People Justify Their Fulfilling Passive-Aggressive Revenge Stories
42. We Don't Reserve Seats Here
“We are in a concert hall for some concert. I arrive early and grab a prime seat. This elderly woman comes over and grabs a seat 6-7 seats from me. The hall fills up.
The woman leaves to go to the washroom.
This dude grabs her seat.
She comes back and protests, but he would not listen. People complain, but he is not going to budge. His argument: ‘Seats can not be reserved here.’
I eye signal to the dude to come to take over my prime seat. I grab my stuff and pretend to be on my way out missing the concert entirely. The lady also thinks I am leaving and everyone will have a seat and be happy.
He quickly starts rushing to my place. The lady sits in the place he vacated.
Oops. I changed my mind. I quickly sit down and enjoy the concert.”
41. I'm Standing My Ground, No Matter What
“This happened while I was still married to my second ex and living in New Hampshire. We lived on top of a hill we called ‘Heck’s Hill’ and for many years, ours was the only house within several miles.
A builder in town, known for his rude arrogance, bought a huge parcel of land behind and beside us.
He intended to build a road around us, ending in a cul de sac to the right of our hill, where he would build eight homes.
Since the road would go up the left side and wind around our property in the back before continuing to the cul de sac, the builder claimed an easement for some of our lands for a cut, down to where he would put his road.
Otherwise, he would have to curve his road more to go around the hill and it would cost him more.
We were told this would take about 150′ from the back of our property to allow for the necessary slope because the road would be cut into the hill with a 25′ drop.
Our home was totally surrounded by woods and most of the trees were old, huge, and established. Just inside the tree line, was a rock and stone wall, which went almost entirely around our home.
In the back, the stone wall was only a few feet from our in-ground pool.
In the State of New Hampshire, it was against the law to destroy or remove, an existing stone or rock wall. I think rock walls were deemed to be historical.
Anyway, on the day the bulldozer and other machinery arrived to make the cut, the bulldozer operator came to the house to let me know he would start cutting trees in an hour and if we had a pet, to make sure it was kept indoors.
When they left, curious me went out to the back of our property where they had placed orange ribbons around the trees that were to be bulldozed. Two of the largest trees were within a foot, or so, of the rock and stone wall — only a few feet from the pool.
Horrified, I called the builder on his cell phone and told him that was NOT what we had agreed on when we spoke with the Planning Board — not even close.
I told him, per our agreement, he would have to move his road further out, because he was NOT going to make the cut that closes to the stone and rock wall.
(By taking out the marked trees, it was obvious he was planning to take part in the stone wall, too).
He said something obnoxious like, ‘Plans change. The additional feet of moving the road further out would make it cost-prohibitive.
Get over it, lady. The road is going in where I say it’s going in.’
I told him we were going to put it back in front of the Town Planning Board and let them decide. We would leave it to them to determine because there was no way my husband and I would allow the builder to do it this way.
He said the Planning Board wasn’t going to be meeting for another three weeks and he didn’t have time for stuff like this from me — he had a job to do and the equipment was already there, and then he hung up on me.
Now I was annoyed. I went inside, got a rifle, loaded it, and planted myself on the rock and stone wall behind the pool, and waited.
When the drivers came back, I told them to get off of our property or I would shoot. They complained and I told them to go call their arrogant bully of an employer and tell him I was going to sit there until the Planning Board met and I didn’t care how long it took.
It was said with all the bravado I could muster. Oh boy, I thought. The police will be here any minute and I’m going to be in so much trouble…
Okay, the short answer is, no police came and The Planning Board put an immediate hold on the whole project until they could convene and review both sides of the agreement, which would be in two days.
They heard both sides and the arrogant SOB was told he had to move his frigging road!
Satisfying… oh yes, so very satisfying”
40. No Surprise Visitors Allowed
“When I moved in with my partner, everything was great. We had each other’s perpetual company, space for ourselves, and best of all: isolation and freedom.
After a few months, we started getting surprised visits from her parents. They would wake us up by pounding on the door, or sometimes even barge in.
Sometimes it was just her mother and father, other times they brought their 5-year-old daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with my partner’s sister and even her parents. But these visits were unexpected, untimely, and were happening at an increasing rate. It was obnoxious when we had plans or weren’t feeling like socializing.
That’s when I had an idea: beat them at their own game.
Bright and early one morning, I’m talking 4:30 am on a weekday, my girl and I picked up our loudest, most obnoxious friend, and ventured over to her parent’s place. I’m sure you can guess what we did, we barged in, shouting ‘wake up!’, forcing them out of bed. We proceeded to demand they make us breakfast and spent hours interrupting their morning routines.
Pleased with ourselves, we left around 10 am and went on with our day.
The visits from them started happening less and less after that day. Today, they notify us if they’re coming over, which is exactly what we wanted the whole time. Why they started doing it in the first place, I’m not sure. In the end, I feel we delivered a powerful statement ironically teaching parents manners.”
39. Racist Patient Got Shamed
“I was a receptionist in a doctor’s office (OBGYN) in California in 2002, less than 1 year after 9/11.
A woman calls in to make an appointment for her yearly physical exam, and she wants the soonest available appointment.
Me: (Searches schedule for a bit to find a slot) Well, the first availability I have is with Dr. Tukenmez this Thursday, actually, so we could get you in this week!
Patient: Oh, um, Tukenmez? Do you have any appointments with any other doctors?
Me: Well, the only appointments this week are with Dr. Tukenmez, the other MDs are booked out for about a month (Dr. Tukenmez was new to the practice so she didn’t have a lot of established patients yet, thus her earlier availability)
Patient: Well… I just… I would rather have another doctor.
Because, you know, I’m from NYC (code for ‘I don’t want a doctor with a middle eastern sounding name because I’m afraid they’re all t********s and I get a special privilege to be racist because I’m from NYC, even though I was living in CA when 9/11 happened’).
Me: What a coincidence! Dr. Tukenmez is from NYC too, she was born and raised there. And actually, she’s an American citizen, and her family is Turkish-American; she’s not Iraqi or Afghani or Saudi…
Patient: Well… that doesn’t really matter… so I guess… when is your soonest appointment with another doctor? Because like I said, I’m from NYC.
Me: (at this point super triggered by her racism) Well, we have an opening in 4 weeks with Dr. Goldman. He’s Jewish though. Do you have a problem with Jews, too?
Woman: (pause)… um, no, that will be fine.
Me: Ok, he has an appointment on X day at 2 pm.
Woman: (sounding chastened) Ok. I’ll take that one. Thank you.
It felt incredibly satisfying to say that. I know it was unprofessional. But I hope she felt ashamed.”
38. I Helped An Old Lady Deal With "Stray Dogs"
“A few days ago, I boarded the Metro (Subway System of New Delhi, India) at Rajiv Chowk. If you are a Delhiite, you’d be familiar with the ‘this-is-Sparta-esque’ rush at Rajiv Chowk. I barely had enough floor to place both my feet on in the metro.
In front of me, stood this old lady. She must have easily been seventy. Poor thing. It was a mystery how she planned to not get crushed under the sea of people that permeated every possible inch of space inside the train.
There was also a group of 4 boys who were standing very close to us. Well dressed, typical south Delhi brats. They were talking loudly among themselves (in fake accent). Spoiled rascals.
Suddenly, one of them turned towards the old lady and said in a cranky voice, ‘Amma, zara tameez se khadi ho, idhar jagah nahi ho rahi hai (Granny, stand properly. I ain’t getting enough space to stand because of you).’
The poor lady looked around helplessly. If she had even an inch of space to move, she would have done it. But there wasn’t any. She must have been so uncomfortable. But these brats didn’t seem to understand that. Entitled jerks.
After a couple of minutes, the same boy again reared his ugly head, ‘Amma, sunta nahi kya? Behri ho? (Granny, are you deaf?)’
Hearing this, a few other passengers got angry and chided the boy. He became silent for a while. But it was clear, that he was not going to take this insult lightly.
Sure enough, he soon attacked with a different approach.
He started talking loudly to his friends, passing comments like, ‘Pata nahi kaha se aa jaate hain ganwar buddhe. Marne ko khade hai, or chale hain metro me travel karne.
Senior citizens ko to Metro se ban kar dena chahiye. Kahi bheed me kuchal ke mar gaye to aafat aa jayegi. (Stupid old windbags. God knows why they are allowed inside Metro. They are almost on their deathbed. Senior citizens should be banned from Metro. In case of a stampede, they will be the first ones to die).’
He directed all these comments towards his friends, but it was clear that he meant the old lady to hear all this.
With each comment, his friends would guffaw, and loudly agree with him. The poor old lady couldn’t look up due to embarrassment. Other people standing around us also felt bad, but they couldn’t do anything.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I took out my phone and pretended to dial a number. I pretended that the call was getting connected, and once the other side picked up, I began talking loudly on the phone, at the top of my voice –
‘Hello, am I talking to Rajiv Chowk Control Room? Sir, me Hauz Khas ki 12:15 wali metro me hun. Sir, hamari metro me chaar kutte ghus gaye hain. (Hello, am I talking to Rajiv Chowk Control Room? Sir, I’m traveling by the 12:15 metro towards Hauz Khas station. Sir, 4 dogs have somehow entered our metro.)’
(pause)
‘Nahi sir, kisi passenger ke saath nahi hain, gali ke aawara kutte lag rahe hain.
(No sir, they don’t belong to any passenger. It seems that they are stray dogs.)’
