People Admit The Time They Got Passionate Revenge
17. Try To Run Me Off The Road? You'll Be In Handcuffs Soon
“First, a little backstory.
I’m a college student and cycle to campus every day. It’s not a long ride at all, but I have to go through a zone where it’s illegal to ride a bicycle on the sidewalk.
Therefore, I’m forced to ride on the road. Most drivers don’t care and just go around me since I stay to the edge and don’t make myself a nuisance. Also, I have an awful e-bike that I commute on. This will be important later.
A few weeks ago, a guy in a Ford SUV (I don’t know exactly which kind) started yelling at me as he drove by while I was in the road-only zone.
All the usual ‘get off the road, roads are for cars, you’re too slow’ kinda stuff.
I get that from drivers on a weekly basis, I just ignore it and keep going. This man was special though since he cut right in front of me and slammed on his brakes after yelling. I was able to stop before I hit him, and he floored it out of there, yelling ‘better be careful next time, bike!’
I was pretty mad, but I hadn’t got his license plate or anything and I doubt anything could be done about it anyway, there was no real proof.
Over lunch, I told one of my friends who works as an EMT the story, and he got seriously angry.
Apparently, he has seen the results of a car successfully brake-checking on a cyclist, and they aren’t pretty.
Two days later, the same Ford SUV/jerk tried to brake-check me again. I was expecting it as soon as I heard him yelling, ‘get on the sidewalk, bike!’ from behind, so I avoided a crash again.
I told my EMT friend over lunch again, and he was even angrier than before. I wanted to let it go since I can’t really do anything about him, and my bicycle isn’t going to win in a crash.
This guy keeps trying to brake check me every few days during my morning commute, whenever we’re on the same patch of road at the same time.
About a week ago, my EMT friend told me that he told my story to one of his friends in the campus police, who was equally angry. The two of them wanted to catch this jerk driver. The plan was to have the policeman parked on the side of the road in hopes of catching and pulling over the jerk.
I heartily agreed, and the officer pulled some strings and had himself posted on speeder-catching duty for that stretch of road.
A few days passed uneventfully with no sign of the road-rager. I saw the cop parked in the same spot on the side of the road every day, a spot where the road has a left-turn lane and a straight lane.
Finally, I’m pedaling along and I hear the familiar voice scream, ‘get the heck off the road, idiot!’ I yelled back ‘catch me then!’ and took off. I was spinning my scrawny little chicken legs as hard as they would go and pegged the throttle.
I guess this made the driver even angrier because I heard his engine roar as he pursued me.
He shifted into the left lane as I stayed in the right.
I looked to the side and saw a nasty old man in the driver’s seat with the passenger window open.
His mouth was going like he was yelling, but I couldn’t hear him over the wind noise. I saw the police car’s spot approaching and started to slow down. Taking the opportunity, the driver swung right in front of me. I don’t know if it was the speed or his anger that made him swing wide, but he cut across my lane and crashed STRAIGHT INTO THE BACK OF THE POLICE CAR.
I barely applied my brakes (slowed down to about 15 mph) and crashed into the side of his car. The officer got out (spitting mad would be an understatement) and called an ambulance and another police car. Everyone was unhurt since the jerk was going only like 25 mph, but there was enough of an impact to trigger the SUV’s airbags.
The jerk ended up getting arrested for driving intoxicated (seriously, who drinks before 9 AM?), for an illegal lane change, and probably other stuff too. I don’t know all the details. I imagine that causing a crash like that would entail some additional charges.
The guy ended up having to pay for extensive repairs on the police cruiser and for a new e-bike to replace the one he destroyed by cutting in front of me (the frame snapped.) On top of that, I hear that his car was defined as totaled by his insurance company since the airbags went off, so he also has to pay for a new car.
With any luck, he’ll lose his license from the intoxicated driving charges and won’t be able to menace cyclists again.”
