People Share Their Most Nuclear Revenge Stories

Anyone who has gotten revenge or thought about taking it knows that it can come in a variety of intensities. The more agony and suffering someone puts us through, the stronger the revenge we may seek to take on them. Whether or not we actually follow through with it is another story, though (but honestly, it’s probably better that we don’t).

But some people aren’t good at controlling their impulses. Either that or their desire to punish their enemy is stronger than the voice of the angel on their shoulder telling them no. Both scenarios would describe the following people who have not only taken revenge but nuclear (extreme) revenge.

In the following compilation of stories, one person was fed up with an online troll giving inappropriate advice to those with mental health problems, so they hurt the troll’s love life and career. Another revenge-seeker dug plants up from their neighbor’s backyard and replaced them with weeds after she drove several, long nails into their fence, which injured someone in the process, and ordered for their vine to be removed. These are so crazy and almost too-good-to-be-true stories!

Before you get to reading these stories in detail, know that some of these acts of revenge are illegal.

We don’t encourage any of our readers to engage in illegal activity, even if it’s for the sake of getting revenge on someone. These stories are merely here for your entertainment.

13. Don’t Park In Handicapped Spots – There Are A Few Reasons Why

“Ok, so this story took place back when I was in Florida in the early 90s. It does involve an act of vandalism that is connected to revenge. Hopefully, it won’t be removed and hopefully, it will count as nuclear revenge.

Anyway, South Florida was devastated by Hurricane Andrew. My dad as part of a local charity was set up day after day at a local market seeking donations from shoppers to give to food banks. You have to understand this storm left many people homeless and without power in some cases for 6 plus months in Florida heat and humidity.

My father was legally disabled from a serious car accident (he was hit by a drunk driver) in the early 80s and suffered from relentless hip and back problems.

It never damaged his heart or kindness to others, hence the charity work.

One day he was about to pull into the disabled space at the local market to go buy a few items to donate to the hurricane charity. Right before he is about to pull in, this lady pulls into space in this shiny red Porsche. My dad parks behind her and says “excuse me ma’am, I was about to pull in there” and also points to his disabled placard in the window.

She says to him “Pfft, you don’t look disabled” and proceeded to walk into the store. For anyone who has a relative who uses a disabled space, you know the frustration of this situation and the anger one feels.

My dad, seemingly unfazed, waits until she goes into the store and then gets out and snips the valve stems on all 4 tires, flattening, but not destroying all of them. He then pulls into another space not far away and just waits.

About 15 mins later the lady comes out and is shrieking about her car being vandalized. My dad is far enough away so she can’t see him but he can hear EVERYTHING. She calls the police. BIG MISTAKE. She files a report for vandalism, and the police give her a ticket for being parked in the disabled space with no placard. (about $250 at the time). The cops leave and she calls a tow truck.

As the car is being loaded onto the truck my dad pulls up and says to her “you don’t look disabled, but your car sure is!!!” And then drives off.

My dad could be a nice guy and a pure savage when he needed to be.” Drumhedd

Another User Comments:
“I’m a relatively young (40) disabled guy. I screwed up my back in an accident 7 years ago. Some days, I need to use the handicapped spot and have a placard.

The number of times I have been questioned about my need for the card/spot is too **** high. Look, Karen, if my doctor, my neurologist, my pain specialist, the surgeon who cut my back open, and my rehabilitation specialist all agree that a handicapped parking placard is a good fit for me, you need to shut the **** up.” shamelessseamus

12. Wrongfully Fire My Favorite Teacher? Three-Fourths Of You Are Getting Fired Too

“I’ll start off by saying this happened to my sister, and the actions taken were hers.

My sister has always gotten along very well with her teachers, and has a habit of forming actual friendships with them, to the point that she still talks to her 5th grade English teacher (along with many others) decades later.

This happened about 15 years ago. My sister was a student at Job Corps (a government-run live-on-campus vocational training program), studying hotel/motel management. She got on extremely well with her hotel/motel management teacher, better than pretty much every teacher she’d already had up to that point.

One day, the teacher goes to the center’s dean’s office and walks in on a paper-shredding session. It turned out that there was some pretty major embezzling happening at the center; as in more than 60% of the funds for the center were being stolen.

The teacher was appalled, and despite some rather… lucrative offers made, refused to join in on these acts.

Less than a week later, the teacher was fired for trumped-up reasons.

This was especially bad given the teacher was only 2 years away from retiring, and being fired lost their retirement package.

Needless to say, my sister was P*SSED.

Knowing how things typically work, and that almost any report she tried to make would just be swept under the rug (if it was taken seriously at all), she came up with a plan… And took things nuclear.

Over the next month or two, my sister managed to gather some basic evidence of the embezzling; nothing concrete, but enough to warrant considerable investigation by the authorities.

She took the little evidence she was able to gather, along with the story of what happened to her teacher, and sent the info in an email to the Job Corps regional director. Now like I said, she knew that her email would likely be ignored, or the event swept under the rug, so she got smart. The email was CCed to EVERY single major person in the Job Corps chain of command, all the way up to the national director, as well as to anyone even tangentially related to Job Corps in the upper-echelons of the Department of Labor, and EVERY member of Congress, etc (remember, this was a government-run program).

All in all, the email was sent to over 2,000 people.

Basically, she not only sent the report, but sent it in such a way that everyone who got it could also see everyone else who got it, and she sent it to WAAAAY more people than would be needed to ensure the issue couldn’t be swept under the rug.

2 weeks later, after the investigation finished (never seen the government work so fast on anything that wasn’t collecting owed taxes), only 5 or 6 staff members, out of 20ish that worked in the center, still had their jobs; and at least 5 of the ones fired (including the dean) were facing major criminal charges, with the rest facing minor charges.

I’m not sure of the exact figure on how much was stolen, but it was well into the 7 digits (the embezzling had been happening for years).

The teacher got a VERY nice severance package post-investigation (IIRC, it was 3-year of pay, her full retirement package, and signing an NDA), though she didn’t get her job back; and my sister was given her completion certificate, despite not having finished the requirements of the course (they wanted her gone, but couldn’t kick her out).” edale1

11. Refuse To Vacate A Private Parking Spot? Your Car Is Now In An Impound Lot In Another Country

“I have lived in an apartment complex in Lisbon, Portugal (where is important) for the last 4 years.

If anyone’s from here, you’ll know parking is ****. Fortunately, my building has a private garage. However, as is often the case, some parking places are more difficult to park in than others. I have one of the easier ones.

Last year I was offered a job abroad and took it. Thought I’d be nice, parked my car at my parents where they have plenty of space, and left a notice in the building elevator that went along the lines of “I’m the owner of 3B and will be away for at least 6 months, feel free to use my parking spot.”

Ended up being away for longer, almost a year.

I came back to see my parking spot occupied (which was okay, since I offered for it to be used). Put another notice in the elevator, this time to say I was back and would use the parking spot again. I gave it two days and picked my car up from my parents.

Went into my garage, and my space was still being used. I had to park somewhere on the street and decided to give it another day.

The day after, it was occupied again by the same car. I asked a couple of neighbors, and figured out it belonged to a lady living 2 stories above me.

Went up to talk to her, and she immediately got defensive and said that her parking spot is very difficult for her to park in, and since I was away for longer then I had announced I lost the space (which is stupid logic, as the spots are bought with the apartment; it literally belongs to me).

She also told me I couldn’t use her parking space instead as she was using it for storage.

I went to the building admin, who said he’d talk to her. He did and came back shaking his head. Nothing.

I sent a registered letter telling her to stop using my space and giving her 48h to take her car elsewhere. The next day I saw the unopened letter in the garbage bin beside the mailboxes.

I ended up scouting my garage, waiting for her to leave, and would immediately park my car, hoping she’d take the hint. She didn’t, and we ended up doing this dance for a few weeks. Up until the day I came back to see my entire driver’s side keyed.

That was the final straw. I talked to a friend, who owns a towing company. We chose a Saturday morning (the last few weeks she hadn’t left home on Saturdays – I knew as I had been watching her car like a hawk – so I thought we’d have a good chance of her not noticing anything until everything was done) and towed her car.

The plan initially was to leave the car just down the road. But that felt too close and too easy. Then I thought about leaving it in a city about 15-minutes away, but it still didn’t feel quite right. My friend jokingly said, “Let’s leave it in Madrid” (FYI Madrid is in Spain, about 600km – 375 miles – away).

I knew he was joking, but Madrid did feel right. I asked if he had enough time.

He had, so off we went.

Once we got to Madrid we went out for lunch, strolled around the city, and waited until it got dark and the streets empty. In the meantime, we had already decided on where to leave the car, a handicapped parking close to a Police Station. And so we did. As a bonus, my friend also took both license plates off the car. Then we drove back home.

