People Tell Their Small But Mighty Revenge Stories
30. We Had A Chad Cause Trouble At My Bar, So We Poured Sludge All Over Him
“So, this story takes place in a fancy bar in Copenhagen where I worked part time as a runner/semi-bartender on the weekends. This bar is a very popular place for older, more wealthy people who want to go out, have dinner, get wasted, and have a rowdy evening.
This meant that we got a lot of ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ stereotypes with too much money, time, and attitude for anyone’s good.
The situation kicks off with me serving drinks to a small group of young women. I’m sitting by their table, chatting, trying to be funny, and simultaneously taking their orders (the place encouraged us to take time and chat with people).
Then, out of nowhere, this guy comes along. We’ll call him Chad. He pulls a chair over beside me and leans across the table, effectively blocking me from talking to the women at the table. Oddly semi-defensive statement I thought, but no big deal—I’m just there to catch the order and banter a bit.
As I move to get up Chad places a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down and gives me that ‘These girls are MINE’ look (I found out later they didn’t know him at all) and says ‘Who are you?’ in a condescending tone (Skyrim players will know).
I, not really understanding the situation, tell him that I’m just there to get the women some drinks… wrong move obviously, now Chad thinks I’m competition or something. He gives me the once over and—full-on ‘you filthy peasant’ scoff, it was a rather impressive sound in all honesty—and says ‘You look too young to be here, I don’t think you can even afford drinks for everyone.’ (I was nineteen at the time and as I said mostly older people went to that bar).
At this point I realize he doesn’t know I work there (no, this is petty revenge and not an ‘I work here lady’ I promise). But, I didn’t tell him that as I really should be getting back to work and don’t want to deal with his attitude any longer than absolutely necessary.
So I just look at him, say something like ‘Yeah sure,’ get up and leave to go get the drinks—5 espresso martinis.
While I’m gone I notice Chad has taken a seat and proceeds to dominate the conversation at the table. You know, that type of conversation where an intoxicated dude is asking the girls superficial questions in turn and none of them really want to give a response so they just sort of look at each other and sip their almost empty drinks… apply overly engaged and slightly too loud voice, ‘So where do you come from, you don’t look Danish?’… Yeah, that sort of thing.
Ten minutes pass (it was a busy evening) and I return with drinks in hand. Chad is still at the table, talking loudly and laughing at his own brilliant jokes. As I approach the table he notices me and says something like, ‘Oh it’s you again, didn’t I tell you to go away?’
Yeah, a real charmer.
I just say, ‘Nah, you didn’t’ and try to place the drinks on the table, which was difficult because martini glasses have an annoying shape when you are carrying several.
For some reason Chad decided my semi-monotone response was some grand insult to his person, so he proceeded to stand up and shove my shoulder in that ‘get out of here’ sort of way.
Now, it wasn’t a hard push or anything, but juggling 5 espresso martinis was enough to get me slightly off balance and three of the drinks slid from my hand, smashing on the table, and went all over one of the poor ladies.
At this point, I’d had more than enough of him.
I’d literally been in his company for less than five minutes combined and he’d already been condescending, rude, and shoved my shoulder.
On to the build-up of the revenge!
I immediately go to the bouncer (really nice guy) and tell him that Chad is disrupting my work and needs to leave or something.
Bouncer agrees and goes to have a little chat with Chad who suddenly seems very apologetic.
Whatever, I continue with my work and apologize to the poor lady with espresso martini all over her dress. They leave shortly after but she took it with dignity and none of them blamed me for the situation.
It turned out the bouncer gave Chad a little lecture about adult behavior but allowed him to stay since he was spending big bucks. Fair enough, but I stay away from him for the rest of the evening.
Time passes and we close up shop.
I’m clearing tables out front when I notice Chad has taken up (unwanted) residence at another table with young women… laughing and still talking too loudly. I approach the table and tell them it’s time to drink up as we are closing. Safe to say, at this point, Chad is pretty badly intoxicated and proceeds to go off on a ramble.
‘This is the one I was telling you about! I don’t understand how they can hire such idiots at a place like this… (more intoxicated indignation)… I don’t like the look on your face, you should just quit this job so I don’t have to see you again… hiccup!’ and so on.
I tell him again it’s time to leave and noticed the bouncer standing a bit behind me… so does Chad apparently because he sighs dramatically and says ‘Come on girls time to leave,’ and they do. Now, this is where the petty little devil inside of me perks up… because behold a treasure!
Chad has been so busy being angry at me he forgets his phone smack dab in the middle of the table.
Revenge time!
I pocket his phone, clear the table and give the phone to one of the bartenders inside, telling him Chad has forgotten it.
Policy is after close time people will have to come back to get their stuff the next day—although mostly we just hand the stuff out if people come knocking. Now, the bouncer has told everyone about Chad’s behavior and I wasn’t the only one that he had caused trouble for.
We have closed the place, all the customers have left and we’re cleaning up. Important: at this bar, all the half-empty drinks are poured into a big metal tub so that they can be thrown down the industrial drain rather than the normal one.
This tub is worse than any witch’s cauldron; it’s full of slime and sludge, half-melted ice cubes, slices of lime, mint leaves, all manner of leftover drinking beverages, it stinks, it’s brown and sticky and just plain disgusting.
(Aggressive knocking on the window). Oh look, Chad has come back for his phone!
One of the bartenders tells him he’ll have to come back for it tomorrow—a little lesson for all the trouble he’s caused. Obviously, Chad being intoxicated and angry goes nuts outside the bar, throwing one of our chairs on the ground and shouting insults at us.
We all just laughed which got him even angrier. That’s when Chad decided on the brilliant strategy of staking out the door and waiting until we would leave so he could storm in and grab his phone! So, he sat on the step in front of the door and repeatedly shouted that he wouldn’t leave until he got his phone back.
This is when the supervising bartender got probably the single greatest idea of all time. You see, the bar has two stories and on the second story, one of the windows opens right above the front door… You can probably guess what comes next.
The supervising bartender says, ‘Hey, let’s get the tub to the second floor.’ Yes, THAT tub: the one filled with brown ooze that stinks worse than liquefied farts and is more sticky than honey.
We get the tub up to the second floor—which was hard, I reckon there were at least 30 liters of gross in there—open the window and unleash a waterfall of pure evil right on top of Chad’s overly stylized hair. I swear, he looked up as he heard the window open and managed to get a good measure of the stuff in his mouth.
He shot up, arms outstretched in that ‘holy mother, this is cold (or disgusting)’ position, spitting and gulping and utterly incapable of comprehending that we had just given him a shower of pure petty revenge. He strutted about for a while, trying to wipe the stuff off, no longer angry—just utterly disgusted and shocked at the turn of events.
Also, his fine white dinner shirt was drenched in sticky brown!
We laughed about that for months afterward and I do believe it’s still a story staff tell at the place.
Aftermath: In short, there wasn’t any. Chad was so grossed out he just sort of left in the end and although I worked at the place for a year more I never saw him again.
But my god was it funny to see, although the revenge was probably over the top none of us felt too bad about it.”
29. Your Relative Has A Deathly Onion Allergy? I'll Call You Out On Your Lie
“I was in college for nursing, and putting myself through school by working at a pizza place.
I started as a line cook, became manager, then became GM. I have a nephew with a peanut allergy, another relation-in-law with celiac disease, and I take that stuff seriously.
At the time of the story, I was GM of the store. I would stop at nothing to make sure anyone with an allergy was well taken care of—I would personally wash and process fresh produce, re-wash and sanitize cutting boards, and make sure there was no risk of cross-contamination.
It made me sad when people would bring in gluten-free pizza dough to surprise a family member with one of our pizzas, but there was flour and semolina all over the place. It’s not worth the risk. I’d offer to bag fresh-cut ingredients to do it at home because allergies aren’t worth the risk.
One night a customer came in placing her order, a couple of our ‘the works’ pizzas, but stated that one of their family members was deathly allergic to onions. This is very rare. It was a slow afternoon, and I was alternating in the pre-dinner rush between taking and making orders.
I asked, ‘Is this person deathly allergic, intolerant, or do they just not like onions?’ Before I could elaborate on why I asked, the customer went from zero to furious.
I tried to explain, but was unable to fit in a word edgewise. Usually, I would explain the process, but explain that it would still be a roll of the dice, but that I would do my best. People with food allergies always seemed to appreciate this.
Not this particular customer. Apparently, it was a ‘deathly allergy’, and they did not appreciate me making light of it. I did my best to reassure them that my intent was quite the opposite, informed them that there were other items on the pizza that they ordered that contained onions, and reassured them that I would do my best to approximate with ingredients that didn’t contain onion.
I haven’t been entirely truthful, though. I know that a true onion ‘deathly allergy’ is very rare. Intolerance is somewhat more common. Just not enjoying the flavor and slight crunch of half-cooked onions on a pizza is much more common, something I suffer from myself—raw or caramelized, sure, but that halfway point is some repugnant crap as far as I’m concerned, and that seems to be the specialty of every pizza place ever.
The customer insisted on all of the ingredients except onions, so I insisted back that the pepperoni and sausage that we use contained onions, and that I would not serve a pizza containing ingredients that someone had a ‘deathly allergy’ to just out of general principle.
They continued to insist that pepperoni and sausage were fine, which confirmed my suspicions, so I gave them the option of having me make their pizzas using our allergy precautions, which involved me preparing fresh ingredients from fresh produce that would never have had the opportunity to be cross-contaminated or to choose another option from our menu.
