People Share Their Most “On Point” Revenge Stories

Not that I’m into getting revenge on people or anything, but if I did try to get back at someone, I imagine it wouldn’t be very successful. It can take a lot to execute the perfect act of revenge as things don’t always end up turning out as planned and, not to mention, there’s always the chance that your victim will strike back, or if your method of taking revenge is illegal, that you’ll get caught. So, really, getting revenge is risky.

Of course, there’s always a possibility that revenge can end up working out. Sometimes, it works out so well that your story of revenge deserves to be framed and hung up in your living room, or in this case, plastered on the internet for everyone to enjoy, like the following.

13. Add Me To A Robocall List? I’ll Get You Fired

“My mom has this tendency to attract… shady people. They’re always fun to hang out with when I’m with her but never someone I’d hang out with one on one or even trust to leave alone in my home. They almost always have some reason for the hustle, like a bunch of kids, but never want to do any REAL work.

Instead, they mooch off of whoever they see as an easy mark.

One of these people is “Sally.” Sally has 4 kids, all by different dads, and she does whatever she can to keep the kids from the dads unless she needs a sitter. Sally refuses to get a real job and instead bums rides, money, smokes, and whatever else she needs that her small amount of support and public funds won’t cover.

Now, this is going to sound snobby, but I’m a higher tax bracket. My husband and I married when I was 21. We focused on my education and his career, and when I was in my early 30s had 2 children, we waited until we were financially stable, his career was secure, and I was able to be a stay at home mom. Basically, we worked our a**es off for the first 10 years of our marriage and saved so that we were debt-free and owned our first home by the time Kid One was born.

My mom introduced me to Sally not long after my 2nd was born. We had moved to our current home, which we bought for an insane deal since the bubble had burst. Seriously, this place would have been a good $100k out of our range if the bubble hadn’t burst, and my husband hadn’t received a hefty sellout for a company he was a founder of.

Since we don’t really NEED the money from re-sales, anytime my kids outgrow something, I give it away. We didn’t have money when I was a kid, so my view is that I should give my gear to someone who was in a similar spot. Everything from clothing to toys and baby gear. I try to find people who I know really need the stuff, and they always get first dibs.

Sally was the person I was doing this for at the time. I gave her a collapsible stroller, baby pens, car seats, bouncy gyms… you get the idea. I basically gave her a couple thousand in used stuff because I knew she needed it.

Well, it started feeling less like “helping out my mom’s friend” and more like I was being hustled. For example, we invited her kids to my kid’s birthday party, and she insisted we allow her son to blow out candles too because my son and her son’s birthday were just a few days apart.

Another time, she scolded my kid for drawing on his jeans (washable markers) because it would hurt their resale value. So, I began the slow process of cutting her off because I don’t do drama like that.

So, Sally moved across town. I didn’t hear anything else from her for a couple of years. One day, out of the blue, I get a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

It said, “Hey, it’s Sally. I’m working at a booth at the fair getting number for roof bids. I’m putting everyone I know on my list, so I can make my quota and leave for the day. You don’t have to buy, just tell them you changed your mind.” I called my mom; she got the same message, and she hadn’t heard from in her a couple of years either.

Within the week, I started getting robocalls from a ******* roofing company. The first few, I just let go to voicemail. Then one day, I answered. They started their pitch, and I told them that not only did I NOT sign up but that their employee had sent me a text telling me what she did. The woman on the phone was shocked and p*ssed. She asked if I had proof.

I told her I had the texts to back it up, as did my mother who was also getting calls. She sent me her email address, and I sent her screenshots from both of us. That’s when she told me that the list she had was one they distributed through a network of home improvement companies and that I’d still get calls, but she’d make sure I was off the next list that went out the next month.

About 3 days later, I got a text from Sally that she had been written up and that I was a ***** for turning her in and how I was taking food out of her kids’ mouths. So, yep, guess who got screenshots of that text too?

I got a follow-up email saying that they had fired Sally and that if I received anything else from her, they advised I call an attorney for harassment, but they could do no more.

Neither one of us has heard from Sally since.” Trishlovesdolphins

12. You Want A Discount? Ok, “Old” Lady, Here’s Your Discount

“I worked at a pretty popular department store for years, and I have to say that the customers this store breeds are the worst of the worst.

This store is probably 90% of the reason that so many customers feel as entitled as they do. (‘The cashier had the hiccups, it was incredibly annoying, isn’t there anything you can do for me?’ Was an actual honest to God complaint one lady had for me when I was a supervisor.)
So anyway, I was covering a break up at the registers.

I was a supervisor at the time and I had also already given my two weeks’ notice. I was beyond fed up. It was like spring of my senior year all over again. I had no more ***** left.

So I’m up at the registers, and this lady who couldn’t have been more than 40 comes up with a huge cart full. Anyone who has worked retail, you know this woman.

She’s got The Hair, she’s smacking her gum at me while she talks on the phone, the entire transaction is delayed because I need her to pay and she starts to ignore me because apparently I’m the rude one for interrupting her phone call.
She proceeds to tell the person on the other end ‘give me a second,’ and finally turns to me and says, as if I’m an impatient child testing her last bit of patience, ‘Yes?’

‘Here’s your total, ma’am.

Do you have any coupons or rewards to use today?’

She nodded, and here is when she drops a few clippings on the counter in front of me, ignoring my outstretched hand, and turns her attention back to her phone. As soon as I look at the coupons, I see that none of them are usable. She has one that is $10 off your menswear purchase of $50 or more.

She has all women’s clothing. The next coupon expired two months ago. Another one doesn’t start for another week, etc.
So I try again to get her attention. She’s just as lovely and accommodating as the last time.

She rolls her eyes, tells the person on the phone that she will have to call them back, and gives me another sharp “Yes?”

‘Sorry ma’am, this coupon is expired, this one hasn’t started, and this one is only for when you purchase $50 worth of menswear.

Do you have any other coupons or rewards?’

She stares at me as though I had just called her mother some unsavory name. ‘UH excuse me, WHAT?’

What could I do but shrug helplessly?

‘You have GOT to be kidding me! That is the entire reason I came out here today, to use those coupons! I really can’t use them?? Unbelievable.

Some customer service here!’ All the while she’s packing her useless coupons back into her purse and glaring scorch marks into my soul.

Remember I said I was done? My patience before Shopzilla here was already at 0. She tipped the scales. I was officially in the negatives. I had negative ***** and negative patience left.

So when she said, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, being so rude to a customer.’ Something in me snapped.

I smiled sweetly at her, mustered up a bright and cheery expression that I usually reserve as my ‘waitress’ face, and said “I’m so sorry you feel that way, ma’am.

But on the bright side, since it’s Tuesday I can still apply your senior’s discount! So at least you aren’t losing that one, right?”
I can’t quite describe her expression. I think she was angry, but I think she was more shocked. And in that state of shock, she sputtered out ‘I’m not a senior!’

I mimicked her shock, trying to appear horrified by my ‘accidental’ faux pas, and then immediately said: ‘let me take that off of there for you, then!’ And promptly took the senior discount off, bumping her total up another $20.

‘I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, ma’am.’

Oh boy, she was p*ssed, but as I said, I think she was more shocked.

She seemed a little dumbfounded, she paid, she took her stuff, she left.
I will take that petty moment of satisfaction at her horrified expression to my grave. (It was even worth the write up that I did end up getting after she called the store and gave my manager a piece of her mind.)” amaranthinenightmare

11. Kidnap My Kid? I’ll Reorganize The House For Your Inconvenience

“I had served in both the Regular Army and Special Operations Forces (SOF) community for just over ten years when an opportunity arose.

It was an assignment in the middle of nowhere but was near what I claim to be my hometown (Military Brat). I would later find out that the job was horrible, but that has nothing to do with the story.

We had been in Small Town, USA for a couple of months. We were pretty much settled in. My wife and I were not exactly prepared mentally though.

Both sets of grandparents, specifically grandmas, had been away from their grandchildren since they were born. They were like flies at the house for the first couple of months. It was finally starting to subside when this happened.

I should mention that my mom is different. At least I think she is. I have always been the independent type, and I rarely, if ever, call home. It’s not because I don’t love my parents or friends.

I just don’t feel the need to talk unless I really have something to say. I feel less of a need to call my mother. Generally speaking, don’t expect a phone call from me.

Why? She is scattered and typically has nothing useful to say. She likes to gossip, but she is the lady in the chain of gossipers that twists information and relays the wrong facts or tries to convince me of things.

Typical phone calls from my mother are below.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

OP: ‘Hello.’

Mom: ‘Hey. What are you doing?’

OP: ‘Nothing.’

Mom: ‘Remember Jim Bob?’

OP: ‘No.’

Mom: ‘Yeah you do. You went to the pool with him once while you were six-months-old when we lived in Germany.’

OP: ‘Sorry mom. I don’t remember Jim Bob.’

Mom: ‘Yeah you do.’

OP: ‘No. Mom. I don’t remember him.’

Mom’: Well, he died. Thought you would want to know.’

Dear Reader, this happens ALL THE TIME.

I have spoken on the phone with her no more than twenty times in the last decade, and at least ten people I don’t know have died. Unrelated, but this is our last conversation:

Ring. Ring. Ring.

OP: ‘(Groggy) Hello.’

Mom: ‘Hi. You sound sleepy. What are you doing?’

OP: ‘Sleeping.’

Mom: Mid-day nap?

OP: ‘No. It’s two in the morning. I am sleeping.’

Mom: ‘FIRST NAME, MIDDLE NAME, LAST NAME…what country are you in?’

OP: ‘Lebanon.’

Mom: ‘What are you doing there?’

OP: ‘Army work.’

Mom: ‘I called to tell you that Random Lady who used to watch you wrestle in high school passed away.

Just thought you would want to know. Love you. Bye.’

(I’m bad, but she worries. I have been injured in combat three times. I figure I will just tell her when I get back most times.)

Back to Small Town USA. It’s a Saturday. I am looking forward to having some time off. My wife was a swing-shift ICU Nurse at the time, and she was at work.

I was home with the crib midget (2-year-old) and the miniature human (6-year-old). It was just the men at the house. I had woken up, fed the humans, and plopped them down in the living room to watch Paw Patrol while I took a shower.

