office and told me how sorry he was to have to let me go.
I asked on what grounds. He replied with insubordination.
I was at a loss. Even to this day, I’ve never been so much as “written up” at any place of employment. I told my regional manager that I was going to fight this. He even did me the courtesy of writing the number down for the EEOC (Equal Employment Opportunity Commission) from the poster in the office.
I went home (which was with my parents as I was home from college for the summer) and explained to my dad what was happening. He didn’t really want me to pursue the EEOC thing, but I was determined to stand up for myself against the ‘good-ole’ boy corporate bully. After speaking with someone at the EEOC office, she believed I had a case for wrongful termination.
They offered to see me that afternoon.
Before driving to Dallas to meet with someone about my case, I decided to give the company a chance to rescind the firing. I really liked my job. I loved the people at the store, and all the customers I got to interact with every day. I didn’t think I would be able to find another job that gave me the flexibility to work weekends through music school and give me full hours at every break.
I really wanted to make this work. So, I called the corporate offices.
After some time on hold, I was actually passed along to the CEO of the company (remember, the son-in-law) who was now fully in charge after the wonderful owner had retired.
He was aware of the firing (because he likely approved it) but had only heard the side of the story that came from his entrusted bigoted corporate bully friend.
I respectfully told the CEO that I would love to meet with him and have the opportunity to share my side of the story. I wanted to give him the whole picture of who I was, not some idea based on my appearance. He told me that he didn’t need to meet with me to understand that I was a brat trying to get away with being disrespectful to an administrator in the company.
I told him that I was planning on meeting with the EEOC that afternoon, and thanked him for his time.
After my meeting, the person in charge of my case filed paperwork for wrongful termination. She said it would take a little time, but that the company would likely have to pay me an average salary for the next six months. I wish I could remember all the details of this.
It was a pretty sweet deal. I got to take a semester off from working and fully focus on my college studies while getting a paycheck in the mail. It was great!
Then came the lawsuit. The company stood by their claim that one instance of insubordination was legal grounds to fire me and that I was being insubordinate by not complying with the demands of a high-level employee.
I received a letter in the mail that the company was suing me for a sum equal to the pay they had given me over the six-month period. I don’t remember exactly everything from that letter, but I do remember something about there being so many labor lawsuits that they did their best to handle them over the phone. I was to call a number at a specific time to have a conference call hearing with a labor judge.
I had to tell one of my professors that I would miss class one day for the hearing. I sat on my bed in my college apartment while I listened over the phone to two attorneys for the company argue their case against me. The CEO of the company was on the line as well. The judge had a copy of the employee handbook from my time at the company, which had no mention of employee appearance.
My manager and the regional manager had given positive testimony on my behalf.
The judge essentially told the company that this was petty. That their legal costs far exceeded the six months of pay they had given me. He told them it appeared they were making this personal. His ruling was that I would keep the six months of pay (thank goodness because I had been spending it)!
But that wasn’t my revenge.
After my job-free semester of college, it was time to get a holiday job that I could hopefully keep on the weekends and change to full-time during my last summer before student teaching and graduating. I applied at a retail giant that had an extensive electronics section. I wanted to sell electronics.
During my final interview, the human resources agent asked about my firing.
She had a great time listening to the story! She asked if I would mind taking off my earrings for work there as it was against corporate policy for men. I told her that I would absolutely take off my earrings for work. Not only was it against their policy, but I was also planning to be a teacher soon anyway (male teachers in Texas just didn’t wear earrings at that time).
I did well at this store. HDTV had just become a thing, and projection big screens were selling like hotcakes. I was working on commission, and the paychecks were great. I worked with a lot of folks that didn’t understand all the facets of the transition to HDTV, and really couldn’t answer important questions for customers. HDTVs weren’t priced like they are today.
Most of the name brands were $4,000 and up at that time. Consumers desired a lot of confidence with purchases of that amount. I quickly became the go-to guy on this. Happy customers would send friends and family to me. I loved this job!
I was lucky to make one of my best sales to a retired couple that had the means to buy the best of everything.
They wanted the best, but they wanted to understand all of the details and be confident in their purchase. They had been to a few places that weren’t able to answer their questions, then they came to me. There was something familiar about the gentleman. I felt like I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place it.
When making the purchase, customers had to give me their name and address for delivery.
I was absolutely stunned to hear his name…former owner/now retired of the grocery store chain where I used to work. I hadn’t recognized him in casual clothes and out of the store environment.
His wife was wonderfully sweet and very complimentary of me. She said that she was about to give her family some monetary gifts for the holidays so that they could have HDTVs at their homes.
She was going to recommend that they come to see me for the purchase.
I still remember how I felt the day the son-in-law CEO came to my store and asked for Greg (only our first names were on our name tags). He didn’t really visit the grocery store like his father-in-law and ran the company from the company headquarters. I had only seen him once in my years at the company, but I knew it was him when I shook his hand and he told me his name.
I actually trembled with nervousness (and probably a little anger), as I answered his questions. I must have seemed strange before I composed myself. I smiled as he mentioned how much his in-laws thought of me. I got him set up with his needs. He thanked me profusely and told me that it was hard to find reliable information and good service these days.
I told him that if he needed anything to come back and see me.
I rarely used them (because I was only going to be there for a year), but I pulled out a business card and handed it to him. I told him to ask for Greg, Greg Hamilton. He looked at the card and slowly looked up at my eyes.
“Greg Hamilton?”
“Yes sir, Greg Hamilton. I’m so happy I was able to help you today.
I take a lot of pride in my work, and I hope that it shows.”
There was a long awkward stare before he walked away. He actually turned back and took another look at me before leaving the store. I’ll never know what he was thinking. But I like to think that he realized that he fired a respectable young man that took pride in his work, solely based on bias.
The best revenge doesn’t come from hurting someone. Deep down, what we really desire is to help someone learn a lesson. I’m so thankful that I had the chance as a young man to teach an important lesson to this CEO.”
16. Think You Can Block Their Driveway? Get All Your Vehicles Towed
“Friday night here in the country can get a little crazy sometimes so I don’t mind when my neighbors cause a ruckus or loud party as long as it’s not too crazy.
Tonight I’m on call for Virginia State Police towing rotation which means I’ve got 25 minutes to get to where ever the wreck/DUI/impound/etc., is.
As luck would have it, my neighbors are having a party, and guess what’s blocking my driveway? That’s right, about 25-30 cars. I live down a dirt road at the end of a cul-de-sac, and it’s pretty narrow. One in one out type of deal, and with this rain we’ve been having, parking in the grass/clay/mud is really not the best idea.
Even with a 4×4, it can still get tricky.
I noticed a few cars coming in early this evening and walked over to my neighbor’s and made it clear I was on call and as long as they didn’t block the road or my driveway all would be good.
No problems here. Well, I get a call from my boss asking if I can go warm up the Rotator and the light-duty flatbed (tow trucks).
It’s about 12:30 AM so I get my boots on and other gear because if I’m up, I might as well stay at the shop and clean a few things to stay busy and make the night move along.
I get in my car and as I’m backing out of the driveway, I notice I’m blocked in. I don’t mean by one truck, but by nearly 15 different vehicles.
I calmly walk over to my neighbor’s about a 1/8th-mile hike and as I’m looking for them through the crowd of teenagers, some idiot wants to know why I’m on his property (he’s not the property owner, I’ve never seen this classy gentleman before).
Finally, I find my neighbor and ask her if she can move the cars, I’ve got to go to work.
She says in a normal tone (doesn’t yell over the music) into the house, ‘whoever’s blocking the driveway next door move your trucks!’ Then slams the door in my face.
I knock again and she answers with an intoxicated, ‘Oh God, this witch again?’ (internally I’m thinking, ‘Alright then…’). I do my best to explain, I’m on call and need to get out of my driveway to go to work, she comes back sloshing a Natural Light exclaiming, ‘It’s a party, relax!!!!!” Shuts the door in my face and yells, ‘Screw that witch,’ I smile and as I’m walking away, macho man throws a drink at me and cackles, ‘Yeah you best leave, go on, git!”