They chose to do so, which was fine, and I went to the back to wash produce, drain olives, and prepare everything on a separate workspace so they could see. Instead of two pizzas that would have taken 13 minutes start to finish, they got to watch me dice peppers, tomatoes, slice mushrooms, grate cheese, and had their pizzas topped with bacon and ground beef instead of sausage and pepperoni.
I only include this story because the lady was a return customer afterward, and gave a good review to the owner about ‘staff knowledge regarding food allergies’. But from that point on, she always ordered ‘the works’ with no onions.”
28. All The Bike Lockers Were Locked, So I Made Use Of My Bolt Croppers
“The town in which I live has full-size bike lockers—very secure.
On these lockers are signs saying you can’t reserve them by leaving them locked and empty.
How it started—I regularly commuted from my home town to the next big city. I used to cycle each morning to the train station, wheel my bike into a locker, lock it and go to work.
One morning I get there, and all the lockers are used. It’s a real pain but I get my wife to drive in, take my bike home and I go to work. Next morning I get to the lockers 30 minutes sooner (at 7:30), thinking I just needed to be there sooner to get a locker.
NOPE—all used. I start to wonder what’s going on and get on my hands and knees and look under the doors of the lockers—nearly all of them are empty but locked by people.
First, I try and be reasonable. I call the council (who have the ‘don’t you dare lock these when empty signs’) and they avoid responsibility, saying it’s the train station’s responsibility.
I ask the station manager, who claims it’s the council’s responsibility. So, I go to eBay and make it my responsibility. It’s frightening what you can cut through with a £20 pair of bolt-croppers.
The next Saturday, I drive to the train station, and for every locker that is locked and doesn’t have a bike in, I crop the lock and take it.
About 80% of the lockers were like this.
Then the sweet revenge happens on the Monday morning. I turn up and just watch. People cycle up to their lockers and find the lock is gone—no way for them to safely leave their bikes. I got to enjoy the dawning expression of surprise and then frustration on 3 people’s faces as they had to go through the ‘what do I do—no way to lock my bike’ pain I did.
Next Saturday, I did it again. Then I became addicted to it. I drove out to the next two train stations on the line (where our council’s territory ended) and did the same to the lockers there. I kept it up for about a month until the locks stopped being used to reserve lockers.
I still have the bolt-croppers.”
27. You're Holding Back My Parcel? You're Just Playing Yourself
“We have just moved into a new house that is one of 3 houses on a shared drive. The houses until recently were owned by the original owners that bought them in the 1970s. The houses are in kind of a U shape, number 1 (my house) is the first one followed by 2 then 3.
The owner of number 2 ‘Neil’ is now the only original homeowner on the street. We bought ours and then another young family bought number 3.
I can only imagine, because the previous owners were elderly that since the 2 house sales there has been an increase of deliveries down our street, Amazon, Home shopping, etc.
Now for some reason when we moved in there was no house number on our house, either the previous owner took it with her or there never was one, I have no idea. There is a very big and blatant 2 on Neil’s and a blatant 3 on the other house.
About 2 weeks ago we received a letter through our front door from Neil and his wife. He is at the end of his tether and believes that the whole delivery increase situation is my personal fault. He explained that if we just purchased a number 1 for our house then at least half of the deliveries would stop short of turning around and reverse all the way back onto the main road.
Now, this just isn’t true, it is very easy to use the shared part of the drive to turn around and very difficult to reverse all the way back down, around a blind corner, and onto the main road. The Drivers are going to carry on turning around regardless (as is their prerogative, none of us own the actual road).
I’m also pretty certain that they all know which house is number 1, 2, and 3 because the other two are so clearly labeled.
Anyway, Neil is retired so he and his wife will be taking action.
Action point 1: Neil had taken a parcel in for us which he was going to drop on our doorstep but now he’s refusing to let us have it until the situation is rectified.
Action point 2: Neil will be sitting waiting for every delivery driver, going out to greet them (give them a piece of his mind) and force them to reverse back down the drive.
This is where I would just like to say fair play to the guy, he’s stuck to his word, he’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t mind inconveniencing himself, canceling plans, etc., to get this sorted and he’s done just that, it’s taken over his entire existence for the last two weeks.
I’m being very nice about him here but he is actually insane…
Now back to that parcel that Neil has stolen from me… it contains a massive metal number 1 that I planned to stick to our house. The guy is playing himself.
I’m not telling him.”
26. These People Didn't Want To Move Their Car, So We Made It Stay There All Night
“Happened many moons ago. I was shooting pool and having a couple of beers with buddies and happened to look out the window when these 2 university students parked next to my car on my driver’s side in a no parking spot right in front of the pool hall front door.
Yellow box with yellow lines in front of it in case of fire I guess. It is not even the width of a regular parking spot (this is important). I don’t know why they parked there since there was tons of parking available.
Anyhow, I thought nothing of it since from my view I couldn’t tell how actually close they were parked to me.
I thought they were just entitled morons (it was a nice new shiny look-what-daddy-bought-me car and these punks had brand new shiny iPhones, dressed to the 9s on a Friday afternoon, etc.) who assumed they had some sort of status and could flout the law.
Whatever. They probably weren’t going to come back after this experience.
I go outside to grab smokes from my car. Can barely squeeze between the 2 cars to open my car door. I get angry. I get my smokes from the other side of my car, light up, look at the situation, and fume.
A buddy (I’ll call him Buddy #1) comes out, sees what’s up, smiles, goes to this shiny look-at-what-daddy-bought-me car, folds in the shotgun mirror, goes to his truck, folds in the driver’s side mirror, jumps in, and parks within 6 inches next to their car, gets out the other side of his truck comes over to me, lights a smoke with a smirk on his face.
Says he doesn’t care if they ding up his truck trying to get in their car, it’s his company truck and it has plenty of dings anyways and TECHNICALLY he’s parked in his spot between the lines because these entitled morons are parked where a parking spot doesn’t even exist.
I finish my smoke, look inside, these 2 jerks are minding their business playing pool, staring at their shiny phones, doing what-have-you, and are oblivious as to what buddy has done. I’m like well… I feel a little revenge-y.
So I go to the shiny car, fold in their driver-side mirror, squeeze into my car, back up, open my window, fold in my shotgun mirror, and park so close that there is maybe an inch of space between our folded-in mirrors.
I pop open my sunroof (it’s a nice sunny day anyway, may as well air out my car) jump out the shotgun side. I take a look to make sure I as well am in the lines of my space. Yep. I go stand next to Buddy with the truck, we high-five and giggle with glee.
Now we just have to wait.
The manager of the pool happens to pull in at the time Buddy and I are looking at our accomplishment, sees where these 2 dweebs parked, looks at me and Buddy, shakes his head, and laughs. We all know each other and if anyone else had parked in this non-parking spot he wouldn’t care.
Turns out these morons come in later at night, are rude to the staff, don’t tip, etc. Buddy and I give Manager the lowdown on what happened. He says cool since legally we are doing nothing wrong. We all go inside, hang out with our other buddies, and keep an eye on the Entitled Ones who STILL haven’t looked outside.
Next thing we know, Manager’s voice booms over the stereo in the most polite way, ‘Would the occupier of the look-at-what-daddy-bought-me car that is illegally parked outside the front door please move your vehicle?’
We all look at these 2 morons who by now have paid for their pool and are just sitting in front of a big screen on their brand new iPhones killing time.
The guy says something to his chick, gets up, goes out the front door. My buddies and I (probably 6-7 of us) who we clued in all decide we need a breath of fresh air, a smoke, whatever, and follow him out. He is just staring at his car.
Not saying a word. We all banter and continue on pretending not to notice the odd parking situation as he just stares.
Finally, another buddy says ‘Hey Buddy #1, did you wash your truck?’ as he stares pointedly.
Buddy #1 says ‘Yeah the company makes me, I don’t know why it’s a piece of junk,’ and we all turn our heads to look at this truck while Entitled keeps… standing.
I think he is beginning to understand what is going on here but doesn’t say a word. He finally goes inside, the other guys all join in on the giggling with glee before we as well retire inside to split a couple of pitchers.
After a bit, Manager gets back on the PA/stereo and says, not quite so politely, ‘If the guy in the look-at-what-daddy-bought-me car doesn’t move it, I am going to call a tow truck and have you towed. You are parked illegally.’ We all look at this snot and his companion who are talking to each other in not-so-calm voices and not in English so we don’t really know what they’re saying but we suspect what the topic of conversation is.
So after our libations, we decide that we need to step outside again, have a smoke/fresh air. The 2 dingbats follow, thinking that maybe I or Buddy #1 will move our cars. Nope. Another buddy pipes up ‘Hey Firth, you know you left your sunroof open right?’
I say yes, I needed to air my car out a little.
So, now these 2 dweebs know who the drivers of these cars are but we are obviously too far beneath them in societal stature for them to attempt communication with us. We all laugh and giggle with glee and completely ignore The Entitled Ones while they… stand.
Obviously, we are not moving our cars.
‘Hey! Who wants to play some Golden Tee?’ shouts Buddy #1. Well, all enthusiastically agree that 18 holes of video golf between 6-7 guys would sure be a valuable use of lots of time and begin to play. The Entitled Ones are fuming, but won’t speak to us because they are above us even though they are short.
Manager on the PA/stereo ‘Last chance to move your look-at-what-daddy-bought-me car before it’s towed!’