It has been two weeks, and I haven’t seen her car since. One of these days I might leave a letter in her mailbox telling her to contact Madrid Police, but in the meantime, I’ll enjoy being able to use my parking whenever I want to.” throwaway19931424

Another User Comments:

“375 miles. What a ******* legend. This would be a hilarious short movie because I can picture the whole “let’s leave it in Madrid” “do you have time to leave it in Madrid?” looks down at watch “**** it let’s do it.”” avatarofanxiety

10. Make Every Student’s Life A living Nightmare? Shoulda Backed Up Your Important Files…

“This happened over a decade ago now, I would have been 15 or so at the time.

I was in my sophomore year of high school and this all takes place in my general science class for the year.

Things started off quite well in that class with a nice teacher who was passionate about her topic. Unfortunately, for one reason or another a good 6 weeks, later classes were shuffled and we ended up with a new teacher. Our new teacher was an older guy, certainly less passionate and kind of dull but otherwise harmless.

To provide a little background, I was certainly a troubled student in high school, and troubled is putting it lightly. I was a great student providing the teacher wasn’t disrespectful and was actually interested in what they were teaching. There was nothing worse for me than a grumpy, bored and disrespectful teacher.

Now this second gentleman was certainly bored and maybe a tad grumpy sometimes, but I wouldn’t say he was necessarily disrespectful.

He wasn’t a good teacher, but he wasn’t terrible either. He didn’t ignite my passion for the subject by any means, but he was adequate.

Then, for the second time that year, things got shuffled around on us and we were on our third teacher. This time, a brand new teacher at our school, a recent immigrant from the UK. We’ll call her Mrs. Snow. She was middle-aged with reddish hair and a scowl so cold she could extinguish the sun.

Mrs. Snow got into a routine quickly. She made it very clear she would tolerate NO misbehavior of any form. And included within the category of misbehavior was an interruption. And this meant any kind. I observed several students, even well behaved attentive ones, sent directly to the dean’s office (a dean being someone who was essentially in charge of your year group) with no warning or prior offense for having the sheer gall to sneeze while she spoke.

And it didn’t matter how much you tried to cover it up. A friend of mine was unwell one day but doing his best to make it through his classes. Unfortunately for him, he had quite a dry cough, and **** hath no fury like Mrs. Snow. Poor ******* was jettisoned before the class even had the chance to be seated.

And of course, it should go without saying that I was not on her good books.

She was rude, unreasonably hostile, and clearly bored to tears by her subject. I don’t recall how many lessons I saw to completion, but I certainly became intimately familiar with the dean’s office that year.

My favorite story to tell are the days when she was in a bad mood. As if she wasn’t horrible enough already! I remember more than once she kicked out the entire class. God knows what she spent the rest of the lesson doing, but I remember the poor receptionist in the dean’s office: her eyes practically bulged right out of her head as she saw a congo line of 30-something students making their way to the office, all requiring to be written up by her and seen by the year’s dean.

I can’t imagine she was too fond of Mrs. Snow either, but the dean came to the wonderfully well thought out conclusion that the students were clearly the problem, not the teacher.

Now one day during class, I was seated near the front of the class, right next to the computer Mrs. Snow was using to deliver her wonderfully monotone lecture on god only knows what ********. I happened to notice a small, red pen drive sticking out the front of the machine.

While she wasn’t looking and most of the class was distracted, I bent down pretending to grab something from my backpack which was on the floor below my stool, but quietly reached over and pulled the drive from the computer and stuffed it in my backpack before anyone could notice. I dunno why I did it, just being a **** I guess. I figured it’s just a pen drive, she can get a new one.

Later that day, I plugged the drive into one of the PC’s in our library to browse the contents. Various things related to her class were scattered throughout, but then something, in particular, caught my eye: her immigration documents. I took a short peek and discovered her visa was due to expire in only a couple of months, and that she had a new folder in which she was assembling her documentation for her next application.

“OH ***”* I thought. This flash drive was hot property. If she found out I had this, I would be in serious trouble! The obvious solution of quietly returning the drive never occurred to me. At first, I removed the red sleeve from the drive hoping it would be unrecognizable. Even then, I was still nervous so between classes one day I threw it on the roof of one of the buildings.

And not a moment too soon.

She’d found out. And someone had dobbed me in. I don’t think I had ever been sent to the deans that fast in my entire school life. I was grilled, kinda like those CIA/FBI interrogations you see on TV. I didn’t crack, denied all knowledge and responsibility. They conducted a search on my backpack and found nothing. Just as well I’d tossed it. I was incredibly well known to the dean at that point and I could tell she was MORE than ready to believe I’d done it, but she couldn’t prove it.

Nobody could prove it. It was all he said she said. So I was let go.

I continued having classes with Mrs. Snow. She was incredibly hostile towards the entire class after that, but especially me. More than once during this time, I got sent to the deans for absolutely no reason whatsoever. The referral slip she sent me with always claimed some utter ******** that never happened and the deans would gobble that **** up eagerly.

…until one day, we had a reliever. And the next day. And the day after. That reliever became our new permanent teacher for the remaining 2 months or so of the year. There was never any explanation as to why. Rumors began to spread, and eventually, I learned the proper truth.

The copy of her immigration documents on that pen drive were the master copy. She had no backups, hard copies, or duplicates.

NZ’s immigration system is ridiculously pedantic in that you need to resubmit all of the evidence from previous visas you’ve been granted AGAIN when you apply for a new one. She no longer had any of it. She was missing crucial documentation to retain her visa status and as such, her visa was declined and she left or was removed from the country.

I had no reason to suspect she wouldn’t have backups.

Usually, you’d use a pen drive AS backup, and have a master copy on a computer somewhere. This was in the days before cloud storage was a thing, and pen drives were quite small in capacity and not particularly reliable at that. I remember having a few die on me during those years. Besides, what if you lost it? Anybody could poke through your crucial documents. It just seemed so unlikely that this would have been the case and it’s what I had assumed when I tossed the thing.

But, I was wrong. And she was never seen again.

And that’s the story of how I (accidentally and coincidentally) got one of the worst teachers ever not only out of my school but removed from my entire country.

Remember kids: Always, always, ALWAYS have a backup.” XevonNZ

9. Injure My Sister With A Nail And Destroy Our Vine? Good Luck With All Your Weeds

Moral of the story: Be a good neighbor.

“This happened in the summer of 1974 when I was 4 yrs old.

When I was a kid, we had a next-door neighbor who was a total Megab*tch.

Megab*tch was a 40 something woman who liked high heels (mules), big jewelry, lots of makeup and wore long, flowy kaftans in garish colors that did NOT flatter her. She had a big perm (remember. It’s the 70s), a HUGE a*s and was notorious in our neighborhood for being an entitled ****.

Her favorite thing was to go onto neighbor’s landings – either early in the morning or late at night – and steal decorations and potted plants which she would then put in HER back garden.

She once even dug up someone’s small tree out of their front yard because (according to the neighbor) she felt it would LOOK BETTER in HER garden.

Total ****.

For* the most part, she left my family alone – my family has a TAKE NO **** rep in the neighborhood and she knew it – only glare at me and my sibs when we played outside (she HATED kids).

Sadly, that didn’t last.

One day one of my sisters got badly sliced by a long nail when she went to pick flowers off the passionflower vine on the fence (important later).

Turned out Megab*tch had hammered dozens of long nails into OUR fence so she could hang potted plants she’d most likely stolen! The leaves on the vine had hidden them until my sister got sliced (She had to get a tetanus shot, which made her sick all day).

Mom was p*ssed, so she went out and actually spent the rest of the day hammering each and every nail back out thru the fence and back into Megab**************** garden, causing many of the pots to fall and break (This is probably why she did what she did).

About a month later, my mom goes into our kitchen and sees a man in our yard!

She goes out and asked, ‘*** are you doing?’

Guy tells her he was a gardener and had been hired to get rid of the vine on the fence.

Mom asked him who had hired him to do this.

‘The owner of the fence’ he told her and gestured to Megab******** house.

Mom told him (calmly, since none of this was his fault) that it WASN’T Megab*tch’s fence, and SHE was the owner.

The poor guy was horrified. However, the damage was done. He’d already cut into the hardwood and roots and now our vine was a goner.

After the poor guy left (Megab*tch stiffed him, we found out later) mom went to Megab*tch’s house and confronted her.

That **** didn’t even deny it – just laughed in my mom’s face and said, ‘I DID IT, SO WHAT? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!’ then sauntered back into her house.

She’d just messed with the WRONG family.

Two days later, Megab*tch went on a 2-week vacation with her husband (an *****), to Cabo.

Revenge Time.

The day she left, my older siblings – along with a family friend – decided Megab*tch’s back garden needed ‘Improvements’. So they climbed the fence, went into her garden, dug up all the pretty flowers and small trees, carted them out (along with the stolen decorations) and replaced them with high pollen weeds, quick-growing ivy and lots and lots of poison oak and poison ivy, that they’d (carefully) dug up from a nearby state park (I was too young to help, sadly).