I get on the phone with dispatch and call for as many trucks as we have available tonight (about ten) and tell them to come on over, momma’s got some PPI’s (private property impounds).
I call police dispatch and ask if they’d send out an officer in case things get out of hand and as soon as he gets to my place, my rigs start rolling up and hooking vehicles up and taking them to the impound yard.
We get down to the last three vehicles. A yellow Civic, gold Silverado and an old F-150
The Civic owner bolts to his car and takes off. The Silverado girl (pretty wasted) gets stuck and starts tearing up my property.
The officer walks over and she throws a fit. Long story short, she gets arrested for underage drinking and DUI. The Ford owner doesn’t even show up.
I get to work after all the impounds and with me, I brought coffees and snacks for my drivers. Tomorrow is not a business day which means if these tools want their cars back, it’s going to be the regular $289.50 plus two days of storage at $55 a day and a $100 gate fee. I make a note on every single storage sheet (papers that the vehicle owners get) to thank the girl who had the party for getting towed.
Several of the kids’ parents called wanting to know where their cars or trucks were.
I gave them the yard address and told them they can come anytime. As soon as they started shouting about illegal tows and threatened with lawyers, I showed them pictures of their cars with no parking signs. And explained that I tried to reason with the owner of the property (me) but she was tired of being blocked in by intoxicated teenagers.
There are signs on my road saying no parking, and not to block the driveway.
Don’t anger a tow truck driver, she’ll legally take ALL your vehicles.”
Another User Comments:
“You gotta be pretty stupid to block the driveway of a tow truck driver.” Reddit user
15. A Paddle To The Backside For You
“So there I was, on my birthday at the stroke of midnight, just given a 3/4 day of paid time off from my eternally awful job working 3rd shift at a factory.
I think to myself, ‘Awesome!
I’ll go home and maybe get a little bow chicka bow owwww…’ I mean, I’ve been with her for the past 6 years, and I always get a little birthday lovin’. But there’s always the chance I won’t. No big deal.
I walk in the door, all is quiet, which instantly strikes me as kind of strange. She usually watches TV at this time of night.
Maybe she just passed out? I think nothing of it.
So I am walking back to our bedroom when I hear it. I promptly freeze. After a few seconds, I quietly sit down on the cold linoleum floor and think to myself, ‘she’s having an affair, on my birthday, in OUR bed, in the house that I pay rent! What the heck?!’
But, there’s one thing that everyone who knows me, knows about me.
I don’t act rashly. Ever. I think things through, and you REALLY don’t want to get on my revenge side. It’s cold, and it’s calculating. I have been referred to as Spock on a number of occasions.
So the plan is hatched for instant revenge. She only likes to make love in the dark.
I have really good dark vision. She does not.
The house is pitch black. ‘I’ve got this,’ I mutter to myself.
I quietly enter the bedroom, and proceed to head to the always open closet across from the bed, and proceed to grab our wooden studded paddle. It is everything in my power to hold back my infuriation with the situation.
I grab the paddle, and a box that was on top of it falls, making a very loud noise.
I crouch down to stay hidden and think to myself, ‘Shoot, here I am catching her having an affair and I’m about to be the one that gets caught…’
But…
They don’t stop.
I get to the end of the bed, and stand there in full batter’s swing, ready, waiting for the right moment.
It was quite an ETERNITY waiting for a man that is with my partner of six years, in my bed, in my house, on my birthday, to finish up.
And then it happens. I spring out the full swing and WWWWWWHHHHHHAAAAAACKKKKKKK.
That blood-curdling wince and then eventual cry was absolute MUSIC to my ears. It was a direct hit to the backside.
She asks, ‘What just happened??!?’ His reply is, ‘Something just smacked my bottom so hard….’
This is when I personally think it hit her.
She frantically rushes to the side of the bed to flick on the bedside lamp.
Click. And there I am, standing there tall and proud. Safety glasses still on, holding what I have now dubbed the meat grinder in hand. Staring down at the both of them with an unholy, unflinching gaze. I am staring a stare of psychic withdrawal inducing soul destruction, unwavering in its intensity.
And then I focus my gaze directly into his eyes. Calm as a statue, and officially shut down all emotions at this point.
It is now that I realize that he was a man that I’ve known for years. Not necessarily a friend, but someone who I trusted, and knew I trusted.
I have never seen a man get his clothes together and get out the door so fast in my life. Ever. He was gone in an instant.
She looks at me. I look at her.
And I say the inevitable truth. ‘You know that every single one of my past girls has done this to me, and you know EXACTLY what that means…’
‘I’m dead to you huh…’ She replies in a dejected, monotone voice of humility.
‘After you leave tonight, I will not recognize either of your existences if we meet again… I will more than likely never speak to you.’
While standing there, staring at her the whole time, she gets up, head hanging in shame. Gathers clothes. Gets in her car, and leaves. That’s when everything in me just collapses. My heart, my soul, my emotions, my ego, and pride… everything. I proceed to go to the living room, crack a drink, and cry for 8 hours.
I’m a man, but I’m only human.
The next day her mom calls me up and asks, ‘What happened last night?’ So I tell her. She bursts out laughing at her daughter’s stupidity, and my retaliation, and heads on over for a little bit more of a talk instead of on the phone.”
Considering the majority of women do not cheat, you either have really bad luck or should consider the sort of girl you haven't thought of considering previously.
14. Want Your Employees To Make You Fancy Espresso Drinks? Deal With The Dirty Cups
Just a tiny inconvenience for a royal jerk.
“Academia can be a pretty screwed up place to work, a lot of people with some personality issues and very little accountability.
I was a scientist at a research institute and the head of our lab was one piece of work. We worked in a big division of many labs that shared a common kitchen with a pretty nice espresso machine and kept a collection of nice espresso and cappuccino cups for everyone to use.
Our boss was obnoxious and a bit of a slob. One sign of his slobbery was he just let his dirty cups from his espresso drinks, common cups from the office kitchen, collect in his office.
Sometimes, one of us would get so disgusted, we would just collect them and clean them for this pathetic baby because we felt he couldn’t take care of himself.
He drank A LOT of espresso drinks.
He liked to think he was really busy and came up with what he thought was a genius plan – he would only meet with us if we made him an espresso or cappuccino from the kitchen machine.
We all had to become baristas just to talk to this jerk.
Before the tyranny of cappuccino-making began, sometimes one of us actually would offer to make him one when he really was very busy.
So, we could talk during a coffee break. This was not often and we offered to do it. But soon he was demanding it, every time.
It was demeaning and annoying. Then he started bragging to the people in our division about it, so we decided enough was enough.
We came up with a plan. Every time we met with him, we would bring his royal highness his espresso drink and make one for ourselves as well.
We would drink ours during the meeting and then leave the cup in his office. He already had enough dirty cups in there, and there was enough general chaos on his many desks when we started that the slow accretion went unnoticed.
As planned, first all the “good” cups that everyone liked ended up in his office, which got everyone’s attention, then just all of the cups.
People in the other labs were getting really annoyed the cups were disappearing from the kitchen. People would bring more in, and they would disappear as well.
Eventually, not too long after we started but after there was a major impact and people were livid, someone else came to his office and saw this disgusting array of dirty coffee cups, their coffee cups, filling his office.
He was publically shamed and people never stopped making fun of him about it. I don’t know if he ever caught on as to how we exponentially expanded the number of offending cups, but he lost his appetite for those coffee drinks and we never had to make that b******e one again.”
13. Too Loud To Work Past 10 PM? My Work Will Just Have To Wait
“I work in the theatre industry (the live entertainment type) and was doing a freelance gig as a carpenter building a set. As normal the budget was 50% less than it needed to be and I had to do in two days what should have taken a week.
I get paid a day rate, so regardless of how long I am there, I get the same amount, but the rate agreed was very good so it was worth going the extra mile and putting in the hours.