(pause)
‘Sir, mujhe kya pata kahan se ghuse. Lekin badi problem kar rakhi hai inhone. (Sir, I have no idea how they got in, but now they are causing a huge commotion.)’
(pause)
‘Haan sir, badi zor zor se bhaunk rahe hain, saare passengers ko bohot pareshaani ho rahi hai.
(Yes sir, they are barking very loudly, disturbing all the passengers.)’
(pause)
‘Nahi sir ek saath nahi. Pehle ek ne bhaunkna shuru kiya. Fir baaki teeno uski aawaaz me aawaz milane lage. Aapko to pata hi hai kutto ki aadat. (No sir, they didn’t start barking together. First, one of them started barking, then the rest of the dogs joined him. You know how dogs like to match pitch.)’
(pause)
‘Haan sir, aap agle station pe please kisi ko bhej kar in kutto ko metro se utarwa dijiye (Yes sir, please make sure to send someone to get these dogs off at next station.)’
(pause)
‘Ok! Thank you, sir.’
Almost half the compartment heard my fictitious phone conversation. And they were all laughing, looking at me appreciatively.
As for the rowdy privileged jerks, the look on their faces was priceless.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I helped an old lady.”
37. I Made The Body-Shamer Uncomforable
“Like most teenage girls, I was nervous to wear a bikini in public. Unlike most teenage girls, I also had (and have) psoriasis. However, when I went camping with my family I decided to throw caution to the wind and ‘dare’ to wear a two-piece.
Well. I was having so much fun swimming and skipping rocks across the river that I had forgotten all about my skin when a woman who was a stranger to me approached and, pointing at my spots, said with real curiosity, ‘What happened? The chiggers get ya?’ I was speechless for a moment, utterly shocked that a stranger would feel comfortable commenting on my body.
Then, I extended my hand for her to shake, and when she took it I said, deadpan, ‘No, I have leprosy’.”
36. Steal My Soda? Get Ready For A Blast
“I used to drink a lot of diet soda but the machines at work only had one brand (disgusting!) so I kept a 12-pack of cans in my desk. Each morning, I’d go put one in the shared fridge and when I went to get it, I’d replace it with another.
Always a chilled DC in the fridge.
And then one disappeared. Hmnn.
Maybe someone just thought it was the same unclaimed DC in there all day, so they took it because it was abandoned. No big. I replaced it.
It disappeared again. The plot thickens. Maybe they thought it was theirs? I replaced it but marked a big red X across the top in a whiteboard marker.
It disappeared too. This was theft! Outright, bold, shameless theft! I was angrier than I probably should be over a soda, but they were mine! And I had to drink it warm now!
So, I replaced it again. New diet soda in the fridge. But this time, I shook it up. I mean, like a paint can at Home Depot I shook it up. Then I had to go to a meeting.
When I walked by the fridge again, there were a very satisfying dark brown stain about three feet across on the carpet in the hallway. SCORE!”
35. Grandma Gets Proper Etiquette Lessons
“At her dinner party, along with a delicious meal, my friend offered a variety of beverages, including a regular and light beer, a red and white wine, a popular cola, iced tea, and water.
When she asked a male guest what he would like to drink, he asked for a beer. She asked if he would prefer brand X or brand Y light. He asked, ‘don’t you have brand z?’ No. Sorry.
So he asked for cola P. She had cola C. He settled for the Y light, then loudly complained to his wife that they should have brought their own, and maybe he would go home and get some. (I will note here that as a bartender I often referred to his brand as ‘the thing you have to add citrus to help you gag it down’)
Well, wifey cooed at him until he settled down and decided to join the other guests in conversation, punctuated with occasional mutterings about looking forward to a good beer. Really, he did not even try to be discreet about it.
Dinner conversation went here and there, as it tends to do. Eventually, it rolled around to children and the unexpected things they say. The opportunity was perfect so I shared this story:
‘I’ll never forget a time when he (my son Jake) was about 6 years old and my in-laws were over for dinner. We had been working on his table manners and he was doing pretty well. I held out a bowl of potatoes to my mother-in-law and asked if she would like some. She said she didn’t like them and only ate baked potatoes. It was the texture and blah blah… Jake stopped her and said, ‘Gramma, the correct answer is either no thank you or yes please.’
There was laughter followed by a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, then a subject change.
Since then I have been at several parties that this couple also attended and have witnessed no repeat offense.”
34. Don't Ask The "Swing King"
“A girl I was going out with told me I’d never make it. That was all the fuel I needed.
She was a dance teacher, I loved dancing, and thought I felt the same way about her until I told her that I was going to apply for a job at Arthur Murray.
‘You’ll never be any good as a dance teacher’ was the response that changed my life.
I get the job, commit myself to train like a mad man, and give up hanging out with my friends for the job. I took the Viking approach – I landed on the job and burned the boats so I couldn’t escape. I needed to be so good that she ate those words.
A few years pass and I’m a successful teacher. I’m the top teacher in one of the top dance studios in the company. I’m on my way to work and it turns out she’s driving next to me.
She honks, waves, and we fail at our attempt at a 50 MPH conversation. So she says, ‘I’ll follow you.’
I’m thinking ‘could this be happening?’
We chat in the parking lot outside of the Arthur Murray I had told her about, and she has no idea. I’m dressed like I’m going to sell women’s shoes or insurance. It’s almost time for work to start, and at this point, I haven’t made any mention of dancing.
ME: ‘I should probably head into work.’
HER: ‘Oh cool.
I’d love to see where you work.’
ME: (thinking ‘YES!’) ‘Oh, okay… if you want.’
She follows me inside, and this is when it gets too perfect.
I’m walking ahead of her and I can hear her footsteps slowing down behind me. I continue walking, turn back, and say
‘Are you coming?’
I head straight over to the front desk.
My back is to her and I’ve got the grin of someone who has just successfully pulled off a million-dollar horse racing bet. I’m looking at them, in all of their glory.
I turn to face her, and behind me are three awards I have just recently won, but were just put up on display.
The one in the center reads, ‘TOP TEACHER’
ME: (the dagger) ‘Yeah, so this is where I work, how about you, what are you doing these days?’
HER: (shrinking but trying to stay cool) ‘This and that, still dancing. I was thinking of taking some more Lindy hop and swing classes. Do you have anyone here that can teach that?’
Her final attempt to turn the tables was quickly halted before I could answer.
My co-worker walked by and assumed she was a walk-in customer inquiring about lessons.
MONIQUE: (sarcastic) ‘Oh, you’re talking to the wrong person, he’s only the Swing King around here.’
There’s an awkward pause. Her power is gone.
ME: ‘Well, I’ve got to get to work. It was great seeing you.’
That was the first, and only, time that we’ve crossed paths since I started my career with Arthur Murray.
It was closure on a legendary level.”
33. I'll Tell You To Your Mom
“A man I’d never met made a rude comment about something I was wearing – I was particularly conservatively dressed in a business suit at the time, to make it even more shocking.
I turned to him, and with as much sincerity and urgency as I could project I said ‘Thank you so much for pointing that out, I didn’t realize. Since you’re so kind, would you please let me borrow your phone for a second?
My battery is dead and I urgently need to call Mom, just for a second.’
He was nonplussed but I turned up the biggest pleading ingénue eyes I could manage, and he begrudgingly handed over his phone.
I quickly scrolled through his contacts to one labeled ‘Mom,’ called it, and when a lady answered I asked ‘Did you raise your son to make rude comments to women he doesn’t even know, to approach women in public with the sole reason of insulting them?
No? I think you need to speak with him.’
Handed the phone back to the dumbfounded man and skipped away happy as a lark.
Well, I’m not always so quick. I think I only managed to scroll to ‘Mom’ by appearing flustered over using an unfamiliar phone.
Yes, I realize it’s possible he is merely a product of the environment he was raised in, and his mother wasn’t upset with him at all.
By the look on his face, I suspect he knew she would be, though.”
32. Good Thing I Have Access To Bricks
“When I was in college, a friend spent 3 hours building a 5-foot snowman on our club’s property only to have a group from the jock club next door do a flying tackle to destroy it.
To be clear, this was the type of club bullies who liked to destroy property, pee in your hallway, and generally pick fights with people.
Being the student repairs manager, I had access to bricks, concrete, and cinder block. Over the next six hours, 5 of us built an 8-foot snowman, based out of an upside-down steel trashcan filled with solid ice and brick. We built the center ball hollow and shuttled it in the brick and mortar.
Used a ladder to finish off the head with a green Mohawk and red-eye.
In the morning, the center ball was tilted 5 degrees with a large shoulder impression in the snow shell. We guessed he broke something. Passive-aggressive revenge extracted.”
31. Oh, You Forgot Your Umbrella
“So I was in a supermarket once, in the middle of a queue which went all the way around a corner. A woman came up and pushed-in in front of me as I got to the ninety-degree bend.
She didn’t mistake it for the start of the queue, it wasn’t that kind of corner. The wall was actually a waist-high parade of baskets full of impulse-buys, like chocolates and so on, as shops are wont to display near the checkouts.
I could hear mutters and tuts from behind me but of course, I couldn’t say anything directly so I started picking things off the shelves every time she wasn’t looking and put them in her cart.
I started small, like with a bag of chips. People quickly cottoned on to what I was doing and I heard a few of the mutters change to noises of approval.
I ended up managing to put an entire umbrella in there. That got widespread laughter from the shop behind me but the woman was oblivious.