I get the Army-essentials (feet, balls, and a**) and return feeling refreshed from the shower. I conduct another inventory, but something is missing.

Cake (Crib Midget/2-years-old) is missing. He is a bi-pedal monster, so I don’t think much of it. I just ask Kelly (Mini Human/6-years-old) where his brother is. I get the typical shoulder shrug response. Great.

I now have 3,200 square feet of house to work with. I will systematically check the house either finding him in his room watching TV or exploring the cleaning products under the sink.

The first sweep was unsuccessful. The second sweep was unsuccessful. I now enlist the help of Kelly to find the speed demon. We are now about ten sweeps in, and I am PANICKING. I’ve talked to my wife many times on the phone. We have had the “lost” conversations. “Babe. I lost my car keys. Do you know where they are at?” “Babe. I lost my Army-thing.

Do you know where it is?” No husband ever wants to call their wife and say, “Babe. You know that bi-pedal toddler we have? Yeah, that one. Do you know where it’s at?”

I was there though. The house we lived in was old. The locks on some of the doors were “different,” very old, and some were complicated to open. Cake could not penetrate the front door.

It just was not physically possible. This dude is Houdini; he was an escape artist. I was at my wit’s end. I had to call my wife. The conversation went exactly how anyone would expect it to go. She was worried. She was hysterical. There was no way I would ever hold that “#1 Dad” coffee mug ever again. ***.

I* did one last sweep under the direction of my wife, but it was now time to hand in my man/parent-card and call the police.

9-1-1

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Lady: ‘9-1-1. What is your emergency?’

OP: ‘I lost my son.’

Lady: ‘Sir. You lost your child?’

OP: ‘Yes. I took a shower, and now my two-year-old is missing. I have checked the house, and he is not here.’

Lady: ‘What is your location, Sir?’

OP: ‘Address’

‘Lady: ‘What is your son wearing?

OP: ‘Thomas The Tank Engine shirt. Blue. Diaper.’

Lady: ‘Where did you last see him…’

I have a large bay window.

Very Large. Something caught my eye. The reflection of sunlight that bounces of cars screams through the window whey they pass or park. A car had just parked in front of my house. It was my mother. Great.

I am dreading the fact that I have 9-1-1 on the line, and I am about to tell my mother the dreaded news. Then I see it. What was “it”? Cake.

My ******* toddler. I kindly explain to 9-1-1 that I had found my human. Now I was only a bad father in the eyes of my wife and the entire dispatch center. I was seething with anger. I am a happy-go-lucky guy. Super calm. Even in firefights. I simply don’t stress out about much. This was not the case. I go charging out of the house.

OP: ‘WHAT IN THE **** DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?’

Mom: (Calm and shocked). ‘What? I just went to the grocery store.’

OP: ‘With my child. You took my child.’

Mom: Yeah. I stopped by and asked if the boys wanted to go. Cake did.

OP: Y’ou ******* stole my kid, mom. STOLE-MY-KID.’

Mom: (Chuckles) ‘No I didn’t. I asked. Cake wanted to go. Kelly didn’t. I told Kelly to tell you.’

Side Note: Paw Patrol is like a trance for your kids.

The godd*mn rapture could happen around kids while watching cartoons, and they are unaware. God ******* forbid the cable goes out though. Then the real chaos starts. I am a warfighter with fourteen combat deployments. I have said, “Daddy doesn’t want to watch Barney for the 20th time today” exactly once. There are some fights that just are not worth it.

OP: ‘You told Kelly!?! You told my six-year-old to relay a message to me? You thought that would work? Did you make that message contingent on a toy because he didn’t know where his brother was?’

Mom: ‘Well, I told him.’

OP: ‘Mom.

You stole my kid.’

(Then she ******* said it.)

Mom: ‘I am Grandma. I can take him.’

OP: ‘Mom. You stole my kid.’

Mom: ‘Oh. I just took him.’

OP: ‘It’s not called “took.” It’s called KIDNAPPING!’

Mom: ‘Oh, I didn’t kidnap him.’

OP: ‘You walked into the house. Asked two children if they wanted to go. Told one to relay a message to me. WHY DID YOU NOT ASK OR TELL ME?’

Mom: ‘I screamed out.

Thought you knew.’

I lost my ***.* It went on and on with her trying to convince me of her point. I was not having it. I was beyond mad. I called my dad to get his opinion, and he just laughed, “Grandma is in TRUB-ULLLLL.” She was leaving anyway; I couldn’t kick her out. It didn’t even concern her mentally. She was oblivious to the gravity and severity of the situation.

I was not done yet though.

It just so happened that this specific weekend was a four-day weekend for me. I had the next two days off with the boys. My mom was unaware. She called on Sunday and asked what time I was dropping the boys off. Ding, light bulb moment. We had just adopted a new dog that was crate training. Let us capitalize on this!

OP: ‘Do you think you can watch the boys at the house, so you can take Lola out? I don’t want her in the cage all day.’

Mom: ‘Sure.

I can do that.’

Great. Now my mom would be at my house from around 6:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. Even better. My dad would be at work as well.

D-Day (6:00 a.m.)

My mom arrives at the house. Still oblivious that I was still angry. No worries. I now have 12-hours to work out my frustration. I depart the house and promptly arrive at her house. I find the spare key and let myself in.

I reorganize everything. I mean EVERYTHING. It didn’t take long to do the living room. I moved the couch. I moved the love seat. I move my father’s chair. The coffee table. The TV. Everything gets rearranged. I even move pictures from wall-to-wall and use sticky tack to hang them upside down or wonky.

Moving into a new place can be a hassle during military moves. I love cooking.

The kitchen and woodshop are my sanctuaries. It is such a pain in the a** to move into a new kitchen and get things where you want them. What’s not a pain? Reorganizing someone’s kitchen. Everything from top to bottom was reorganized. The power room was close to the kitchen, so I put plates under the sink in the powder room and toilet paper in the kitchen draws.

Again, EVERYTHING WAS moved.

I work my way through the house ensuring that nothing was left untouched. The only room I didn’t enter was the master bedroom. I am one of three siblings. They have s*xed it up three times in my brain. I was not interested or mentally willing to **** with that room. I did, however, take great pride in her “Cricket Room” to ensure that I moved everything.

My last act of “**** you” in the house was taking every single remote in the house. TV, DVR, Cable, Lights…you name it. If it was a remote, it was now in my possession. I then returned home at my normal time.

The changeover was typical. She asked me how my day was and let me tell you, it was a satisfying day of work for me.

She acted as if the kidnapping event never happened. Well, she was about to be reminded that I didn’t forget. It was time to crack a beer, play with the boys, and wait for that phone call.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Mom: (Remember. She is my mom. I love her. But she is “different.”) ‘Were you at the house today?’

OP: (Brain: Is she serious?) ‘What?’

‘Mom: ‘Did you stop by the house today.

I think we were robbed.

OP: (Laughing. Robbed? Yeah. Robbers typically move your **** around) Y’es. I stopped by the house.’

Mom: ‘You rearranged the living room?’

(My dad just gets home during the conversation.)

I hear my dad talking as he enters the house, “What theeeeeeeee ***!?!”

Dad: (Still ******overhearing him). ‘Karla. What the *** did you do to the house?’

Mom: ‘I didn’t do it. OP Did.’

She is oblivious still, just looking at the living room.

She laughs a bit, and we conclude the conversation. Now I am baffled. Oh well.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Mom: ‘Where in the **** are my pots and pans? There is toilet paper under the kitchen sink. Toilet paper does not go there. Godd*mn it, OP.’

(Dad in background) ‘Where is the remote, Karla?’

I hooked everything back up. I just moved it. Things still worked.

Dad (Background): ‘Karla. REMOTE.’

My mother is now walking through the house.

She arrives in her arts and crafts Cricket Room.

Mom: ‘FIRST NAME. MIDDLE. LAST. WHAT THE **** DID YOU DO.’

OP: ‘I reorganized everything for you.’

Mom: ‘Oh. My. God.’

Pause

Dad: ‘KARLA. KARLA. Where is the remote for the TV.’

Mom: ‘Where are the remotes?’

OP: ‘Oh. I took them. I called out your name. I thought you heard me.’

She now explains to my father. Now there is hysterical laughter in the background.

Mom:’ I am on my way over.’

She arrived at the house. I am willing to break bread and settle this. Under one condition.

OP: ‘All you have to say is you are sorry for kidnapping my child, and you won’t ever do it again.’

Mom: ‘I didn’t….’

OP: ‘Ah. Ah. Ah. You want the remotes back? OP, I AM SORRY for KIDNAPPING your kid, and I will never do it again.’

Mom: ‘I am sorry for kidnapping Cake, and I will never do it again.’

OP: ‘Thank you.’

Mom: ‘What time you dropping the boys off tomorrow?’

OP: ‘Ah? I think you should come here until you figure out where your pots and pans are.’

Mom: ‘See you at six.

Love you. Bye.’

And that’s that. Military life is different. Really different. I never thought in a million years I would live in my hometown and still be in the Army. It was great at times. I was totally not expecting all the things that come with living in my hometown after being away for over a decade. The grandparents wanted to make up for years of not seeing them, and they did.

There were obviously some learning struggles. Karla admitted defeat, and my dad eventually got his remotes back. Everybody won. She is still a bat *** crazy lady. I love her, but boy is she different.” SloppyEyeScream

10. Laugh At Me For Something I Can’t Control? I Won’t Let You Know Your License Is Expiring

“I work in the financial sector. Not the sexiest or most exciting kind of work, but it pays well and has great benefits/perks.

I have a colleague who I’ll call Brian. Brian has been on my team since I started with the organization a few years ago. He seemed nice and helpful at first, and we got along just fine for a long while. One day, we had a team meeting that ran through lunch hour, so our bosses arranged for some catering for us. There was a break in the meeting, and I started eating my lunch.

Brian was sat across from me, and the conversation went something like this:

Brian: ‘Oh, you’re left-handed?’

Me: ‘Yup, makes certain things a bit more difficult, but it’s not that bad.’

Brian: ‘Wow…being left-handed is just so wrong though. Like everything you do looks awkward and just wrong…*laughs* Left-handed people are so weird.’