We then temporarily moved our 3 dogs into our back yard (neighbor was afraid of them despite the fact they were 2 Pomeranians and a small mutt). We also had a 9ft fence, which was too high for her or her husband’s fat a**es to climb, so we knew our garden would be safe from her.

My family excitedly waited.

When Megab*tch got back and saw her ‘New and Improved’ garden, she threw the biggest, most epic tantrum and meltdown we’d ever seen.

It. Was. Spectacular! A whole class of sugared up, p*ssed off preschoolers couldn’t have thrown a bigger tantrum!

From the top of the fence, we all watched (Dad took the day off to see the FREAKOUT, as he put it) as Megab*tch screamed and ranted. Pulled her hair. Kicked the weeds and threw anything she could get her hands-on, all the while cursing and screeching like she was getting a Chili Powder Enema!

Then she spotted all of us watching her.

She yelled and cursed at all us (laughing) kids, coming to the (correct) conclusion we had done this to her precious garden. By this time all the surrounding neighbors were also watching, but she, of course, zeroed in on us.

Megab*tch then stormed over to our house and banged on our door until Mom opened the door (dad let her deal with it, as he was still laughing his a** off). Megab*tch then DEMANDED my family to not only pull all those UGLY plants out, and to (of course) pay for new ones and plant them.

And to do it NOW! RIGHT NOW!!!

Our mom just looked at her, yawned, told her she had ZERO proof it was HER kids who’d done it (Mom knew. Even sat and watched with me as my siblings did it, laughing the whole time. I think at one point my DAD even helped!).

Mom then reminded her she had STOLEN dozens of plants from the neighbors, had been caught blatantly stealing from their front gardens, yet was SURPRISED that SOMEONE had retaliated? Mom laughed, told her to *** off, and went back inside.

She ranted at us through the door for about an hour, till her voice (blessedly) gave out, then stomped back to her house. She avoided us from then on and would give an angry glare to my mom whoever she saw her. Mom would just smile, give her the finger, and go about her business (she was intimidated by my dad and wouldn’t do anything when he was around, but dad worked a lot, so wasn’t there most of the time).

We donated most of the dug up plants to neighbors she’d stolen from and returned the stolen ornaments and decorations to their rightful owners (if we found them), but kept 2 rose bushes – which we planted by our back gate – a ceramic hearth cat (which I still have) and a glass and metal sun god decoration nobody claimed.

Megab*tch never did get rid of all the weeds and didn’t realize it was poison oak she was pulling (barehanded!), until she (and her husband) got horrible rashes over 1/3 of their bodies and – I was told – in some very Unfortunate places.” RavensArts

8. They Fired Me. Then I Set Off A Chain Reaction Of Deportations, Firings Of Other Staff, And More

The craziest part is, they didn’t even intend on taking revenge this severe.

“I used to work at an upscale restaurant owned by a large corporate entity that owns several different restaurant brands. I worked there for about 3 1/2 years before they eventually fired me, but more about that later. First, I want to give an idea of my role there.

My role at that job was a little of everything. Since the day I started working there, I took it upon myself to learn as much as possible.

I was very persistent with management when I wanted to learn a new department. I had started as a server, but eventually had worked my way into different departments and job titles, like carry-out, hosting, bartending, bar backing, banquets, catering, and deliveries.

My singular goal while working there was to make myself available for as many hours as possible. I was being paid about $12 an hour, though that fluctuated if I was working as a bartender or server and making tips.

Eventually, it was noticed by management how I fit best into one of the non-tipped positions. I was so good at it that they decided to try me out as an unofficial supervisor over the team that worked in carry-out, catering, and deliveries, as those were all one department.

I knew this was going to ultimately mean a fewer hours since I would only be working in one department, so I negotiated with management to increase my pay by about $1.50.

Since I was taking on additional responsibilities, they were satisfied with the pay increase. I wasn’t trying to get as much money as possible, I just wanted to be able to pay my bills and still have a little money left over for fun.

I was living in the highly taxed city of Chicago, which is in the already highly taxed state of Illinois, so it was pretty difficult to make ends meet and still have money left to enjoy my life.

I am a person of simple pleasures and I can enjoy things for long periods of time, so it didn’t take much money to be happy. A video game could hold my attention for several months, sometimes even years. I had a family pet that I had brought with me to Chicago, so that counted as an extra expense. Not long after I started this position as the unofficial supervisor, I got a girlfriend so I was also going out more often and spending money on her.

With my position and some smart budgeting, I was able to afford all of this. The money wasn’t an issue, but management had a high turnover rate, so the incoming managers often did not know what the department entailed or how important hours were to workers of these departments.

Eventually, it was noted that our current general manager was going to be fired and replaced. The incoming general manager was supposed to be some rockstar when it came to improving restaurants.

We looked up his name and found him as the first search result on Google. But the entry wasn’t some glowing review of his work ethic or of his impeccable ability to improve the way a restaurant runs…. It was actually a mugshot and a police report filed for repeated domestic abuse. This is important later. We’ll call him Harvey.

Shortly after Harvey came in and started making changes, one of our best managers gave her resignation.

She refused to work with him, and like a ****** Oracle, told us to expect lots of ****** harassment, misogynistic comments, and for him to eventually run this place into the ground. Not long after she left, our general manager began replacing our current managers with hand-picked people that he had worked within the past. Eventually, all but one manager was replaced. That manager was the kitchen manager. We will call him Fredo.

Fredo had been there since I had started working there. He seemed to be something of a chameleon, as in his values and ethics seemed to change depending on who his boss was. Honestly, I sort of applaud his survival instincts, but ultimately see him as a suck-up and traitor.

Harvey never really replaced the manager for our department, so we ran without a lot of oversight. Unless you count me as the supervisor, we didn’t constantly have someone breathing down our necks about how things should be done.

Our department had some hiccups here and there, but it still ran really smoothly.

Since we did not have our own manager, we often had to radio for a manager to come to help us out on things that needed a manager card for approval. Fredo would always be the one to answer these calls since the kitchen was closest to our department. Over time the new team of managers started to see Fredo as the manager of our department as well.

However, the hourly team that worked there still saw me as their supervisor. This meant that any time Fredo was trying to make changes that would ultimately hurt us, the team relied on me to mitigate those disasters or to negotiate with Fredo to let us do our jobs the way we had already proven worked really well.

Over several months Fredo and I would butt heads dozens of times. He and I were constantly arguing about how important hours were to the workers in this department.

He had it in his head that we should be living off of tips like servers, but since most of our orders were carryout, they came in through Grubhub, and Grubhub doesn’t tip. We didn’t have a lot of deliveries in a day, and the tips we got from those were maybe $10 if we were lucky. But splitting $10 four ways doesn’t add up to a lot. It just showed that Fredo had no clue what he was talking about.

Eventually, we had a meeting with Harvey, Fredo, and all the workers of this department. it was marketed as a chance to voice all our grievances and concerns with the changes they wanted to make with no chance of retaliation. So the workers did exactly that. They talked about how Fredo was trying to cut hours even though he isn’t our actual manager. When it was brought up that they were attempting to hire someone to be the manager, the team suggested that I take over since I had already been supervising them and running things smoothly for the last several months.

I was also the one that management consulted with when writing schedules as I had an understanding of the days some workers could and couldn’t work depending on their school schedules or family life.

I could see at the moment it was suggested, that Harvey and Fredo made the decision on the spot that I had to be gotten rid of. Although they didn’t say it, I could see the look they gave each other, and instinctively knew that my days at this place were numbered and my job was going to be getting the ax one way or another.

They made a bunch of promises to us about not cutting hours. They told us that they would stop sending all but one person home early and only leaving one person to clean everything and close up by themselves, as this wasn’t a small department and it was simply too much for one person to do alone while still meeting health and safety standards. They promised that whatever hours we were scheduled for, we would work.

We weren’t trying to be unreasonable, so we told them that we usually have 3 or 4 people scheduled to work in our department. They could cut two of them early, but we always needed at least 2 people here to help close properly. The promise was made that they would always have at least two closers.

However, only about a week later, they started sending all but one person home early again every night.

One night they tried to do it while I was scheduled as the closer, and we had just returned from a massive catering event and there was an unbelievable amount of cleanup left to do for one person. When Fredo came in and tried to send everyone except me home I stepped up and told him that he was consistently breaking the promise he had made it to us during the meeting.

He looked me square in the face and told me to stop complaining about it, and if I was going to keep trying to talk to him about him breaking his promises he could easily find someone who could work my shifts.

I quickly realized that this was an assassination attempt on my job. He wanted me to press it further. So I backed off and started cleaning. I ended up having to stay way late, and that meant overtime pay anyway.