I rushed through the self-service tills as she went to a conventional human-powered checkout. She was clearly not paying attention because I was nearly out of the shop when I heard her say, ‘where in the world did that come from?'”
30. Stay Away From My Throne
“When I was 17, I went camping at a beach one day and decided to make a sand throne, to relax in, except… it wasn’t made entirely of sand, because it would collapse the moment I sat on it. So, I gathered some large stones nearby, arranged them neatly to form a chair, and then covered it with sand to even out the gaps so that it would be comfortable to sit in.
After 2 hours of toiling under the hot sun, the job was done, and I sat on my throne with a great sense of fulfillment. After a while, I retreated to my tent nearby to rest.
As I stared out of my tent to enjoy the view of the beach and admire my handiwork, a young boy, around 10 of age, went to my throne and walked around it, inspecting it curiously.
For a moment, I thought he was going to sit on it. But then, a mischievous glint shone in his eye and he backed away from it a few steps. Then, he dashed and swung a mighty kick! And… collapsed, clasping his foot and crying for his mom.
I stayed in my tent, with tears in my eyes trying to hold back the laughter, thinking ‘Served you right!’.
It wasn’t intentional, but making a ‘sand’ structure with stones was definitely the most satisfying passive-aggressive thing I did to a troll who goes around kicking sand structures.”
29. Let's Go, I'll Lead You To The Police
“This happened a few years ago when I lived in the UK. Back then it was common for lorries (18 wheelers) to limit their speed to around 60mph in order to boost their MPG.
One day I was driving from my parents’ house to my apartment, it was a drive of some 200 miles. I was driving down a dual carriageway, which is a two-lane highway doing the speed limit of 70mph.
I was passing a long line of lorries when a guy came flying up behind me in a black BMW, as he came upon me he started to flash his lights to tell me to get out of the way. Now please note he was not a police officer (the explanation of how I know this will come by later), nor was he responding to an emergency, he was just a self-important jerk who wanted me out of his way.
As I say, I was passing a line of lorries (something like 12 of them in total), when he came up behind me, and when he started to flash his light I was thinking to myself ‘where am I going to go, I have a lorry on one side of me and the central reservation on the other dummy’. Well, he kept flashing his lights and gesturing for me to move out of the way, so I did what any self-respecting passive-aggressive driver would do.
I slowed down.
Yep, I slowed down until I was just doing a speed slightly faster than the lorries I was passing. I kept that speed up for something like 20 miles until I reached the front of the line, then I moved over and let him go. During that long 20 miles, he was constantly riding my tail and telling me to move out of the way.
As he sped off doing something like 90mph I increased my speed back up to the limit of 70mph. Around 5 miles later I see the lights of a police vehicle on the side of the road and who do I see pulled over.
That’s right, Mr. Rude BMW driver, who by this point appears to be having a heated discussion with the police officer.
As I see this a huge grin lights up across my face, and as I pass by the police car and Mr. Now-very-angry-but-rude-BMW driver, I honk my horn, and wave.
Oh so satisfying, and I still smile about it to this day.”
28. Now I'm In Control Of Your Phone
“Back when I was in college there wasn’t really any broadband. We used 56.6k dial-up connections to access the internet. Now, my roommate, Cruchkov would monopolize that darn connection for hours on end.
We only had one phone for four of us and we would pick it up any time of the day or night and hear bleep blop beeboo beeboo. All the time. It got to the point where we couldn’t even order a pizza. ‘Hey, Dave you want pepperoni?’ ‘Sure Corey’ ‘Okay I’ll ca… bleep blop beeboo beeboo.’ ‘D****T CHRUCHKOV’. We would knock on his door but he would either not hear us or pretend not to hear us.
So I hatched a plan.
I waited until he left for work one day. Then, armed with some stuff I bought at Radio Shack back when they sold stuff that wasn’t cell phones, I walked into his room. I unscrewed his phone jack and connected a 5v relay to the line. COM/NO went to the phone, the coil went to the other two (unused) wires.
Then I buried the whole thing back in the wall and made it look good as new. I hid a 9v battery inside the kitchen phone and connected it to the ringer switch and my secret wires.
Chruchkov comes home that evening, slams the door. Thirty seconds later it’s bleep blop beeboo beeboo. ‘Hey Dave, you want pizza?’ ‘But Chruchkov is on the…’ ‘I got this, man.’ I flip my switch, his phone turns off.
But only his phone. The sound of him kicking and cursing at his computer remains one of the most passive-aggressively satisfying moments of my life.”
27. Have Fun Counting Because You'll Be Doing It Again
“I had a horrible experience trying to buy a new Honda at a local dealership. I told them what I wanted, but they kept trying to up-sell me on a different model. Then it was switching sales guys, to the hardcore close.
etc. etc. I understand sales and all the BS really doesn’t bother me since it’s part of the game. However, after reaching a price and completing the paperwork, I drove out in the car.
I was happy until Jennifer from the office called me three days later at work. They made an error and didn’t collect funds on some specific fees listed in the contract.
I was pretty sure I paid everything listed. I told Jennifer I needed a couple of days to review the contract and look at the check I wrote to determine if I owed anything. She became a belligerent witch, yelling about how I have their stuff and need to come down right now and pay. I told her I would review the contract and pay them if I owed them money.
She called at 9:00 am the next morning being a jerk again demanding what I owed. Later that evening, I reviewed the contract and they didn’t total up the doc fee correctly and owe them $394.00.
I called Jennifer and told her that I did find the error, would pay the amount, and asked if she could please tell me when she left the office so I could pay her personally.
I waited until 4:50 pm on Friday night (Jennifer works an 8-5, M-F) and paid her $394 in nickels. I had broken the seals on the bags from the bank which meant they needed to hand count all the coins.
I had brought a book, took up residence in their customer lounge, and waited for them to complete their count. I enjoyed watching Jennifer and 4 salespersons make little rows of nickels.
After over 90 minutes they brought me the $0.45 in additional funds I added to see if they would accurately count it. My backup plan was if they said it was all there, I would inform them that I actually included extra and couldn’t remember how much, so they would need to recount.”
26. You Should Learn How To Reverse Properly
“I live in an area of Scotland where the roads are single track. That means only one lane is shared by traffic going in both directions with passing places every thirty to forty yards.
Now the usual practice is to pull into a passing place or stop opposite one to let other traffic pass.
It’s debatable about who should pull in for who, but whichever driver is nearest to one going forward is expected to pull in so as not to force another driver to have to reverse. If you are on a hill, then you are expected to give way to traffic who are driving uphill (so as not to force them into doing a hill start).
Now that’s pretty easy to judge when visibility is good and you can see oncoming traffic – but what if you come around a corner and there’s a car coming towards you? Well, in that case, the person with the shortest distance to reverse must reverse.
So with all that in mind, I was driving uphill along a very steep and twisty single-track road, like the one in the picture.
I had passed a passing place and knew that there wasn’t another one for around 80m – the road was so steep there wasn’t room for one for this distance. I also knew that just around the corner ahead was the next passing place so if I met anyone they’d have an easy time backing up.
Well as I came to the corner I met another car coming towards me and politely came to a stop so that he had time to slow down and prepare to reverse, he had passed the passing place literally 10 feet behind him.
It was a red Jaguar saloon and driving it was a rather overweight and florid-faced gentleman of around seventy accompanied by his similarly aged wife/companion in twinset and pearls.
I fully expected him to reverse the ten feet into the passing place to allow me to pass, (remember the last passing place behind me was around 80 meters away) but instead, he drove forward to be nose to nose with me.
He started shouting and gesticulating that I should reverse and started getting redder and redder in the face.
There was no way I was going to reverse that distance (80m) when he had a passing place just behind him, so I put on the handbrake and waited. Please note – I’m not generally rude, if he had politely asked me to reverse because he couldn’t, then I would have.
But I don’t react well to being shouted and gesticulated at. Especially when I’m in the right.
Mr. florid faced Jaguar monkey was getting angrier and angrier and jumped out of his car and came over to mine. I locked the doors, wound down the window, and said ‘good afternoon’. I was met with a tirade of swearwords. Now I didn’t really mind being sworn at but I really didn’t like being called an ‘ignorant scotch jerk’.
It’s Scottish or Scots, not Scotch.
So I wound up the window, took my keys out of the ignition and waved them at him, took out a newspaper that was on the passenger seat and ignored him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him continue to splutter and swear to get almost purple by now. So I looked at him, put my finger up to my lips, and said ‘Shhhh’, then reached over to the radio and turned it up.
I heard his car door slam and the engine start-up and then with much over-revving and squealing of tires he started to reverse.
Well, I had kind of guessed right. He didn’t know how to reverse properly, probably just bullied other people out of the way so he never had to, he reversed straight through the passing place and into a ditch on the other side.
I started the car, put it into gear, and drove up to where he was.
I wound down the window and politely asked him if he wanted to be towed out.
So I said ‘cool, have a nice day’ and drove on.
Shame really that there was no mobile phone signal for a few miles there and the nearest recovery garage was about an hour away.
I could have had him out of that ditch and on his way in around five minutes!
It doesn’t pay to be rude.”
25. Let Me Waste A Few More Of Your Time
“In Turkey, there have been x-ray machines and metal detector doors at the entrances of every shopping mall since even before 9/11. And still, we get more than a fair share of line cutters.
On that particular afternoon, at a very non-specific hour, with no lines whatsoever, I walked toward one of these machines following the people who had just walked in briskly before me.