His comments just left a really bad taste in my mouth. Why laugh at someone for something they can’t control? I can’t remember what I said next, but I wasn’t in the mood to pick a fight in front of our bosses, so I changed the subject and just let it go.

Looking back, I definitely should have said something to our manager at least, but I was still pretty new to the company and didn’t want to stir the pot. Believe me, though; I never forgot about Brian’s comments, and I knew one day he’d pay, even if I had to play the long game.

Fast forward about a year later… Brian and I both got temporarily transferred to a new department, and again, we ended up on the same team.

We needed professional licenses for our old roles but not our new ones.

For context, I used to help fill in for the person who looked after licensing in our office, so I knew the procedures/application/renewal process/who needed a license and who didn’t.

As I said before, this was a temporary transfer; and therefore, our licenses were set as “inactive,” but should we ever go back to our old role, all we had to do was get in touch with Council, and they could set them to “active” again.

However, there is a caveat; you need to renew your license every year, even if it’s “inactive.”

A few months ago, it was time to renew my license. It’s important to note that the deadline is the same for everyone. Again, I was familiar with all the licensing procedures, so I renewed on time, paid the fees, and everything was good to go.

Council has a website where you could see if someone is licensed or not.

It shows basic information about them and what kind of license they hold. All of this information is available to the public; anyone can see it.

Now we finally get to the revenge:

I was filling out some continuing education paperwork, and I forgot my license number, so I had to go to Council’s website to look myself up. I saw that it listed me as a different license class, which is a mistake.

Out of sheer curiosity, I looked up Brian’s license too, to see if his had the same “glitch.” His license was error-free…but…it showed he had not renewed his license yet. Now, technically, the deadline has passed at this point. But…they offer a 1 month grace period, and all you have to do is pay a late fee on top of your annual dues.

Remembering Brian’s comments, I decide to say nothing.

If I liked Brian, of course, I would have given him the heads up. There was still time to fix it. But why would I give him that courtesy? He didn’t deserve it. Knowing how unorganized Brian is, he’d probably miss the second deadline as well.

Well, on Friday it was announced that our old department needs Brian back. I was curious and just looked up Brian’s license.

Terminated for non-filing. What does this mean? It means Brian will have to write 3 licensing exams before he can do his old job again. These exams aren’t easy. He wrote them years ago, and most people fail on their first try.

And no, I can’t be called on to take Brian’s place. While we were on the same team, we had different jobs. I don’t know what this means for Brian now, but I bet it’ll be fun explaining to our old boss that he was too unorganized to renew his license, and now he needs to re-write 3 exams.

It may not seem like much…but I take comfort knowing I could have helped Brian and chose not to. Petty revenge because ultimately it was his responsibility to make sure his license got renewed, and he failed spectacularly.” amandamontana

9. Bully Me Into Quitting? You Won’t Have A Job Either

“This happened around 2016. I’d (at the time 25/26M) been without a job for a while, looking for a better paying job than I had before, and I found one at a camera security company that was looking to hire someone for the service desk.

I went for an interview and got a call back later that day. If I wanted the job, it was mine.

Now, my new manager was an ex-military, specifically ex-army (not American, just pointing that out). He REALLY didn’t like having people disagree with or going against him, a thing I was very unaware of when I took the job.

For 2/3 months, everything was going well. The manager was cordial and seemed to really enjoy having me there.

I worked my butt off every day as the software we were working with was unknown to me, so I studied a lot and even went overseas to another country to follow a course and succeeded on my exams.

However, after that period my grandpa, who was like a second father to me, suddenly was hospitalized after a brain bleed (aneurysm?) He was found in the shower.

He had collapsed after he pressed his panic button.

This all happened on a Wednesday. The family came together in the hospital several times to show support and see Grandpa. However, on Friday afternoon, 3 pm, I was called up by my father (my grandpa’s son) while I was at work, and he explained to me that Grandpa, unfortunately, passed away. I was in tears on the phone and in utter shock.

It took me a while to calm down.

I went to my manager and explained what just happened and that I’m going home to be with my family. However, that day, there was an event. The company was doing a charity event, and this charity was going to be public news. They already announced the number of people participating, and it would look bad if they were a person down.

It was basically just for good PR.

So, he refused to let me go. I told him that by law he cannot deny me as my contract states, I can take a day for a death in the family, and that I was leaving now.

This was the turning point. He went from a nice manager to a manager from ****. Suddenly, everything I did was wrong. I was told he couldn’t believe I was in this line of work for 6 years and be this bad at my job.

He cussed me out and ridiculed me in front of my colleagues and even clients.

This all continued for several months and severely began to impact my mental health. I had a talk with my parents and my fiancé (at the time, still my partner; I’d ask her to marry me in December 2016), and they basically told me that this was not okay, that I didn’t have to take this, and that I should give them my 2 weeks notice.

I agreed. The following day, I went to HR and explained why I was leaving the company and that I couldn’t stand the idea of working even a single day more with that excuse of a human being.

HR showed interest in my well being and even more importantly in what I was claiming about my manager. They had received more complaints about him, but nobody had proof of his wrongdoings.

So, they asked me if I had proof. I told them I’d be looking for a new job, but I’d gladly fit in the time to collect all I could.

For the next 2 weeks, I collected everything… memos, emails, voice recordings (when on the phone, the calls are automatically recorded, and the dumba** was stupid enough to cuss me out while I was on the phone, lucky me).

Also lucky was that my colleagues at the desk had my back this entire time. They’d been trying to cheer me up and said I was doing fine work and that they also didn’t understand this man’s behavior. So, when I came by and asked if they’d mind signing a document that everything I stated in the paperwork was the truth, they gladly did.

I had one last talk with HR and him at the same time the last day I was there.

Before he even walked in, I told the HR person who was mediating: “He’s going to walk in, say what he wants to say, and I’ll be quiet and listen. When he’s done, I’ll explain my side, and he’s going to interrupt me, tell you I’m lying, and talk about completely none related subject matter to drag the conversation another direction.”

She looked surprised at my comment but had no time to respond as mister army man, walked in, and began his spiel, exactly as I stated he’d blurt his side out, and once I tried to talk, he’d consistently interrupt me and tried to pick fights.

Eventually, I got up and told HR “I told you so. Here are the documents you’ve been asking for.” I placed a filled folder with several dozens of emails, plenty of memos, and a USB containing 3 phone conversations, and even video footage of him yelling at me, in both voice and video recordings you could easily hear him cuss me out.

I gave the manager a big bright smile, who was smirking victoriously and said to him: “I don’t think you’ll be smirking like that for long.

Enjoy your little victory.”

His smirk disappeared into a confused scowl, but I slammed the door on him before he could respond and left the building feeling like a huge, and I mean humongous sized, planet-sized amount of stress fell off my shoulders. Within a month, I was back to my old self.

Two months later I was working at a new job and out of curiosity, I checked my ex-manager’s LinkedIn.

“Unemployed.”

I called one of my old colleagues to ask what exactly went down. My proof opened pandora’s box. He was being disrespectful to the female staff, insulted the older staff, and on multiple occasions was less than cordial with our external hires. None of these complaints were acted upon because it was his word against theirs and there was no proof.

However, providing overwhelming proof of his gross behavior towards me made all other complaints now to be taken as fact.

He was promptly fired less than a month after I left, and they refused to provide him with any form of reference. In a field like his, references mean a lot. So, not getting one from a company you worked at for nearly a year is a huge red flag. It’s now 2020. 4 years passed, and according to LinkedIn, he’s still not working in his field.

I’ll gladly admit that I felt rather wickedly satisfied and still do whenever I happen to think about it.” Nubmuffin

Another User Comments:

“Even if it wasn’t against the law and in your contract that you could take off work for the death of a family member, it is a pretty terrible move to not allow someone time off to grieve and prepare for a funeral. It’s general respect.

Just based off of that without even considering the verbal abuse you and your colleagues faced from this manager, he got what he deserved.” Jess1r

8. Act Like A Nutty Neighbor? We’ll Give You Something To Flip About

She flipped out so badly that she ended up selling her home.

“A little backstory.

My granddad was a man of many talents and hobbies, just like my father. They were both into ham radio, and as a kid, Granddad would show me lots of cool experiments with radio waves and he was never shy about playing jokes to teach you a lesson, which he passed onto me.

Now onto our story.

As teenagers,  my brother and I had jobs to do around the house that our dad who is blind could not do: mow lawns, weed spray, climb or drop the ham radio tower to grease, etc. Now, Dad being blind, he would call out our names, hold our elbows to be lead around, etc., all normal stuff until… One day, we get a new neighbor, and the complaints and harassment start, and it continues for 2 years.

I spray weed killer; the neighbor calls poison control to report us. Another time, Dad wants to walk up to the shops, and my brother takes him; child support is called because Dad has Brother gripped by the elbow and is dragging him down the road. They call the council saying we are poisoning her with radio waves from the 80-foot-tall ham tower that has been there permitted for the last 10 years, just to name a few things she did.

Now after 2 years of this, my parents were getting stressed out, so Granddad recommends they go on vacation, and he will keep an eye on us as we both had part-time jobs.

We as teenagers are all for this of course, and off they go for a month trip overseas.

So, having chatted with Granddad for months suggesting all sorts of pranks we could play that our parents most definitely would not approve of, we settle on a couple of things to do.

My brother gets hazmat suits from his work, and I get an empty, 44-gallon drum from my work. I go see a friend who works at a panel beaters and get him to paint it bright orange and in big black letters write “Agent Orange” and a skull and crossbones, and Granddad drops off a few fluorescent tubes.

So, after a week, we were set and ready to go.

Friday evening while she is out on her back terrace having dinner, we roll out our bright orange barrel in our hazmat suits and proceeded to spray along fence line including having a, “Oh no, I ripped my suit” moment and running around screaming “I’ve been contaminated” and having my brother scrub me down with bubble bath and a broom.

(Dinner and a show: how’s that for being a good neighbor, lol.)

She screams and runs inside.

My mate who worked at the panel shop watches this from inside with Granddad laughing their heads off, and he carts the evidence away, and we take off to Granddad’s place to have a few drinks with him and Granddad and stay the night. 3 a.m., I sneak back to the house and hang the fluorescent tubes off the radio antenna (think super-sized tv antenna).