So I started early, worked through breaks, and finished late. On the second day, I just had a couple of things to join together with bolts, a simple 5-minute job right at the end of the day, but it was late about 11:30 pm.
The venue had a noise curfew at 10 pm which is designed for the rock concerts playing live music at loud volumes.
However, the venue manager who had only been working there for about a month was very insistent that I was making too much noise with my tools. It was his first experience of a show being put on, the previous production was already open when he joined.
Manager: You can’t make any noise after 10 pm, we have a noise curfew here.
Me: The noise curfew is set at 90db and there’s a meter on the wall over there to monitor it, my tools aren’t registering over 75db. I always work late like this on these shows, sometimes I’m here until 4-5 am if I need to be to make sure everything is ready.
Manager: No, you aren’t allowed to make any noise after 10 pm, you have to stop what you’re doing!
Me: But you’re making noise talking to me, I don’t think you’ll find it any noise… it’s 90db. I have this one last job to do and then I’m going home, it’s going to take 15 minutes at most.
Manager: That’s not possible, you have to stop now.
Me: Are you sure about that? They really want this set finished so they can rehearse here tomorrow! If I have to come back tomorrow then it’s going to be very inconvenient for everyone, and for no reason.
Manager: You can’t make any noise so it will have to wait.
So I did as I was told, packed away my tools, and came back in the morning.
The next day the producer was more than a little annoyed, but I explained the issue to the Manager. He instructed me to finish building the set which I did in about 10 minutes. I then took great pleasure in handing the manager my invoice for THREE days working even though I’d been there for probably less than half an hour.
It was perhaps a little churlish of me, but the point is, I could have had to cancel another job to come in on the third day… besides, the rule says I get paid day rate regardless of how long I’m needed!
The manager realized his mistake when he spoke to their technical director and I never had to stop working late again.”
12. Soon, The Whole Town Will Know Your Secret
“I was teaching in a small rural school when the harassment started from a coworker.
She was a support person in the building. Her child was one of my students. On my first day of school, I would always send home a small pamphlet of expectations for classwork and class behavior; it was to be signed by parents and students, then returned. This procedure would save drama later on in the school year, when a child or parent would claim that, Johnny or Suzie “Didn’t know better” or “Understand.” This coworker came to me and told me that their child would not be following several of my rules in the pamphlet after school on the first day.
My first question was, “Why?” I was then told the reason their child would not be following the rules, “They don’t like the rules.” Like it or not, my rules stand without a valid reason why they shouldn’t.
I explained to the mother, citing several examples where I would be willing to make adjustments, for valid reasons. The mother got mad and said, “You’ll be sorry,” then stormed off.
I thought, “What is this junior high?”
The first quarter was moving along, this coworker’s child had a “B+” in my class. I am suddenly called to the office for a meeting after school with my principal, with the coworker, and her husband about picking on their child. That is their claim of why their child’s grade is suffering. Wait, a “B+” is a good grade.
I grade with a rubrics allowing students to see what area they lost their points in on assignments. These parents bring in an assignment I downgrade a section on capitalization.
This is the same mistake that this child has repeatedly made the same error, has been spoken to about, been warned to make the corrections, and chooses not to fix the capitalization issue.
I explain that their child told me, they were not going to correct their capitalization.
These parents wanted me to let their child have a pass on capitalization.
I told them I couldn’t do that because of state guidelines. The coworker mom changed subjects, digressing into a rant about having the children write journal entries every day. The meeting spirals where both parents are calling me names, my principal does nothing about it; I walk out of the meeting.
They didn’t want to help their child’s education. They just wanted to be able to bully an “A” out of me.
The coworker pulled her child from my class, hiring a private teacher for her child.
I would think that would be the end of this nightmare parent, nope. She programmed spyware on my computer, leaking all of my confidential student files.
This coworker then began a phone campaign in the community to get me fired, telling everyone I leaked confidential student information.
She physically shoved me from behind in the hall one day, when my hands were full, then laughed. If that wasn’t enough she called the cops on me while I was at work, telling them I was intoxicated in front of my students. The police came and did a sobriety test in front of my students. This was the final straw of her bullying me.
I had already turned in my resignation. Not because of her nonsense, I had health reasons.
I decided to have a little fun.
I had figured out months before, she was a substance abuser. This was going to be to my advantage in my revenge plot against this wretch. She was also very predictable in her schedule; she did the same routines like clockwork every day.
She had an office at the back of the library. My classroom had a backdoor into the library; if the library was locked I could still get in there. The plan for revenge was writing itself.
I have always maintained connections to people, that know people, that know…well, the idea is drawn out; one of the connections was to the one thing she wanted and needed: substance abuse.
I didn’t want her cut off; I wanted the price raised, the dealer to act as if there was a shortage for some bogus reason. If the dealer’s profit margin was getting affected, they wouldn’t be game but raising the price solved that problem. The idea was to keep her on edge, never satisfied, ever. Once I had that accomplished, I moved to the next step.
I went to the pet shop, bought two dozen feeder crickets; released them into her office. I sprinkled itching powder on all her books and papers; knowing she would move them looking for the little noisemakers. I picked the thermostat lockbox in her office, then turned it up to 95 degrees. She was always wearing long sleeves to cover her track marks.
She shed her sleeves in the sweltering heat until someone could adjust her thermostat.
Somehow, it kept getting turned back up to 95 degrees. The next thing I did is diabolical, but it tipped the scale for people in the community to realize, she was an addict. I put “Buck Lure”, female concentrated deer urine, on pantyliners. Why pantyliners? Pantyliners have an absorbent side and an adhesive side both of which served my devious purpose. On the underside of her desk, I placed a liner, inside the file cabinet on the topmost underside, a liner.
I placed half a dozen liners in her office. In the final act, I painted the keyboard with a Q-tip with the deer urine.
She had looked all over, couldn’t figure out where the odor was coming from in her office.
She had to get her work done in her sweaty oven of an office. This made her fingertips moist, picking up the deer urine off the keyboard when she typed. The more she looked for the scent and the crickets, the more itching powder she came into contact with on her hands.
The hotter she became, the more reactive the powder. The more she scratched her skin, the more she spread the powder.
All of these things, had her walking around the school and town like a frazzled ball of nerves. She began walking around school with her track marks showing, itching, complaining about bugs, and compulsively smelling her fingers.
After two weeks, the whole town knew she was a strung-out mess.
I just revealed to everyone who she was under her fake facade.”
11. Karen, Let's See YOUR I.D. Too
“When I was in college I used to work for my local movie theatre.
The job was amazing most of the time. You had a lot of freedom from the managers if you did your job right.
On a busy night, this was the situation: I was working behind the bar.
We had a system where we would sell tickets and concessions at the same registers. Most of the time this would work just fine, but on a busy Saturday night, it would take a lot of time to take tickets orders, discuss seating in the theatre and get all the food and drinks.
This evening everything was running smoothly. It was a buddy night, but the team was well prepared and we had everything under control.
I was taking an order from a longtime customer (let’s call her Linda). Linda was a nice woman and we always had a nice chat with her. She was 25 and had a subscription at our theatre. This would mean it would show her picture on the app with her date of birth and a QR code.
This way we could see that the person was old enough to see the movie.
Linda was ordering some nachos and two beers. Now I know that Linda is well above the legal drinking age (in my county 18) and had already scanned her QR code (you would get points for free stuff when you bought drinks and food). I already knew her age was alright.
So no reason to ask for any form of ID.
So I’m here getting the order ready and when I say the total to Linda a lady behind her (let’s call her Karen for obvious reasons) starts yelling.
Karen: “You didn’t check her ID!”
Linda looks over her shoulder probably wondering why this woman is meddling and turnbacks to me: “Do you really need to see my ID?
I could grab it if you want to?”
So I’m here thinking: “Karen should shut up and mind her own business”. Me: “No need to, Linda. I know you’re older than 18 and it also says so on the app.”