Another User Comments:
“What an idiot. He was actively endangering you, for something that you’re legally entitled to do. Not to mention how stupid he was for causing a scene when he was actively drinking and driving.
I’m glad the cop and you are okay.” koncusion
16. Since You Really Hate Combat Boots...
“Back when I was in nursing school, we were supposed to wear black, non-porous, close-toed footwear with non-skid soles for our clinical rotations that weren’t Crocs. Most of my fellow female students wore classic nursing clogs like Daskos and Sanitas. I tried wearing clogs like this in the past and had rolled my ankles too many times to recall, so I decided to not go that route for shoes.
I’m a military spouse, a vet myself, and have the aforementioned awful ankles, so my footwear of choice was a pair of black leather tactical combat boots. As a show of support – and to make sure I always looked sharp at clinical – my hubby always shined up and edge-dressed my boots every evening before clinical the next morning.
The boots always looked professional, they were comfy as heck; I could bump my toes into beds without breaking a toe; and I could wear them all day without having back pain, foot pain, or rolling an ankle. The same could not be said for my classmates wearing more traditional shoes like clogs.
During the first week of my first semester, I had an old-school nurse as my clinical instructor.
I say old-school because she believed female nurses should still be wearing crisp, white uniforms with the stupid starched hats and that our profession lost prestige when we transitioned to scrubs.
This instructor got such a bee in her bonnet about my boots and decided that my boots were out of regulation that she threatened to take it up to the director and have me tossed from clinical thus failing the program.
There was nothing in the handbook specifically stating I couldn’t wear my boots since it just stated ‘footwear’ which was black, well-maintained, non-skid, and non-porous.
Check, check, check, check. Furthermore, the pair of boots that I wore were meant to be worn by EMTs, so they were waterproof, bloodborne pathogen resistant, puncture-proof, oil proof, non-skid, and had reinforced toes.
They were just as expensive as Dansko clogs and could handle lots more abuse.
I knew I was in the clear, and so I decided to keep on wearing them.
The day after the instructor commented on the inappropriateness of my boots, she did a uniform/shoe inspection to make sure we were appropriately attired. I, of course, was wearing my nicely polished combat boots.
She failed me for the day based on my boots, so I politely objected, stating that my boots fell within the definitions of acceptable footwear in the handbook. She literally marched me to the director’s office like I was a kid caught stealing cookies and demanded I get tossed for the boots, failure to follow program rules, and disrespect because I objected to her failing me.
The program director, upon a further close reading of the program regs, determined there was nothing that was wrong with the boots; they adhered to the standards set forth by the program and they were honestly safer than most of the shoes the other students were wearing because they were waterproof, puncture-proof, non-skid, and had reinforced toes.
She rescinded my fail and allowed me back in clinical. After that, I heard not a peep about my boots from any of the faculty for the rest of my program.
Fast forward to graduation…
I had been wearing combat boots since I started and had no intention of stopping, especially since many of the vets that I cared for during clinical always reacted positively to them.
Our nursing pinning ceremony – the event where we receive our nursing school pins and are officially recognized as nurses – has an all-white dress code. White uniforms, starched white hats, white close-toed footwear. The word ‘footwear’ is key: the dress code did not state shoes specifically, and I knew this.
The same witchy, old bat nurse sees me in the hall and makes it a point to tell me that I’ll have to get some ‘real’ white nursing shoes to wear to pinning since I can’t obviously wear my black combat boots because we needed to have white footwear.
I politely smiled, nodded, said that I’d have white footwear, and went on my merry way…
…and then wore the all-white Doc Marten combat boots my infantryman husband bought me as a graduation gift to pinning.
The instructor stopped me after the ceremony and complimented me on actually getting nursing shoes… At which point I pulled up the leg of my white scrubs and showed her my boots.
The look on her face was priceless.”
15. Getting My Scandalous Business Partner Arrested
“A little over ten years ago, when I was a young carpenter, I met a guy who I’ll call “Chad” because screw Chad.