Saturday early evening as the sun is going down, we wait for her to have her dinner outside and start our second show.

I fire up ham rig, and my brother turns on the tower control unit, so we can rotate the directional antenna.

As she is eating, my brother rotates the antenna to point at her place, and I start a “check check “radio check call as my brother turns the tower left for a second then right for a second (wagging antenna at her).

Now, remember how I said Granddad showed me awesomely cool experiments.

One was when a fluorescent tube is in close proximity to high powered radio waves, the fluorescent tube will attempt to light up, but as there is no starter attached, it will only spark and flash repeatedly.

Repeat of the previous night: screaming and running inside from her.

We shut everything down and swap out the transformer/amplifier with spare and remove tubes. Granddad takes amp, and my brother goes back to his place.

I stay to get ready for my second job.

The fire brigade turns up 15 minutes later as I am getting ready to leave for work.

I show them the tower and say it’s not possible; everything is turned off and unplugged, and Dad is only one who has a licence, but we have a nutty neighbor who will not stop harassing us with false complaints for 2 years.

Monday rolls around, and we are awoken to banging on the front door.

It’s poison control saying they have a report that we were spraying Agent Orange. We look confused and say how that stuffs illegal, but we do have a nutty neighbor who will not stop making false complaints for last 2 years and had called fire service out on is Saturday and to go right ahead take as many samples as they’d like and ask if they want to search house garage, shed, etc.

for this Agent Orange stuff. They look take samples and leave.

Then CPS turned up for a report of minors left home alone. I hand over my ID (19-years-old), and my brother does the same (17-years-old, and I tell them I am legally looking after my brother, and we go to our granddad’s for dinner every night and pass on his details. We also tell them we have a nutty neighbor who will not stop harassing us for and our parents for last 2 years, and they have had previous case files, and that’s why they have gone on vacation, and they just missed poison control as our nutty neighbor accused us of spraying Agent Orange.

We said, “Here is their report number,” and we told them that she had also called fire service about the ham antenna waving at her and being on fire when it has been unplugged for over a week. They leave, and we head off to our part-time day jobs.

Tuesday morning, we hear banging on the door again. This time, it is the council about the sparking antenna.

Again, we go through everything and say it’s not possible. It has been unplugged for over a week. We tell them to come in and test everything and check the capacitors for a charge. We tell them that we have had fire service poison control and CPS turn up because of our nutty neighbor who has been harassing our family for over 2 years.

Wednesday night, police turn up saying they want to speak to our parents.

We let them know it’s not possible; they have been overseas for nearly 2 weeks, and we have been staying with our granddad when we’re not working..We tell them that our nutty neighbor has yet again made more false complaints to fire, poison control, CPS, and the council and how it’s been ongoing for over 2 years. We told them to check their records. I give them my granddad’s details, and they go see him.

According to Granddad, she was saying we were trying to poison and kill her with Agent Orange and a giant, sparking microwave antenna, and he set the cops straight about her harassment for the last 2 years.

Another 2 weeks go by, and we don’t hear anything from our nutty neighbor.

It’s the morning of the day our parents are coming home.

The same day, police officers turn up and say they have something for us and our parents: a permanent restraining order against nutty neighbor.

They also have copies of reports from fire service, poison control, CPS, and the council that they used to get a permanent order signed off by a judge.

We head off to the airport to pick up parents and head home.

We get home to find our other neighbors all out in front of our place thinking the worst. We all ask what’s happened to our place. “Nothing,” they say, but “have you heard the news that our nutty neighbor has left and put for sale sign out front of her place?”

Mom and Dad invite everyone inside to chat and party as our nutty neighbor had a tendency of harassing them.

Mom, without missing a beat, looks at us. “What did you do while we were away?”

I am about to come clean and tell Mom everything.

Mrs. Purple, our elderly neighbor, pipes up and tells Mom and Dad about our Agent Orange play and how she loved it when she saw the nutty neighbor screaming, ripping off all her clothes, and running into house thinking she had been poisoned as my brother was scrubbing me with bubble bath.

Then Mr. Brown, our other neighbor, says shame he missed that one; he only saw Saturday’s firework show coming from the ham tower as it wiggled at her and flashed and sparked.

I hand over the paperwork and the restraining order

Mom reads it and bursts into laughter

The restraining order is for 100 meters.

Nutty neighbor lived 25 meters away.” cptn_dropbear

7. Can’t Control Your 11 Dogs? Animal Control Will Take Care Of It

“So, we have neighbors (they’re renting; we own… important later) that have 11 dogs, yes… 11! Sometimes we see more, but I think they come with a visitor.

This is in a small home with 4+ people and a cat. They range from small to large dogs. They have a black lab, 2 Maltese looking dogs (one black and white, the other grey), 3 tan chihuahuas (one maybe something else), and 2 black and white chihuahua mixes. They also have 3 puppies look kind of pug/chihuahua.

In our city, there is a code that says that a single residence can have only 2 dogs; however, you can apply to have up to 3 more so 5 total if you went through the necessary paperwork and inspection, which I’m sure they have not.

There’s also another code that says they must all have collars – which they don’t, they must stay in their own yard – which they don’t, and they must be on a leash when not in their yard – which they never are. There’s also another code that’s a misdemeanor for allowing your dog to be on other people’s property, which they do frequently.

Their lab has charged at us, only to not actually attack, because my husband yelled at it and chased it away.

I have a newborn, and if he was just a bit older, I’m 99% sure the dog would attack him if we weren’t looking. I’m also sure that if one of our cats got out while it was around, they would be killed as well. Both times have been on our property, and one time, the oldest tenant was watching and did nothing about it. It even charged at my in-laws when they came to meet our son.

They let their dogs bark into the AM hours and one time barked for over 3 hours waking up my son and keeping us from sleeping. We both work, and it’s affecting us because we can’t sleep with the barking, and we’re already sleep-deprived from being new parents.

They constantly poop in our yard, and the neighbors don’t clean it up unless we go over to their house and tell them there’s poop on our lawn again and then literally have to sit there pointing out each pile for them to clean up or else they’ll just pick up one pile and leave.

They also don’t clean up their yard, so we have to smell the constant aroma of dog poop any time we are in our back yard.

Also, when we go into our back yard which is separated from their back yard by a chain link, the dogs bark non-stop at us. We can’t even enjoy a nice day on the back patio without a symphony of barking.

We have been slowly going crazy.

Now onto the revenge:

I didn’t mean it as a revenge, but it just all worked out that way.

Last night, one of their dogs was barking again for the seventh time this week and have been barking for over two hours. It was not stopping. They normally keep their dogs inside, but they weren’t letting this one in for some reason.

We decided after our son woke up for the third time because of the barking and that we weren’t able to sleep, that we would call the police non-emergency line.

We just told them our neighbor has a dog that won’t stop barking, and we can’t sleep, and our son can’t sleep. We did not mention anything about the fact that they have 1 billion dogs or that their one dog has charged us. We just wanted the barking to stop.

So, the police arrive not even 10 minutes after we called, and I’m not sure if the other people in the home were asleep that actually speak English, but the person that answered the door and was the only person the cop interacted with was the one tenant we know does not speak English.

Since the cop did not speak Spanish, there was a huge language barrier, and the cop got frustrated and just told the lady, “No more bark-o” and left. Unsurprisingly, the barking did not stop for another hour.

Fed up, we decided to contact their property management and let them know that their tenants have 11 dogs, and I’m pretty sure that’s not helping the property value, especially the lawn care with all the uncleaned dog poop.

I just basically made it sound like we’re fed up with your tenants and their dogs, and also the property might be getting damage from 11 dogs and a cat.

I don’t know if they’ll ever get back to me, or if they even care, but at least they know, and hopefully, their owner knows because I would be livid as a homeowner if my rental property was being treated like that.

Now if you’ve stayed with me this far, here’s where it gets juicy.

This morning, my husband gets a call from animal control saying that the police officer last night gave them a tip this morning about the house because he thought that there was way more than two dogs present in the home. So, she asked us questions, and we were honest with her and said we suspect that there are 10 to 13 dogs there, and they poop on our lawn, and one of them has charged us multiple times, and we fear the safety of ourselves and our child.

Also, the smell of the poop coming from their yard is horrible, and we cannot enjoy our backyard without noise and the smell of poop.

She could not believe it when we said that there are that many dogs and was here within a few minutes. She was actually a nice person to us and the neighbors.

We saw her go inside, and we just thought that would be the end of it and we’ll see what happens.

OH NO!!! If you thought that she just left afterward, you would be wrong, and I would not be posting here.

She accidentally butt-dialed us, so we heard the whole thing, and we watched the whole thing happen right outside our window. I even recorded a video with the but dial on speaker. We couldn’t believe it!

She took five of their dogs!!!!!! She left six so that they could apply to get three more dogs legalized, and one of the dogs is apparently supposed to go to a friend (one of the puppies I think?), so we’ll see about that.

But she took the dogs! I did feel really, really bad because I didn’t expect that to happen when we just called in the noise complaint and that was the reason I didn’t want to call code enforcement in the first place because I don’t want to take people’s dogs away, but they wouldn’t control the barking or the poop or the aggression of the one dog.

As she was putting the dogs in the vehicle, she was saying that they were all unneutered and unspayed and that she was shocked that they were able to keep that many dogs alive in that small of a house. With them being unneutered in and unspayed, I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t vaccinated either.

The guy was crying, and I felt really bad and even cried for him, but it is not an environment that those dogs should’ve been in the first place.

She was very comforting towards him and said that they’ll all get spayed, neutered, vaccinated, and chipped. Then they’ll all go to a nice home.

So, I unintentionally had pro revenge where people literally had to pick and choose which dogs they were going to keep and then watch their other dogs get taken away.

I don’t know what’s gonna happen with their property management now, but if they get kicked out or have to get rid of more of their dogs to be able to stay, I wouldn’t be surprised, because as a homeowner, I would never treat my home like that and wouldn’t tolerate a tenant treating my home like that either.

If something does happen with their property management group, I’ll put an update up.