Karen: “No, you need to check it! You need to check everyone that buys drinks!”
Me: “Miss, I already verified her age and…”
Karen: “NO!
Only a legal ID or passport is good to verify age!”
Sure, this is the case in a normal situation.
But when a customer has a subscription at our theatre they already have to verify their age and name with a legal ID. So we accept the app as a legal form of verification.
At this point, I’m already losing my patience. Why is Karen meddling in this situation when Linda is clearly over the age of 18?
Me: “Miss, thanks for bringing this to my attention but this woman is a loyal customer and we already know her age because…”
Karen: “NO! This is unacceptable and you should check her ID!”
I’m really starting to get annoyed and Linda is noticing as well.
Luckily, Linda is a chill woman and smiles at me while grabbing her ID.
Linda: “Here it is, all good right?”
Me: “Sorry about this and thanks for showing. It’s still not necessary though.”
Linda: “No problem at all and good luck with her,” she says while smiling and giving me a wink.
I finalize the purchase and get ready to enjoy serving Karen. Karen has a major attitude and the order takes ages.
She doesn’t like the seats and changes them a couple of times.
She also demands a student discount (which we don’t have on Saturdays and she is clearly older).
Finally, she orders her food and last but not least she orders a red wine.
This triggers me instantly.
I’m standing there with a big smile on my face like a kid in a candy store. You all see where this is going.
I grab the wine and put it on the counter.
Then I say with my most polite voice.
Me: “Can I see your ID, miss?”
Karen: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Well miss, as you pointed out to me I should check everyone for ID.”
Karen: “Well I’m obviously older than 18!”
Sure Karen wasn’t looking anywhere near 18. But she didn’t hit prime Karen age either. I would say she was early thirty’s, but with all that plaster on her face, she could pass for a 25-year-old.
Me: “Miss, the woman I asked before you was well over the age of 18. You insisted I follow the rules. If you don’t have your ID with you I can’t sell you the beverage.”
Karen: “Preposterous! I demand to speak to the manager!”
Me: “Sure, I will get him.”
Now the manager this evening was Bob. Bob hated types like Karen and I knew he would stand by my side.
So I go grab Bob and inform him of the whole situation. When I explained it all Bob smiled at me with a huge grin on his face.
Bob: “Let’s go have some fun.”
So Bob walks with me to the registers and Karen yelled the whole story. Bob listens carefully and then reminds her of the rules and she needs to have some ID or she won’t get her wine.
Karen is done with the situation, I could clearly tell. The previews already started so she grabs her wallet and pulls out a public transport card.
Karen: “Here you go! It states I’m old enough!”
Bob: “Sorry, miss. This isn’t a legal form of ID.”
Karen at this point is bright red and I thought she would burst out in anger.
Karen: “I DEMAND YOU SELL ME THIS WINE!
THIS IS RIDICULOUS AND I’M ABOUT TO MISS THE MOVIE!”
Bob: “Nothing I can do for you without ID miss. I should also note that when the previews are over (usually after 15 minutes after starting time) we can’t let you go inside the theatre because this will cause a disturbance for the other visitors.”
At this point, I wish I could have taken a picture of Karen’s face.
The utter face of defeat was amazing to see.
Karen: “Fine! Just keep the wine! I’m going to see the movie and then I’m never coming back here!”
Bob: “That’s a shame miss. That will be XXX please.”
After the whole incident, I got a compliment from Bob for sticking to the rules and for defeating a Karen in her own game.”
10. Cutting Onions Like An Engineer
“Back when I was in college, I worked at a very popular Chinese restaurant.
They often put me in a cashier role but decided I was better suited for a prep role for some reason or another.
Let me start off by saying the manager ABSOLUTELY hated me. He was a big dude with zero common sense (probably my bias) and just liked to boss people around.
On the day in question, he had me cutting tri-cut onions, which had to be measured perfectly, they had to be like 3cm thick.
As a studying engineer once, I had an eye for how big they needed to be, I was able to cut without measuring each one.
Well, my manager did NOT like that at all. After about 30 mins of cutting, he came back to see how I was doing and noticed I wasn’t measuring each one.
He threw a massive fit and told me I needed to measure them.
I quickly explained that I could estimate really easily the size, and it was more efficient for me not to measure. He told me that wasn’t possible, so I challenged him to a race.
Cut 3 onions and each cut had to be perfect. He agreed, and I, of course, beat him, since it took him an extra 5 seconds to measure each cut.
Upon my victory, he pulls me into the back hallway to yell at me, saying that it doesn’t matter if I’m faster, it’s not good enough.
It has to be done his way, or I won’t be there much longer.
Cue malicious compliance.
Being an engineer I have a whole slew of measuring devices. Calipers, micrometers, rulers, you name it. So I brought all those into work the next week on onion day.
I’m seriously sitting there cutting the onions, and measuring each individual one with a new tool, one with a ruler, the next with my calipers, the next with a micrometer, so on and so forth until my manager comes back.
“What the heck are you doing! You don’t need to do that!!” He yells at me the moment he sees what I’m doing.
“You told me to measure each cut. I wanted to be meticulous and make sure not to make a single mistake after you yelled at me last week.”
In a huff, he walks away to catch his breath and calls me into the hall later on.
“Look I don’t care how you cut them anymore. Just make sure they’re correct.”
So I gave him a thumbs-up and went back to cutting the onions like a normal person.
Don’t worry, I made sure all my random measurement tools were clean and sanitary before using them.”
Another User Comments:
“A REAL engineer would have built a contraption to guide the knife exactly 3 cm apart.
Although a real restaurant manager would have had one of those bladed grids you just shove the onion through.
Good win.” EriAnnB
9. Damage Their Car? They'll Destroy Yours
“When I was in high school, my first car was a cheap little Geo. I’d saved working my butt off at the neighborhood pizza joint.
Obviously, it was nothing special, but it was mine and I was proud of it.
I lived in a very affluent suburb in the Midwest at the time though, and a majority of my peers drove much nicer cars – either daddy’s BMW or a BMW daddy bought for them.
I was a junior at the time, and there were a handful of bullies (seniors) who decided that because I drove a dated, inexpensive car, I deserved to be subjected to constant ridicule and harassment.
I was constantly being called ‘poor’ and laughed at for driving ‘such a cheap piece of trash.’ In reality, my family was actually decently well off. My parents could’ve bought me a brand new Mercedes if they’d wanted, but they came from nothing and wanted me to earn my first car.
Let’s call the leader of this bullying group Tad. Tad was utterly obnoxious to almost everyone around him, but usually got away with it because he was A) attractive, B) a straight-A student, and C) a talented player on every sports team our high school offered.
The whole conflict started one day after school. I was in my little Geo, in the line of cars waiting to leave the parking lot. Tad was in front of me, in his Audi A4.
When we were nearing the parking lot exit, Tad stopped to lean out the window and chat with some of his friends. I had to work at the pizzeria that day and was in a hurry, so being impatient, I sped around him.
Tad must’ve interpreted my passing him as some sort of hostile affront to his ego, and sped up behind me.
After finally turning onto the main road, he stayed right on my bumper and followed me to work. When I got out of my car, he leaned out the window and called me some names. I ignored him and went into work.
When I got out of work 4 hours later, I found both of my mirrors broken.
I didn’t have proof, but I knew it was Tad. Luckily, my parents felt bad for me and paid for me to have them fixed that week.
Next week, however, came the straw that broke the camel’s back.
It was a Friday and I’d stayed late after school working on a history paper in the school library. I happened to get out right after the lacrosse team had finished up practice.
When I came out to the parking lot, I saw Tad standing next to my car. What was he doing? Taking a pee on the driver’s side door. Filled with rage, I ran after him but he managed to get to his car and peel out of the parking lot.
At home, feeling defeated as I washed his pee off my car, I decided revenge was in order.
I didn’t know how, yet, but I knew an opportunity would come. And it did.