I got a write-up for that since we aren’t allowed to work overtime without a manager’s approval. When I refused to sign the write-up, pointing out that I had tried to explain to Fredo that I wouldn’t be able to clean up all that stuff alone before my scheduled shift ended, I was allowed to leave without signing the write-up, but only because the HR rep that was present at the time wasn’t one of Harvey’s cronies.

Skip ahead, to the day I was fired:

It is important to note at this point that I always came into work an hour early. Since we lived in Chicago, food was expensive. However, at our job, we were allowed to have as much free soup and bread as we liked. So I would come into work one hour early every day so I could have some soup and bread for lunch before my shift.

But on this day, when I walked into the kitchen to get myself some soup, one of the line cooks told me that he had a dish that had been canceled after he cooked it, and Fredo had told him to give it to someone. He assured me Fredo had already comped it and that it was free to take for whoever wanted it. It just so happened to be my favorite appetizer so I happily took the free food.

Not long after I got to my booth, both Harvey and Fredo approached me and asked me if I had put in a ticket for that food. I told them that the line cook had given it to me and said it was the canceled order that Fredo had already comped… Fredo looked dumbfounded and said he had no idea what I was talking about. So Harvey told me “I think you know that’s theft.

Go ahead and finish the food and then grab your stuff and go. That’s the last meal you’ll be having here.”

I tried to explain to them that I had been given this food by the line cook, but they refused to listen, so I offered to take them to the kitchen to clear it up with the cook. But by the time I had gone back to the kitchen with them to talk to the line cook, he had already gone home for the day.

I had no choice but to gather my stuff, say my goodbyes, and head home.

On my way out, I told the people working in my department that afternoon what had happened, exactly as it happened. They were shocked and angry, but mostly sad to see me go. I decided that on my way out, I would stop by the accounting office and pick up any tips that may have been dropped for me that week, just to make sure I didn’t get screwed out of that money.

Before heading down, I had the gut feeling to just set my phone to record, and I stuffed it into my pocket with the camera rolling. Although the video was entirely black since it was in my pocket, I did manage to get a pretty muffled recording of Harvey and Fredo’s voices through the door, discussing how things had gone as planned, and that they had been trying to get rid of me ever since the meeting with my department.

I knocked on the door and they hushed up before opening it. They asked what I was still doing there, and I asked for my tips. They gathered what was in the safe for me and handed it over. Despite my anger rising at what I had just heard, I decided not to burn this bridge just yet… Because perhaps I could ****** nuke it later. I offered a handshake to both managers, thanked them for the opportunity to work there, and left, making sure to pull my phone out of my pocket and record the front of the restaurant, with the sign showing its name and logo.

Working in a restaurant, you learn to ALWAYS COVER YOUR OWN A*S. It’s true for most jobs, but something was just telling me I would need this all later. If I was being accused of theft, I wanted to be able to prove it wasn’t true if ever came up in future job interviews… Which is exactly what happened and where this all started going nuclear.

On the train ride home, I sent some messages and made some posts on some local groups on Facebook saying that I had just been fired and that I was looking for a job as quickly as possible.

By the time I got off at my stop, I had already set up an interview for later that day.

I was offered the job about 5 minutes into the interview, but after going over the details, it didn’t sound like it was for me, so I turned it down. I interviewed a few other places and found one that was a d*mned good fit, with a hefty pay increase compared to my previous job, and I wouldn’t have to deal with customers.

It was an auditing job for a logistics company.

However, during the interview with the manager of this job, he mentioned he had already called my previous place of employment and spoken with the general manager, Harvey. Harvey had told him that I had even fired for theft. Luckily for me, the manager I was interviewing with asked me to tell him more about that… and he was willing to let me pull out my phone and find the recording.

I asked if the voice in the video was the same as the one he spoke on the phone with. It was. That was confirmation enough for him that I hadn’t made a fake video. He listened to the two managers in the video admit that they had set me up, and watched to the end when I showed the front of the restaurant, complete with the logo and name.

The manager interviewing me, who we’ll start calling Dean, hired me immediately and asked me to send him the recording.

I did.

I thought that was the end of it.

About 7 months later, after settling into this job quite nicely, HR sent out a “Welcome all our new team members” email, which listed all the newest hires, some facts about them, and had pictures of them all. They sent these out every time they hired a new round of people.

One of them, Thomas, was a former coworker who worked with me at the restaurant.

We had worked at the host stand together, so I was pretty glad to see someone I knew and liked coming onto the team. I sought out his desk and went and said hello, and asked why he left the restaurant.

He hadn’t left willingly. He’d been laid off because the company was under investigation. It had started as a relatively small matter. The corporate entity that owned the restaurant chain had received an email with an attached video.

MY video that had been filmed from inside my pocket. That caused enough for corporate to send someone to investigate internally.

Thomas was pretty surprised that I hadn’t heard anything about it, since there had been numerous attempts to get in touch with me. As soon as he said that, I logged into the old email I had used when I first applied for the job at the restaurant. I had at least two dozen emails asking me to come in to discuss my employment and termination.

I never replied. I just didn’t care enough anymore.

I’d also changed my number since then, so they hadn’t been able to contact me by phone.

Thomas continued explaining that before corporate had sent someone, Harvey and Fredo had talked with my department and tried to offer them all a small pay increase to spin corporate a story about how I was incompetent at my job and failed to live up to my duties.

The day the corporate auditor showed up, there had been a small exodus of people from my old department. They quit ON THE SPOT, in front of the lady from corporate (let’s call her Audrey), and made sure to rat out Harvey and Fredo before leaving.

Strike one for both of them.

Strike two came a couple of days after Audrey showed Harvey and Fredo the recording that had kicked all of this off.

They denied it vehemently, but there was no mistaking Harvey’s voice. It’s unique. Not only that, but the video also picked up their voice and mine when we shook hands and had a friendly parting of the ways, which was something they had already bragged about to Audrey, thinking it made them look better that we were able to part on good terms. This wasn’t the actual strike two. That came when it was clear they needed to be separated, so Audrey sent Fredo to work at another restaurant owned our parent company, and temporarily demoted Harvey to manager.

This tore them apart. They had once been an inseparable evil team, but the pressure of the investigation must have pushed them over the edge. They ended up at each other’s throats… on Facebook, on a public post on the company page. The post had since been deleted, but Thomas explained it as the following.

Fredo had been pictured in the Facebook post on the restaurant page, and Harvey made a passive-aggressive comment about how Fredo shouldn’t even be in the picture since he had been moved to another restaurant due to misconduct.

Fredo saw this comment and said something along the lines of “At least when people Google my name, I don’t show up as the guy that punched his wife.”

To which Harvey responded, “Very funny from the guy who is cheating on his wife with Janet’s sister.” ( Janet was the girl they appointed to officially supervise my old department after they fired me, the unofficial supervisor.)

Fredo replies to that by saying “Like you haven’t tried with half the waitresses.

They all have stories about you trying to *** them.”

The post was deleted, but not before it had been seen by Audrey the auditor. That officially strike two.

Strike three came the next day when Audrey started interviewing the female waitstaff and bartenders, seeing if any of them could confirm that Harvey had tried to make a move on them.

All of them were interviewed separately, several of them had similar stories. Every girl that confirmed Harvey had made a move on them all said he had offered to be their “Sugar Daddy” if they would send nudes or stay after closing to fool around with him.

Harvey was fired. But that isn’t the worst of it. Audrey the Auditor wasn’t just some random woman from corporate. She was the old regional manager for this area and had personally hired Harvey’s wife as the general manager of another restaurant in the city. So she called up the restaurant Harvey’s wife worked at and told Harvey’s wife everything she had learned from the female waitstaff.

We learned later that they had gotten a divorce over him trying to cheat on her after she’d already given him a second chance to change after he had BEAT HER.

I don’t know what compelled her to give him a second chance after something like that, but she sure didn’t give him a third.

After firing Harvey, the line cook who had given me the food was interviewed by Audrey. I don’t know how it came up, but at some point, he had let it slip that he was an illegal immigrant. She had his file in her hand, with an Illinois ID and Social Security Number on file, so this confused her and she pressed him for more information

It turns out that Fredo had some connections and had his own miniature black market going on where he would have fake social security cards and IDs made for the illegal immigrants he was hiring at reduced wages.

It had been going on for at least 4 years.

Needless to say, this is a felony. With the potential PR nightmare that she was likely dealing with, she felt she had no choice but to alert the authorities. Local PD enlisted the help of the FBI since some of the evidence led them beyond the jurisdiction of the local police.

Fredo was arrested, and quickly gave up the names of the people working that he had sold Social Security Cards and IDs to.

I’m not sure if he gave up ALL of them, but he did name drop about 14 people, and of those 14, at least half were deported by the time Thomas had been let go. One of them was the line cook that had given me the food the day I was fired.

Thomas went on to explain that it had all started with me being fired, but I never sent that recording to corporate.