Entitled Boy FLIPS on his partner, she FLIPS right back at him. She walks over to us, and in broken English demands that either buddy or I move our cars.
We feign ignorance and I say ‘I walked over here, what are you talking about?’ Buddy #1 completely ignores them, possibly tells them to do something anatomically impossible. We are a little intoxicated by now. Another round of libations ensues. Another round of Golden Tee.
By this time it’s late. We are HAMMERED. Entitled Ones know they have been messed with. They know unless their car actually is towed it’s not going anywhere. Manager never had any intention of actually having their car towed, he just wanted to add fuel to the fire.
Eventually, they get into a taxi, FURIOUS, we all laugh and giggle and high-five. Buddy #1 and I are driving nowhere, therefore the look-at-what-daddy-bought-me car is staying the night. I took my time coming to get my car the next day, I was in no rush to go anywhere since I had a heck of a hangover.
When I did get to the pool hall all 3 cars were still sitting there. I spat on their windshield and crawled back into my car and giggled one more time with glee at a job well done.
Totally worth it.”
25. You Bullied Me For A Whole Season? I Don't Accept Your Apology
“This is an old band geek story I remembered. The best part is I didn’t even go out of my way for revenge, the universe just delivered it to me.
At the end of 8th grade, I was introverted and insecure. Lots of girls, including a close friend, were trying out as upcoming freshmen to be on the high school team—it was our color guard (think flag & rifle spinning, some dance) that performed with marching band and on its own during winter—a cross between sport and creative arts.
Our school was one of the best in the state, so it was well respected and ‘cool’ for us. I went to the camp with my friend even though it felt like a pipe dream. The day of tryouts, I almost didn’t go—I was sure I wouldn’t ‘make it’ because frankly, I wasn’t very good.
The possibility of making the team wasn’t even on my radar.
When I found out I was the only upcoming freshman who made the team—I was shocked and on cloud nine. My friend was ecstatic for me. I sucked at first, but I realized years later that my reputation as a disciplined student and musician also factored in.
There was a popular girl also in band, who I’ll call ‘Chloe,’ who was FURIOUS she didn’t make it because she had practiced intensely and her try-out performance was great. So, I would have empathized—except she took it out on me. She crossed my name off the publicly posted list of who made the team and wrote her name, she had her popular friends confront me in the bathroom a few times to say cruel things and tell me I only made it because the director overruled the coach and felt sorry for me.
She even would ‘bump’ into me and knock my sheet music off my stand in class. For an eighth-grader, this was all really traumatic and I cried in secret for weeks until she left me alone. Over the summer I REALLY struggled to catch up to the level of the other girls and fit in both socially and athletically, but after a few months of exhausting work something clicked and I thrived.
When band camp rolls around, the formations are taught and we learn our positions for pregame/halftime shows as well as the competition show. To start every performance and move on to field, our 280+ person marching band was broken up into long rows of band members with a single guard member standing at the front of each line.
My placement? Directly in front of Chloe. She just happened to be at the very front of the one row I was assigned to lead onto the field. That season, she probably spent close to 5 hours standing directly behind me staring at the back of my sparkly jacket.
I’m sure it killed her inside to quietly stand there behind the girl who wasn’t as ‘good’ as her but made the team anyway. I relished every second and she didn’t bully me anymore.
After marching season, we had tryouts for the indoor/winter group.
It was pretty much given you would make the team if you were on the Fall team so I had nothing to worry about, and very few outsiders made the indoor group. Well, Chloe did make it this time. She was the only new girl and now she was going through the same experience (minus the bullying).
So, she came and apologized to me—of course, it was mostly self-serving, this was several months later and now she was the new girl who had to catch up. It wasn’t a great apology— something like, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to you, I was just upset, no hard feelings I hope.’
I nonchalantly told her, ‘Weren’t you were directly behind me in every lineup this season? You could have apologized then… but thanks, I appreciate it! And don’t worry, I’d never treat anyone the way you treated me.’
It was kind of snotty, but to me, it felt like sweet revenge without stooping to her level.
We got along OK over the next 3 years, but suffice to say we were never friends.”
24. Lock Me In Your Hot Attic Without Ventilation? Have Fun Sweating In Your Bedroom
“So back in the day I was, for all intents and purposes, a cable guy. Lots of time spent in attics, under houses, and climbing poles. That kind of work. Largely satisfying, but wow, those hot attics sucked. Cue this story.
I was at an older home installing a new service and had to replace the old wiring because, well, it was old.
It was all ran in the attic. Normally not a big deal, tape off the new cable to the old cable, get close enough that it’ll pull up smoothly, done. Not this house. Whoever installed the cable stapled it down to the rafters throughout the attic.
Which meant I had to crawl yoga-style (I swear attic yoga should be a thing) throughout the attic avoiding joists and HVAC ducts and gas pipes and roofing nails and boxes of random stuff to find where the cable came up. I ripped out enough staples to get some slack THEN pulled it up and back to the hatch where the splitter was.
I liked pulling out enough cable down below so that I only had to go up to the attic once to pull it all up, which is what I had done at this house. My usual timesaver bit me in the behind. I could have just gone down after each run to move my box of cable to prep the next outlet, giving myself a break from the attic heat, but I didn’t.
I unknowingly set up the homeowner to do what he did to me.
I was working the first cable run when I heard a thump. I looked back and saw the homeowner closed the attic ladder. Um, it was 95 outside and this was an old house so you can imagine how hot it was in that attic.
I crawled back and knocked on the hatch, not wanting to push it down in case he was still there and I hit him. Seconds later it pulls down.
‘Wow, you’re done already?’
Gosh darn it.
‘No sir, why did you close the ladder hatch?’
‘Oh, it’s really hot up there and I don’t want the AC running more while you work.’
‘Sir, it’s a safety hazard to basically lock me in your attic without ventilation. As you said, it’s very hot up here.’
‘Oh yeah? Well, my uncle is the VP of (some bull crap department) so if you don’t want to do your job I’ll see you’re fired.’
Great, one of THOSE guys. Fine. A buddy of mine already told me how to deal with this crap. ‘Apologies sir, I will work to get this done as quickly as I can and knock when I’m done.’
I went back and, as I noted before, even though the house was old it had more modern flexible AC ducts.
I scrambled down the longest one, which coincidentally went to the master bedroom. Oh look, it has a thin plastic zip tie holding it to the duct. Wiggled it and, predictably, the zip tie broke quite naturally. Grabbed the duct and pulled it around with me while I worked to at least have some cold air on my face.
Whenever the AC stopped I knocked on the hatch to come down for water and made a (not entirely feigned) show of being exhausted from the heat. Whenever the AC came back on I went back up. The homeowner increasingly looked worried. A 30-minute cabling job took 3 hours, plus the time to set up the boxes and remotes to his TVs.
However, I still did it right. Did the same new service demo I did for everyone and he was happy. Service quality tests were spot on.
Prior to coming down for the final not-in-the-attic tasks, I had placed the end of the duct in the general vicinity of his master bedroom vent, making sure the worn zip tie was appropriately placed. Have fun sweating in your bedroom, jerk.
Never heard a word about it if he complained.”
23. Sold Me A Faulty Car? I'll Be Laughing On My Way To The Bank
“About 20 years ago now, one of my friends, we’ll call him Mike, wanted to buy a new (to him) truck from an auto dealer in town.
Mike loved Ford Rangers, so that’s what he ultimately picked. I never understood the appeal myself but to each their own.
When he went out on the test drive with the salesman, everything went great, except he noticed a small problem. It’s been too long now, so I don’t remember exactly what the problem was, but I think it had to do with a loose or noisy steering wheel.
The salesman acknowledged that he saw the problem and promised to have it fixed. A service appointment was set up after the paperwork was signed.
A few days later, Mike dropped the truck off, but after 2 hours, the dealership called him to the counter and claimed that the steering wheel was supposed to shake and there wasn’t a problem.
Mike was irritated because he knew there was an issue. He tried to return the truck because they promised to fix it and they didn’t, but the dealer refused to take it back, saying, ‘It’s your problem.’
With not much leverage, he took his truck and drove off angry.
His dad ended up helping him fix it, but he was still mad.
Fast forward a few months later, and Mike’s driving on the freeway and gets clipped by a car merging from an on-ramp. His truck flips, rolls, and is totally destroyed. Luckily, Mike walked away with a few cuts and bruises.
Onto the revenge.
During the accident investigation, it turns out that the odometer on his truck had been rolled back by the dealership. Now, Mike had the option to go after the other driver’s insurance as they were 100% at fault, but he decided to get the dealership to pay instead because screw them.
Mike called the dealer and told them what happened and demanded his funds back in full because the dealer had committed fraud.
Over the next few days, several phone calls and faxed evidence, Mike made a rock-solid case that the dealer had indeed sold him a truck with a rolled back odometer and they knew it.
They ended up cutting him a check for the price of the truck plus a little extra. On the last phone call with the dealership, he was asked, ‘What are we supposed to do with a wrecked truck?’
Mike said, ‘That sounds like your problem’ and laughed his way to the bank.
Yes, he bought another Ford Ranger somewhere else.”
22. Mad About Me Not Doing The Dishes? I'll Do It Loudly Next Time
“This happened when I lived at home, everyone was in bed and my mother was the only one up and out to work early that day. If anyone is still asleep in bed when she comes back from work she goes bat crazy over anything she can find to get mad over.