The machine was a small model with a short conveyor belt and a non-moving part at the beginning.
Just as I was putting down my purse and stepping towards the door two steps away, some self-important young nobody dived in, plopped her small purse right in front of mine, and rushed in through the door.
With a speed that is so unlike me, which still amazes me today, I picked up her purse as she was walking through, and put it back on the non-moving part.
I walked in, picked up my purse, and walked on without a glance at the disrespectful adult-shaped jerk waiting for hers.
I am glad that she probably had to stand there and lost a few more very, very precious seconds of her time as she figured out what happened, walked back out, put her purse back on the conveyor, and walked in through the metal detector door again.”
24. Petty Applicant Did Not Get Hired
“I held the door open for a lady walking behind me to the entrance of my building.
I wasn’t really paying attention and my hand lightly brushed against hers on the handle.
She clicked her tongue, scowled at me, and produced a tissue to wipe her hand. I apologized and went off to my office, thinking nothing of it until my receptionist ushered her in a few minutes later for a job interview with me.
I made her squirm for 30 mins with questions about teamwork and manners and ignored her qualifications, all the while being super polite.
Then told her she won’t be employed by me.”
23. I Might Get A Stitch Because I'm A Snitch
“Many (many, many) years ago, my wife was working at a women’s health spa while finishing college, owned by a man who kept hitting on her (and all the women working for him), regardless of their marital status or interest. One day he informed her that there was a conference coming up the next weekend at a resort hotel in the Catskills that he wanted her to attend with him – and made it clear that her promotion to assistant manager depended upon her acquiescence.
She turned him down, lost the promotion (and had her life made miserable at work), and started looking for another job, which is another story. Meanwhile, I steamed and stewed all weekend long, knowing that a good friend of hers, from work, wound up taking her place that weekend only because she was in a position where losing her job threatened her children’s well-being.
She had few options and no savings.
On Tuesday morning, after my wife called me from work complaining about his behavior toward her at work that morning, and upset at the shape her friend was in emotionally following the ‘conference’, I decided enough was enough…
I called his home number and when his wife answered I said, ‘Yes… sorry to disturb you today, Mrs. This is Mr. Justice (I actually used that name), assistant manager of the hotel in NY.
When you and your husband were here this past weekends, you left behind some… cough, cough, items… of a rather… personal nature, if you get my drift. I was just wondering if you wanted us to box them up – discretely, of course – and send them back to you’.
On Wednesday morning, he called in saying he wouldn’t be making it in. He didn’t finally make it back to work until Friday, and he was living, according to the accounts I got, at a Best Western motel, pending a messy divorce.”
22. Stop Bothering Me Or I'll Step On Your Toes
“One day, I was on the metro and it was quite busy, although not completely crowded. This random guy kept moving as close to me as he could, his crotch against me, even though there was ample room to avoid doing so, and he took advantage of the accelerations and turns to touch me.
I tried to move away but he kept coming back.
Then I just stepped on his toes as hard as I could (and I can!) and said aloud ‘I’m sorry’ in the most insincere tone.
He immediately stopped bothering me and didn’t try again. And boy how good that felt!”
21. Dad's Mistress Gets Daily Phone Calls
“The phone rang again, I picked it up again and said my name, no sound, then beep-beep-beep. That did it. I got so fed up with it that it was time for a plan. My own little 10-years old’s revenge plan.
My father was having an affair, that much was clear.
For months already, our family was disturbed and dysfunctional. The relationship between my parents was totally messed up and as their youngest son, I felt heartbroken and angry.
Twice a day, for weeks, the phone would ring and there would be no sound if I picked it up. It annoyed me big time. It never happened to my father though. So I concluded it must be her, the unknown woman.
I decided to start some retaliation. Every now and then I heard him calling her in his home office (on a landline). One day I overheard him through the office door, and I waited out the call. He went to have lunch in the kitchen afterward, and I sneaked into his office. I pressed the redial button.
With my heart pounding in my throat I waited… And then she picked up and said her name.
Gotcha! I stayed silent, wrote her name on a paper, and hung up. As a little Sherlock Holmes, I started looking her up in the phone book. I had some clues as to what town she might live in, so after some research, I found her name and number.
Since that moment, the fight was on. A few times a day I would call her and say nothing at all until she would hang up.
It felt great. My little sneaky, well thought out, revenge plan was working just as planned. It must have driven her crazy.
It took them weeks to find out. Then my father came to me, sighed, collected some courage, and asked me bluntly if I was the one that was ghost calling his ‘friend’. I denied. But from that day on, I stopped. My point was made.”
20. Old Guy Thought I'd Let Him Pick Me Up
“So I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of a Veterans Administration hospital, killing time before a doctor’s appointment. I decided to reapply my lipstick in the car mirror when I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye.
A much older gentleman who had to be in his 60’s was sitting in the car next to me, making extremely lewd gestures at me (along with a few ‘thumbs up’ signs thrown in there).
I rolled down my window, and he rolled down his.
‘You look great!’ he exclaimed.
I put the biggest smile I could muster on my face and said ‘Thank you! You’re so sweet, you remind me of my dad! He’s about your age, in his 70s! Have a nice day!’ And I rolled the window back up.
The non-gentleman, who clearly thought he was a good possibility for a romantic partner, looked like I’d just ran over his dog with my car.”
19. Can Somebody Take Out The Perverted Trash?
“On my way to work one day, the train was delayed. By the time it got to the station, the train car was packed. I was standing perpendicular to the doors, squished with my back against the bars on the ends of the seats.
Let’s call them ‘grates’. Right after the doors closed, I felt a hand go under my jacket. The guy tried to grab my behind but missed. I turned to look him dead in the eye but he just grinned.
This man had an unsettling face, perhaps even more so because he was proud and not the slightest ounce ashamed of lewd actions. To further paint a picture, he was a bone skinny punk, probably in his mid-40s, and not very tall.
I got really creeped out but there was no room to move and I couldn’t get off at the next stop for another 3–5 minutes. I felt him try to attempt the 2nd grab, and I swatted his hand away pretty roughly. He still had the same, creepy grin on his face.
Only seconds later, he tried again and grabbed me twice, once on each butt cheek.
This time, I was furious. I stared him down and shouted, ‘Care to tell everyone here what you just did to me?’ He just kept smiling and didn’t respond. I probably looked like a crazy person with my loud outburst but people were now paying attention. About a minute later, he still had the nerve to try again but this time, people were watching and one woman nearby shouted ‘hey’ at him.
He took this new attention as a sign to hold onto my butt instead of pulling away, knowing the train car was so busy that it would be hard for someone to intervene. This weirdo now has his hand latched onto my butt and that’s when I got so grossed out that I flew into a rage. Since he stuck his hand through the grate, I grabbed his wrist so that it would be difficult to get his hand through the grate and as he tried to pull back, his hand got stuck on a bar.
I intended to grip his wrist until I could get out at the next stop but he kept twisting his hand and even tried to bite my hand. Thankfully, his skinny, creepy face didn’t fit through the gate. He did slip away for a second, but I then got a hold of his thumb, afraid he was going to try something again. While I gripped his thumb, he vigorously tried to pull away and ended up cracking his thumb, only mildly.
I heard the crack and told him ‘good luck grabbing anything now.’
I then had this adrenaline rush go through me and I told him to get off the train before I purposely crack the other one. He was bent over in pain but refused to get off the train, stood up, and started threatening me! A gentleman then stormed over from a few feet away and proceeded to violently drag him out by his shirt.
He unnecessarily apologized for not being able to help sooner. I thanked him for ‘taking out the trash’ and he kindly accompanied me to fill out a report profiling the idiot.”
18. I Taught My Friend Some Mandarin
“The mother of a friend had been raised by missionaries to China. She spoke perfect Mandarin, having grown up speaking the language, but was Caucasian and one would have no clue this was the case from looking at her.
She once patronized a laundry service run by Mandarin Chinese speakers. When she came to retrieve her items, she heard one of these business people say to another the Mandarin equivalent of something like, ‘The old bag has returned for her clothing.’
My friend’s mother did not say a word, but politely accepted her items, thanked them in English, and paid for the service. But just as she was about to walk out the door she spoke, in flawless Mandarin, ‘The old bag has indeed returned for her clothing.’
According to my friend, the word translated as ‘indeed’ was the precisely correct Mandarin word to put a rude person in their place.”
17. Don't Wake Me Up If I'm Not Your Groupmate
“I was camping with some friends of mine. We were a group of six, or so, at a campsite next to some sort of camp, with a bunch of teenagers being managed by a handful of twentysomethings.
The campers were loud, but not that obtrusive. We ended up all going to sleep around the same time, and all was well. I slept awfully and was feeling pretty miserable the next morning when I heard shouting. Lots of shouting. Like, people screaming at the top of their lungs for no reason at all. After a few seconds, it was clear that the counselors were trying to wake up the campers in the most obnoxious way possible, shouting ‘WAKE UP’ and beating on drums.
My camp-mates had all gotten up and were sitting around a fire drinking coffee, and I stumbled out of the tent, bleary-eyed and disheveled. I stomped furiously past them, and over to the counselors.
‘HEY!’ I shouted at their leader, who was sitting at a table and managing the screaming counselors. She turned and looked at me, quizzically.
‘Am I in your group?’
‘Uh…’
‘AM I IN YOUR GROUP?’ I repeated, quite a bit louder.