Two weeks later, word had spread around the school that this senior named Doug was having a big party the coming weekend. Doug was incredibly popular, and I knew Tad would be there. I also happened to know Tad would be driving his Audi there. And I knew where Doug lived, and that most of the people, Tad included, would be staying the night.
I enrolled the help of my two closest friends, Ben, and Josh who both hated Tad just as much as I did, though for different reasons, and they were more than eager to lend their ‘help’ when I told them my scheme.
The night of the party, we waited until 4 AM when we knew the party would be dead and everyone would be sleeping. We showed up wearing all dark clothes and plastic gloves.
We found Tad’s car, and much to our amazement (and glee), he’d left it unlocked.
We opened the doors and quietly went to work, trying to keep from laughing too loudly.
First, I peed into the air vents. I got out, and Josh peed all over the leather driver’s seat. Then, it was Ben’s turn. Now, let me tell you, Ben is a disgusting human being.
He’s a loud, funny guy, all smiles and laughter, but he’s also just gross. Constantly belching and farting. And it always smells so, so rancid when he does. He’s the type of dude who takes pride in that.
Ben pulls down his pants, and whispers, ‘I wonder if he’ll be able to tell I had Chinese food,’ squats next to the car, and proceeds to take a poop into his gloved hand.
The smell is immediately overwhelming and horrifyingly gruesome. It’s so potent you can taste it. Josh and I gag right away, frantically pulling our shirts over our noses and retreating from Ben’s vicinity. Josh can’t take it, runs over to a tree, and pukes his guts out. Ben laughs and says, ‘Oh my god that is SICK, sorry!’ While we’re watching from a distance in both horror and amusement, Ben takes his warm gift and just starts smearing it everywhere.
All over the door handles, the steering wheel, the air vents, the radio knobs… He eventually starts gagging and coughing and retreats himself, but not before wiping himself with the lacrosse jersey Tad had left in the back seat. We couldn’t stop laughing on the walk back to Josh’s house.
The following Monday there were a lot of whispers going around the school. Here’s what I eventually learned happened:
The morning after the party, Tad discovered the nightmare in his Audi, in front of everyone else who was leaving.
He went into a rage, but apparently, almost everyone thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. When Tad’s parents discovered what happened to the car they’d purchased for their son, they also discovered Tad had been to a party and had been drinking.
I guess his parents were not cool with it – they took away his car for the rest of the year and Tad was told he had to ride the bus for the remainder of the year.
His parents eventually gave him the car back several months later, but no one wanted to ride in “The p********e” because of what happened, and because he never got the smell completely out.
Tad’s bullying surprisingly died down a bit after that. He didn’t mess with my car again.”
8. Getting A Company Hit With A Massive Fine Over A Severe Violation
And everything quickly went downhill thereafter.
“The company I worked for at the time no longer exists, so I don’t feel too bad about sharing this story.
This takes place in the mid-1990s, and I am the Sysadmin for a small tech company.
We did all sorts of things for clients large and small, but one of the more profitable areas was technical education. Think room after room of PCs for classes and training. Companies send us their people, we teach them databases, or email serving, mainframe access using terminal emulators, that sort of thing.
My immediate manager was an ok sort of guy but was always looking for ways to cut stuff from the budget to look better for his superiors. Things like saying, “Why do you need 4 Meg of RAM in the classroom PCs? You can get by with 2.” You get the idea.
Well. There was a new version of a well-known server operating system out of a company in the Pacific NW that was rapidly replacing the older Novel installations, and there was a great demand for training on this new OS.
Let’s call it “MT.”
Boss wants us to gear up to teach “MT” to the companies replacing their older systems. I say great, here are the costs involved with purchasing X copies of the new OS for the classroom PCs.
This email went over like a lead balloon. Email back from Boss says essentially, “No, just use one copy for all the systems. I have the CD-ROM in my office, come get it.” I reply that we will be in violation of the license agreement for the OS, and could face penalties.
Boss emails back, a little testy, to “Just do what I am telling you to do!”
So, I wander over to his office, and he hands me a hand-burned CD-ROM copy of the OS, and the license code on a piece of paper. Not good. Once I am back in my office, I email him again, reiterating that this is not a great idea, and could get the company in serious legal trouble.
He says to do it or lose my job. Alrighty then, CYA time. I archive the email chain and print off hard copies for safekeeping.
Some months go by, and classes are rolling in and out of the building every week. All seems quiet.
Then, due to a totally unrelated issue, the company gets audited. Auditors are everywhere looking for who knows what, but they eventually get to the training area.
They quickly see that we do not have license keys for the 30+ systems running the new “MT” operating system.
All breaks loose. VPs and CIOs start coming out of the woodwork like roaches.
I am called into a meeting with my Boss, and every Boss up the food chain to the CEO of the company. Rarefied atmosphere to be sure. The witch hunt begins. I am raked over the coals for putting the company in legal jeopardy, and what do I have to say for myself before I am terminated for cause?
“I was doing what I was ordered to do over my objections.” Etc.
I look over to my Boss, who has suddenly developed a bad case of Clintonian Memory Syndrome, saying “I have no memory of that. I would never authorize breaking the law.”
Exactly what I was expecting.
So, I pull out the file folder with the email hard copies and show the boardroom full of executives the conversation.
Boss gets red in the face and accuses me of forging the emails to deflect responsibility for this massive violation.
Never in his life has he seen something so underhanded, and surely the board can see he’s not responsible for me going off and pirating software for profit!
Silence for a moment, as everyone in the room stares holes into me.
I reach back into my bag, and pull out the CD-ROM and license code and ask if he wants it back?
Some points to consider: There was only one CD burner in the building, attached to Boss’ computer (they were still fairly expensive at the time)
Only one real copy of the “MT” operating system had been purchased by the company.
By the Boss.
Lastly, the sharpie label on the disc and the license key were written in Boss’ very distinctive handwriting. On his stationary. With his letterhead on it.
CIO looks irritated. Says I can leave. I go directly back to my office and post my resume on the job boards. Got a new job offer in two days.
The company was hit with MASSIVE fines. They never really recovered and went bankrupt the following year.
My old Boss? I went back to the area a few years later, and he was selling PCs at Best Buy.
No dishonor there, but a rather dramatic drop in pay, I presume.”
7. Go Bonkers When She Tries To Break Up With You? You Messed With The Wrong Chick
“This story of revenge is so fantastic, it deserves the “Karma Story-of-the-Year” award. Grab a seat, get comfortable, and prepare to hear the sweetest story of revenge I’ve ever experienced.
I saw someone for about three months then tried to break up with him, and he basically refused to accept the break up by ominously saying, “I’m not going anywhere.” When I pressed further for a breakup and to get him out of my life, he physically assaulted me, and I had him arrested. However, I didn’t testify against him because he apologized, and I didn’t want his life to be ruined by a conviction on his record.
After the assault, I said that I wanted to break up with him, and he didn’t take it well. I compromised by saying we could remain friends, but he wouldn’t leave me alone, texted and called constantly. When I blocked him, he burned new phone numbers and kept texting me non-stop. He also texted my friends non-stop, asking them why I was breaking up with him.
My friends had to block him. He would show up to my apartment uninvited and unannounced and knock on my door incessantly even after I asked him to stop. Sometimes he slept on the doorstep of my apartment (the entry door to my apartment is inside the apartment building). Other times, he would sleep in his car that he parked in the parking lot of my apartment building.
He stalked me by hanging around outside my apartment and tracking down other guys I started seeing, taking photos of their cars parked outside my apartment, and sending those photos to the person’s family and friends, saying that this person was stealing his girl.
When I tried to break up with him and told him to leave me alone, he told me I would “be sorry.” When I asked him exactly what he meant by that, he would just reply, “All I’m saying is that if you break up with me, you will be sorry.”
On several other occasions when I tried to break up with him, he told me he was going to call my place of employment and tell them I’m an addict, that I’m bipolar, and that I have a drinking problem. None of those things are true; I just wanted out of that toxic relationship more than ever.