If my neighbors do read this and know it’s them that I’m talking about, I’m very sorry that you had to go through that, but you should have controlled your dogs. We would have never done anything if you had just controlled your dogs.” Kentfanatic

6. Want More Family Time? You And Your Dad Will Get It In Jail

Now they have all the family time in the world!

“I was a Squad Leader, in charge of nine humanoids, at the time.

We had semi-recently returned from a deployment from arguably the worst neighborhood in Baghdad, Iraq. I had received Aaron a couple of months prior to the deployment. He performed superbly during airborne operations, Field Training Exercises, and Live Fire Exercises. The kid was great, away or confined from civilization.

However, Aaron, was nothing but trouble when he was free to his own devices. We had a surprise urinalysis during one of our training exercises, and guess who “p*ssed hot?” Aaron.

He was a stellar soldier, though, and the entire organization fought to keep him due to the upcoming deployment. Maybe we could change him?

Iraq

The deployment was 15-months long, longer than any other deployment I had been on before. There was a two-week rest and recuperation leave (vacation) for each soldier during the deployment due to the length. We decided who and when would go on vacation early in the deployment.

We had planned for Aaron to go towards the latter half of the deployment in hopes of him maturing as a soldier and human.

10-Months Later

It was time! Aaron seemed like he had turned the corner and started to mature. He was no longer a “Break in Case of War Only” soldier. His Team Leader (Direct Supervisor), myself, and the Platoon Sergeant (In charge of 42 humanoids) had sat Aaron down and counseled (talk) him on our expectations.

You see, Aaron had compiled a stack of cash due to the deployment. He was making more than three grand a month and was also re-enlisted and received a $20,000 tax-free (due to deployment) bonus. The kid was sitting on $50,000. We knew it, and boy, did he know it.

Some background about Aaron. He was raised by his mother, and they were literally “dirt floor poor.” Running water was not a thing at his house.

He grew up in the backwoods of North Carolina and Tennessee. His father was only sporadically in the picture. The Army was the only thing going for him. Now, this kid had money, lots of it, and we were about to set him free into the world for two weeks.

The kid was let off the leash for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Much to our surprise, he wasn’t arrested, or at least he wasn’t caught breaking any laws.

However, he had some stories to tell when he returned. Aaron “reconnected with his father.” Aaron “met the love of his life.” Aaron bought his dad a truck. Aaron bought himself a truck. Aaron bought himself a four-wheeler. Aaron bought his dad a gun. Aaron bought himself a gun. Aaron is ****** broke again!

No worries, though. We semi-expected this to happen. At least the kid was on the leash again.

Maybe we can work the crazy out of this kid over the next five months?

Re-Deployment

We return home and return to our “normal” Army lives. Months go by and we have no issues with Aaron. Then we have another urinalysis. There is no reason to expect anything, and Aaron is acting normal. We casually joke around about the last urinalysis, and he exclaims that he is a “changed man.” Good!

The next day at work Aaron is late.

At least we think he is late. We ask his friends, but nobody knows where he is at. Now Aaron is unaccounted for with a Failure to Report. We continue to ask his closest friends if there is anything we should know. Nick, his closest friend, informs us that he just received a text in which Aaron stated, “*** the Army. I’m not coming back.” Great, now this ***** is absent without leave.

This is just a giant ****** hassle now. There are certain things we have to do in this situation, such as “clear his room.” The First Sergeant (big boss) and the entire Platoon Leadership go to Aaron’s room to inventory the remaining possessions, put them in storage, and prepare the room for the future soldier. This is typically a mundane process. Not Aaron’s room, though. This kid was an odd cat.

Evidently, he only packed the essentials during his hurry to quit the Army.

This list of “things” found in his room went something like this:

XBOX X 1

Play Station X 1

Rubber *** X 1

Larger Rubber *** X 1

Strap-On X 1

Camera X 1

Fake P*nis (to beat urinalysis) X 1

Fridge (full of what I assume to be clean urine specimens) x 1

More S*x Toys x infinity

Whips X Lots

Leather things X more than anyone should ever own

And SO MUCH BOOZE!

This list goes on and on with numerous things findings didn’t expect.

Funny Side Story:

Brandon (Squad Leader) is scrolling through the camera. He had a grin on his face…

Brandon: Hey, Ed. Dare you to take a pull from the Jack Daniels bottle.

Ed (Rules Guy): No. We are working.

Brandon: ****. Just take a swig. I’ll pay you $20 bucks.

Ed: No. We are on duty.

They go back, and eventually, First Sergeant (Big Boss) states: “I don’t give *** if you drink it or not.

Stop being a ****.”

Ed: What the *** ever. (Then takes a giant swig of Jack)

Now Ward is laughing uncontrollably on the floor. Tears are streaming down his face, and he cannot even pause to speak because he is laughing so hard.

Ward calms down. Then says, “Look.”

What were we greeted with? A picture. A picture of a Jack Daniels bottle. The bottom end of the Jack Daniels bottle.

Where was the top of said bottle? Crammed all the way up Aaron’s a**. There is no way in **** that sphincter will ever be watertight again. We all had a good laugh…minus Ed.

Months Pass

We are now doing Expert Infantry Badge testing (large hands-on testing for some shiny metal), and I have my crew of three soldiers. We get on the topic of Aaron during breaks and in-between testing candidates.

Not only did Aaron hassle us with his departure from the Army, but he sent emails to the leadership embellishing war stories and dead-out lying about events. The kid wasn’t even in the Army anymore, but he was still making our lives difficult. I wanted revenge. We wanted revenge.

Out of nowhere, Nick (soldier) informs us that Aaron still talks to him via text. What? That’s ****** great.

Where is he? What is he doing? Have you seen him? We need to learn more. We coach Nick into finding out where he is. Start slow! Don’t make it too overt. It took three weeks of coaching to finally get them to link up together. They met in random town North Carolina. Aaron didn’t want Nick to know where he lived yet.

Fine by us. We continue to orchestrate meetings in neutral locations until Nick is trusted enough to spend the weekend at Aaron’s place…in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Great we have an address now. Then Nick drops a bomb on us! Aaron lives with his dad, and he is balls-deep in the family business. You see, he “reconnected with his father” because his father had just been paroled. His father became a self-made man after that. Aaron and his father were doing well for themselves financially. The family business venture? Yeah…it was *****!

Nick stated that he never wanted to go back to Aaron’s house again.

He lived on a cul-de-sac in a not so good part of town. One would assume that neighbors would not bee too keen on having a drughouse in the neighborhood, but the neighbors were mostly customers so it worked out. The house was full of druggies, and junkie chaos.

What did we do? What any good citizen would do. I called the Charlotte Police Department and informed them, in great detail, of our little situation.

I wanted Aaron to pay for his sins. The lies he told and the hassle he put the organization through, especially after we fought for him.

THE PLAN

We didn’t want Nick at the house. We didn’t want him getting mixed up, or worse, during the raid. Our idea was to have Nick meet Aaron at Dave and Busters (restaurant/arcade). The Charlotte Police Department would detain him at Dave and Busters and eventually turn him over to us, the Army! The plan worked incredibly, and the police were happy to oblige.

They went the whole nine yards to help out.

We (Army peeps and plain-clothes cops) parked outside Dave and Busters and allowed Aaron to enjoy his last meal as a free man. While we sat and exchanged war stories, and Aaron ate, the narcotics unit was raiding Aaron’s house. They were not too happy about the “family business.” Felons are not supposed to cook ***** or have firearms.

His father was cuffed and stuffed. We were not done yet; we wanted to twist the knife.

Aaron was greeted by four plain-clothes cops after paying the bill. The look on his face was priceless. It became more priceless when he saw his old workmates and knew we set him up. The icing on the cake. The narcotics unit brought his father to Dave and Busters, so they could ride in the same car.

The patrol car that would take them both to jail.

I hope he enjoyed bonding with his father. The Charlotte Police charged and his father with numerous felony charges. We were finally able to get him off our books with a court-martial and dishonorable discharge. They both went to jail. *** you, Aaron!” SloppyEyeScream

5. Spy On My Bank Account Balance? You’ll Lose Your Job

“Irrelevant info:

When I (40/M) started seeing people, young men still had to have the courage to walk up to a female and strike up a conversation (or take the weaker route and send your friend up to her to do it).

That was the only way to establish a relationship with someone “out in the wild.” When I was trying to meet people, I used AOL messenger, and I took to it like a wolf to hunting. As early as 2000, I was already meeting up with girls I met “off the computer” and having success.

Time goes on, and this practice goes from “cringe” to “weird and creepy” to “okay, I heard this one girl met a guy online” to “I’m going to try it” to “yeah, I’ve been on it for years” to “oh my God, a guy approached you in REAL LIFE?!”.. So, needless to say, I’ve been there for the whole ride.

Never married but had a couple of long-term relationships along the way.

Backstory:

Early 2017, a four-year relationship I was in came to a screeching halt after the dreaded “where is our relationship actually going” conversation. I have zero zero zero intention of ever getting married or having children – a fact I mention early on and then never breach the subject again until given the full-court press.

After two months of mourning after this relationship ended, I decided to fire up the phone apps and try my luck despite being 37 and no spring chicken.

My success rate at matching on these apps was abysmally lower than I thought it would be, something in the range of 0.75% – 2% tops. I was surprised and disappointed by this but chalked it up to gold-diggers, scam artists, bitter old maids, robots, and my age.

So, of my small basket of matches, half of the conversations died before they even got started, which cut my matches by a further 50%. Then I started messaging with her.

We bonded over having both had common workplace experience: call centers. I had worked in call centers from age 20 until about 25. She was “38” and still working in one. Despite having been 12 years removed from that work environment, I was still able to relate to some of her experiences, likes, dislikes et cetera.

She tells me that she works for “Bank A,” which is a foreign bank but has a credit card division in the USA. I say I have heard of it but didn’t realize they also operated in the US. I also tell her that I know that “Bank B” and “Bank C” also have call centers here in town. She tells me she used to work at “Bank C” and really liked it but got fired for some timeclock or attendance BS.

I tell her, “Yeah I do my main day to day basic stuff with Bank C but my more important stuff is at Bank D.”