Chad was a new hire by the company I was working for and became my helper. We got along famously even though he was 10 years older than me, he didn’t mind working under a 23-year-old carpenter as an apprentice.
Chad and I had worked together for 6 months when he brought up the idea of starting a business together, he figured between the two of us, we could easily run a crew and build houses.
After talking it over with my pregnant partner (now wife) we decided that it would be better for me to be an employee, but still a 50% partner for tax reasons, and insurance purposes. Chad said that was fine with him. So we started laying out who was taking care of certain aspects of the business.
Chad was to be the guy to find work, as I look (and still do) way younger than I am, and it’s doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in the client to think their framer is 16. Chad was also to take care of payroll, insurance, and, any other financial factions.
My duties were simple. Staff and run the crew, and keep on budget, something that came easy to me. I was to be paid an hourly wage, as well as 50% of profit after all business expenses. I never took my profit draw, as I rolled it back into growing the company.
Things were great for about six months, the crew was working well together, we had a few houses under our belts, and a contract for a 10,000 square foot custom house with multiple out-buildings.
Things were great.
So Chad has never built a foundation, and we usually hired a crew to put the foundation in for us, as like I said Chad has never built one, and I personally hate concrete work.
We couldn’t get our normal foundation crew in, so I stepped up and said: “screw it, I’ll do it myself.”
The company we were building for is one of the best custom home builders around, and doing a good job on this house could mean that we wouldn’t have to pound the pavement looking for work, work would be given to us.
Perfect arraignment.
Until it wasn’t.
Chad started spending like it was going out of style. He sold his 2500 Chevy pickup and bought a new Jeep Wrangler.
He had the jeep for about a month before he sunk it in the water while 4x4ing, and it “caught on fire” mysteriously a few days after.
He received the insurance payout and bought a brand new dodge 2500 power wagon, which he (in short order) sunk in water within a few weeks.
I never noticed the red flags as Chad and I rarely spoke face to face, he was the business side, I was the “get stuff done” side.
I finished the foundation and picked up the cheque from the builder. The builder said that we overbilled him by 25% but he was happy with the work we (I) done, but not to overbill again, as he doesn’t like overpaying, as there may not be any funds left at the end of the build.
I apologized, and asked him to cancel the cheque, and issue one for the work actually completed, he agreed to and said, “I’m so happy to have honest people working for me.”
I usually don’t pick up the cheques, nor did I ever really look at the books, as it wasn’t in the scope of my responsibilities.
This prompted me to log onto our corporate account and see that we are so far in the red, that we couldn’t afford to buy a red pen, let alone cover payroll.
I showed up at Chad’s house and tore a strip off of him, he apologized and promised to top up the account with his personal “profit draw” fund.
I go into work Monday to find the locks on our tool bin had been changed, my name removed from all accounts, and a letter taped to the tool bin stating I was “dismissed from my duties” for an undisclosed reason.
I was freaking furious.
I was not aware that as a business partner I could be fired.
I found another job quite quickly and tried my best to put it behind me.
That’s when I found out where the funds were going, and that Chad had been slandering my name around town, blaming me for the missing funds, as well as a bunch of egregious statements about my work ethic, trade skills, mental stability, and home life.
Now, I fastidiously tracked all of our interactions with a simple journal and had backups of the transactions of our business account. I also happened to have backups of all our texts, voicemails, and pictures of everything.
This is the revenge part.
I took the “evidence” to my father’s lawyer (RIP) friend, who started a fraud/embezzlement investigation through the CRA (Canadian revenue agency, Canada’s IRS) and called the insurance provider to make sure they were being paid.
(They had never received anything)
I called the builder whom we were building for and explained what was happening. He told me that Chad had essentially stolen around $30,000 for payment of work not completed, and had broken into their office and stolen another $15,000 (replacement value) of equipment and tools.
I did what anyone would do.
I called the police.
Police said they couldn’t help me and said it was a civil case.