Several times when he was at my apartment, he would refuse to leave my apartment when I asked him to leave.
Finally, after over one year of trying to get him out of my life, I had no choice but to get a restraining order against him. A couple of weeks later, he distributed several copies of a photograph of me in a gas station parking lot near where I live as a form of harassment and revenge.
Then a couple of weeks after that, he sent a letter to my place of employment and to my professional licensing board claiming that I am a dealer and addict.
Both institutions did tests on me, which was negative, and I continued about my life. I didn’t want to waste time, money, and energy on a defamation suit against him; I just wanted to move on.
A couple of months later, he violated the restraining order by sending me a friend request through social media. Under normal circumstances, I would not have pursued charges against him for violating the restraining order, but since he maliciously tried to ruin my life/career/livelihood by sending that defamatory letter to my employer and professional licensing board claiming that I’m a dealer, I had him arrested for violating the restraining order.
He subsequently was charged and convicted of a misdemeanor and is now on probation.
But it doesn’t end there, it gets better! Because of his misdemeanor conviction, his admission to a university was withdrawn.
But it doesn’t end there either! It gets even better than that!! Because he isn’t enrolled at a university, he lost his job because it was a work-study arrangement that was contingent on him being enrolled in school.
So, as the old saying goes, good things come in threes:
- Misdemeanor on record, 2) kicked out of university, 3) loss of job.
None of those things would’ve happened if he hadn’t sent those letters because I would not have had him arrested for violating the restraining order.
Revenge truly is a dish best served cold (I served him his dish about 2 months after he sent the defamatory letter).”
Another User Comments:
“A simple piece of advice for you that I have is, please don’t even consider that he is not serious about you. I had experienced this madness, and the results were devastating. I lost her because someone from her life came back after 5 years and did something unimaginable. In 10 minutes, it’s my birthday, but I know she is not here with a cake in her hand.
Take precautions before it’s too late. You might have a soft spot in your heart for him, but it’s not worth it.” Somil Jain
6. Just Want Me Out Of The Company? I'll Pull A Little Something First
“This was eons ago but thinking about it still brings me joy.
I was working for a great company and had earned a good reputation among my peers, manager, and across all departments. I liked my job.
As many companies will do, we had a buy-out followed by a change of leadership at the senior level, but I had gone through big changes before and was used to bending with the wind.
Not this time though. This time would be different.
Our new VP was an odd one to read. He could be as weak as a sick puppy one day and a raging pitbull the next. The change was so drastic that even his direct reports would call his administrative assistant in the morning to ask what creature he had morphed into during the night.
I think he had mental or substance abuse issues but that’s just my opinion.
The new VP canned my boss and replaced him with a real Goober of an idiot and it didn’t take long to see why. My new boss was a “yes man” and he had a new assignment. Me.
I was never good at pretending respect and I guess it showed. I wasn’t disrespectful to the VP or to my new boss but I didn’t stand in line to kiss their butt or laugh at their juvenile jokes and I’m sure they noticed.
I simply remained professional and courteous but it didn’t take long to see that I had been lit up by the manic VP. He started riding me and pushing my boss to do the same.
My boss was directed to start performance discussions with me. I’ll shorten the details by saying the performance discussions were a complete cluster. I knew more about creating PIP’s than he did.
I was given a vague list of non-specific goals and a deadline.
I asked for the target numbers and was told we will let you know in 90 days if you reached them. I’m not making that up. There was no doubt they were beginning the documentation process to root me out. I had 11 years of spotless service and they wanted a paper trail.
My boss was very close to being illiterate, especially when it came to using his office PC.
Even while hobbling me with threats and vague goals he would frequently ask me to proof his memos and work on his spreadsheets, and he was almost obsessed with his precious budget spreadsheets because the templates came from his VP and he was terrified of screwing up and having to ask for another.
I know this because he stated it several times during the yearly budget prep.
I also had the thrill of watching him repeatedly click the “save” button after each change, possibly because he thought it would save better or that clicking save-save-save-save-save-save-save-save would make the text darker.
He had backups, but being the paranoid Goober that he was, did not trust IT and decided to keep confidential files on his local drive instead of the network. He feared if they were on the network someone would intentionally alter one and make him look like an idiot in the meeting.
I don’t know how he slept at night. He trusted no one and the only reason he asked me to help was that I was across the hall and could do what he needed. He didn’t fully trust me either and usually watched over my shoulder even though he never really understood what I was doing.
The date for my non-specific review follow-up was closing in and tensions were high.
My boss and VP were now looking at me with disgust and I could almost hear them thinking, “Why can’t you just die or leave?” The feeling was mutual.
We met and the PIP was never reviewed. It was a farce anyway since my new goals had never been discussed or put in writing. However, instead of discussing performance, my boss informed me that my position had been re-classed and I could reapply and be rejected or take a package.
Obviously, I took the package.
Revenge? A few days before the meeting I put passwords on all of his precious files. There are ways to quickly break MS Office PW’s but I won’t get into that.
The fact is he didn’t even know how to add a PW so he sure as heck had no idea how to remove or break one, and since his current files were stored on the local drive, the only option would have been to pull an outdated one from email or ask his boss for help with a new template.
Why would I stoop to revenge after receiving a package? I worked my butt off for 11 years, bled the company color, volunteered for community projects, painted our office during the weekend to save the company coin, and responded to false smoke alarms in the middle of the night to meet fire trucks.
I didn’t get paid for that and I didn’t ask for anything.
I did it because I was proud of the company and the people I worked with – until a jerk with an MBA and personality or issue arrived. He destroyed several careers before being canned less than a year later just as I was starting over.”
5. Lead Me On? I'll Tell All The Other Girls
“I was talking to this guy I really liked, but he was playing the worst games.
I don’t have time or patience to deal with guys who play games, but this guy tricked me. I’m gonna flat out say his name in the hopes that he finds this, hi Jeff.
Anyway, so we started talking normally, having nice conversations, getting to know each other, etc. I felt confident, he complimented me a lot and seemed really sweet at first. But then he started to say things that really made me upset. He’d talk about being depressed and about wanting to give himself tattoos, etc. It started to really stress me out because I got this instinct of “I need to help this guy in any way I can.”
Let me just mention this is high school. I know those relationships don’t last but it was junior year and I really wanted to have a partner, and I really liked this guy.
This became a daily thing, he’d tell me about how depressed he was, and I’d try to talk him off the ledge.
Anyone who’s talked someone out of taking their own life knows how absolutely draining it is, but all you want to do is help them.
Imagine that every day for two months. But again, I really liked him and wanted things to work out. I also really didn’t want him to die. So I did my best to help. Well after about two months, I decided to tell him straight up that I liked him. What could go wrong? A lot, apparently.
He told me his heart was dead and that he couldn’t feel anything, that he didn’t feel emotions, and that he didn’t want to hurt me.
I thought he was letting me go, so I stopped talking to him. But then he sent me a message asking if we were okay, if I was mad at him. Then I assumed he just wanted to be my friend, and I was totally okay with that. I told him everything was fine and that I was okay.
We started to talk again.
Fast forward another month.
He’s been flirting, calling me cute, saying I was hot, etc. I started to think he liked me, and deep down I still liked him. So I gave it another shot and asked if he liked me like that. The same thing, my heart is dead, I don’t have feelings, blah blah blah. Back to this negative talk. I felt awful and confused, I didn’t understand what was happening, what was I doing wrong?
It became so stressful that I was crying myself to sleep thinking that I was the reason this boy was depressed. I thought I was the cause of all his pain, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.
So this is where poop hit the fan and I realized how stupid I was. One night, he Snapchats me and sends me a picture from his waist to his feet in his bathroom.
I didn’t think anything of it so I just sent some random emoji. Then the snap chats got worse; next, he was unbuttoning his pants, then pulling them down slightly, then his boxers were out. I flipped out and just told him to stop before the next one could come in.
He played it cool and said something like “haha kidding.” That’s all he wanted?