At this point, she tells me that “Bank D” in fact has a call center here in town as well, which I was not aware of. They are based in another state, and I was under the assumption that all of their operations were based there as well due to the way they promote themselves.

She says that she has never worked for “Bank D” but has a friend who currently works there.

So we stop talking about banks, start talking about other regular stuff, have pretty good conversations. Two weeks of this.

Eventually, we agree to meet up for a drink. I have been catfished before, so I suggested we meet in the parking lot rather than inside the bar. I wanted to be able to escape in case I was presented with a grenade rather than a flower.

We meet up, and she is who she claims that she is. We chat outside for about ten minutes and then proceed into the bar. We order drinks and chat a little more. This is where the first red flag showed up, but I mistook it for “first meeting jitters.” She couldn’t maintain eye contact, wanted to switch seats three times over the course of twenty minutes, checked her phone at least 15 times, and kept saying self-deprecating things.

I got irritated with the phone thing and asked for the check because I felt something was off.

I pay the check, we head back out to the parking lot, chat for two or three minutes, and she asks me “So, can I come over?” My Southern Brain took over, and even though I was irritated, I said sure. We arrived in separate cars, and neither of us was drunk, so I texted my address to her phone.

I am driving home, and halfway there, I get a text from her saying “I have to go home and change first.” We live on completely opposite sides of town, so it’s going to take her 25 to get home, who knows how long to change, and then another 35 to get to my place. So, I’m assuming this is going to take at least an hour and a half.

I tell her to forget it as it was already 1 am when we left the bar.

Getting weird:

I took two or three days off from her out of frustration and irritation. Phone conversations then resume, and I am pretty much ****** right off the bat since she has already asked if she could come over (the very night she met me, for God’s sake). She strings me along for another good two weeks and then finally says, “Ok, I will come over tonight”.. And actually does, but doesn’t drive to my house but to a parking lot about two miles from my house and wants me to pick her up and take her the rest of the way to my place.

(***?!?!?!) I tell her to “just drive to my house,” and she makes a big deal out of it, so I cave in and pick her up from this random parking lot.

I pick her up at said parking lot, come back to my place, hang out watching tv and chatting, maybe a couple of drinks (can’t remember). We start making out, and it is decided that “it’s on” .. so, like a weirdo, she goes into my bathroom — not to freshen up — to switch into a KIMONO! Weird, but okay, whatever.

We go into my room, eventually get undressed and then she turns into a bedroom micromanager tells me what she wants, tells me what I can’t do, won’t do this, won’t do that, kills my desire, irritates the *** out of me, and then once I’m thoroughly p*ssed off and she knows it, she gives in. Worst hook up of my entire life, by far. Can’t wait for her to leave and mad at myself that I went through with it.

After she leaves, I start insulting her over text before she even has the chance to make it all the way home. Harsh, mean spirited stuff, tell her she’s terrible in bed, unenjoyable, controlling, and too old to be acting like that. She insults me right back (probably because I was throwing some pretty sharp insults at her). Fair enough. Time to put this one to rest and move on.

Getting weirder:

Several months go by, and I get a random text from her. I resume insulting her based on the experience she “blessed” me with. She says she knows she was a brat and apologizes. I keep my distance but send a few messages back and forth once a week or so. She starts sending nude pictures and descriptive stories of what she wants to do “next time.” At this point, I had a friend staying with me, and I did NOT want him to meet this chick, and for some reason, she wouldn’t allow me to go to her place.

She claimed to live alone but was acting like she had a mountain of cash to hide from the world, so it was out of the question of me going to her place.

Two more months goes by, and another one of my friends gets married and is going out of town for three weeks for his honeymoon. He asks me to check his mail occasionally, and “You can spend the night there if you want to.” As I have a friend at my place already and an opportunity to use a buddy’s place for some “fun.” I inform her of this and ask her if she wants to do “all of these things she’s been talking about” over at my buddy’s unoccupied place.

She says yes. We set a date and a time for ~3 days from the original conversation.

The Incident:

Three HOURS before we are supposed to meet up, she calls me and says, “Hey, how come you have an IRA account with Bank D with XXXX dollars in it?” To which I replied in shock “Huh?” .. “Not only that, but you also have another account with Bank D that has XXXX dollars in it.

That’s too much. You shouldn’t have that much money.”

My jaw hit the floor because the numbers she was giving me were within $200-$300 of the actual amount that was in those accounts on THAT DAY. As these are investment accounts; the values fluctuate every single day.

Remembering our conversation from the previous year when she told me that she had a friend who worked at “Bank D,” I assumed that she gave them friend my personal info and asked them to do a little snooping.

She had asked me enough personal questions over time to know enough of my details to “beat the computer..” She had my address, my phone number, my birthdate, parts of my work history, knew my original hometown, et cetera.

After about three seconds of pure shock, I said something to the effect of, “Do not ever call me again. Do not ever text me again. Do not ever drive past my house.

Do not send me any physical mail. Do not ever let my name be spoken by your mouth again. Please inform your friend to prepare their resume as they will be unemployed very soon.” And I promptly hung up.

The Revenge:

I immediately called “Bank D” and escalated the situation up to some ungodly level within the company. I spent about an hour and a half on the phone explaining the situation to three or four people as they each kept passing me up higher on the food chain.

“Bank D” did not operate the call center in my town. It was subcontracted to another company. I kept telling them that “her friend” did this. The final person I spoke to, I said, I don’t know who this person was, but I’ll give you the name of the person I am talking about if it helps you in any way. I gave the name, and the lady on the phone politely and gently informed me that it was in fact HER who had done the snooping.

Apparently, whenever an account is accessed by an internal employee, a digital watermark is left behind, so they can track everyone who has ever gone into the records of an account.

After I got off the phone with “Bank D” I texted her and told her how stupid she was, that I knew it was her, and that she’s going to lose her job extremely soon. She acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about, so I reiterated: “You’re smoked, you ***.

All you had to do was to SAY NOTHING about my accounts, and I never would have known a thing. Since you DID say something, you are now going to be unemployed and will likely never be able to work for a bank again.”

A few more follow up calls with “Bank D” over the next couple of days, verifying my story. I had to close all my accounts and re-establish new ones.. not only with “Bank D” but also with my other bank as well, out of extreme precaution.

She revealed to me her snooping late on a Wednesday afternoon. She was escorted out of the building the following Monday. Saddest thing, I was under the assumption that it WAS a friend of hers all along, so I wasn’t even looking for revenge. I initially felt sad that one of her friends was going to be getting fired for “helping her out.” I just wanted to protect my financial accounts.

It turned INTO revenge when it was revealed to me by the bank that it was in fact HER that did it. So she lied to me about where she worked the entire time. She also lied about her age. She wasn’t 38; she was 41 (no big deal, but still).

Fallout:

I never heard from her again, but out of curiosity, I recently looked up public records regarding HER to see if I could find out anything.

She was living in a condo that she had purchased in 2004 (the one she wouldn’t let me go to). I found court paperwork that she had lost that condo to foreclosure in early 2019. Her snooping into my stuff cost her the job in July of 2018.

Moral of the story:

Be careful of what you reveal to people you meet online. They might try to take a bite out of you, and you might have to bite them back a hundred times harder.” cermakwolf

4. Write About The “Worst Service” You’ve Ever Gotten? I’ll Make You Look Bad At Your Work

“So, I’m going to start off by saying that I have worked in the medical field as a CNA for 8 years and a food service (management position and lower) for a grand total of five years.

So, I know what goes on in both worlds.

I started a new job and still am getting used to it. I never really worked a server position, only did minor things as management at my previous food service job. Working as a server is really stressful, and I have a hard time hearing (it’s a genetic defect), and it was a busy Saturday. So, here ya go.

It was around six when I received this woman’s table. Let’s call her Jenny. She had six other people with her, and I was tending to them while having three other tables that are spaced away from theirs, each having three to four people per table. So, it was already busy for a Saturday at Applebee’s. I do my best to be kind, happy, and courteous to Jenny and her friends and family.

I know her because she works at the plasma center that I frequently donate to, to earn a bit of extra cash.

So, I thought I could do my best to make sure that her table was catered to while not forgetting that I had other tables as well. She and her friend ordered adult beverages. It was her day off after all. But as the night wore on, it was getting increasingly stressful, and I was getting a little tired.

Granted, I did my best, but apparently it wasn’t enough for Jenny and her entourage. I received a merchants copy of the receipt, and it said these words in big handwriting:

“SERVICE SUCKED. DRINKS WERE VIRGIN. UNSANITARY.”

I admit the unsanitary part was my fault. I switched two of the tables steaks at the table when I should have brought it to the back of the house. I owned up to that mistake.

BUT. You expect exceptional service on an already busy Saturday night when EVERYONE AND THEIR DOG wants to eat out even during this pandemic. It’s already busy to begin with, and I was still learning how to learn how to handle big tops as a server. I’m sorry that I couldn’t jump when Jenny said jump; I had other customers who were needing service too.

Also, the drinks that Jenny and her Friend ordered DID HAVE hard booze in them.

There’s a reason why it’s called a ‘drink’ cocktail, instead of full-blown booze. If she and her friend couldn’t taste the booze, I would have given them a shot of more spirits, but it would be pricey. And shots are pricey at Applebee’s. But there was no pleasing that particular table. There was no way that the drinks were virgin anyways. I saw the bartender do a great job mixing the drinks.

So, my night was rough the rest of the night, but I recovered a bit on Sunday, which was a day that I needed to donate plasma.

Here’s where my petty revenge happed. You see, I moved with my cousin and his family to learn a new culture and get to meet new people. I was excited! But unfortunately, because we are waiting on his brother-in-law and partner to get a job to help pay utilities for the house, I make the income in the house for the time being, which I’m okay with, BUT Saturday nights tips were supposed to be for food errands the day after.

But I didn’t make enough for seven people to eat. So, the adults in the house went hungry while we had to feed my nephews as they took the first priority.

So, I had to start donating plasma again because I was busy trying to get my new work schedule down, and I had to put that on hold. But because of the money situation, I went back in.

I did the questionnaire first, and then my name was called. It was Jenny from the night before. Quick as a whip, I decided that I was going to kill her with kindness. I greeted her politely and asked her how her wonderful Sunday was. She shortly told me it was fine, and I could tell that she really wasn’t happy to see me. But I wasn’t done with her yet.