Anyway this day my mother left for work, and after reading for a bit I got up and started to clean, seemingly this had been my job for as long as I can remember. She gets back, walks into the house, goes straight into the kitchen, and starts screaming at me that I hadn’t washed the dishes.
I said I was about to do the dishes after I had done what I was doing.
‘Oh you are always going to aren’t you,’ she said, and she started going on this rant about how lazy I am and I do nothing (okay if you say so, meanwhile your golden child is still in bed but that’s okay).
Following morning I did the same—got up, cleaned, washed the dishes but left them on the draining board. As soon as I knew she was back I decided I’ll just put the kettle on and make a brew while I put the dishes away.
You best believe I made as much noise as I could clashing all the dishes away. We had one of those whistling kettles and I even left that on for some time before she complained. Giving her her tea, I said sorry about the kettle, that I didn’t hear it but at least the dishes are put away.”
21. You Want To Bully Me? I'll Ruin Your Chances Of Becoming School President
“So, when I was in fifth/sixth grade, there was this girl called Maya who sat directly behind me in homeroom. Maya was a MAJOR witch, and I mean MONUMENTAL. However, to the adults and her posse, she was nothing but an ANGEL with straight As and overly flat-ironed hair.
Maya was one of my minor bullies at the time, the type of little jerk to giggle and whisper with her friends while looking/pointing dead at you. To approach you randomly in front of all her friends and ask you inappropriate questions like, ‘Why are you poor?
Why do you look like that?’ for no reason other than to humiliate. To make snide remarks and judge your every move. To make sure you knew that she didn’t like you and that you would NEVER be friends.
I very quickly got sick of her attitude, but what could I do?
She was basically the queen bee, and if I ever went against her, I would be treated more horribly than I already was. Me being timid and selectively mute, but full of bloodthirst nonetheless, couldn’t think of ways to slight her or get back at her, at least in ways that would matter.
Ways that would feel personal.
That was until Maya made this HUGE show about becoming the student body or council president (basically, being the face representing the entire 5th/6th grade only school). She was running against a kid I had never met or even seen before since I was new to the school.
On the inside, I rubbed my hands together. I would not only vote for this other kid, BUT I would convince my group of friends to vote for the other kid as well. Maybe snatch an extra ballot or two if I could get my hands on them.
I couldn’t get any extra ballots, but I did convince my friends and more to not vote for her. I had this secret smear campaign that she had no idea about, where I told everyone I was able to talk to the things I overheard her say in homeroom about what she would change/implement.
You know, stuff that should’ve stayed in her big, fat mouth until her little speech about it. Even complaints she had about the school that didn’t mean anything, but I framed it like it was gospel. It was also stuff that would make the school better just for her and her posse instead of benefitting everyone, and I made sure to drive this point home.
I’m pretty sure this got a few others to sway their friends to not vote for Maya either, at least, I like to think so.
The votes have been tallied! I crossed my fingers under the desk, and when the intercom blasted the other kid’s name, I clapped along with the other few kids that knew him.
Maya stared at me weirdly before looking down at her desk but didn’t say anything until we went to our lockers which were right outside our classroom. Now, unfortunately for me, my locker was right next to hers. The intercom went on to give a congrats to the other kid, and I said something along the lines of, ‘This is so awesome!
Yes!’ under my breath. Nothing in my life had ever gone my way until this day.
Maya must have heard me because she was like, ‘You’re new! You probably don’t even know who the president is!’
‘I’m just glad it’s not you.’ The words came out of my mouth before I could even catch myself.
I was so surprised because I usually would just keep my mouth shut, as Maya was someone I physically couldn’t talk to.
Maya was speechless, probably for the first time in her stupid life, and let out this surprised laugh. I, shocked at what I said with no way to backpedal, smiled brilliantly at her before slamming my locker closed and walking away.
She was still a little witchy to me after that day and for the rest of the year, but not on the scale she used to be from what I remember. And I don’t think she ever tried to run for anything ever again.
I’d do it again.”
20. You Stole My Clothes? I'll Throw Yours In The Dumpster
“Back in 1998, I was living in a barracks in Norfolk for a few months while I did some training after I had joined the Navy. My paycheck after taxes and everything was probably around $900 a month, so not a lot of income.
The barracks I was staying in had a massive laundry room with like 40 washers and dryers for the residents of the building to use for free. One day I was doing laundry as normal, moved my clothes to the dryer, and stepped out for a while until they were done.
When I went to retrieve my clothes from the dryer I realized ALL my bras were missing. I didn’t remember if they were in my clothes when I moved them from the washer to the dryer.
Now, I have a huge chest, just born like that.
I need support and something comfortable to carry all that weight. I buy my bras (still, even now 24 years later) from Lane Bryant. I’m not a plus-size girl but their bras are made to carry some serious weight and their band sizes go down low enough that they carry my size.
These bras are not cheap—I think back then they were somewhere in the $40 price range and I had at least 8, so replacing them would have taken me several months. All of them had my name stenciled on them still from boot camp.
I go into a panic about these bras—literally, every single one except the one I was wearing was in that load of laundry.
I can’t afford to replace them and I’m not the kind of girl that wears the same gross bra days in a row—it’s undergarments and they get worn once and washed. I thought maybe I had misplaced them or accidentally left them in the washer?
I started opening up all the washers and dryers and found my bras. Some jerk had stolen every single one of my bras, THAT HAD MY NAME ON THEM and put them in with their laundry in the dryer.
I decided to wait around for a while to see who the heck thought it was ok to just steal someone else’s stuff with their name LITERALLY STENCILED ON EACH BRA.
After about 20 minutes I got bored, so went over to the trash can and pulled out a fresh liner (under the bag there were extras) and jammed ALL of this jerk’s clothes into the bag. I didn’t want to throw the clothes in the trash in the laundry room so I took them up to my room and kept them for about a week before I found out there was a dumpster out back and I got rid of them.
I still think about the absolute audacity it takes to steal someone’s stuff, WITH THEIR NAME ON IT, while also being so stupid as to leave it in the laundry room for someone to find with your stuff. It’s like they set themselves up to have their clothes thrown away.”
19. My Ex And Her Son Were Nagging, So I Prepared Them Dog Food
“This is a story from years ago, at the time I was living with my ex.
She had a man-child son—let’s call him Al. At the time, Al was in his mid-20s. He and I never ever got on, if I asked him nicely to do something that he did not want to do, he would complain to his mother that I was getting to him and she would nag me.
He did not live with us, but his mother gave him a key for reasons.
As background, I love to cook. I always make way more food than I need and prepare myself and my ex meals that I leave in the fridge or freezer.
After a long day, it is great to come home and nuke some good food. She hated cooking and was absolutely terrible at it, so it became my task.
Al worked close to my place. Over time I realized that he was coming over at lunchtime and eating my leftovers.
I requested that he did not do this as it meant that my leftovers were disappearing when I had planned to eat them, meaning that after a long day, I would find myself cooking again, or buying take-out, etc.
This caused all sorts of fights, I wanted him to stop eating the leftovers, his mother sided with him.
I also found that he was taking over bits and pieces from the house, loose change, stationery, towels, and whatnot. I decided that if I was not going to get him to stop, I would make him ill. Given that I also discovered that my ex was having an affair, and her attitude towards me in her defense of him, I needed to get them both back.
I initially considered laxatives but came to the conclusion that I needed something much better. Their absolute favorite dinner was ‘cottage pie’—minced beef, veggies, and cheesy mashed potatoes. I do not eat beef, I would cook it for them, but I do not eat it, or any red meat.
My ex requested that I cook cottage pie, so a plan formed. I purchased several cans of beefy dog food in gravy, emptied the contents into a big pan, added a ton of spices and gravy granules, chopped carrots/parsnips/turnips, and swede, and let the whole thing cook for a while while I destroyed the evidence.
Once the veggies were cooked, I spooned the mix into several dishes, added mashed potatoes—using the worst potatoes I could find, added some cheap cheese and salt/butter, and cooked them all until they were golden brown.
I let them cool on the side and put them in the fridge.
A couple of hours later, my ex got back from ‘church’ and Al arrived a few minutes later, they were both hungry.
I made my excuses and went to the garage to work on my bike or something.
They both cleaned their bowls, I had to disguise my pleasure at this and sat back.
The next day, my ex had a stomach ache, but still went to work. At lunchtime, Al came over and finished off another bowl of the special dinner. Both complained of upset stomachs but put it down to a gastric bug that was doing the rounds.
All of the ‘food’ had gone by Friday, so on Sunday, I repeated the recipe.
And they eat all of it again!
I repeated this for several weeks, they really appreciated the special dinners I was making for them especially since I was not complaining that Al was eating the leftovers at lunchtime.
I varied things a little, one of my favorite things to make are ‘pasties’, which are meat/veg/potatoes wrapped in pastry, you can guess what I made the ones that I knew Al would eat using?
Once I had secured enough evidence of her affair, I sat her down and told her that I knew about it and that (by the way) for the last month or so, she had been eating dog food 3-4 times a week.
The reaction was fantastic, she was utterly horrified and ran to the bathroom and threw up for quite a while. Obviously, she had called/texted Al. Who came over and started yelling at me and actually threw a punch or two my way.
She left that night, a locksmith changed my locks the next day.”
18. This Lady Flipped Me Off, So I Got Security To Boot Her Car
“I was walking towards the exit of a University parking lot near a blind curve that is blocked by a large hill. The speed limit for the parking lot is 15 mph, and if you speed around that curve you have a high chance of hitting a car head-on or running over a student.