To make love?
So then I go to his private social media page that he had just let me follow a few days before and I start to scroll down and guess what I find? He had taken screenshots of his DMs with 4 other girls where he made fun of them with his friends.
These girls didn’t even know! I was infuriated, and I didn’t want to be next on his list, so this is where I got petty.
I took screenshots of all of his posts and one by one, sent them to every girl he posted about. The idiot left their names on the top of the page. To say the least, these girls we just as angry as me and went OFF on him. Then I get some messages from him asking why I did that, telling me I ruined his life, etc.
He was so mad, and I sat there smug as heck watching him cry about it. Then I told some of my friends about it and THEY went off on him. He was having a fit. It felt so good.
I found out later that his whole depression act was how he would “pick up” girls. He would trick them into thinking he needed help, then he’d try to get in their pants.
None of the girls fell for it, so he’d make fun of them on social media to save his pride and ego.
Finally, I told him that if he ever mentioned anything related to mental health to me again, I’d call the school and have them put him through with therapy, parent meetings, and all the other stuff they do when a student isn’t well.
I knew it was cause I went through it too. It felt good to be petty.”
4. Two Words: Roach Burger
Mmm, extra protein…
“I was working a very demanding job. We had 3 shifts and they were staggered to overlap by 3 to 4 hours to increase production. I worked the third shift from 7 pm to 7 am and had to bring my lunch because we weren’t near anything open then except for a gas station.
A few of us noticed our lunches were being eaten. Typically, it was anything in a bag from a restaurant or a Tupperware container.
Often all the lunches were pilfered and dessert or snack items were taken. We spoke to management about it but they were hesitant to do anything. They suggested it was one of us doing it to our fellow shift members.
One day, my entire lunch, drinks, everything was taken.
I had to buy candy bars and soda to eat, and a co-worker shared some of his remaining lunch with me.
So basically 12 hours of very physical work on candy and a bit of rice.
I was absolutely furious. I knew it wasn’t my shift members and they were just as angry as I was.
I told them that I was going to set a trap and we would get some vengeance on the person who had been stealing our food.
I stopped by McDonald’s on the way to work the next few days and ordered a quarter pounder with the cheese on the side.
I had gathered some palmetto bugs (giant flying roaches, about 2 inches long) and put two on the burger, and placed the cheese on the top. I then labeled the bag and put it in the fridge. I was careful to throw it away each day and replace it with a new one.
I really, REALLY wanted to burn this jerk.
On day 3, I came down to the lunchroom and the bag was in the garbage. I was just giddy thinking of what happened.
I dug through the trash and found the bag, the box from the burger, and the burger with a few big bites out of it. Our entire shift was laughing our butts off all night.
In the morning, I was told to stick around and meet with the plant manager. I was confused and scared, but I technically did nothing wrong.
I get sent into his office and here is a second shift employee, recently hired, and the brother of a long-time employee.
I’m told how he ate some food and a person had placed roaches on it. So I was the bad guy.
I explained that I did, in fact, have a burger with roaches on it, but that’s my business. He shouldn’t have been stealing food, he countered by saying that he thought it was his. I pulled the bag out of my backpack. With my name on each side. He wanted to receive an apology and be excused from work for his inconvenience.
The manager said he would discuss it further with me and asked him to leave.
He said he knew I had set a trap, I didn’t respond.
He started laughing and said he would give him a written warning for stealing food. But I was told not to put any roach food in the fridge from that day forward.
I told EVERYONE I talked to that he was the one stealing food. His brother tried to make me the bad guy for baiting him with a roach burger, but the damage was done.
He was being trash-talked and confronted all week. Finally, he resigned.
I still get a good laugh thinking about him biting into the burger and getting juicy roach guts in his mouth.”
3. Shatter My Ego? I'll Shatter Yours
“I took indirect revenge on a girl who shattered my ego and ridiculed me as a young teen. This is a story about my personal transformation and perceptions of people.
In 6th grade, I was a bright student in advanced classes. I was the quintessential nerd kid- I didn’t like sports, spent most of my free time in my room messing with computers. In my day, that was what was called a ‘nerd’- in case you are offended by labels. I personally was never offended by being classified as in the smart camp. In any case, in the grips of puberty, my heart ached for the love and gentle touch of a woman (girl).
I never discussed this with anyone. It wasn’t just lust, it was a longing for an emotional connection with someone- a mutual feeling of love.
One day, I was sitting in class reading a novel (advanced English, where we were required to read novels and write essays) and the teacher stepped away for a few moments so the kids start chatting around. The question being asked of everyone, was ‘who do you like?’- as in, who do you have a crush on.
I remained silent and didn’t look up- I kept reading because I wasn’t skilled socially and would generally stay quiet in these kinds of conversations. The truth was, the girl that I was crushing on sat several seats in front of me, in the front row of that class.
Every day that I would see her, my heart would beat hard in my chest and I would have to look away- she was so beautiful to me.
She haunted my thoughts when I was not at school, too. This was another reason for me to stay silent- she was considered in the ‘popular’ camp, and everyone knew her name at that school. Everyone knew who she was. She was one of the kids engaged in this chatty gossip. I didn’t look up- stayed nose pinned to my book, though I was listening hard to what she might say- struggling intently to sift through the words of all the kids spoken to only hear hers.
Someone who I thought was my friend that I could confide in, turned to me because I was quiet and said ‘Hey Jeremy- who do you like?’
I probably looked flustered and shook my head and said ‘nobody’ and kept my eyes on the page.
‘Come on, you have to like someone…who is it?’
I looked around nervously- obviously hiding something. ‘No one.’ I said again.
‘Come on…I know you have to like someone.’
I looked at him and took a deep breath, and looked around at all the kids, who weren’t paying any attention to me. ‘Promise you won’t tell?’
The boy lit up surprised and said ‘I won’t! I promise! Who is it?’
I beckoned him to lean closer so I could whisper, ‘Brandy.’
‘WHO?’ he said loudly.
‘SHHHHH!’ I said and started to turn back away-
‘Who?’ he whispered.
‘Brandy Parrett.’ I cautiously pointed and then turned back to my book and was quiet.
‘Her?’ he said quietly, pointing towards the head of the class.
‘SHHHHHH! Yeah….shhhh!’
‘HEY GUYS!’ he said loudly, so everyone could hear.
My b***d pressure dropped- he wasn’t going to…’GUESS WHO JEREMY LIKES!’ OMG!
ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO….YOU’RE NOT….’HE LIKES BRANDY’ and pointed straight at her. I died in my seat- I had a heart attack. I shrank. All the kids started laughing- her most of all.
It was so hilarious to her, that someone like me could ever think that a girl like her would be interested in such a….nerd. I remember the look on her face- it stabbed me in the heart- it was so funny to her.
When the bell rang, I was first to leave. I was ready to get out of there, as fast as I could, and never wanted to return to school again- but I did, and never really talked to anyone after that. I was so betrayed by this person who I thought I could trust. I guess I was foolish, but I never imagined a person would do that.
I moved a lot. I have been to at least 4 elementary schools, 2 middle schools, and 4 high schools.
So it was no surprise that I moved away to another school district that summer- and I was glad. I thought about it and realized that this was a new beginning for me- no one would know me at the new school- the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could be anyone I wanted to be.
And so I started a concentrated effort to attract girls- instead of being the butt of their jokes.
I grew to my full height in that one summer- I am just about 6 feet tall. This is from drinking gallons of milk and lifting weights and exercising and drinking raw eggs like Rocky (I tried this, but it was horrible- don’t do this). I started to grow my hair long, and a friend of mine pierced my ear (this was the early 80’s)- I started to appreciate and listen to bands like Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and Aerosmith.
I changed the clothes I would wear- I changed the entire perception that people had of me. All of this led to an incredible set of things that happened to me at that time in my life and forever after- not just losing my virginity but much more than that- tales you would find hard to believe- but I digress.
At my new school, I was popular.