And the builder said he wasn’t going to sue, as Chad had no funds, and it wasn’t worth the headache.
So I called his auto insurance company.
Sent them all the pictures of his sunk vehicles, texts about them, and a short video he sent of him lighting the jeep on fire.
The insurance company filed charges against Chad, and won, Chad is on the hook for around $130,000.
I’ve spent the last 9.5 years telling anyone who’ll listen about Chad, and I have had him essentially blackballed from the carpentry industry around here because it’s not slander if it’s true.
I have also looked up his criminal history, as it is public domain every 3 months or so, and make a point of showing up at his court proceedings or offering myself as a character reference for the crown (prosecution).
So I’ve gone out of my way to remind Chad that he can’t screw me over without repercussions.
And no, this doesn’t end here.
Years have passed, and I am still angry.
I receive a call from a guy offering me a job. It was the builder that Chad screwed over, not remembering that we know each other after I explained who I was, and this bridge is burnt due to Chad.
He still offers me the job. Medical, dental, company van, gas card, corporate credit card. I accept his offer.
The first order of business, find another way to screw with Chad. Through the g*******e, I find where Chad is living and working. The new boss calls the company Chad is working for, and Chad is summarily fired.
I get in touch with Chad’s landlord, explain how he operates, and Chad is evicted for unpaid rent. He was apparently a couple of months behind.
I also managed to get his girl’s phone number, call her and explain what this guy does to people, and his extensive criminal history, including, but not limited to fraud, identity theft, insurance fraud, his many assaults, and his wanted picture published in the paper.
Turns out she is the owner of his truck, the primary operator, but he pays the insurance. He cannot insure a vehicle until he pays off what he owes for the fraud.
She asks me what she should do. I say that I’ll take care of it.
I call the insurance provider, explain what is going on, for them to tell me he doesn’t even have a license anymore.
They void the insurance on his (girl’s) truck after speaking to her and set up a sting with the police. I personally get to be involved as I knew what was going on.
So I sit and wait for the day it goes down. I roll up behind the unmarked police cruiser and quickly explain who I am and what my plans are.
The police are thinking that they are just waiting to pull him over for driving without a license, and no insurance, I said I’m going to call him immediately as soon as I see him.
So he comes cruising out, and I make the call, he actually picked up the phone to call me a bunch of names, and promptly gets pulled over.
Police issue a ticket for; Reckless driving, No seat belt, No license, Using a handheld device.
During this, his girl pulls up and proceeds to give consent to search her truck.
In the truck, they find multiple IDs, stolen credit cards, a couple of ATM skimmer machines, and a fake police badge.
He was arrested on the spot.
Revenge over, right?
Nope.
Police then ask to search the residence he was living at, he moved into the girl’s house after I had him evicted from his own place.
In the garage, they find a vast collection of stolen tools, a lot of which belonged to the builder I was working for, from when he broke into their office, and they were all stupidly still labeled with the company’s inventory control stickers.
This brought on more charges, and he was remanded to police custody until his trial date.
Well, justice is sometimes slow here in Canada, and his trial date was at the time, 17 months into the future.
Well, yesterday was his trial date, so my boss (who Chad ripped off) Chad’s ex, and I attend the hearing. Just to see the man squirm.
His judgment was 8 years in jail (after being granted time and a half for time served) a $100,000 fine, 1000 hours community services after release, and no possibility of parole.
I got to watch him be taken away in chains twice.
Never underestimate the fury of a quiet man.
And screw Chad.”
14. You Scammed The Wrong Person
“This isn’t really my story but it’s my brother’s. However, since we’re very close siblings, he asked for my help to get the upcoming revenge and this is how I know this story so well.
This happened a couple of years ago when my brother was selling his brand new laptop he bought for work shortly after he graduated college with a degree in computer sciences.
He’s very, very smart. Anyways, he posted his new laptop on ‘Offer Up’ seeing as how the company that just hired him said they’d buy him an even newer computer because every employee needs this specific one and the company provides it for them.