Why the university hasn’t done something about this curve is beyond me.
So I’m walking near this curve when all of a sudden a red sedan comes flying around, no lie, going about 40 mph. Thankfully I hadn’t gotten to the curve, but the driver could have seriously hurt someone!
I stopped walking and put both of my hands out and mouthed ‘slow down’ while moving my hands down. I didn’t yell, didn’t get mad, just let the driver know they were going too fast for the parking lot.
The car slowed down slightly then drove right past me.
I could see it was a young woman driving, who proceeded to flip me the bird and speed off. I just laughed at her maturity and watched her try to find a spot in the full parking lot, knowing she would have to leave to go to another lot to park.
But she didn’t. She proceeded to park in a vacant spot at the end of the lot, then ran off to a nearby building, obviously late for class.
Now, the important thing to know about those spots at the end of the lot is that they are reserved. For who you ask?
Why, the president and the vice president of the university! I walked over and sure enough, she had parked in the VP’s spot. I doubt the VP would be that young, or that unprofessional to flip off a student.
The campus security office was in the same building I was heading to, so I stopped off to let them know about the entitled brat being parked in a BIG no-no spot.
They were very interested, took down some info about the car, said they would take care of it, and thanked me.
I went to lunch and did some homework, and when I left to go to class in another building I saw her in the campus security office.
She was not happy and I just laughed and kept walking. I walked outside and was able to see they booted her car! I lost it and felt so dang happy! The next day I ran into the security officer and he said she got massive fines for parking in the VP’s spot and reckless driving.
Petty, yeah, but the revenge was oh so sweet!”
17. My Mom's Roommate Never Washed The Dish Towels, So She Stuffed Them Into Her Luggage
“Ok, so this was a while ago when my mom (50) was in college.
She lived in a house and she had several roommates. One roommate, let’s call her Linda, was from Alaska and was an absolute slob. In their house, they rotated chores, and one of the chores was washing the dish towels. Linda always found a way to avoid this.
She constantly gave excuses and all of the roommates let her. My mom was ticked off about this.
At the end of the year, my mom told Linda she HAD to take care of the towels before she left for the summer (Linda was supposed to come back for the next year, later she decided not to).
A few hours after my mom told her this, Linda magically disappeared when my mom was looking for her. All she could find were the suitcases she packed. My mom was angry, but she resigned herself to having to clean the towels. After going into the kitchen, my mom could not find the towels.
She looked and looked until eventually, she found them… in the back corner of the cabinet behind the sink, in a black garbage bag. There were quite a few towels stuffed in the bag. They were all gross and moldy because every time Linda actually claimed to wash the towels, she stuffed them in the bag and hid them.
In an act of revenge against messy Linda, my mom took the towels and put them in Linda’s luggage.
Later, once Linda got home, she called everyone in their house to see who put the towels in her bag. My mom was on the couch when one of her roommates, who was beside her, was called by Linda.
This roommate was known for being honest. After a short discussion with Linda, the roommate said something along the lines of, ‘Hang on, I’ll ask (my mom’s name).’
My mom knew what they were talking about, so when the roommate looked over, to ask her, my mom nodded fiercely.
The roommate, upon seeing my mom’s response, told Linda that they both had no idea what she was talking about.”
16. You Think You Have Nicer Clothes Than Me? Those Are My Hand-Me-Downs You're Wearing
“This happened when I was 12 (I am 26 now) and honestly? I’ve never lived up to it since.
To set the scene, this was in middle school, I was in 7th grade and my cousin ‘B’ was in 6th.
The build-up for this exchange had been going on for weeks but the ‘finale’ was during the lunch period at school one wonderful Friday afternoon.
B, from the moment she was born, was an entitled, stuck-up snob. She and like all her siblings (4 of them) were ‘spite babies’.
(Their parents were terrible people who didn’t like other people/kids getting grandma’s attention so whenever my mom or aunt were expecting, B’s parents would rush to make another kid. They were all terrible but B was the worst because she was the only one her parents loved.) The amount of entitlement was beyond that of even the richest kids in town and wherever there was drama ‘Queen’ B was there to stir it up, make it worse, and feed off the attention.
I was a favorite target—quiet, shy, not as pretty, or gifted with ‘femme knowledge’. (To this day I still have no idea how to put together an outfit or do my hair/makeup. It’s a waste of time and effort IMO.) I was also very bookish and weirdly intelligent in a way that made no sense.
(Autism. I can tell you everything about what Zeus ate for breakfast 3000 years ago but ask me to explain a current event and my brain cells ping about like a Windows 95 logo.) So, despite my efforts to make nice and get along with B, it never worked out.
Every single day, she’d come up to me in a crowd and (loudly) say, ‘Hey OP! Why don’t you wear nice clothes/look like a girl?’ while flaunting her brand-name clothing or makeup skills. Everyone would laugh and I’d feel a little upset but largely, I’d ignore her.
No looking up from my book/studies, nothing. ‘Blink-blink-uh-huh-B-see-you-on-Friday-because-my-mom-does-your-hair-love-ya’ type of response. This always annoyed her—I don’t know which part was worse: Me ignoring her trying to goad me into an argument to make me look bad, or the fact I always told her I loved her (And was probably the only one to do so).
For weeks—literally from Sept to Dec—daily she would find me in a crowd and do her little peacock prance. And I’d always smile, tell her I loved her, and then ignore her otherwise. But, of course, when I got home, I’d look out the window and see B next door with her friends and they’d all point and laugh at me.
My bedroom could be looked into from her bedroom so she’d lean out and call me names until I closed/covered my window. I cried a lot. I was doing everything everyone said, I was being kind, not fighting back… why was she like this?
Finally, I had enough and hatched a plan.
You see, my family used to be close and none of us are ‘Well off’. Not poor but not rich SO the older family often hands down clothes to the younger. Meaning B and all her siblings (or sisters) got first dibs on my old clothes before I donated them.
Especially before Christmas…
I waited, knowing Christmas was coming up and I would have a chance to ‘lash out’. Finally, that fateful, fabulous Friday came. B and her hive came into the lunchroom looking/acting like it was Fashion Week in Paris. My friends and I rolled our eyes and resumed eating, knowing she’d be over soon.
Like clockwork, she and her friends came over and started their prancing and showing off.
B came over and showed off all her clothes and told me, ‘I have nicer clothes than you! Why don’t you wear nice clothes?’
I very slowly finished my pizza, wiped my mouth, and stood up.
B/her friends backed off some because usually when I stood up, my friends did too and my friends are nowhere near as kind as I am. However, my friends stayed seated while the whole lunchroom stared at B and me, expecting an all-out brawl.
Instead, I just smiled as sweetly as I could, hugged B, and (louder than I should have) said, ‘Last I checked, those are my hand-me-downs you’re wearing! So, of course, you have nice clothes; I gave them to you! Now run along, Cinderella. We’re trying to enjoy our lunch!’
B LOST HER MIND. Her friends freaked out and as soon as people realized what I had said? Everyone laughed and while she was still entitled and a snob, she fell down a few rungs on the social ladder.”
15. My Boss Wouldn't Give Me Mileage Reimbursement, So I Printed An Article To Every Printer
“Just joined the great resignation. The last straw for me was when they required the entire office to cram into a conference room in mid-January for an all-hands meeting where about 20% of the company contracted a sickness (including me).
I started looking aggressively and by the time I was cleared, I had 2 offers that paid more and allowed me to work from home.
On my second to last day, I put in my mileage reimbursements that amounted to about $50. My boss emails me and says that since I had access to a company car I shouldn’t have used my car.
Access to the company car was news to me—I checked my emails and found that she had emailed me when I was out and I had missed it.
She said, ‘Come get the keys from my office.’ Well, I had never gotten the keys so she knew I wasn’t using it and still using my car.
I went into her office to tell her that, and you could tell she wasn’t expecting any blowback. I didn’t get mad, I just asked very plainly if she was serious. She said she could talk to the CEO (her boss) about it.
Now my boss is director level and approves contracts for tens of thousands of dollars. The thought that she would need the CEO’s approval on a $50 check was laughable. I said ‘Okay’ then went to my office and printed an article titled, ‘Can you sue your employer for being sick?’ to every printer on the floor, grabbed the rest of my stuff, and left.
The next day I came in to drop off my keys and there was my $50 check on my desk. I start my new job this week and my position will be completely work from home.”
14. My Neighbors Are Too Lazy To Take Their Garbage Downstairs, So I Leave It In Front Of Their Doors
“I live in an apartment building that has over a hundred units in it, spread over several floors. On each floor, there is a door leading to a small room that contains access to the garbage chute. You go in the room, pull the chute cover open, throw your garbage bag in, and it tumbles down into the dumpsters in the basement.
Sometimes, you’ll want to throw away a huge box or a piece of furniture, but it won’t fit in the chute. You have to take it down to the basement, where you can throw it directly into the dumpster or into one of the gigantic recycle bins (also dumpster-sized).
The elevator is right next to the trash-chute room, so this isn’t a huge imposition.
I know this sounds straightforward, but some people are either too dumb or too lazy to take their big boxes downstairs, so they leave them in the tiny garbage-chute room.
This makes it a pain in the rear for everyone else on that floor to throw their garbage away.
The petty revenge? Any time the shipping label is still on the box, I see who it was addressed to, and put the box back in front of their apartment door.
By some miracle, those boxes always seem to make their way into the recycle bins downstairs.”