I’d only sent it to Dean when he hired me.

I asked him about it, and he told me he had sent it to his wife since she was a lawyer. He wanted to see if I had a case to maybe sue my old job since what they had done was wrong. But he also remembered that when we had the first talk about it, I had said I’m not the type of person who would try to make millions off an entire company because of the mistakes of two ******.

But I’d also said that it would be pretty sweet to see them lose their jobs too.

So his wife had been the one that sent it to the legal team at the corporate HQ of my old restaurant job.

My boss showed it to his wife, who forwarded it to the real head honchos of my old job. They were both just trying to get two scumbags fired for what they did to me but ended up pulling a thread so long that it didn’t end until there were ****** harassment accusations, revelations about managers cheating on their wives with girls related to people they had placed in positions of authority, a divorce, mass layoffs pending investigations, a staff overhaul, an FBI investigation into what could be considered black market dealings of falsified government-issued documents, and at least a half dozen deportations and probably as many as 14.” Atlas_Black

7. Encourage People To End Their Lives? I’ll Make Your Life Garbage

“So I found this guy a while back and have been sharing my story ever since.

I see a comment on my article said that this would be a good place to post. I am not entirely proud of what I did to this man’s life, but I do think it was justified. I do think that sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.

This is the story of the time I ruined the life of an online troll. Now, this may sound extreme, however, I believe it was justified given the circumstance and nature of my encounter.

To understand how I found this individual, I need to take you back to 2015.

It was in 2015 that I would spend my days Googling pointless topics. One day, I decided to look up opinions on the meaning of life. I scrolled through various pages of search engine results until I came across the concept of Nihilism.

What is Nihilism? Nihilism interested me because it was unlike any other belief I found on my search for the meaning of life.

To put it simply, Nihilism is the belief that the world is meaningless. It is a pessimistic approach to life, which suggests that there is no point in life because nothing holds real relevance. Nihilism can make people believe existence does not matter therefore their actions do not either. Many people view Nihilism as a real belief that opposes our human nature to seek significance. I wanted to speak to a real-life Nihilist and hear their opinions on life.

What I found shocked me.

Nihilism explained

Upon discovering Nihilism, I joined several Facebook groups surrounding the topic. These groups were full of dark humor and memes that made fun of life and passing away. Comments such as “existence is misery” were common to see. In these groups, I came across a few genuine Nihilists. The community was predominantly made up of people who were depressed, or people who would see the humor in depression.

The Nihilist approach meant that depression was not important, because nothing is relevant. This was why “life-ending” jokes are a hit in Nihilism groups. I found that the constant sharing of these kinds of dark, life-threatening memes meant that people become desensitized. People would believe that their existence is meaningless, which is not a good thought to have if you are dealing with genuine depression.

I spoke to one individual privately who said they did not want to live anymore.

They told me “the world is not real but my sadness is.” The world is not real, but my sadness is.

This made me realize that Nihilism and depression are a bad combination. I reassured this person and told them they were important. A few months later, I went to get in touch to see how they were getting on but I discovered that their Facebook account had vanished.

Fast forward to mid-2016 and I get a Facebook notification from one of the Nihilist groups.

It was someone seeking genuine advice on how to take their own life. They said they wanted it to be peaceful but they were scared. Upon checking the comments of the post, I noticed one person advising them to run into an oncoming train, as this would be painless and fast. The person giving the advice was the troll whose life I went on to ruin. I will refer to this troll as Nigel.

At the time, I thought that Nigel was being edgy for the sake of it but this was not the case. I thought back to the time when I spoke to the person who told me their sadness was real but the world was not. The fact they had disappeared off social media gave me goosebumps. I assumed that the worse had happened and that this could become a reoccurring story in this group.

I decided to look up posts and comments made by Nigel in the group. All the comments turned out to be methods for depressed people to end their existence. Nigel would give people reassurance that passing away was the only way out. He would pretend he was doing the people a favor. A distraught man posted that he was ashamed that he kept failing to take his own life. Nigel told him not to beat himself up about it, and that if he works hard, one day he will be able to do it.

The First Warning

I realized that Nigel was not your ordinary troll and that I had to do something to stop him. I created a fake profile to contact Nigel. At this time, I had no intention to ruin his life, I just wanted to stop him ruining the lives of others. On my fake profile, I told him that I had seen his comments and that they could have a devastating effect.

He replied to tell me that he did not care,

From my understanding, Nigel had the belief that depression was a weakness to humanity. It appeared he was on a mission to weed out the weak members of society. It was almost like he got a buzz from it, some weird kick that motivated him to do it that I could not understand. I warned Nigel that if continued, there would repercussions.

He told me that he did not care and then blocked my fake profile. I logged into my genuine profile and checked for new posts by Nigel. A day later, I saw that he was back to his old tricks. He was, yet again, giving self-destructive advice to another mentally tortured soul.

The Second Warning

Nigel had made a crucial mistake by not setting his Facebook profile to private. I was able to see every post that he had ever made, as well as the friends that he had.

Nigel was a family man and made it clear on Facebook how much his wife meant to him. I decided that I would give Nigel his second warning. This time I would make it more personal. This time I wanted to put the fear into him. Within ten minutes, I was able to find Nigel’s home address. I decided that I would write a letter to his address. This letter was handwritten to add a personal touch.

On the envelope, I addressed the letter to his wife’s name so that he would not be able to simply brush it under the carpet. The letter read the following –

“Your husband continues to encourage self-harm online. He provides methods of taking life for depressed people and he must be stopped. Could you please let him know that this is his final warning? I will be watching.”

The letter was sent with the intention to make Nigel stop doing what he does.

I thought that this would be the only way that I could get through to him. The more I thought about it, the more I felt guilty that his wife may be living in fear. This was something I did not take into consideration initially. My mission to stop Nigel clouded my thought, however, I knew this was necessary for the greater good.

The Final Blow

It had been a month since I wrote the letter and I had not seen a single post from Nigel.

I thought maybe I had finally got through to him, but I was wrong. Another month had passed and Nigel was back at it again. I was disappointed, however, I was not prepared to give up. I reached out to the depressed victims to let them know they had my support. Nigel had to pay for his actions, but how?

I decided to take a deeper look into Nigel’s personal life. His use of the internet meant that his life was essentially an open book.

I was stunned when I discovered that he worked at a care home. He was not someone I could trust in society to care for others. I knew I had to deliver the final blow.

Nigel’s Linkedin profile revealed that he was a senior member at a care home. This care home was reputable and risked their reputation by hiring him. I dug deep to pull out a barrage of screenshots I had of Nigel’s activity online.

After some contemplation, I decided that I would get in touch with the care home via their Facebook page. I logged into the fake profile via a proxy and sent the screenshots. I did not believe that he was fit to be trusted with human life. A member of staff replied to say that the case had been handed over to the CEO.

Facebook messenger screenshot

The Aftermath

A week later, Nigel was no longer on the company website and had also removed the care home from his Linkedin page.

It was clear that his actions had caused him to lose his job. Nigel’s relationship status on Facebook had changed from “In a relationship” to “It’s complicated.”

In almost an instant, he had lost his job and damaged his relationship with his family. Nigel had completely stopped posting on Facebook and eventually shut his Facebook account. This guy’s life was turned upside down, and it all stemmed from his actions online. I have comfort in knowing that he will never encourage life-ending methods again.

Everybody has their right to an opinion but nobody has the right to prey on the vulnerable. Do I feel guilty? Of course, but then I remember all of those people that he sought to destroy. This man was in a position of care. What if my actions had saved the life of someone? It is these thoughts that make my guilt fade away.” HectorMoriarty44

Another User Comments:

“Reminds me of that Blue Whale thing.

Horrible stuff.

This wasn’t an act of revenge, this was justice. He took advantage of people’s poor mental health to get them to take their own life? Talk about sociopathy. How the heck did he get into a care home?

You did well. That wasn’t a troll, that was basically a criminal.” petyrlabenov

6. I Made Sure He Could Never Work Or Live In His Hometown Again After Impregnating My Friend

“During the period of my school years, I went to a Catholic school.

I had made very few friends, but we appeared very close. There were four of us females and two guys.

When I was 16, nature finally decided to take its course and I became interested in guys (girls as well, but this was a Catholic school in an extremely small southern town). My affections fell on a senior in our group, who I will call Adam. He seemed interested as well, and we began dating.

That summer Adam decided to join the army. Having grown up in an entire family of army and navy, I was very proud of him, and I intended to join the military as well once I could. (And I did. Hooyah Navy!) So, when he left for boot camp I tried to help him as much as I could. But, alas all puppy loves must come to an end.

You see, high school boys are notorious for being dogs, and my little soldier was no different.

Adam had married an exotic dancer immediately after AIT (or Technical Training for the non-military). But it doesn’t stop there! Oh no, I mean what good would a revenge story be if it was JUST an ex who decided to say screw it.