I could tell that a couple of her coworkers were listening in. So, I apologized to her about last night and how it was so busy and overwhelming that my good customer service suffered. I really want to improve on myself to be a good customer service representative that the ore she left me made me reevaluate how to serve other people.

At this, she looked really pale as she asked me which finger I wanted to be pricked (the middle finger, clearly because I wanted to convey to her that I clearly didn’t like her), but it turns out, that she showed that she wasn’t happy with me either.

So.. she took my finger, and with a medical puncture pin, stuck my fingertip instead of the side of my finger pad or the fleshy part of my finger. ***** sprayed all over her gown, and I yelped, “Ouch! That really hurt! I should complain about the service here.”

Cue her coworkers giving her the dirtiest looks, and she frantically apologized; although, it was too quiet, and she tried to hush it up.

She bandages my finger roughly and tells me that my ***** and protein counts are good before telling me that I could go donate. She avoided me and didn’t look at me for the rest of the hour that I was donating.

I did bleed for my revenge, but the ultimate nail in the coffin for her was that my fingertip STILL hurts and is a bit inflamed.

That is not good especially if you work in the medical profession. You can’t afford to be petty to patients or else there could be a malpractice suit or losing your job. I call up the plasma center, and they have a line to the management’s office, and I left a message stating that I didn’t understand what Jenny’s problem was; I was just trying to donate plasma, and she hurt me by not following protocol by sticking my fingertip instead of the pad, resulting in ***** getting everywhere on her and the counter.

I’m not sure what is going to happen, but I could take a guess that she could have gotten a write up for that.

That’s my revenge story. Honestly, I’m not that much of a vengeful person, but it made me happy that Karma can bleed for you.” Sunbell27

Another User Comments:

“Sorry that you had to deal with clueless Jenny. People tend to treat wait staff as if they were indentured servants instead of a fellow human just trying to do a job.

I’m guessing that nothing you could have done would have been enough for her and that even after getting lectured about her poor performance at her own job, she’s not going to have learned anything.

Your revenge is sweet. I just feel sorry that Jenny; will likely never own her role.” af7v

3. Make Me Work Longer Than The Law Says? Someone’s Losing Their Job

No company is above the law.

“This happened a few years ago when I was 15 and working at a popular fast-food company. My state says minors cannot work past 10 pm in order to give students time to do homework and enough sleep for the next school day. Ignoring this law could get the company fined. You also couldn’t work more than 30 hours if you worked part-time. I started work here at 15 and left at 16.

My schedule was always 5 pm to 10 pm for 4 days a week. I might work a couple of minutes over 10, but that wasn’t a big deal; I would just be finishing taking an order.

I had worked there for a good year, no bad reviews, always had a smile and rarely had a sick day. I would often cover others, and I had gotten employee of the month twice.

We were always short on people. So, one day, I was working an taking orders in the drive-thru. About 9:30 pm, the manager (female, 37) had told me to stay late.

M: “OP, I’m gonna need you to stay late tonight. The person covering you doesn’t come in till 2 am. ”

Op: “I can’t becau-”

M: “We need you to. ”

Co-worker: “She can’t; she’s a minor.”

M: “Well, the person covering her shift doesn’t show up till 2 am.

Op will deal with it. ”

I worked till 2 am, went to school with barely any sleep. (I wake up at 6 am as school started at 7.)

This incident kept repeating every time I worked with this manager, which was 2 out of the 4 days I worked, and often, would be days in a row (Tuesday and Wednesday). I was really falling behind in schoolwork as I could barely even get enough sleep to function.

I would get home about 2:15 if I left exactly 2 am, eat (as my last meal would have been lunch at school), and then finally falling asleep about 3 am. (I have trouble falling asleep.) This was very much illegal as I was working 38 hours (legally I couldn’t work more than 30 as a part-time) and working past 10 pm. I was receiving no breaks, as at my work, if you work more than 5 hours, you get a 30 min unpaid break.

This happened for about a month.

So, I go into work again, and it’s this manager again. 9:30 pm, Manager tells me I have to stay again till 2 am.

M: “You’re staying late again. ”

Op: “I can’t. I have school tomorrow, and I’m falling behind. ”

M: “I don’t care. You need to work till 2 am to have someone cover your shift. ”

Op: “I legally am not supposed to work past 10 pm.”

M: “But when you applied here, you agreed that if you needed to work extra, you would.

”

Op: “…which general manager said I still would have to be off at 10 pm due to state labor laws. ”

M: “You agreed when you applied that you could work extra, so you’re working extra. Now get back to work. ”

So, I ended up working this shift, but I decided to report my company to corporate as other managers didn’t believe me when I first told them.

I call the school day off as well as called off work that day (with the same manager).

I decided to email higher-ups, stating dates and times I worked, showed proof that I was still a minor, and that I worked more than 30 hours a week, and stated if the city found out, they would get a huge fine due to this. I also tagged my general manager as well.

This immediately went into investigation. I was told I could have the next few days off at work. I finally got enough sleep.

So, when I came back in for my shift after my days off, I was taken into the office.

Cast:

Cm: Corporate manager

Gm: General manager of my store

Conversation as follows:

Gm: “Please take a seat. We would like to talk.”

I take a seat in the office and set my stuff next to me.

Cm: “I would like to say sorry on behalf of the company for your overtime. Legally you are not allowed to work past 10 pm, and the manager neglected to follow the law.”

Gm: “The manager has been fired for disobeying the law and possibly causing the store to lose a lot of money. We also had found out she has done this to other people on nights you didn’t work.

”

Cm: “If it wasn’t for your complaint, this would have gone much longer than it did. ”

The meeting ended shortly after I signed some papers about my complaint and how I’d get a raise and how all my meals would now be free instead of half off.

I quit shortly after, and last time I saw the manager was when I went to the grocery store when she was packing bags.” rubyrose12345678

2. Scam Me Out Of Rent Money? You’ll Get Exposed And Have To Pay Up 6 Times

They could have easily avoided this if they were just an honest person.

“The ultimate result of this revenge did give me immense satisfaction to see this girl try to scam me, fail terribly, and have to face financial, social, and legal consequences.

This is a long one. This happened to me last year.

On my university Facebook page, I found a posting for a sublease offer by a girl named “Wendy.” She was transferring out of the university and needed her room rented out.

It was an individual lease, so I wouldn’t have to worry about damages in the shared space. I had my own deadbolt and keyfob for my door, and the shared bathroom was huge, so I didn’t even care if it stayed messy. I met the other roommates, we hit it off, and within a week, I had signed the sublease.

I learned my lesson from my previous renting situations and made sure to only sign a semester sublease with Wendy.

I explained to her that I didn’t want to be stuck in another lease and waiting for it to expire if my new roommates and I were not compatible. I also didn’t want a lease during the summer when I didn’t have plans to live on campus. She was fine with this as no one else was willing to pay her the full amount of monthly rent.

A semester went by, and my roommates were nice, so I didn’t think twice about extending my sublease until the end of May. School would be over by May 5th, and I already had a new apartment near my internship lined up for June 1st. I told this all to Wendy 4 months in advance, so she would have plenty of time to find someone to move into my room for the summer.

Since I signed my lease extension, I had noticed that the quality of living in my complex had tanked to new lows. If you’ve never lived in a student apartment complex, they’re pretty much run like dorms, though they are marginally cheaper and have more privacy with individual rooms. The past few months, I noticed that none of the public toilets in the gym or study floors were being cleaned, the security guard would let random drunk people use the facilities inside, none of the lights on a floor of the parking garage worked, there would be booze and vomit for days in the hallways, and the trash chutes were constantly jammed and overflowing, causing my entire floor to reek of garbage.

We also had frequent plumbing and heating issues. Management seemed to do the bare minimum at their own pace to fix these problems. This would all come back later.

So, in December, I paid $5500, plus fees for rent/utilities/service for December-May. Note: I paid for the upcoming semester along with my last month’s rent before my initial lease expired. Not smart, but I had cleaned out my entire savings to do this, so I didn’t have to worry about late payments, e-Check fees, or scrambling to pay rent at the end of each month.

I worked a minimum wage, tip-based job, and there were so many stupid fees just for paying rent that were eating up my paychecks, and cash was not allowed. Ultimately, I realized it was cheaper to pre-pay the rent and just live paycheck-to-paycheck for my food costs. Since this was a student building, the rent portal worked on “credits” and would just subtract monthly from any prepaid direct deposit.

We also had a utility cap, so I never had to worry about any more payments.

Now for the part where Wendy f*cked up…

May rolls around, and I double-check with Wendy that I am moving back home right after finals (May 4th), and the new tenant can move in starting June 1st since I paid until the end of May. I told her that if anyone wants to move in earlier than June 1st, to contact me because I didn’t want to return my keys yet, and it would be nice to get some money back for the empty apartment I’m paying for.

She agreed to this. All my things were moved out except for sheets and a single pillow, just in case I wanted to visit my friends or work an extra shift in May.

Wendy calls me the day after I move and cries and cries about how she cannot find anyone to take over the rest of the lease and if I could extend into the summer.

She has another apartment signed at her new school and can not afford the rent for both. I tell her I’m in the same situation with my new apartment, so I can’t afford to rent an empty room either. At the end of the day, her name is on the lease and not mine. She does not take this well.

May 15th, I get a $1,000 charge on my account from the rental company for June rent and for “losing” my keys and a noise complaint violation fee.

I call management right away because no one was supposed to be home and realize it is not the lady who has been working there for the past 9 months, but someone completely different. Turns out, older management knew they were being replaced since a national rental company bought the building, so they completely gave up on any upkeep during the months they were being phased out.

They hadn’t even filed my sublease contract from December (for which I had paid a hefty “contract filing fee”) because Wendy never bothered to sign it. She just ignored the email they sent requesting her electronic signature, and management was too lazy to look into it because I had prepaid for the semester and they never had to bother Wendy for any late payments. New management just assumed I was the original lessor or a relative of Wendy’s since my account was linked to the unit’s rent portal.