13. The Neighbors Were Complaining, So My Employers Got Their Revenge
“Some years ago I worked for a small local business run by a small local family from the not-so-small family home. The family home was a large 20+ bedroom home that had been bought and run by the family as a hotel a few decades previously.
At this time, however, it was a home for the parents with part of the building converted to be office space for their business.
The house sat on the banks of a river in a rural location and afforded me wonderful views of the countryside when I had the opportunity to look out of my office window.
It was fairly idyllic. To access the property there was a private road off the main road that accessed their drive and then passed through the family’s property to their neighbor’s property on the same riverbank further downstream. The neighbor had a legal right of access to the private road as there were no other means of accessing his property.
The business they ran started out as a man-with-a-van operation that quickly grew to the point that they employed a dozen or so employees (including yours truly) and as a result, they started receiving more and more traffic to their home in the form of employees, clients, and deliveries.
The neighbor got a little annoyed by the increase in traffic, including large delivery lorries. We were never entirely sure why he was annoyed as his property was too far away to be bothered by the sound of the vehicles and the lay of the land was such that he couldn’t see them either.
The employees arriving and leaving work meant a handful of cars arriving in the morning and leaving in the afternoon and the deliveries would be 3-4 vans per day and a similar number of lorries per week. Hardly excessive, especially when you couldn’t see or hear them.
Nevertheless, annoyed he was and decided to take action.
Remember when I said the house that had been bought was a hotel. Well, it seemed that the family had never mentioned a change of use to the planning committee. Not so much of a big deal when you go from being a hotel to a home but a pretty big deal when you go from a home to operating a business.
The annoyed neighbor noticed this discrepancy and immediately contacted the council’s planning office and they immediately contacted my employers. After much bureaucratic wrangling, they were offered a choice. Change the business back to a hotel or apply for new planning permission to become a home.
An application to change to use to cover the business they were currently running would be met with failure as such a business already had a complaint against it from a neighbor.
So the house went back to being a hotel (Actually, more like a massive Airbnb but still within the planning permission) but even that didn’t go smoothly.
Changes in the law over the intervening years meant that the current access to the property didn’t meet the regulations and a new entrance needed to be built further up the main road to then join onto the private road a little closer to the house.
This was done with no complaints by the family because it meant that A) Their Dad got to play with a digger while constructing the new entrance and B) The seeds of revenge had been planted.
As the neighbor also ran a business from his property, that he did not have planning permission for, then the revenge would seem obvious to someone, like me, who is not possessed by a vengeful demon of the pettiest kind.
This kind of tit-for-tat was beneath my boss however and he began to formulate an act of even pettier vengeance while still appearing to be firmly placed upon the highest of moral high grounds.
He built the new entrance, as required. He allowed neighbor access to his property, as required but, as stipulated in the original right of way agreement the neighbor must use the old entranceway which had been left intact specifically for this purpose.
However, as my boss did not want to cause any confusion to his new business’ guests and because he had granted a local farmer grazing rights for his sheep in the bit of land the old access road went through, he gated the old access road so nobody who wasn’t supposed to use it could use it and no sheep could make their way onto the main road.
In fact, he gated it twice. Then he locked both of the gates and gave copies of the keys to the neighbor.
The first gate was as close to the road as possible, just barely enough room to get a car off the main road, and then it opened inwards.
Any vehicle entering through the gate had to pull up to the second gate in order to have the space to close gate 1 behind them. Gate 2 however opened outwards so any vehicle needed to back up to a closed gate 1 in order for gate 2 to be opened. The whole process of driving onto his property now meant the neighbor had to pull up to gate one as close as possible, get out of his car and unlock the padlock to the gate and drive through to gate 2.
Get back out of the car to close and lock gate 1 and then back the car up to gate 1 and unlock and open gate 2. Drive through gate 2, get out of the car again to close and lock gate 2 and then continue on his way.
Occasionally the keys for these locks that were owned by the family would get lost and the locks would need to be replaced. The neighbor would always receive a new set posted through his letterbox so he would always have the access he was legally entitled to it’s just that he always seemed to be out when the locks needed to be changed and he would have to walk down to his property to get the new keys then walk back to get his car in.
The new entrance had a sign attached to it and a camera pointed at it. The sign read that it was private land and that trespassers would be fined. The neighbor used it once and then received a photograph of his car trespassing on their property and a warning that further infractions would result in fines.
He never tried to use that entrance again.
As all of this meant that the business that I worked for now operated out of an industrial unit and my view of the British countryside was replaced with a view of a factory wall. I felt very little sympathy for the odious little jerk that stuck his nose into other people’s business.”
12. Someone Took My Laundry Out To Wash Theirs, So I Did The Same To Them
“I used to live in a country where it’s very common to have a few common washing machines for the building, instead of personal ones in rentals, and these are found in the basement.
You would generally have to pay to use it, usually via a card. You would insert the card in a separate machine, it would take out about $2.50 per washing cycle (yep, read that right) and could take the funds back at the end if it hadn’t used it all (though not everybody in the building knew that!
We would teach this to nice neighbors).
Many buildings would have a fixed time schedule for each apartment in the building, but not my building. It was free for all and my partner and I thought we got lucky because some of our friends would only have a few hours every 2 or 3 weeks!
Which we thought was absolutely disgusting, because we come from a country that (clearly) has a different standard for cleanliness.
In fact, one of our pet peeves was people touching our laundry after it was washed and, even worse, leaving it right on top of the extra dirty machines.
We were so worried about it that we would generally do our laundry very early on Saturday morning before people would want to use the machines, and we would keep a lot of timers to ensure we would be down before the cycle was finished.
One day, I go down about 2 minutes before the end and I find my laundry on top of the washing machine, dripping wet and the machine being currently in use. I am about to lose my mind. I start swearing in my language, ready to call my partner down to get enraged with me, when I realize this person is using my funds for their laundry!
So I get my card out, put it in the machine, and take the rest of my funds out, effectively blocking the machine mid-cycle and leaving the door blocked until you put more funds in.
I had to of course rewash my laundry, but we were very careful about checking it frequently this time.
Hope you like your smelly clothing!”
11. My Ex Husband Did The Unthinkable, So I Stayed Friends With His Loved Ones
“My ex-husband and I had a super trusting relationship. Like, actually. We had each others’ banking info, passwords to social media, phone codes. I had no problem he went to nightclubs. My only rule is if you are going out late, stay out and sleep at a friend’s because I’m a light sleeper and my dog would wake me up from his excitement.
Never in our time together did I feel I should be suspicious. His friends loved me and would’ve ratted him out. I hung out with his friends without him, he hung out with mine. Our only issue was that my ex lacked a stable career path… Always changing jobs every 8 months because it ‘wasn’t what he wanted.’ I supported him emotionally and financially.
Until after being together for 7-8 years and got married. I got over it and told him he needs to sort his things out and figure out what he wants to do, especially since he wanted to start having kids ASAP. I might’ve been aggressive, but I was exhausted from him making me feel bad about my satisfaction with my job and life.
It takes its toll carrying the emotional load.
Soon after, one day, my Peter tingle was tingling and I knew something was up. He started doing ‘life coach’ sessions which I figured out was about his emotions and stuff. He went out the same. Did some hinges.
But his demeanor changed. A month after that tingle happened, he was hiding his phone from me. Told me it was his sister. Then why hide it? That was an alarm for me. Next day, I searched his phone and there were texts from this chick, saying how he wants to do things to her… While I was in bed with him.
It was pretty explicit for a married man to say to someone that’s not his wife.
I confronted him. He got on the defense but I didn’t care about his privacy since he hooked up with another woman so I told him I’m leaving for the day and he better be gone when I got back.
Not long after I leave, his mom called me (she always called me because she loved me) and I told her that her son and I were breaking up and she should call him to ask why. Sure enough, she did. And he can’t lie to his mom.
His friends stayed friends with me. I had a few Thanksgiving dinners with his parents when he wasn’t there. A few lunches. It was the vindication I needed.”
10. You're Asking Me Why I'm Mad? I'll Ask You How You Like Dish Washing Duties
“I used to work at McDonald’s doing night shift and we change over for breakfast at 5 am. Usually, I’d do kitchen but we were short-staffed so I was doing drive-thru which was always busy.
If you did drive-thru you’d also have to wash dishes.
It was hitting 1-2 am at this point and I kept telling my workmate I need dishes to wash but he keeps saying, ‘No I’ll bring it.’
I eventually went to get them myself because it was almost 3 but he wouldn’t let me, he just said leave it, I’ll bring them to you.
At 5 am he started bringing the dishes, telling me, ‘Can you hurry up? I need to set up breakfast.’
I lost my mind. He looked at me, smiling like, ‘Why you mad? Just be happy. I’m bringing the dishes, aren’t I?’
But I finish work at 6 am so what I did was I washed what I could and once it hit 6 am I left.
My boss called me and complained saying, ‘Why isn’t the job done?’
I said, ‘If you need me to stay, roster me for longer hours, it’s not my fault he brought them late.’
I eventually quit after a while in which my boss refused to give me my payout but I spoke to the higher-ups & got my money which was $1,400 and at my new job I had morning hours. I would drive there every morning to buy coffee at 5 am & ask the same worker how the kitchen and dishwashing were.”
9. Our Neighbors Were A Nightmare, So We Made Them Pay $100 A Month
“Several years ago we moved into a small house that was turned into apartments. Overall it was in very good shape, well located, and had a basement which was important to me (and to the story). After we moved in there was an issue with the sewage and there was water in the basement for two weeks.