No, you see, our group of friends had one particularly saucy lass who I’m going to call Lilith. She also had her eyes on Adam.

Now, it wasn’t but a few months after Adam came home for a few weeks on leave, that I learned about his wife.

But, this was after I found out that he had knocked up my “best friend” Lilith.

As you can imagine, 16-year-old hormones+undiagnosed bipolar+first love+first betrayal equates to a whole mess of nonthought out actions.

Now, I need to say, this is NOT a path I am super proud of. In fact, I cringe every time I think about what happened.

For anyone who doesn’t know, adultery in the U.S. Military is an extreme offense.

Punishable by all sorts of nasty things, such as restriction, docking of pay, court-martial, dishonorable discharge, or even brig time (although while I’ve heard it is a possible punishment I’ve never seen that one).

The very first thing I did was report the adultery and pregnancy to his command, followed by his wife. She deserved to know her less than one-month-old marriage already had a Jodi problem.

Long story short, for his part he lost his wife, rank, and was discharged when found to be drinking underage AND in uniform, as a result of the divorce.

Lilith, on the other hand, met a much nastier fate. See as I said, this was a very small and predominantly Catholic town. So, her revenge was much meaner.

My first stop was to the school’s priest. I didn’t make it a confession, as my family was not Catholic (we were pentecostal) so, I spoke with him about “a crisis of faith.” Where I basically spilled the beans that 16-year-old Lilith and school volleyball star had gotten pregnant, and, due to my beliefs I was unsure if I should maintain a relationship with her.

Of course, the priest took that to the school board, as a pregnancy was a violation of our “purity promises” (I know extremely stupid, but, again the southern dogma at its best). She was kicked from the team pending a pregnancy test. Surprise it was positive.

The next step was to ruin her job, the diner she worked for was basically owned by a couple who believed intercourse was for reproductive purposes only, and taking pleasure from it was a sin.

Lilith was fired.

As a bonus, her parents discovered she was not only pregnant but had gotten that way with a married man. They lost it, and did not speak to her (I’m not really sure to the extent they maintained their silence, seeing as she was a minor) and she was kicked out on the DAY of her 18th birthday.

I’ve really lost touch with almost everyone from that time, but from my understanding, Lilith suffered a miscarriage (this is where most of my guilt resides) due to the stress and has since developed a habit, although I’m not sure of what, and I don’t want to assume.

Adam’s wife did leave him, but, not before getting pregnant herself and taking him for everything she could. Due to the dishonorable discharge, he could no longer work in that town and moved somewhere in the Midwest.

Maybe I went too far over a highschool crush, but, in the end, it was the anger of a teenager scorned. I feel guilty over the miscarriage, yet, knowing that I’m remembered by even a few people as a force to be reckoned with, does bring a smile to my face.” AhriVictoria

5. Bully Him? He’ll Knock Your Lights Out And Give You A Life-Long Scar

“So this took place over 40 years ago, while my dad was in high school.

The first thing you should know was that my dad had to move around a lot. He moved to a new school almost every year. In 9 years (grade school – end of high school) he had been to 9 schools, 5 countries, and 3 continents.

Because of this, my dad was always the new kid, so he was bullied a lot. Not just teasing bullying, but physical, violent bullying. And he was always ambushed by gangs of kids (3 or more) not just 1v1 fights.

So my dad had to learn to protect himself. He moved around too much to take martial arts classes, so instead, he just decided to become really strong. The way he would do this was by punching hard objects. He told me, that one time while he was in Jamaica he would harden his fists by punching a copper or brass (can’t remember which) bell that was in a building near his home every day after school for half an hour.

The result is that now my dad can punch through walls. I’ve seen him do it.

Anyway onto the revenge story.

The Actual Story

One year in high school, when my dad was in England, there was this one kid, Jack, in his mechanical workshop class who would bully him all the time. He would call my dad racial slurs, spread rumors about him, taunt him, trip him, push him, and generally be a huge jerk.

However, whenever my dad tried to retaliate, the workshop’s teacher, Mr. Work, would tell my dad off and tell him to stop bullying Jack. There was literally one day where Jack called my dad the n-word at the top of his lungs so that everyone in the class could hear. When my dad threatened to punch Jack, Mr. Work stepped in and gave my dad DETENTION (!), for “threatening Jack for no reason”.

This continued for the whole year. Jack would do something to my dad, my dad would try to retaliate, and Mr. Work would punish my dad.

Then one day it all came to a head.

It was at the end of the year, the day before final projects were due for the final grade. My dad was using one of the saws to complete his project. What he was doing would take the rest of the class.

Jack also needed the saw, but my dad got there first and would need it for the rest of the class. So Jack was screwed if he didn’t get the saw. However, the workshop has an unofficial first serve first come rule, so Jack was out of luck.

Tbh it was Jack’s fault. He had been goofing around the whole 2 weeks the class had to finish the assignment. He had left it too completely the last minute, and that’s why he needed the saw last minute.

So Jack, instead of trying to scramble to put together a last-minute project when he saw the saw was being used like a normal person, he decided that my dad had no right to use the saw. He pushed my dad out of the way and tossed my dad’s project on the ground. When my dad pushed him back and asked him what the heck he was doing, Jack got p*ssed off (because my dad retaliated?) and punched my dad in the face.

Pause.

It is important to note that this was the first time all year that Mr. Work hadn’t stepped in to defend Jack. My dad thinks that Mr. Work wanted to see Jack beat my dad up, as my dad saw Mr. Work just watching the fight play out from his desk, smirking the whole time.

Unpause.

My dad stumbled back from the punch, and he snapped. Jack was not a good fighter, he telegraphed that he was about to throw another punch.

My dad never let that happen. He unleashed all the anger that had built up over the year. My dad hit Jack with a WBA worthy uppercut.

Jack literally went flying so far he practically grew wings! Jack traveled a good 4 or 5 feet backward and landed in a pile of scrap metal. He was knocked unconscious and he got a huge crescent-shaped scar on his right cheek. It required somewhere between 6-12 stitches, and he was scarred for life.

As for Mr. Work… the look on his face was priceless. He had let the fight between my dad and Jack happen because he thought my dad would be beaten up, but it resulted in Jack being scarred for life.

Mr. Work was later fired for allowing this fight to happen, and when my dad and a few of his friends told the principal how Mr. Work had overlooked all the bullying throughout the year.

Mr. Work was also almost sued by Jack’s family (not sure what exactly they were suing him for).

And it doesn’t end there!

My dad saw Jack in a grocery store 2 or 3 years back. He still had a huge scar on his face. When Jack saw my dad, he nearly peed his pants and tried to hide in the aisle. My dad decided to have some fun and chased Jack around the store.

Jack eventually hid in the bathroom and didn’t come out.” Admiral_Moor

4. No More Friends, Job, Or Car For You

“A little history about where I was at before all of this. I’m female and I had a very rocky relationship with my father and my mom had just kicked me out at 19 with nowhere to go. My dad actually stepped up and helped me for the first time in my life by getting me into an apartment in my podunk little hometown in south Idaho.

I was hanging out with the wrong crowd and started going to parties and doing the things I missed out on doing with friends in high school. I was a goody-two-shoes up to that point, and a late bloomer who wasn’t used to getting males’ attention (meaning I was a virgin).

I started hanging out at the park playing horseshoes and letting my friends get me absolutely trashed when I met a cowboy called Slick.

I didn’t have much of an interest in him other than just talking about old western movies (I’m a huge movie buff) and actors from the silver screen of classic 1950s movies. Slick and I both worked for the same company, as did 98% of the small town we lived in, so we knew each other in passing. He started coming in to get horse meds and other vet supplies and always asked me to wait on him.

Ok, whatever, that was my job. One of our mutual friends invited me to a bonfire at their house which was right across from where Slick was staying in a bunkhouse. I went not even expecting to see Slick there and had actually taken one of my best friends with me to keep an eye out for me because I’ve never been a trusting person due to past traumas as a kid.

A few hours pass, we’re all drinking and Slick keeps putting his arm around me and trying to dominate whatever conversation I’m having with my friends especially around my guy friends. I’m tipsy and not really caring about it too much and go off with a few of my girlfriends in a group where we’re gossiping and talking. A couple of hours pass by and my friend who I drove up to the party with took off with another friend for a “beer run” (they never came back to the party).

The party is winding down, I don’t feel comfortable driving home with any form of alcohol in my system and Slick says he has a spare cot in his room I can have. I didn’t feel comfortable going, but my other “friends” assured me Slick was trustworthy.

We got to his room…there was no cot. Slick says he’ll sleep on the floor and we can watch Blazing Saddles because he’d heard it was one of my favorites.