‘Uh… no?’ she said.
‘Then why in the world are you waking ‘me’ up?’ mustering my best, most direct stink-eye, then turned and stomped away.
It got real quiet, real quick.”
16. Father-In-Law Thinks I Don't Know How To Be A Mom
“My Father-in-Law (FIL) disagreed with my decision to work after having a child.
My husband was supportive of my decision and would stand up for me. Even with his vocal support, my FIL would continue with digs by questioning my ability to be a parent and my love for my child.
My FIL came to visit us when my daughter was 5 months old. At one point in the morning, my husband went upstairs to change her. We split childcare duties, so this wasn’t unusual. As my husband is leaving the room, my FIL asks me ‘Can you change a diaper?’ I reply, ‘Yes, I have many times.
So can (insert husband’s name).’
Throughout the day there are more put-downs on me as a working mother. For example, we are driving to lunch and my daughter starts to cry. FIL says, ‘She thinks she’s going to daycare.’
I’m normally a pretty even-keel person and don’t easily get upset. The attacks as a working parent came as soon as my FIL learned I was planning to return to work, so I had been dealing with this for months.
I was angry and hurt.
After returning from lunch I go upstairs to change my daughter when inspiration strikes. I take off the old diaper and pull her pants back up. I then rush downstairs and immediately ask my FIL if he wants to hold her. Within a minute she had peed on my FIL.
He is alarmed. I respond, ‘What? I don’t know how to change a diaper!’
This bought me about 4 months free of harassment.”
15. Sometimes People Just Deserve Sarcasm
“We were dining with friends. The hosts were celebrating her getting pregnant again. Everyone else at the table had had kids. We hadn’t.
At this point, we found ourselves being questioned, quite intensively I felt, about when we would be having kids, why we hadn’t done so, and so on.
Just as I was getting ready to snap, my implacable and genius husband responded quietly by saying very pointedly: ‘Well, when we have decided to stop using contraceptives, we will write you a letter and let you know.’
You could have heard a pin drop and we were never questioned again.
Another thing happened to my friend who was a buxom lady and a very motherly type. She worked in an office with three other ladies, who had become close friends as they had been on the same team for years. They were used to supporting each other through thick and thin.
As it happened, one particular Executive from the Accounting Dept came to see her once a week to get some figures (no email on those days).
Unfortunately, as he leaned forward to pick up the document from her table, he grabbed her right breast and pinched the side of it quite hard, cracking a joke, as if this was funny. Apart from the fact that this was excruciatingly painful – there are more nerves around the side of the breast than there are in the center – she was mortified and outraged. So were her colleagues.
The next time he came around, she tried to stand up to avoid this, but he did the same. That evening her husband said he would come in and punch the man’s lights out, but she said no, she would deal with it once and for all. He asked her what she was going to do. She said she would think of something.
When she came into work the following morning, she told her colleagues she was going to do something drastic, but had no idea what, and asked them if they would support her, just in case he complained to HR.
They all said ‘totally – go for it.’
Sure as eggs are eggs, he comes in and makes a move to pinch her breast again, but this time she was prepared. She grabbed both his hands in hers, put them directly on her chest, and said in a very loud voice ‘There. Are you happy now?”
He went red in the face and more or less ran out of the office.
He sent someone else to pick up the figures from then on.
Another time, I was standing on a crowded tube one day. You literally could not move. Everyone was holding the ceiling straps and swaying around as it jolted. There were so many of us, that we all moved like we were one physical mass.
All of a sudden, a male hand was held aloft by a female hand and a very loud female voice bellowed into the silence ‘And whose grubby little hand is THIS?’
He tried to snatch it away as everyone stared at him, and at the next station left the tube in a hurry.
Lastly, a man wrote in to say he was responding to a previous letter-writer who had experienced the distressing event of being flashed at on the underground train one evening when she was going home late after work. She had clearly been very upset by it and wanted the underground to provide a more vigilant TV monitoring service.
He wrote that he was pleased to have been able to do his bit for women’s lib in just such an incident and that he hoped she might derive some comfort from this. He confessed he was a t**********e and wrote ‘Though I say so myself, I make a very passable woman’.
He described how he had been seated on the train on his way into town, when he had been approached by a big burly man, who had taken out his manhood, saying ‘how about a bit of this?’
‘Whereupon’, the man wrote, ‘I whipped out my own and said ‘AND HOW ABOUT A BIT OF THIS THEN?!’
The flasher fled in terror.”
14. Excuse Me, I Think This Poop Belongs To You
“I had this next-door neighbor once who had a dog. He did not obey the leash laws and would allow his dog to roam freely. His dog would poop in our backyard all the time.
I asked my neighbor nicely several times to clean up after his dog. Another neighbor asked him as well. He would tell us that he would get around to cleaning up our yard but he never did.
After saying something to our landlord, she too asked the neighbor to clean up after his dog. He never did. It got so bad that our entire backyard was full of dog poop.
Our children could no longer play in our backyard.
Finally one day, I had gotten fed up. I took a shovel and went around our yard scooping up the dog poop. Then I would drop the dog poop right in front of the neighbor’s front door.
I had to make several trips from our backyard to his front door. When I was done, all the poop was out of our yard and now lying in a huge pile at their front door.
My other neighbor and I watched and waited patiently from my front porch. Eventually, the neighbors came home and stepped right into the huge pile of her dog’s poop. We laughed so hard we cried!”
13. No Leftovers, Just The Smell
“For almost a year I had to live with a vegan. Not just a regular vegan, but a born-again Vegan with a capital V who converted in her 30s, I’m sure as an attention-getting ploy.
She made sure everyone knew she was a vegan and had watched animal cruelty videos. Anyone who still consumed any kind of meat or dairy product was a lesser human being than her. She loved going to restaurants and berating the staff for the lack of vegan options and demanding they create dishes for her.
S0… I would get up early at least once a week and make cinnamon buns, scones, buttermilk biscuits, French toast, bacon cheddar muffins, etc. I’d fill the kitchen and the whole house with the smell of delicious buttery goodness.
Then I’d clean up everything and take the baked goods with me to work or give them away to friends. The only thing lingering was the smell of fresh-baked goodness. You know when you go to a mall and can smell the cinnamon roll store? It was like that, and she couldn’t say anything because there was no trace of evil dairy around the kitchen, just the delicious after odor that lingered for hours.”
12. Dog At The Beach Keeps Barking At Us
“I used to walk my dog every morning, on the beach in my town, until the year they put up a sign saying we couldn’t walk our dogs from May 15th to September 15th. I and my little corgi/yellow lab would walk with a friend who had 2 small Papillons, around 8 a.m. every morning, regardless of the weather.
(unless it was raining cats and dogs… or we were having a Nor’Easter) It was May 17th…. and drizzling out. There didn’t seem to be anyone else on the beach, and my friend and I walked our dogs as usual. It wasn’t like there were a ton of beach-goers, especially since it was early in the season, and the weather was ugly, at best. And it was 8 o’clock in the morning.
All of a sudden, this frumpy-looking woman came out of the dunes and started yelling at us. As she approached, we finally could hear what she was saying. She walked up to us and screamed, ‘you DO know that there are no dogs are allowed on the beach!’
I looked at my friend, who is very meek and mild-mannered, and then at the woman who was so furious and asked her to repeat her statement.
‘You DO know that there are no dogs allowed on the beach!’ she screamed again.
I looked at her and asked, ‘Then… what are YOU doing here?’
She left in a huff and we continued our walk. I felt just awful, for what I’d said… for about 12 seconds.”
11. He Still Doesn't Know He Didn't Park The Car
“My abusive then-spouse decided to leave me, which I didn’t mind, but his family was visiting from overseas, having a great time, partying, going on road trips, and inviting him.
They were horrified by his stories of what an American, awful, disobedient wife I was.
He was going to casinos with them, losing everything we had.
I was pregnant (high risk, no less), on maternity leave from graduate school so no job, and had another infant at home.
One day, he starts packing his stuff, tells me he can’t take it anymore, he’s leaving.
Fine, except I had nothing saved up, the rent was overdue, we had impending disconnect notices from the phone and electric companies (there were no cellphones or social media back then, so pregnant and with an infant, I needed that phone), and of course, the electricity (he had promised to make payments that payday but instead he was off to another casino.
No groceries, food, diapers, etc.
So. As he’s stacking his stuff in a corner of the living room, I tell him I’m going to the lobby to get the mail.
Instead, I moved his car. I parked it a few blocks away, went upstairs with the mail, and waited for him to leave. He takes his suitcases, loads them all into the elevator, tells me I brought this on myself, and leaves in a huff.
A few minutes later the intercom rings: ‘Do you remember where I parked my car?’ No.
He comes upstairs, all sweating and confused. Calls his brother. ‘Do you remember where I parked my car?’ No. And even if he did, he couldn’t read English, so wouldn’t have known the street name, anyway.
Calls the police. They arrive. He talks to them privately. Then they come in to talk to me.
‘We understand there are marital issues. Did you steal his car?’
I hated being dodgy with the police. I simply stated, No. (I didn’t steal it.)
I told them my side of the story and they became more sympathetic to me. No food, no diapers, no ca-ching ching, pregnant, etc.
The police told me to apply for WIC assistance and lectured him.
They take his report, warn him about his behavior, and leave.
Okay. So his was the car the visiting family was gonna use for their road trip.
So the road trip was canceled. All packed up with no place to go.