I became a member of the ‘bad kids’ and this did wonders for me, socially.
I liked it. A lot. I liked girls even more, and I was getting attention from my dream girls, now. Not just one, but very many. I did it, and I was very proud of my perceptual transformation. Inside, I was still the same but people wanted to be my friend, now.
Girls wanted to go out with me. ME! I got love notes sent to me, and all the things that go along with that. Girls crushed on me, now- very spectacularly, and I was so happy about it.
In 9th grade, all the middle schools around funneled into one high school- and so it was that I chanced meeting Brandy, again. Now, I towered over her- I towered over most kids- and I had a reputation as being a very ‘bad’ kid.
And I was- but mainly because I had a deep disrespect for authority- not out of being a bully or anything like that. By this point, I had realized that adults were usually not as smart as they pretended to be and they had little to no control over me, at all.
In any case, on the first day of school, while standing at my locker, trying to get acquainted with my lock’s combination and such, I was approached by a girl that I didn’t know.
‘Are you Jeremy?’ she said, and I looked at her, surprised. ‘Um…yeah…?’ I continued studying my locker and its contents.
‘Do you remember…. Brandy?’ and she pointed, down the hall to a girl standing there still while all the other kids walked in different directions going somewhere, and she was looking at me and smiling and waving, sheepishly- nervously.
I looked at her, and the feeling of my humiliation from her all came back in a flood of emotions- mostly, anger.
When I looked at her, I no longer felt the way I did, in 6th grade. I now saw flaws in her that I had never noticed before, and she was no longer attractive to me, though she was the same girl- I felt absolutely no longing, whatsoever.
I squinted my eyes at her down the hall, not like it was hard to see, but that look I sometimes get that makes people cringe when I am angry.
I said, ‘Yeah. I remember her,’ and turned back to my locker.
‘Well, she wants to know if you would maybe like to see her romantically.’
I glanced back, eyes still squinting and she was still standing there- she started to look crestfallen and stopped waving. I made sure she saw me clear as day- -saw the words on my lips from down the hall as I SLAMMED my locker shut and said, ‘HECK NO’ not to her friend – but to her, down the hall.
I turned and walked away, without looking back.
I didn’t look for her or see her specifically, but I could feel her eyes on me, as school ended and she was in the crowds getting on the buses all lined up to take us home. I saw her friend in the crowd, looking at me, out of the corner of my eye. That year, I never noticed her, again -never saw her.
Her popularity from middle school did not follow her into high school and she faded into obscurity.
Hardly anyone knew her name, anymore.”
2. The Dude Is Gonna Love This Burger...
“Please don’t judge me.
Quite a few years ago, my best friend had landed a really sweet apartment off a Craigslist deal. It was in the neighborhood that we normally haunted with our favorite bars, restaurants, and shops and within walking distance of downtown where we both worked. It was a bit beyond either of our individual means in terms of expense, but he convinced me to pay an equal share and sleep on the couch.
It was a fair deal because the place was exceptionally nice.
There was a third roommate that neither of us knew beforehand. He had the spot before either of us got there, so everything was in his name. Rent, utilities, everything. The deal was we paid him money for our share, and he wrote checks or whatever to pay the bills. We were always on time and never short by even a penny.
It went well for about a month. Then we started noticing things missing. Nothing major or anything like that. But if one of us put a drink in the refrigerator, it would invariably be gone by the time we woke up in the morning. At first, we each assumed the other was drinking it which wasn’t a problem but annoying nonetheless. As we began to discuss it, we realized that the other roommate was helping himself to our drinks without asking.
We didn’t know him before the Craigslist assisted arrangement we found ourselves in. We were irritated, to say the least.
Then it started happening with our food. Not just leftovers from work or prepared food we’d cooked or brought home but full, unopened items we’d bought from the grocery store would go missing. We’d find the empty packages in the trash can. We were getting furious.
We stopped buying groceries and started eating all of our meals at work or going out. This still sometimes led to bringing home leftovers and storing them in the fridge. They would inevitably disappear 100% of the time.
Keep in mind that this guy barely even spoke to us. He kept opposite hours from our schedule and would only see us in passing. When he did see us he would make quick small talk.
He always kept it as brief as possible and disappeared to his room or left the house altogether.
Then one day, the water got cut off. We had paid him the full amount of the utility bill, even covering some of his share, but the house was bone dry. No toilets, showers, or sinks. He didn’t show up when we were there for the entire week we went without water.
We bought a garden hose and stole water from the neighbors’ outdoor faucet to fill the toilet tank, so we could flush and shower outside by hose with cold water only.
Needless to say, we were beyond mad. Then one night, still without water, we bought some drinks and ordered a pizza. We finished neither the drinks nor the pizza before we went to sleep as we both had to work in the morning.
When we got home from work, all of our pizza and drinks were gone.
Now we had to get him. We went to the McDonald’s down the street and ordered a Big Mac. One of us took one bite out of it to clearly indicate that it didn’t belong to him. I then took off the top bun and wiped it deep in my butt crack.
I hadn’t just pooped or anything, but living without water that I’d paid for and only showering sporadically in the summertime in the restaurant business, I’m quite certain I transmitted some viciously unpleasant funk to that bun. I then lifted the pickles and spat directly onto the patty.
We then replaced the soiled top bun and returned the Big Mac to its original packaging and placed it in the refrigerator.
We waited. And waited. Not a word was spoken between us or to anyone else about what we had done.
After a few days, we came home and the Big Mac was gone with the packaging in the trash can. We confirmed with each other that neither of us had thrown it away and reached the only logical conclusion. After that, we regularly referred to our other roommate as the Hamburgler and had great fun with the McDonaldland characters’ trademark expression, “Robble robble” as well as the McDonald’s jingle, “Ba da da da da… I’m loving it.””
1. Wrongfully Accuse Me Of Releasing Your Personal Photos? I Actually Will
“Some chick I barely even knew online got it in her head that I shared her naughty pictures with people in a community we were both in and some moderator not only banned me but literally deleted my entire account from existence. He defended her lying honor, and then she bragged about how much influence she had with the website’s staff to get me banned.
I literally didn’t even have the naughty pictures until someone leaked them to everyone.
I’m sure the person who leaked them was some other dude she was with who was also in the community and had just broken up with her because she was insane, but he was my friend so it must have been me that did it – in her mind.
So here I am, the equivalent of being banned from even looking at Reddit, the place I spent every day posting on the forums and chatting in the chatroom.
I even got banned by proxy to the sister community simply because she was so mad. I’m treated like a leper by all these moderators, I can’t talk, I can’t do anything.
So I’m sitting here with these naughty pictures thinking, well, I might as well share them if I’m in trouble for having shared them without the joy of actually doing it…
So I made a MySpace profile. Her URL was like dumbgurl19 or something so I made mine durnbgurl19, note the ‘m’ and ‘rn’ difference.
She never did. Neither did her family, her very religious aunts, her cousins both male and female I tried to seduce, everyone she ever knew or cared about. None of them could see the difference. I recreated every last inch of her profile down to the last picture and sent everyone a friend request stating I somehow lost my friend list and to re-add me.
Once they all did I sent them all a PM with a very friendly innocent title and embedded all of her naughty pictures directly in the message.
Last I knew she was still convinced I “hacked” into her MySpace.
So many disgusting replies. So much confusion. Cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, friends… Family friends. The more religious ones literally disowned her and refused anything to do with her.
But did I stop there? This was back in the day. Back when there was one force you didn’t mess with.
I posted them to 4chan with her cell number and told them “my” name and where to call or text for more.
Repeatedly for days as soon as it got bumped off the page. She had to change her number. They got her new number, too.
She had to turn her phone off.
And one last thing, just to prove my point. I turned her image into 100-pixel squares and converted them into icons for MSN messenger. Whenever she tried to join the group chats she got met with a wall of custom smilies that combined into filling the entire chatroom with her body, and I had it on macro so the instant she ever joined, I posted it.”