Given the circumstances, I talked to the owner and we agreed he’d let us use one of the garages he owns a little further down the street until the situation was fixed, free of charge. Unfortunately, the water issue didn’t get fixed until about a year later.
Fortunately for us, this meant the owner just gave up on the garage and let us use it for years to come.
All was nice and well until the new neighbors moved in. They seemed very nice at first, which is why we gladly accepted to share the garage so they could park their bikes there.
(Bikes get stolen often in our town, even with a good pad). Now this garage had become our basement, housing mostly relics of our lives. (Basically junk with emotional value and loads of photo albums).
For there to be petty revenge there needs to be a grievance, and grievance there was.
Smoking in the stairwell even though it’s a non-smoker’s building, yelling and slamming on the walls at any hour of the day, their poor dog which they terrorize so much, barks every time it hears a loud noise. Taken individually none of these would be a problem but they’ve won bad-neighbor-bingo.
About a month after our ‘lovely’ neighbors moved in one of them knocked on my door, intoxicated as all heck, telling an incomprehensible tale that went from ‘Shomeone broke into the charage!’ to ‘You know itsch happens to every–one to have a breakdown! You can tell me what happened, why’d you make such a mesh in the charage?!’
A quick inspection of the garage, where all my life was spilled out on the floor between what used to be a whiskey bottle (of the neighbor’s favorite brand) and some buds of his smoking stuff, and his absurd story of a break-in quickly made me understand the man got intoxicated, rummaged through my stuff and ended up having the breakdown he accused me of.
The next day I cleaned out the garage, moved my stuff back to the now dry basement, and called the owner. I told him that the new neighbors were using the garage and would be willing to take over the rent ‘I’ve been paying all that time.’ He got the hint and since then they’ve been paying 100$/month just to put their bikes away.
Enjoy!
As a cherry on top, I’ve been slamming my cupboard every time I’m up late or early. I get such a thrill from hearing their little dog lose it at ungodly hours, inevitably waking them up!”
8. My Friend Made My Crush Reject Me So I Took His Crush To Formal
“Back in Year 9, a few of my friends and I were walking to the bus stop after a late-night school play.
We were just talking on our way to the bus stop which is nearly 20ish minutes away. One thing led to another and I told my friends that there was this girl that I had a crush on with the confidence that they will keep it a secret (because I asked them to keep it a secret).
One of my friends, let’s call him Mike, went and told the girl I liked about this, and since me being a skinny, nerd-looking guy not only did I get indirectly rejected but also made fun of in school for a good month. Since I didn’t care much about it (even though I did) the topic left the school sooner than it should’ve but since Mike wasn’t satisfied with that, he used to bring it back up on a few occasions so everyone else could get a laugh.
Though from outside I didn’t care too much about it, I always wanted some sort of revenge. So now after 3 years since the incident as revenge for what my now good friend did to me, I took HIS crush to year 12 formal AND we sat on the same bench as his.
I loved his face filled with jealousy and anger and to make matters worse all our friend group is on my side.
Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth my guy.
Nothing has happened since but he did ask me why I did that knowing he liked her and him ghosting me, which he stopped and we both met up went for bowling.”
7. Our Neighbor Lady Confiscated My Bike, So I Planted Fish Around Her Apartment
“This happened back in 2013, but I just remembered it while talking to my mom the other day. For some context, this happened while my family was still living in Germany. My dad had just lost his job, which prompted us to look for less expensive housing options, and we moved from our relatively nice, older apartment building to one of the prefabricated concrete ones in a different district.
I was nine, so I didn’t care too much about the aesthetics of the building, and I was thrilled about the fact that we now had direct access to a courtyard and cement pathways that I could ride my bike on. While my parents were still unpacking, some of the kids from down the hall came to our door and asked if I wanted to ride bikes with them, which became our weekend routine for a while.
It only stopped when an old lady from the same side of the hall made a complaint about us being in the courtyard. Not that we were being loud or vulgar, just that we were present. Mind you, all of the apartments on our side of the hall faced the road, which was completely opposite to the courtyard we used, so she couldn’t even see us when we were outside.
She sold it to my parents as ‘looking out for other tenants’ and claimed that people had complained to her specifically about how they were worried about walking in the courtyard while there were a couple of kids on bikes in the general area. My parents pretty much ignored her and just told me to play with my friends on one of the nearby streets (no idea why they thought this was a safe alternative), but none of us wanted to do that since we couldn’t practice bike tricks on the road.
About a week after I ignored her complaint, I had stayed out past the time I was meant to be home and left my bike around the side of the building so I could get it in the morning. However, as you might have guessed at this point, I woke up the next day to find my bike missing.
I, being a dramatic little kid, ran up the stairs to our hall sobbing and told my parents what had happened. Apparently, the old lady told my parents that she had taken the bike from outside because we were still in the courtyard, and they were mad at me for not going to the street like they asked. They then told me to go down the hall and politely ask for the bike back, which I did.
Unfortunately, the old lady told me that I needed to be taught a lesson, and if I gave her a written apology (yes, actually) I could have it back at the end of the week (it was Sunday morning). I was, of course, angry, and started to plot my at-the-time brilliant revenge.
The morning of next Saturday rolled around and I was ready to put my plan in motion. I had put on a pretty good show of being remorseful to my mom, who lent me some funds to buy a tin of biscuits to apologize with.
I had my written apology, the biscuits, and several voblas in a sandwich bag I had hidden in my coat. For those who have never heard of vobla, it is a salted, dried fish popular in Russia, and that I personally think is one of the worst smells maybe ever.
My mom is Russian and loves them, which is why we had so many in the apartment. I knocked on the old lady’s door and she invited me in to put the things down. She accepted my letter and the biscuits, and I asked her if I could use her bathroom before I left with my bike, which she allowed.
While she was sitting in the living room, I was hustling quietly around her bathroom and bedroom, hiding one of those gross dried fish anywhere I thought she wouldn’t look regularly. Stuck between pipes under the sink, stuffed under her giant wardrobe, and even thrown onto the top shelf of her closet.
With the all-natural stink bombs deployed, I washed my hands and all but sprinted out of her apartment with my bike, thrilled with the stunt I managed to pull off.
From what I overheard from discussions between the parents of my friends and me, the old lady complained to the landlord about the ‘awful fish smell’ on several occasions (he was a total jerk who rarely did anything about tenant complaints) before she finally hired a company to come deep-clean her apartment.
She found and complained about the very old, very nasty fish, and actually moved out a couple of months later (although I’m not sure if that was due to the lasting effects of the fish incident or something else entirely). Of course, I feel bad about it now, but at the time I felt like the biggest, coolest genius known to man.
I guess the moral of the story is not to confiscate bikes from vindictive kids, and don’t ever try vobla. Seriously.”
6. I'm Not A Slow Learner, But You Really Should Be Getting Me My Ginger Ale
“Let me preface this by saying this happened about 7 years ago when I was 19 being diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I am perfectly fine now and I really don’t want pity points. My cancer has been long since put into remission and I have enjoyed many years of good health.
It’s unlikely to come back ever or at least anytime soon. I am only talking about this to give some added context, so when I mention how I was feeling at the time know that I have long since been very healthy and actually had it pretty easy when it comes to cancer.
So like I said, I was 19 and had something very wrong with the side of my neck. My lymph nodes on the right side had been severely inflamed for months, and after an ultrasound, we pretty much knew it was definitely some type of cancer.
The real anxiety behind all this was what kind. Hodgkin’s and Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma are two very different beasts and I was really hoping to have the former.
I go in for a procedure called an incisional biopsy, which is exactly what it sounds like. They make me go to sleep, they make an incision, and take out a sample of the affected tissue for testing to make a diagnosis.
I was really trying to put on a hard face for all this. Friends, family, and my doctor had all remarked on how well I was taking the whole thing, but really I was scared out of my mind. I was thinking about dying of cancer a lot.
So needless to say when it was the day of my surgery, I was very anxious and generally feeling very sad. I tried to hide it, but that’s the truth.
So the procedure goes on. They put me to sleep, they get the needed sample, and next thing I know I am waking up in the post-anesthesia care unit.
As I wake up, a female nurse probably in her mid-40s is checking my pulse-ox. ‘Oh you’re awake, how are you feeling?’
I was feeling like complete crap emotionally but physically I felt fine besides feeling insanely groggy. It was my first time being put to sleep for a procedure and I was feeling pretty ‘woozy’ and very mentally raw.
My lips are cracked in a million different places because I had to fast for this surgery and my mouth feels like it’s full of sand. She asks me a few questions like where I am, what I was here for, etc., just to gauge if I was waking up okay.
She then asks me if I want a cup of water or ginger ale. I would have killed for a drink.
‘Yes please. A ginger ale would be amazing.’
She says sure thing and then asks how old I am. I tell her 19 and she says ‘Oh, my daughter is 19 too!’
She goes on to talk about her daughter for what had to have been at least 10 minutes. I get that I was very groggy but it had to have been at least close to that long. She explains her daughter is studying premed at our city’s public university.
It is not an ivy league school, but it is very respected, especially for medical study. I am already feeling like crap hearing this because I know I am going to be out of college for who knows how long and I used to be very eager with some pretty big aspirations.
I am wincing through this because my education is being put on pause and my own personal shortcomings are not something I wanted to be faced with quite this second, but nevertheless, she continues.