I said fine and crawled into his bed-fully clothed, sans shoes. Well, I’m sure you can guess what happened, so I’m not going to delve into the very unpleasant details. I didn’t sleep the whole night. I just laid in the bed in disbelief that what had happened…actually happened. Once I knew he was asleep, I snuck out of his room and drove home, sobered by the experience. I don’t know how long I sat in the shower, but the water ran cold and I called out sick from work for two days.

Over the next few days, I had bruises that covered my entire body. I had bite marks, and scratches, and fingertip bruises everywhere. I had also developed one of the worst UTIs I’ve ever experienced in my life and called the town clinic for an examination to make sure everything was okay and declined to report it because the cops in my very small and rural town always sided with the men when women I knew reported their assaults.

Slick became an awful force in my life. When he wasn’t bothering me at work, he was leaving deceased rattlesnakes on my doorstep and telling all of our mutual friends and acquaintances how he “put another notch” in his belt, and pretty soon after all of his buddies stopped hanging around him when they realized he was a piece of crap.

The revenge.

My dad is a 6’8 giant cossack Russian. He worked as a machinist for many years, making his already big hands thick and calloused (important for later).

He’s a very intimidating man, and has a violent streak. Because I was on bad terms with my mom, I turned to him fully trusting him as someone I could confide in. His wife had to take pictures of my bruises for my doctor’s file (I don’t know why the doctor didn’t take them herself, she told me to bring them in for the file) on my health to go with the assault report.

My dad was livid, but he pushed his fury deep down and waited for later.

Slick drove a really ***y Oldsmobile. He also liked to go out drinking every day after work. A few of my friends had been filled in as to what Slick did, and thus the rest of the town knew as news spreads like the plague in tiny towns. Slick’s crappy car mysteriously caught on fire outside of the busy bar, yet nobody saw how it started.

Two weeks after his car burned up, my hometown had its annual birthday celebration. My dad goes to it every year and catches up with friends he hasn’t seen in a long time. This means also visiting the town’s bar. [This is what my dad ended up telling me after everything happened] He walked in, said hello to the owner, and demanded to know where the one called Slick was. The bar owner begged him not to make a huge scene, and to just keep things civil since he knew what my dad was there for.

He told my dad that Slick was playing poker on the deck out back and my dad went out looking for him. He found Slick and asked him if Slick knew who he was. Slick was disrespectful and said he didn’t give a *** who he was, he was busy playing poker with his friends (who weren’t really friends, but guys who knew my dad and just watched everything happen). Strike one.

My dad told him he was my dad, and he needed to talk to him about respecting young women. Slick said there wasn’t anything about me to respect. Strike two.

My dad tells Slick to get his a** out of the chair and speak to him like a man. Slick tells my dad to p*s off. Strike three.

My dad picked up Slick (who is 5’4 and at the time was 180ish lbs) by his collar and stuck his thumb into Slick’s right eye socket.

My dad said he had never heard a grown man scream like a woman before then and all he could do was smile about it. He dropped Slick on the ground and walked out of the bar. My dad was afraid the cops were going to be coming for him, so he found me at the concession stand I was working at to tell me everything that had happened before he left back for home.

Nobody called the cops.

The following week, the bosses at the company caught wind of what Slick had done to me and had already had an investigation open against him because they had noticed some very expensive horseshoeing tools had gone missing with him being the only person around at the time. I should add that the company, though very large, was a tight-knit family oriented business in this small town. Both of my parents work/ed there, and the bosses had known me since I was knee-high.

They were very upset and ended up firing him and gave him 12 hours to vacate the company premises, including the bunk-house.

I only saw Slick in person once more about a month later and his eye was still black. I had anxiety when I saw him, so I didn’t stick around long for howdy-dos.

It’s a bit painful to remember, but I’m still healing and moving on from it 10 years later.

My life has gotten better, and I know his life is miserable and that makes me happy.” NatAttack89

3. Steal Presents From Foster Kids? I’ll Ruin Your Christmas

“My wife and I once lived in an apartment complex in our first year and a half of marriage. Mail mix-ups were common there so it was a bi-weekly routine to take a very quick trip to the main office, drop off a mislabeled package, and head home.

Jump a year into the future and we have a home and are taking care of foster kids who have just recently entered the system. We desperately want them to have a good Christmas since life has dealt them so many bad hands. Just once I want them to experience a Christmas where they feel more valued than ***** and get more out of the holidays than ****** abuse thanks to their biological family.

We ordered the gifts off of a site we used to order more frequently from but haven’t ordered gifts from there in a while. We found the perfect gifts. They were on sale so that allowed us to get more for them and everything was falling right into place. But then it happened. A day later we checked our email and to our horror, we realized the computer saved our old address, and even though we originally put in the right address, the computer auto-filled the rest of the information.

That sent the packages to the old apartment complex. We called the store. They wouldn’t help us at all. So we called the apartment complex to try to get ahead of this before they were delivered. This was all going to go well until the current resident of our old apartment completely overreacted to the news. Out of 4 boxes that were delivered to that complex, he only returned one and threatened “if this happens again, I’m going to destroy these gifts!” Turns out he had all the packages and were keeping them knowing full well that we lived fairly close and that they were for foster kids.

We called and contacted the complex multiple times and they had the same sad news – either the guy wouldn’t return a call or he would just angrily hang up. So I took a drive past my old apartment. I saw what car he drove and then I saw that he obviously had some sort of family. I had one of two choices. I thought of letting it go. I thought about the spirit of Christmas and how the New Year was a mark of a new start.

Then I thought of him bringing stolen gifts to other people because this scum dweller wouldn’t buy gifts for the ones around him either. This is when things turned dark in my mind. “He tried to take gifts away from foster kids who have had their home taken from them… why not take Christmas away from him? Why not take away his home? Whatever he has experienced in life to lead to this event, I want him to suffer even more for this injustice.” In the right mindset, I talked to a cop friend of mine and there wasn’t much I could do without going to small claims court and spending a good bit of money.

I even posted on r/legaladvice to get some help and got similar answers. The plan executed as follows:

I parked on a hilltop overlooking the complex. Luckily the apartment is close to the base of the hill so I had a perfect spot to observe. After I waited for the guy to come home, I made note of his vehicle to confirm that was indeed his car and then went to the store.

I picked up several dozens of eggs and a can of spray paint and went back home to await nightfall. I went back out around 2 am. I premixed the eggs and kept all of the shells. I went to a more secluded spot away from the complex where I knew I could park and find a route that didn’t have any sort of security cameras. I snuck up carrying a bowl of pre-beat eggs, the shells, and the spray paint in my hoodie pocket.

A carefully laid the ingredients down that would be used to concoct my revenge. I was shaking. I’m still shaking as I write this. I pulled out the spray paint (that I shook before getting out of the car to reduce noise). I used to paint to write “homewrecker” on the hood of his car. Then I poured the eggs from the roof and poured towards the back as to not let the mixture ruin the message on the hood.

I laid the eggshells around the car. I placed a note on the bush outside of his door that read “fertilize THESE eggs!” (In hopes that his wife or partner would see it). Then I took a pocket knife and flattened the driver front and passenger rear tire (since some insurance will cover it if all 4 get slashed and I wanted to do something a spare tire wouldn’t be able to fix).

I went to flatten the third tire but I saw headlights of someone heading into the complex so I had to bail. I made my way back carefully to my car and drove off.

I don’t know how all of this had an effect but I’m afraid to go back again and check on things without raising suspicion. So far no one has reached out to me to ask about the incident.

I made it out but I will update if I find anything else out. Oh – and Merry Christmas.

Update: I went back because it was killing me. I wanted to drive by and take a picture for you guys but the car is gone. The shells are still littered on the ground but it looks like the car was towed. There were also remains of a broken coffee mug at the base of his door.

I like to imagine that he walked out, saw it, and spiked it into the ground out of anger. Or maybe his wife saw it and chucked it at his dumb head. I want to imagine that it destroyed his home so he can get a taste of what a broken home feels like. Just like how these foster kids have had to experience this time of year their whole lives.

I told my family that someone had stolen or destroyed the packages and they are all chipping in to shower the kids with gifts so they will not be without. Of course, I didn’t tell them about the gifts or the plan of revenge on their behalf but the great gift I will have received this year is that some sense of justice has been fulfilled. The best gift is being able to give these kids a merry Christmas and the look on their faces when they get all of these gifts.” vintagepatriot

2. Take Credit For My Skills And Hard Work? Say Buh Bye To Production

“I started working in a machine shop after I finished school with a 2-year degree in machining.

Learned all kinds of programming techniques that could make most machines that were less than 30 years old perform moves, and output measurements of parts currently in the machine to automatically perform quality control. this greatly increases the quality of parts as well as reduces waste and human error. I also learned many tricks along the way to make sure that my work could not be stolen…

It’s my first day on the machine shop floor, and I immediately notice inefficiencies in all the machines in my station.