I decided to outsmart him. ‘Honey, since now there’s no chance of you winning anything at the casino, maybe we should make the payments you promised the utilities so they won’t cut us off.’
Since he has stuck there now himself, he gave me the budget.
Of course, he begged to use my car, but I had never given him a key, and I told him the brakes were shaky and it cost too much to repair them.
For two months, this idiot had no car and had to take cabs and buses to work. And the visiting family couldn’t rent a car so they went home early.
Meanwhile, I had applied for WIC, gotten a social worker, and spoke with the idiot’s ultra-religious boss who agreed it was best to give me the idiot’s salary (he was paid in full).
He was furious but I was protected by the religious community, and the social worker’s home visits helped.
He realized he had to start acting like a human being, so he became much more agreeable to live with, but I wanted him out of my hair.
So one day I told him, ‘OMG, honey! I was driving around looking for parking, and I think I saw your car!’
We excitedly jumped into my car and I drive him there. ‘Is that it?’
He was thrilled. To this day he thinks he parked it there after partying and couldn’t remember.
We’re divorced now (can I get a Hallelujah?) and the kids are grown.
They know the whole story. But he’s serving life now, so we’re all estranged from him.”
10. Eat My Cupcakes? I'll Eat Your Brownies
“A few years back, I had my first birthday party in around fifteen years. I don’t generally celebrate my birthday, but this year I did, and we had a small party – mom, my partner at the time, my brother and sister-in-law, my niece, my nephew, and my nephew’s ex, Olivia.
And Olivia, who’s as handy with baking and crafts as she is sweet, made me a plate of twelve beautifully decorated birthday cupcakes for a present. You know the kind, swirly icing and sugar roses, the kind you buy in posh bakeries for like five bucks apiece. She must have spent hours on them, and I was so touched. Nobody had ever made me cupcakes before.
So I rushed around for the whole party, cooking and making sure everyone was well-looked after, and I didn’t get a chance to eat any of my cupcakes, so I put them in the kitchen to store later. I fell into bed, exhausted, and when I woke up in the morning I immediately thought of cake.
I went downstairs. No cupcakes.
‘Mom, where are the cupcakes Olivia gave me as a present?’
She wouldn’t even look at me. She won’t when she’s feeling guilty about something. Eventually, she admitted that she sent six home with my brother and ate the other six in the night. She didn’t even leave one. I didn’t get one cupcake. And Olivia had been very clear that they were a present, not her contribution to party food. She put them in a pretty box with a ribbon and everything.
I totally lost my temper. I rarely get angry, but when I do I go nuclear. I yelled, I threw fruit at the wall, I threatened to leave home. After that, I refused to talk to her for most of the day. And in the evening, I made a pan of brownies – the cake she loves above all others – and sat next to her in the living room while she watched TV.
And I ate the whole pan.
I had a stomachache that night and had to swim an extra mile every day for a fortnight to make up for the calories. Totally worth it.”
9. Sneak Behind My Back? I'll Send A Memo To Your Sidechicks
“A guy was sneaking with another woman behind my back. Well, I had suspected as much at the time, turned out to be true.
We happened to be on the same cell phone plan. I got the bill and started looking at the phone numbers called from his phone. None of them were familiar to me. I decided not to confront him about this but just called the numbers. 5 different girls! I would call and ask who they were. I had asked for an ex by name. They wanted to know why I was calling, I didn’t give a reason the first time they asked. I just said that I needed to speak directly to William.
Of course, they would ask why. I asked who they were, how they knew William. They all responded that they were his ‘significant other’.
I don’t know why I thought of this but the first thing that just came out of my mouth was, ‘Can you give him a message for me?’ They were a little huffy but usually said yes.
‘I just wanted to tell him that the HIV test results came back positive.’
This was, of course, untrue but as I said, I don’t know why it came to me. I just said it. I didn’t tell him I had made the calls, I just waited for them to all get upset and call him.
The voicemail he left me was hilarious! Used to listen to it to cheer up when I was having a bad day. Too bad it was on an old phone and I no longer have it.”
8. Stay Away From My Magnets
“I was carrying extremely powerful rare earth magnets (165 lb pull force) for work in my backpack. They were wrapped in 8 inches of bubble wrap to prevent them from getting too close to anything.
As I was sitting down, a total a****e got on the train and pushed me out of the way, took the seat I was about to sit in, and gave me a nasty look.
I wound up standing next to him. Slowly, I undid the bubble wrap and put it next to the Macbook he was working on and the satchel with his wallet and phone. I kept moving it around subtly. After a few minutes, his screen went out with a very bright flash. I don’t know what happened to his credit cards or cell phone. He kept trying to reboot it but it was not responding at all.
I didn’t know if it would actually do anything. I just really hate rude people on the subway. Luckily his computer didn’t fly up and stick to my backpack.
I really go out of my way to be a decent person but when people take advantage of me, I can’t let it go. I have used annoy-a-trans several times on coworkers (Google it) and did MUCH worse as a teenager.
The point is, I am fair and decent, however, I won’t suffer jerks taking advantage of me or screwing me over.
This guy pushed me out of the way hard as I was sitting down and then proceeded to give me a nasty look like ‘do you want to fight about it?’ My options were to fight him, start an argument that would not get my seat back unless I picked him up, or OTHER.
I wasn’t willing to start a fight on a full subway car or anywhere else. I just couldn’t let it go. Not with these awesome magnets in my backpack ready for a little experiment!
Now for the doubters… If you stack six of these magnets, you have 3-4 times the force of a single magnet. They have small Teflon spacers between them so you can separate them when you need them.
These slightly reduce their combined force. At 8-10 inches with bubble wrap, there is very little magnetic force as their strength decreases exponentially with distance. However, I am still careful not to put my cell phone or wallet near them. I opened the bubble wrap at the bottom of the stack and then closed my backpack with the end of the stack right against the inside canvas of my backpack.
I was surprised it worked at a distance of about 6 inches. As I said, I was careful because I did not want it to ‘grab’ the computer. Nothing happened for a while but it absolutely took the computer out as an EMP had gone off. Maybe it had to wait until the HDD was active. If it warped the platter and pulled it into the read/write arm it would scratch the out of the platter.
I looked it up yesterday and the HDD on a Macbook Pro is on the side I was standing on.
I don’t know how it worked, but, to my pleasant surprise, IT DID. Try it out! I lost a bit of face and hopefully, he lost $2K of electronics and spent a day getting his credit and bank cards replaced.
Will it teach him a lesson?
Probably not, but I don’t care; I made his life temporarily suck without causing bodily harm.”
7. I Know My Way Around Coffees
“As a Canadian teenager, I worked at Tim Horton’s. This is a chain of fast-food restaurants that serves mainly coffee and snacks. Many of our customers are gruff, grumpy, caffeine-addicted men. I was the typical, perky, cheerful teenaged girl cashier.
I loved that job because I was REALLY good at it; efficient and fast.
Mr. Grumpy comes in one day and interrupts my friendly greeting with an abrupt, ‘Two medium, one black, one with milk.’ I pour his coffees, lid them, and promptly place them on the counter. I did this quickly, deliberately omitting the step of using a white pencil to mark the lids, which we normally do to indicate which was which.
He looked at his cups, then looked at me like I was an idiot, and sarcastically asked, ‘How am I supposed to know which is which?’
With an almost imperceptible jerk of my wrists, I moved the cups enough that a tiny drop appeared on the lid of each cup through the vent hole. One drop was definitely black, the other clearly contained milk.
‘Would you like me to write it down for you, sir?’ I asked, smiling politely.
‘Nope, that’ll be fine, thanks.’ He paid me the 2.20 and left. Still gruff, but I think I detected a tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes.”
6. Sorry, This Coffee Machine Is Mine
“When I moved to Australia my first job was teaching for a term in a pretty rough and dysfunctional school. (By dysfunctional I mean the principal was absolutely hopeless and some teachers had been there years, having formed tight little cliques. They were barely going through the motions of teaching, knowing they were too hopeless to get a job elsewhere but they had permanency there so the principal couldn’t get rid of them and no one would take their job even if he wanted to)
On the 2nd day there I saw a coffee pod machine in the staffroom. Not a Nespresso machine, just one of the really cheap rip-offs. I mean really cheap: at the time they were $49.99 in the supermarket. By comparison, the cheapest Nespresso machine was $400.
I remarked about the machine to one of the other teachers, telling him how in my previous school we had them (Nespresso machines though) and I commented how easy & convenient these machines are.
He agreed and so I asked him about what pods are used. He told me the type of pods I needed to buy, which supermarket sold them, and which brand & strength he prefers and recommends.
That evening after work I go buy myself a stack of pods and over the following weeks, I treat myself to a daily coffee, courtesy of the marvelous $49.99 pod machine.
I would leave my boxes of coffee pods in a drawer under the machine and I noticed quite often someone had helped themselves to one. I don’t say anything: they only cost 40c or so. It’s not worth getting all uptight and upset over someone’s ‘stealing’ 40c worth of coffee from me.
6 weeks later, after having used the machine daily (usually twice daily) without anyone saying a word to me, I approach the machine for my daily caffeine fix and find a note stuck on it:
‘This machine is for the EXCLUSIVE use of FULLY paid up members of the Coffee Club ONLY’ (‘exclusive’, ‘fully’ and ‘only’ all uppercased, bolded, and underlined)
Not only am I confronted by this mystifying note but my pods are missing! (Umm… coffee pods that are, not my actual pods in case you’re wondering).