Finally, she asks me about what I want to do. I told her and she seems pretty unimpressed and gives some unsolicited advice on career choices.
I try to make myself seem as disinterested as possible, but I listen to her talk her bull crap for another few minutes.
Then she asks me where I go to school.
‘I am just attending community college at the moment.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.
Are you a slow learner, honey?’
I was seeing red. I really don’t EVER lose my crap on strangers. ESPECIALLY people who are helping me or providing me a service. But between my insane level of anxiety regarding my upcoming diagnosis, the anesthesia having an effect on me, having fasted, and this blathering idiot of a woman blatantly talking down to me, I had enough.
I stayed silent for a few seconds and I remember sitting up a bit more in the stretcher. ‘No, I am not. Are you a slow learner?’ I asked.
She looked a bit taken back for a second and said ‘No?’
‘Then why haven’t you gotten me my ginger ale yet?’
She just hung her mouth open SO wide and walked away. Needless to say that after I got my ginger ale (a little too much ice but I let it slide) I didn’t hear a WORD from her again. Even when medical transport came to get me, she didn’t say goodbye.
I was honestly very surprised at myself (and a bit ashamed for a while) at what I had said, but I had so many other things on my mind I never really thought much about it until I was healthy again.
Did I ever finish college?
No. But it was never because I was a ‘slow learner’. I did make it to a very respected university myself, but I didn’t finish. I have had years to think back on this very hard time in my life and the many mistakes I made proceeding it.
Life threw me even more curveballs after I was better, and it is only now at nearly 27 years old that I feel like I am in a good place mentally again, where I can think about finishing college. I’ll probably test the waters with another semester in community college again.
Whenever I think about this sort of thing, I am reminded of how out of touch this woman was with the world when she likely has to deal with life or death every day. I actually was working as a patient tech in the same hospital I had this surgery done up until a few months ago, and I am ashamed to say that while there is a lot of great nurses out there, there is just as many ignorant and spiteful ones who are clearly there just for a check.
That being said, I hope I never get to a point in my life where I am so apathetic and oblivious to the feelings of others where I would say some stuff like that.”
5. My Rude Bus Driver Gave Me Two Free Tickets, And I Didn't Correct Him
“A little set-up: For years I regularly took a bus in my hometown. There were two kinds of tickets: one-way tickets which were quite expensive and so-called 10-stripe tickets with which one could ride the bus ten times. You could buy those tickets from the bus driver and they were also responsible for stamping and thus validating them.
I normally bought a 10-stripe ticket inside the bus and asked the bus driver to stamp the first stripe for my trip to the next town over. No problem at all, I did it hundreds of times before.
This time, the bus driver was an older man who seemed very unfriendly.
As always I bought my ticket and gave my usual spiel about stamping the first stripe. But this time the bus driver gave me two tickets back—one normal 10-stripe ticket and also one very expensive one-way ticket that I neither needed nor wanted. I pointed out his mistake to him, but he didn’t let me argue.
He told me I either get in and pay for those two tickets or I can take the next bus in two hours.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I just paid. But as I counted my change I noticed that he gave me way too much change back.
Enough to pay for both tickets. But before I could remark anything the bus driver interrupted me again and shouted at me to just sit down.
So I just set down and kept my mouth shut, knowing that he’s obligated by his company to compensate the missing amount with his own salary.
Thank you very much dear bus driver for not only paying for a useless one-way ticket but also my brand-new ten-stripes ticket, all by yourself. I’m going to think about you while using it.”
4. The Kiosk Wasn't Helpful, But I Ended Up Getting Free Parking
“So I was at a function in an area that pretty much requires you to pay to park. I park my truck in a nearby parking garage, secure my ticket and head out on my business.
Evidently, I hadn’t secured that ticket as well as I thought, as when I went to the pedestrian entrance I couldn’t find my ticket. And there weren’t any other regular ways to get back in, or at least I couldn’t find any, so I was locked out of the garage.
I walked to the main vehicle entrance and saw the billboard note that, replacing a lost parking pass would cost an entire day’s worth of time, about 30 bucks. Man, that sucks, but it’s my own fault for losing the ticket. Hopefully, I can get ahold of a parking attendant or someone to help me out.
I go to the kiosk and get ahold of someone on the other end. My apologies, I don’t remember exactly what she said, but it was something to the effect of:
‘You need to get your ticket replaced,’ they said.
‘Yes I know that, can you do that?’ I said.
‘No, you have to find the attendant.’
‘Wait you’re not the attendant? Ok, well do you know where I can find them?’
‘Nope.’
So I was out of luck on all the options I was aware of. After thinking about less-than-legal solutions, I decided I would just ask whoever’s coming in next if I could follow them in on foot.
The first person that came up was super cool about it, and I got into the garage. Got to my truck, and still couldn’t find my ticket. Alright, maybe they can just charge me the full rate when I try to exit without it. So I drive to the exit, there’s no button for people who lost their pass, so I press the attendant button.
Almost the exact same thing happens, different voice but pretty much the same intent. By this point, I’m pretty frustrated and decided if they didn’t want to take my funds, that’s fine, but I’m still getting out.
I waited for another person to head to the exit.
It took me 3 tries, but I found a guy who was cool with me tailing him out if I gave him some of the funds I got from my earlier function. Finally made it out, and the guy even changed his mind about taking the funds.
So that’s how I got free parking for about 3 hours in a big city.”
3. I'm Tired Of Catering To My Husband, So I'm Taking Up Reality TV To Spite Him
“My husband never apologizes. I’m a very open person about how I feel. I used to go out of my way to see what he needed. He never asks how I’m doing or if I need anything. He won’t even acknowledge me in the morning with a hello.
No please or thanks. If I tell him he’s hurting my feelings with this he doesn’t care and will turn it back on what I’m not doing.
After years of this, I do less and less for him as I’m tired of catering to a grown man.
I know what kind of shows he likes. He doesn’t understand how the TV channels work to switch from watching Xbox to regular TV. He won’t ask or say please just says what he wants. I’ve told him how this hurts my feelings to be treated like a clerk in a store there for his demands.
He responded he will not change. I no longer will respond to demands. He won’t have discussions and just leaves the room. But if he hears the TV he’ll show up, not say a word, maybe watch TV or just leave the room. Creeps me out.
My revenge. I’ve discovered Japanese reality TV. I quite enjoy it. I’m sure he hates it. So this month I’m dedicating my TV watching to Japanese reality TV and every reality show I can find. I’ll be happy, he can pound sand for all I care.”
2. Locked Your Bike To My Bike? I'll Just Take Both Of Them Home
“I lived in an apartment in the city and would get around on a bike that I would park on a pole outside my apartment. One night I had plans to go across town to another neighborhood to meet some friends and have fun. I went out to get my bike and discovered that some jerk had locked their bike to my bike.
I was pretty steamed. It wasn’t convenient to take public transit where I wanted to go because it was cold and rainy and I would have to transfer busses. I didn’t want to have to wait around at the transit stops. It was a 10-minute bike ride.
I waited but nobody came out to get their bike. So I decided to get some petty vengeance. I went over and unlocked my bike from the pole and carried my bike with their bike locked to it, over to my building. I brought them in together and put them in the basement.
I was going to wait for them to come out and have a word with them before they could get their bike back.
Hours later some intoxicated, super tall, angry lady comes out of the bar across the street. She looks for her bike and seeing that it’s gone attacks a brick wall and then kicks down a bunch of garbage cans like she’s the karate kid.
I decided I didn’t want to have a talk with the Incredible HULK so I just ended up keeping the bike. I had to have someone cut their lock off but it only cost me 20$. I didn’t even use their bike I just abandoned it in the basement there when I moved out.
I didn’t want it, I just wanted to teach them a lesson.
People chewed me out saying I stole this jerk lady’s bike but they were super inconsiderate and locked their bike to mine and so I decided to just say to heck with them and get my petty revenge!”
1. This Guy Tormented Me All Year, So I Spat On His Backpack
“So, there’s this guy who sits in front of me in band and he’s been making my life a living nightmare all year.
Not leaving me or my friends alone, being intentionally disruptive as much as possible. It was at one point so bad that I had to get school administrators involved.
I’ve been scheming a way to get back at him for a while for tormenting me.
Today, I finally got to do it. See, my real trombone is in the shop getting repaired. Has been for a while. So I’ve been using the school loaner. Lord knows how many kids have had their spit go through that thing over the years.
Which made my revenge all the better. I also carry a huge water bottle around with me. You can see where this is going.
He gets up to go mess around in the bathroom at about the same time every day. So, right before he normally leaves to go pretend to go to the bathroom, I fill the trombone up with a good two mouthfuls of water.
Unfortunately, he has to stick around for a few minutes longer because the teacher didn’t notice him. Unbeknownst to me, the cork that keeps all of the spit in until you release the lever is rotted on this thing. So by the time he actually gets up and gives me my window of opportunity, I’ve lost about half the water I put in there.
But, he gets up, walks out, and a few moments later, when nobody is looking, I have my sweet, sweet revenge. I empty out most of the water on his backpack. Man, it was covered. There was a huge wet spot covering it. Lucky for him, the vast majority of it wasn’t spit but was actual water that sat in my mouth for about 2 seconds.
He has no idea I did it, either. All he knows is he got mildly inconvenienced by a damp backpack. Does it have much, if any, negative impact on him? Not really, no. But did it make me feel way better? Absolutely.”