We had to manually perform quality control, sacrificing production time, while also leaving tons of room for human error due to the poor quality of measuring instruments in the shop. I’m new and eager to prove I’m worth more than the original pay they offered.

I told my supervisor to let me spend an hour to add a line of code to a machine to demonstrate the skills I learned in school that would immediately cut scrap/waste down by a large portion, without slowing production rates on the line.

My immediate supervisor humored me, thinking I was BSing him to try and brownnose the engineers and lead programmers so I could get brownie points or something.

A quick backstory to note. I had 0 experience in a production plant and said the supervisor had 30 years of experience in the field. He had a very proud attitude and genuinely worked very hard to learn what he knew. He was decent to work with, but when I asked questions about some of the basics on this machine, like how to get to the program so I could edit it, he would block my view of what he was doing, and get to the end result quickly without explaining the process.

Being new and wanting to learn, I’d always ask to have him show me what he did. He always refused and claimed it was his way of securing his job.

Anyway, I program the function into the machine in about 2 hours, 40 minutes, and when it comes time to demonstrate the process, it catches a part that is out of tolerances according to the blueprint. I also programmed the machine to output different messages, providing instructions to whoever the operator was on ways to resolve the issue if the part couldn’t be salvaged, or to automatically adjust offsets of the tool that machined the feature that was found to be out of tolerances, and re-run said operation, and recheck said feature to ensure quality.

All of these functions were performed automatically, without any input from an operator.

This is a pretty magnificent feature to have in production, and my supervisor knew that. The supervisor who observed the demo immediately went to report this to higher-ups, who came to view the new feature I had implemented. As the next part was being produced, the quality check move initiated and found that the 2nd part was also bad, and output a message to change tools x, y and z.

The managers were incredibly surprised that this was all done on a 18-year-old machine, and they looked to my supervisor to ask how he figured it out. Long story short, he took the credit and was given a raise on the spot. It didn’t register to me that that’s what happened until I went to ask if he was going to credit me for my work. He said “yeah, but you gotta put in the time to get to where I’m at.

It doesn’t matter that you did the job, cause without me, you never would’ve known how to do your fancy programming in the first place”. The managers had left for the day, so I couldn’t fight my case right then.

The next day, I was planning on informing the managers that I was the one who did the programming to do that.

The managers were also former machine shop veterans with 20+ years in the workplace and refused to believe me.

Not only that, they basically yelled at me for trying to steal credit from someone who has worked their way up in the company and learned everything on their own and not from some school.

I went to my station even more pissed now, where I was met by my supervisor. He told me that I needed to go around to all the machines that could perform that function and add it to the code.

I said” not without a raise. My code saves you guys tons and brings the bottom line to a level that McDonald’s qualified workers could produce infinite numbers of parts with minimal loss.”

He said if I didn’t do it, I would be fired. So I faked my compliance and started to change code on all the machines.

If you know anything about programming, you know you can make something function a certain way until a certain value is met, and then have it completely change afterward.

This was MY job security.

So I set the quality check up on 18 machines the first day, then the last 30 that weekend, and the managers were praising the supervisor uncontrollably for his innovation.

Well, the programs were all set to operate as normal, and do quality checks like I programmed the original machine. However, I programmed the rest of the machines to keep track of a new variable. They would run and self check just fine… until they reached a random number of parts produced (50-500 depending on the production time of the parts run on each machine) where it would then throw up an error code, that would only be cleared with a password I had set for it.

If a wrong password was provided or someone just hit the enter/reset button, the machine would take it’s the largest tool in the turret, and run it rapidly into the solid Chuck at maximum RPMs. I made it so about 65-75 hours of production would go smoothly before my job security would kick in.

It took 3 days for the machines to hit their magic values, but when they did boy oh boy was it magically satisfying.

The first machine to crash was making parts for the drivelines of a major motor company. The crash was caused while a new operator was running the machine, who I might add was only hired because the program I made let them hire clueless people into the shop and be able to still produce good parts. When He tried to clear my password code, the lathe started turning at 2500 rpms with a large heavy drive shaft base in the holder, switched to a huge drill, and ran the drill into the holder, causing the tool holder to be knocked off-axis, the part holder and tools to be destroyed, as well as cost the company tons to get someone from the machines maintenance team out to repair it.

After the first glorious crash, I menacingly mention to the supervisor, “you should check your codes to make sure they’re working properly”. He went ghost white. Not a second after, 3 more machines simultaneously crash in glorious fashion. He starts to chew me out, saying I’m in huge trouble, but as he starts cursing, the managers are there to have him go diagnose the problems with “his” codes.

The supervisor, not wanting to admit he stole my work, doubles down, and says confidently “I know what the problem is”, and walks off to the crashed machines.

Not a minute after they turn a corner, more machines start crashing. I just sit idly by and listen to the glorious sounds of my nuclear revenge playing out. A few minutes later, all the workers are told to stop production completely. We are all kept in the shop until they can figure out the problems.

This is a 24-hour production facility with 3 shifts of workers coming in 7 days a week mind you.

Our shift is nearly over and we’ve all been idle for about 7 hours.

The next shift comes in and we leave for the day. I hear nothing from the shop, so I just go in the next day as normal.

Turns out they tried to fire machines back up during the night shift and 18 more machines crashed like the others.

The plant did a formal layoff of most the workers the next week, as they were hemorrhaging money from all the damaged machines on top of labor paid without any production.

We filed a class-action suit against the company for unemployment, lost vacation time, dangerous work conditions due to the severity of the crashes, etc. The company went bankrupt from the lawsuits and losses in production/machine repairs.

The guy who took my credit was obviously fired and had an article in the paper about him sabotaging the companies production. He obviously told them I was responsible for the crashes, but the company found out that the code to my password program was his name.

They believed he did this out of spite cause he was refused a raise the previous year and his threats to them after his last evaluation. Sucks to suck lol.” Totesmgoats33

1. Harass Me At Work? Ok, Learn Your Lesson First, Then We Can Be Cribbage Champs Together

“I used to work in an office that did promotions for local charity events and fundraisers. Crap pay but awesome co-workers and the blueberry scones in the office cafe were flat out amazing!

Our office was small as offices go, about 20 employees including the 2 managers.

Our top boss -who I will call Bob was really sweet. Constantly having friendly contests with prizes for the most donations and such. (I won a basketball that I donated to the kids in my church haha) He was the kind of guy that would give you $20 from his own pocket if you need lunch money. I miss him. But I digress!

Our office was a lot like the TV show, we were a close family of sorts who celebrated each other’s birthdays, drew names at Christmas and ate lunch together.

All was rainbows and flowers until Steve strode into our happy kingdom of blissful sunshine.

Steve was tall. Steve was large. Steve had a thing for girls with big *****. Steve had been fired from the hospital morgue for having relations with um – the deceased.

Into Steve’s line of vision came my friends and myself..the 3 girls in the office who’s attributes appealed to him. Day 1 Steve sidled over to our end of the office and leered at us.

Hey ladies! (Staring at our chests)

We mumbled, shifted, and went back to work. No problem right? OH, how wrong you are!

This began a daily onslaught of touching, rubbing, comments, stroking our hair, lewd remarks, and pouting because we didn’t reciprocate! We went to Bob. We went to the second manager. They threatened him. It continued. Until the day I was on the phone with a client and he grabbed my arm in a vice and started whispering in my ear – while I was talking to the client! I was struggling to stay professional while trying (and failing) to get away from him.

I finally hung up, and screamed LET GO OF ME! While bursting into tears.

Now, this was the 90s. Recognition for ****** harassment was still in its infancy. Help for it was almost non-existent. Unless you worked in our office haha.

2nd manager came roaring over, hauling Steve off me and making sure I was ok. Told me to take the rest of the day.

THE REVENGE ….and the surprising outcome!

I went home and took the next day as well to settle my nerves.

When I returned to work, the office was buzzing. The girls gathered around me asking if I knew what had happened after I left. Nope?

The guys in our office gathered in the hall and waited for Steve. When he came out for a smoke, they jumped him. Pinned him up against the wall and while I was never privy to what was said I was let know they beat him pretty good and put the fear of God in him!

Steve didn’t return for a few days, when he came back he was a broken man, black eye, bruised face.

He came up to me and loudly apologized saying he knew how wrong he was and promised to play nice from then on.

THE OUTCOME!

Steve was a changed man! Turns out he was actually a pretty decent guy! While eating lunch one day, someone brought out a cribbage board and everyone was surprised to learn I didn’t know how to play so Steve offered to teach me. I found I love the game and Steve and I quickly became the team to beat going on to win the office championship!

I left there a few years later when I left everyone chipped in for gifts and cards, and Steve gave me a hug.

I hugged him back.” Waifer2016

You can’t go wrong with juicy revenge stories! While most of us won’t feel the desire to obtain revenge anywhere on the level of these stories, it doesn’t hurt to enjoy them indirectly from a third-person perspective.