On top of the old management’s *** up, Wendy knew about the lack of proper sublease contract and used it to her advantage. She offered a new sublease “discounted” rent to move in for the full summer. Wendy essentially charged 2 months’ rent for 4 months of living but was only able to do so since I had paid for the “free” month she was offering to her subleaser, and my damage deposit covered the last month’s rent.

She was actually gaining an extra $700 out of the deal, on top of having her rent fully covered for the last 4 months of her lease. She had a new sublease drafted by the ever clueless New Manager and set the start date as May 6th, overlapping my contract which ended on May 31st. To explain the lack of returned keys, Wendy also called management and said she had lost “her” keys during moving and to just charge “her” portal for the replacement when the sublease moved in.

She assumed that this charge would be revoked when I returned my keys and that the unpaid rent for the last month would be subtracted from my damage deposit, so I’d be none the wiser. She did not think that I would still be checking my rent portal occasionally after I moved out.

This meant that from the very next day I moved out, someone had been living in my room which I paid for, without my knowledge or the knowledge of any of my other roommates who had gone on summer vacation.

I was livid, but I still tried to patch things up between us. I offered to schedule an appointment at our local tenant’s union for mediation, and I even offered to just have her family talk to mine in case there were other personal issues that prevented Wendy from paying.

She wrote me back a nasty email from “her lawyer” saying she had a saved Snapchat of my roommates (her friends since highschool) smoking pot and drinking during my birthday party in the apartment, and she wouldn’t hesitate to send it to my boss, academic advisor, and the building manager.

Pot is legal. I was 22. I had just passed a drug test for my internship, and I was not even present in the picture she had, so I’m not sure what she would have accomplished through this other than ratting out her own friends or incurring a smoking fine on her own lease. Plus, I’m not aware of any lawyer who would threaten blackmail and send it through their client’s personal email address.

She also said she needed the extra money for “damages and cleaning,” stating the pillow I left in the room as “evidence of a lack of cleaning.” Well, all of the “cleaning fees” would have been avoided if she told me someone was moving in. Blackmailing me into giving up a full month’s rent to throw away a mere pillow and blanket I left because I was still paying for the room? Nuclear option it would have to be…

I contacted the university’s free legal services and had them explain the process and required papers and documents I would need to get her in civil court.

Since she was no longer a student, I was able to receive help without any conflict of interest under their “student tenant issues” advisor. The legal counselor suggested I try to pursue a court operated mediation for the issue and follow with a civil suit if the mediation didn’t work. They referred me to a local lawyer who does this sort of work pro-bono to prevent companies from taking advantage of inexperienced students, who gladly helped me.

At this point, I had received enough rude emails from her brother and partner calling me a junkie and a scammer for trying to “extort” money from Wendy, their pure angel. I sent the court mediation paperwork straight to her family’s home address just to expose her to everyone who she had told that I was just a crazy drug-addict trying to steal her money.

Then, I took her nasty email and forwarded it to every person included in the picture that she was trying to hold over me.

I simply believed they deserved to know that their friend didn’t care about any possible fall out they might experience and was using their post/image to blackmail someone.

Finally, I spoke to the new management about the “missing” contract that I had paid extra money to file. New Manager admitted she was too overwhelmed by the massive pile of garbage the building had become to do her due diligence and did have to concede she made a mistake once she saw my saved copy of the lease extension.

But she still could not evict the new tenant since it was my sublease extension that was invalid without Wendy’s signature.

I had New Manager send me the new tenants’ contract and forwarded the overlapping leases and the utility overage receipts since January to the accounting/fraud department of the management company AND New Manager’s boss, who was in charge of making sure the transition between management was smooth.

I made sure to hammer in the fact that had anything gone wrong since December, I could’ve been evicted for illegal subletting after the company had accepted payment, just because Wendy didn’t feel like signing a contract, and no one bothered to follow up on this.

Within a day, I had not only received the $700 refund meant for May but over seven times more. The company wanted to wash its hands of any liability in this mess they inadvertently helped orchestrate, so they just reverted the direct deposit which included the overlapping month in question.

But that payment had been made in December, so I got back six months of rent, utilities, deposit, and fees. I essentially got back a semester’s worth of rent, plus December. As the original lessor to the unit, Wendy was now liable for all seven months of payment (including the deposit), since my living situation there could only legally be classified by the building as an “unauthorized verbal contract.” If Wendy had agreed to mediation at the tenant’s union, or even just through local court, we would have only disputed $700 and likely a significant portion of it would have been eaten up through court fees or paying the mediator.

I waited for a while after my payout to really make her sweat from the pressure of the court requesting her presence, and the building manager requesting $6K in unpaid rent. I knew the building manager was leaving her and her parents voicemails daily about needed to call her back to fix this situation before it got worse, but they were all avoiding calls at this point.

Eventually, her family had to hire a REAL lawyer to get back to me about revisiting an out-of-court mediation. Finally, I sent her a saccharine email explaining that I was willing to cancel the upcoming mediation request at the local courthouse but only because I got back what I wanted and more. I told her that if she, her family, her pretend-lawyer, or her real-lawyer wanted to call me and settle my rent, I would be happy to pay for the time I lived there, and she could handle the rest on her own like she should have done in the first place.

I think her family was too embarrassed to even ask for rent from December to May and couldn’t deny their daughter had been lying this whole time, especially since they had to pay for a lawyer on top of everything else to clean up her mess. They never requested that I pay them back at all, and I have not heard or seen her since. None of her friends from my school are friendly with her anymore, and their families are not on cordial terms since the email I forwarded to her friends spread like wildfire.

I’m not sure about the financial fallout of this on her end (according to the local rumor-mill, her upper-middle-class parents bailed their darling princess out of it, and the building absorbed the loss on utilities and fees for its own mistakes), but I’m sure she won’t be trying to scam anyone else for a while.” Infinite_Number

1. Body Shame Me At Work? You Won’t Be Working Here Anymore

“4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mom died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it, I saw a specialist for a screening.

I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history), but it could also potentially never turn, so I’d just be getting these screenings for no reason.

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they’d need to keep an eye on the other one, so I’d still need regular checkups for the other breast.

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option, but after seeing what cancer did to my mom and grandmothers, I didn’t want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn’t, and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my apartment because I didn’t want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they’d never normally do that, but it was clearly something I was struggling with, and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although, I’ll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction.

The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser, or implants.

The cream didn’t work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural ***** were an F cup, so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then, my mental health has improved, I feel a lot better about the way I look, and my confidence has gone up, as has my self-esteem. I know I shouldn’t put so much into my appearance, but I wasn’t exaggerating about these scars.

Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at, and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away, and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I’m 28-years-old and working in an office. I’m doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I’d had a **** job (but not about the cancer thing) when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday, and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard.

By the end of the day, the entire office knew I’d had a **** job but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months, Jill made many “jokes” and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had “more plastic than Barbie” and calling me “fake in two ways.” I didn’t hear this one myself, but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a “sack of silicone.”

I don’t know what her problem was exactly, but at one point, she mentioned the NHS, so I assume Jill thought that I’d got my t*ts done for free on taxpayer money.

(I’d gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants.)

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately, the places I’d talked to her were places like the elevator and the women’s bathroom where there weren’t any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn’t say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill, and a few other coworkers were having lunch, and I referred to something as being shallow, and Jill said, “You’d know all about being shallow” while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said, “Do you know why I have these? A few years ago, the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, and I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest.

I went to see a therapist, who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just, so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. Som maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first.” And feeling like that was a mic drop moment, I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day, I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around, and I was being a ****. I replied that Jill was being a **** long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification, they mentioned a “hostile work environment” (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England, but it’s what was said over the phone).

I knew the person who signed off the email and I’d spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill’s friend in HR, so I was fairly confident about who had reported me.

I realized that if this was already being sent to HR, and I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true, I was f*cked.

However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract, and there was a part in the complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an “impartial overseer.” I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over Facebook and said basically, “HR has asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face, and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?” Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management, but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I’d asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they’d happened on my break or when I’d first arrived at work), and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter. (Some didn’t manage to write one but no big deal.) This isn’t exact words as there are 16 letters to sum up here, but the gist was:

“My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP.

On [date] at [time] (approx.), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP’s appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment.

Signed [their name]”

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bullet-pointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people’s appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker’s weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker’s nose, all of which were put in these letters.

There are about 45 people in the office, so while 16 wasn’t a majority, it’s still a decent amount. The letters weren’t hugely long; most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10 am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there, and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said, “So is my meeting with you, then?”

Debbie said, “No, you’re with me.”

I replied that this wouldn’t sit well with me as “my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer,” and as I said this, I took the contract page out of my folder.

Debbie read it (I wouldn’t let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn’t mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I’m allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor.

Supervisor asks how I know she can’t be impartial, and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied, “I can be impartial.”

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint.

I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I’d annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint, and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour, and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways, so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn’t you come to us when you realized Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago, a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk.

After the surgery, I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self-esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history, which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn’t know about the cancer.

Jill had a problem with my breast implants and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here’s 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I’d had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent, so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me, the harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunchroom. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story.

There are cameras in the lunch room, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find that conversation. I’ll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here’s a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time, I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No.

It wasn’t mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard, and I didn’t tell her because, frankly, it’s none of her business, and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further ****** harassment.

The supervisor stands up and says, “Well, I think we’re done here.” He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I’d hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history, and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill.

All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren’t there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30, it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunchroom has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She’s gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the elevator.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.” Reddit user

Another User Comments:

“Papertrails are awesome. It’s why I keep a copy of every email ever sent to me or by me at work.

Also, the CYA email: “Hi, following our meeting today, I just want to confirm we are on the same page, you want me to do [x] by [x date]. I’d appreciate a confirmation before proceeding as the development time on this is substantial.

Regards.

I’ve had bosses try to throw me or the dev team under the bus many times with stuff like, “They didn’t tell me it’d take 6 weeks of dev time!” We didn’t. Interesting, because here, I have an email saying, “As discussed, we estimate the development time on this to be 6 to 8 weeks.”

Get it in writing, people. Keep meticulous backups, and remember work friends frequently aren’t.

Also, meeting recap emails are really good at avoiding innocent miscommunication as well so are worth doing as a positive thing anyway.” noir_lord

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