I head back to my office perplexed to find my pods sitting on my desk.
My head of department (HOD) comes in and gravely informs me that my constant use of the machine has really upset 3 of the other teachers. Apparently, the three had all chipped in to buy the machine for their own private use and had all been so very upset I had been using it without permission these past few weeks. But they hadn’t wanted to tell me because they didn’t want to make any sort of drama or fuss.
The poor dears.
Here’s the weird bit.
The three ‘members of the coffee club’:
#1 was the PE teacher and he was an ultra-aggressive who swore like a wasted sailor at everyone, including the students. The idea that he felt too shy to tell me not to use the machine was bizarre, to say the least.
#2 was the bloke whose desk was right next to mine in the office and, I thought at least, that we got on very well.
Often, when I was getting myself a coffee, I would offer to make one for him (using my own pods – again I mean coffee pods. Get your minds out of the gutter) and more often than not he would happily agree and thank me. Again: it is bizarre that after 6 weeks of convivial work relationship and me often getting a coffee for him, he felt compelled to write a note to me to tell me to stop doing so.
#3 is even more bizarre: he was the teacher I first talked to about the machine and who told me where to buy the pods from! Don’t get me wrong: had #3 right at the start told me it was a private machine and they didn’t want anyone using it, I would’ve been fine with that. But he told me where to buy the pods from and which ones I should buy.
Surely that’s an invitation to use the machine?! Can anyone explain this?
It gets worse: my HOD tells me that the coffee club triumvirate has magnanimously decided to let me join their exclusive club for a very reasonable $30.
Two points to consider here: the machine, as I wrote above, retails brand new for $50 and I was only teaching there until the end of term, less than 2 weeks away.
I also wish to point out that each of those teachers was earning $100,000 /year: together they were getting $300,000/year. Yet they forbade anyone from using their precious $50 machine and expected me to pay them $30 – almost the cost of a brand new machine – just for the privilege of using it for 8 more working days.
I apologized to HOD for my ignorance and rudeness, and respectfully declined their kind offer of joining their merry little club.
There I was, less than 2 weeks before the end of term, with a box of coffee pods I was now no longer able to use. I first thought of creating a scene by getting up to speak at the end of term meeting the following Thursday and profusely apologizing for my crass use of their beloved machine, going on at length about how I really did not realize how precious and important this machine was to them before offering them the unused pods, along with a few more boxes as a way of further apology and maybe a snide remark of knowing which ones they liked based on which ones had gone missing from the boxes I had bought.
Pretty passive-aggressive but I’m not outgoing or chutzpah enough to pull such a stunt off.
My next thought was to join their club, pay the fee, then abuse the machine until it broke. But that seemed like too much hard work and I figured they might cotton on to what I was doing and hide the machine.
So I was stuck as to what to do.
Then I thought of the most marvelous passive-aggressive action!
On the last day of term, during the lunch break, I went to the supermarket and bought an identical coffee machine along with several boxes of coffee pods. I came back to school and in the class time after lunch (luckily I had a free lesson), installed it in the staffroom next to the triumvirate machine with the following message above it:
‘This machine is for the EXCLUSIVE use of anyone who is NOT A MEMBER of any existing Coffee Club.’ (relevant words bolded, capitalized, and underlined).
I put all the pods into a large bowl next to my machine and put a note above the bowl which read:
‘Free for anyone who is NOT A MEMBER of any existing Coffee Club.’
I then made myself a coffee and went back to the office.
The member of the triumvirate who sat next to me looked at me quizzically briefly but didn’t say a word. One of the best cups of coffee I’ve had.”
5. Condescending Critique Needs To Go Straight To The Point
“A few years ago, I was a minority partner in a small business. My other two partners were the majority shareholders. Every few weeks the three of us would hold closed-door executive meetings to discuss financial results, customer & employee issues, etc. The meetings were typically very pleasant and encouraging for many years – lots of ‘how do we address this issue?’ ‘where do we see ourselves in 5 years’, ‘what’s our next step?’ Not coincidentally, the economy was humming along during that same period of time.
There wasn’t a lot to complain about because things were going pretty well.
By 2008, the economy was tanking. Residential construction had slowed to a whimper and our customer base followed suit. The tone of our executive meetings started to turn increasingly hostile. Pats on the back and encouragement were replaced with finger-pointing, accusations, and blame. Many of the meetings devolved into a game where one partner would try to pit the other against the third.
Being the minority and least senior partner, I felt the cannons were often pointed my way.
After months of consistently depressing financials, we headed into another dreaded executive meeting. I knew that one partner was upset that one of my new sales programs hadn’t delivered results. He called the meeting and took center stage to voice his displeasure in a, particularly condescending way. As the other partner and I sat around the conference table, he greeted us in silence with a forced semi-smile while writing notes on his legal pad.
His face was red and you could feel the tension in the room immediately. This was going to be a lecture, not a meeting.
Without saying a word, he stands and writes a few figures on the whiteboard. Now he’s slowly walked back and forth around the table scratching his chin and looking toward the ceiling as if his prepared monologue is actually being delivered impromptu.
I’m thinking to myself, get ready for the show. Every 30 seconds or so, he’d pause and without making eye contact say something like ‘So… we’ve spent three months working on this and this is what we have to show for it (points at a figure on the whiteboard)’, Then he’d pace a little more while nodding to himself. Picture the calm-before-the-storm when Alec Baldwin leads into his scathing sale rep beatdown in Glengarry Glen Ross.
This routine continues for 5 minutes (seemed like an hour). The other partner and I are making eye contact but don’t say anything as the crescendo builds. His voice gets louder and his face gets redder each time he stops to pose another insulting rhetorical question. ‘So this is the great new idea you guys came up with?’ more pacing, ‘You think these numbers are impressive, do you?’
Everything was carefully choreographed to maximize our discomfort and let us know he’s about to drop the boom on us. Then I start getting angry. A few years ago, we all sat in this room and worked on problems collaboratively. When we had problems, we could talk to each other directly and sincerely. There was always mutual respect even when we disagreed. Now I’m being forced to sit through this condescending monologue.
Screw this, I decide that I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. After he said his last ‘This is the best you can do, I guess???’ he takes another dramatic pause. I can tell he’s ready to take center stage at the table and rip us a new one.
At that moment I make eye contact with him. While pressing my palms together with anticipation and smiling like a goofy doe-eyed moron, I open my mouth for the first time and say ‘Don’t keep us in suspense any longer, what do you think of the program?’
The tension was broken as both partners laughed out loud. I think the meeting continued in a much more civil tone after that.”
4. You Should Have Just Taken Off Your Headphones
“I once had a rude passenger traveling with her baby on board. As a matter of fact, this encounter was recent.
When one of the crew went to her to brief her (the airlines I work for make it mandatory for crews to brief parents traveling with an infant below 2 years old) on how to use an infant seatbelt and what to do in an emergency, with a flick of the wrist she dismissed her.
‘No need to brief me. I know the drill’, without so much as looking at the stewardess.
When it was time to take off, she didn’t strap her son in using the infant seatbelt we provided. When we insist, she dismissed us again saying her baby is allergic to metal (the only piece of metal on the seatbelt was only the buckle and it would be right on her son’s belly covered with clothing). All the while my brain keeps going ‘this woman is a piece of work’.
When we roll out our cart for meal service, she snapped her fingers at crewmembers demanding she is served first. Now, this is understandable since we always serve kids, elders, and mothers with infants first. But you don’t have to do it by snapping your fingers at us. You could have just stopped our cart and asked nicely.
When we roll out our food sales cart, she stopped us to buy some snacks but refuses to take off her headphones while talking to us.
Her sitting at the window seat means she’s farther away from me and her words were not as clear as the passenger sitting on the aisle seat talking to me. I look at her dumbfounded that after a few times of asking her what would she like to buy, she keeps muttering under her breath all the while not really bothered to make eye contact with me or take off her headphones.
So I pass all kinds of snacks that we had, one by one until she get frustrated. She keeps saying ‘no not this one! I want xyzcbhsjdkwhateveritis!’
I passed another packet of snacks knowing full well that wasn’t what she wants. ‘no I want xcbsggeyetheotherone!’
I took out a packet of peanuts that she most definitely don’t want. ‘no! That one, I need xctshdchstheonenexttoit!’
This went on for a few minutes, while the passengers sitting nearby watch in amusement. Not even once do I mutter anything rude to her, just pretending I can’t fully comprehend whatever she’s saying.
If only she had taken off her headphones and talked to me like I’m a normal person, I probably won’t play dumb. In the end, she got so frustrated she just said ‘yeah ok give me whatever you have then!’ handing me an rm100 note to pay for something that cost her only rm7.
I asked if she has smaller notes and again I was dismissed like my fellow crewmembers. So I went around the cabin asking everyone if they have a smaller change for me to return her the balance. I went from row 5 to row 30. Everyone just keeps shaking their head saying nope sorry don’t have a small change.
Again, she got frustrated waiting for her change, she pressed the call button and handed me the exact payment of rm7 in small notes and demanded to get her rm100 note back.
And oh, towards the end of the flight, during descent, her kid started acting up and cried really loud. She struggled to get him to calm down while the rest of the passengers look at her in disgust.”
3. Punch Me For No Reason? Let's Do It A Few More Times
“I was maybe 11 y/o at the local pool. For some reason, one boy, bigger than me, got angry at me. (No knowledge of why) He came up and started punching me under the water.
I looked around and no one to tell, nothing I could do.
It hurt, but it didn’t really hurt that much, so I just pretended I did not even notice him. I stayed there for a while while he punched me (under the water is tough to punch hard, so it did not hurt much). I got out of the pool and jumped back in right next to him.
He started punching me harder. I still pretended I did not even notice.
I went out and jumped in again nearby him.
He punched me even harder becoming more and more frustrated. I had realized that I had the power as long as I do not give it to him. It was starting to hurt, but the pleasure of being in control was way too satisfying.
I repeated this a few more times, completely ignoring his existence and he became angrier and angrier and I became more and more satisfied.
At some point a lifeguard noticed and called to him to stop, giving him an excuse to stop, but with the rush, I was feeling, I could have gone all day being punched. Even if it hurt, I had realized that not acknowledging him hurt him more than his punches hurt me.
One of the most vivid memories of my childhood.”
2. Hateful Roommate Was Passive Aggressive Too
“For a time in the 1980s, I was forced to live in a roommate situation while the apartment I was waiting for was completed. I used a professional service and they set me up with a woman about my own age. Naturally, there was the thought that there might be some extra-curricular activity and we were heading down that track with some degree of certainty.
In the mornings while I was drinking my tea on the couch she would come in wearing a flannel nighty and the zipper would mysteriously drop inch by inch as she bent over in front of me to do something, but I was never sure what. Her intent was clear.
But it turned that she was something of a passive-aggressive woman. Although we paid the same amount of bills and rent, she assumed she was the leader and made chore lists and had refrigerator authority, meaning she could eat whatever I put in there but I had to beg her for anything she put in there including common items like milk and butter.
This soured any possibility of any kind of hooking up. She was a martinet and no amount of cleaning or chores that I did measure up to her standards.
But the killer was one night when she went out with her friends to go clubbing. I had told her that I needed to get up early because I was driving to Canada for a revolutionary war battle re-enactment and that I needed my sleep.
But she came in at 2 AM with her high heels and pounded back and forth on the floor for over an hour listening to dance music on the stereo, clearly very wasted. I couldn’t get any sleep. And she wouldn’t take off her high heels so it was clop clop clop all night. It was miserable.
Finally, around 3 AM she went to bed. I had to get up at six.
I had already packed all my gear, my musket, my canteen, and camping equipment but when I got up at six I made certain to unpack everything, dropping all the metal items noisily on the floor then repacking them. I knew she had a raging hangover — she always did. I made lots and lots of packing noise and anyone who knows anything about a marching army knows how much noise their equipment makes on the march.
I must have ‘accidentally’ dropped my clanking metal bayonet at least three times. As I walked out the door she yelled, ‘Jerk!’ from her bedroom to which I yelled back, ‘Witch!’ and went off to fight the British. God, that was a miserable apartment.”
1. Came Across Our Awful Neighbor In A Red Light
“My wife and I were at a social event at a campground. Talking, partying, and drinking until very late is common at these things, but it isn’t a huge rowdy crowd.
But the group in the tent next to us went beyond the pale… We were kept awake until around 5 or 6 am by one person in their group who kept making inappropriate jokes.
All.
Night. Long. We could have and often have slept through the usual loud conversations, but this guy was LOUD.
Sunday afternoon we’re packing our stuff and we engaged the lady taking down the tent next to ours in some conversation. After a while, she told me that we seem like nice people and that we should try to camp next to each other at future events.
I said ‘That sounds like a great idea. As long as we aren’t next to the crowd making all the inappropriate jokes all night.’ And then I repeated a few of the jokes along with a pretty good impression of the braying, forced laugh we’d had to listen to all night.
She said quietly ‘That was my friend, sorry about that.’ and stopped talking to us, and would not make eye contact.
OK, another. This was over a course of years and was very satisfying.
My wife and I bought our first house together. The neighbor was a bit odd, for the first few months she seemed to flip between liking me and hating the very air I breath at the drop of a hat. We both tried a few friendly overtures, but when she was mad and when she wasn’t seemed to have anything to do with us.
Then she settled on just hating my guts with a passion beyond measure.
But she would not say anything directly to us. She liked to talk outside on her cordless phone, in her loud braying voice. If she caught sight of me, she’d start talking even louder about her idiot neighbor, and what a moron he is. If anyone parked in front of her house, legally on the street, she’d let the air out of their tires.
She actually came up into my property once and let the air out of my tires.
My wife and I had both separately concluded that the best way to handle this was to ignore all of the hostility and only respond as if everything were friendly between us. So when she came out of her house while I was filling my tires up and she said something vague that implied she did it, I ignored the implication and just gave her a cheery ‘Good morning!’
One day I found a huge pile of smoke butts next to our house. Our backyard was so small, it was literally 6 feet from our house to the fence, and she sat working on her boat next to the fence. It appeared she’d been tossing her still-burning butts at my house for quite some time. Enough to fit overflowing both my cupped hands. So I gathered them all up and tossed them over the fence.
Aware the entire time that she’d been watching me through her blinds. I looked up and with a smile and a cheery wave, said ‘Hi, Sue!’ I didn’t know that you could slam Venetian blinds, but she did it.
I was working under my van one day. I became aware that she was standing on something, staring daggers over the fence at me.
So as I reached for a tool, I looked right at her and gave her a cheery ‘Hi, Sue!’ She literally ran into her house and slammed the door hard. Another neighbor later told me that she’d been there for close to 2 hours, glaring at me the whole time.
On numerous other occasions, she’d act very hostile and we’d respond with a friendly ‘Hi!’ or suitable response.
One day we came home and she had her huge truck pulled out and was struggling to get golf clubs in behind the front seats. Her driveway and ours were very narrow and close together, so we stopped and waited patiently for her to finish. But to watch her, you’d think we were screaming and honking. She yanked the golf bag back out, slammed the door very hard, and started waving her arm and shouting ‘Go!
Go! Go!’
I guess she didn’t see that my wife had her window open. As we pulled in, Sue cursed in a mutter and my wife said cheerily ‘Right back at you!’
I started to get tired of hearing her barking into her phone outside. I couldn’t even get peace in the bathroom. Second story bathroom, window open, the curtain closed. If she heard me do so much as a fart or make the rustle of a newspaper, there’d be a pause in her conversation, then the even louder blatting about her stupid neighbor would start up again.
So one day I walked outside and she did it again. Without looking at her, I started making that ‘Ack Ack Ack!’ noise like the Martians from Mars Attacks.
She got very quiet… A couple more times, and when I’d come outside while she was on her phone, she’d go back inside. Then when I walked by a basement window, she started braying into her phone again, and I did the ‘Ack!
Ack Ack Ack, Ack!’ thing again, and she got quiet. Did the same from the bathroom. After that, she stopped talking on her phone outside when I appeared.
The last time we saw her, Sue and her partner had sold their house and were moving to Hawaii, I heard, and we thought we’d not see either of them again. We had no problems with her partner.
Then about a month after the ‘for sale’ sign came down from their house, as we were crossing the street to go rent a movie, this stream of abuse poured out of a car waiting at the light. It was Sue! ‘You people are the worst neighbors blah blah blah bray!!!’
We both started gushing sweetly about what a great neighbor she’d been, please write and tell us your new address, we’ll miss you!
I thought she was going to break her arm or the window rolling it up so fast. She sat there waiting for the light, just fuming and looking like she was going to tear the plastic off of the steering wheel.
You know, we actively tried for a year to get along with her. She went from hot to cold depending on her mood.
One evening, I saw an opossum in her garage (no door on it).
So the next day I knocked on her door and told her about it. Keep in mind that this was years into her hating me nonstop. But today she lit up when I mentioned the opossum, and after making sure I had not chased it away she invited me in. Spent half an hour excitedly telling me about the life cycle of opossums and how they scutter around the shadows, cleaning up roadkill and dead animals, and generally keeping the streets clean.
That opossum had been spending days in her garage, so she was staying out. They tend to move around a lot. She sent me home with a thick stack of printouts from web pages about them.
I thought this is good, she likes us again. So a few days later, there is a big windstorm and my wife sees a baby opossum by the parking lot where she works.
Observing it for a while from a distance, no mother seems to be anywhere. So she gathers it up and brings it home. We knocked on Sue’s door as we figured she’d be happy to help, but they weren’t home.
With help from all the printouts from Sue, we found an opossum rescue person and called her. She wasn’t available that evening, but with her advice and all the printouts, we found out what else we should give the baby other than just water.
The next afternoon, we came back from dropping the opossum baby off with the opossum rescue lady. I was already around the corner and my wife was gathering some things from the back of the car, and Sue came out of her house. So Robyn told her excitedly about the baby opossum and that we’d knocked on her door, and that the opossum was now with opossum rescue who’d take care of it and release it when it was old enough.
Sue just looked annoyed and walked quickly away as my wife was talking. As Sue opened her gate and walked through she looked over her shoulder without looking directly at my wife and barked ‘What’s wrong with you people!’ and slammed the gate and her door as she went into the house.
Even friends of her partner didn’t seem to like Sue.
She’d bark something like ‘Who invited you?’ and then laugh like it was the funniest thing, while they looked at each other with pained expressions.
My wife and I honestly did nothing to egg her on. In every situation, she got her own goat. We were not playing jokes on her. The ONLY mocking thing I ever did was the ‘Ack! Ack ack Ack!’ thing, and that was pretty late in the game.”