So he gets a couple of offers. All lowballing him. It’s brand new and barely used. So he’s not having it. But this one guy, we’ll call him A, doesn’t even make an offer. Just asks if my brother uses Venmo.
At the time, my brother and I both used it to pay each other for phone bills and whatever else someone might owe the other person. It’s pretty useful. So since we trust the app, he responds yes.
The guy says he’ll Venmo the full amount he was asking for, right then and there.
This is a 2015 MacBook Pro and it’s around August of 2017. So this model is still one of the best on the market at the time. Worth almost $2,000. My brother was selling it for $1,500. To get $1,500 of the $2,000 would have been amazing for him seeing as how no one is gonna buy his laptop at full price from Offer Up.
My brother is stoked. He agrees, contacts the guy on social media, makes the transaction, and meets up with him to give the laptop to him once Venmo notified him and said, ‘A has paid you $1,500.’ My brother is satisfied and moves on with his life.
Later, over the next few days, he notices that Venmo never put the payment into his bank account and the app no longer said that anything was paid to him. He called Venmo to ask them why, and they said that the funds bounced! He already gave the laptop to A!
My brother is furious. He went off on them about why they would even have the app say the funds are available when they don’t even know for sure. They told him, ‘it’s a family and friends app to repay for little things,’ which only angered him more because that’s just a stupid way to say, ‘sorry we lost your funds we said we had for you.’ So my brother tried to fix it himself.
He tried contacting A to see if it was just a simple mistake on his end. Wouldn’t ya know? A deleted his profile on Offer Up and blocked him on social media.
Just so you know – you don’t just get a degree in computer science for free.
My brother is one smart guy. He asked his coworkers at his job if they were also selling a computer they bought since the company bought them all laptops. Some were selling theirs too and he asked if they were using Offer Up. One said he was and my brother wanted to know if anyone had asked him if he used Venmo instead of making an offer.
At first, he was confused as to how my brother knew that.
He said the first response he got to his post was from someone asking if he used Venmo. His coworker never heard of Venmo before and just ignored it and waited for another offer.
It all started to make sense to my brother now. This guy was scamming people for their stuff (very expensive stuff) and turning around and selling it even cheaper for a profit. So my brother sets up a little trap.
Enter little bro. Me. I just got out of the Marines and was attending college when my brother dropped this whole story on me.
I was livid. No one messes with my brother like that. So I’m already on board to get this dude. So the plan was simple.
I make a post on Offer Up for the same laptop at a similar price and wait for one, AND ONLY ONE, response.
‘Do you use Venmo?’
I was skeptical at first. My first thought was, there’s no way this guy is that dumb to use the same line in EVERY scam. But thank God he was! Not even 20 mins after I posted on Offer Up and There.
It. Was. ‘Do you use Venmo?’ I quickly text my brother with a simple ‘got him’ and he tells me exactly what to say to set up this meeting. I get out of school and we head over to the meeting together. On the way, he’s asking me, ‘should we just teach this dude a lesson?
I mean you know exactly how to mess someone up, right? They taught you that in the Marines right?’ I’ve never seen my brother this angry about anything before.
But I’m on board all the way and I told him, ‘Well duh. But is it worth possibly going to prison over?
I mean I’ll definitely do it. But this might bite back at us.’ (Someone had to talk at least a little sense).
My brother hearing that calmed down a little and thought it might be best to get the police involved. So we Google where the nearest police station is to the meeting place and I couldn’t believe it… A lived right next to a police station!
You can’t make this stuff up. So we went into the police station and told them the whole story, showed all the evidence we had on our phones, and said we already have a meeting set up and just want to bring him in and get the property back.
They were surprisingly helpful. I didn’t think they would be that quick to help us but they didn’t even hesitate. However, they told us we couldn’t go along due to personal involvement but they will have two detectives handle it so no one gets into a physical confrontation.
But we persuaded them to let us ride along so they know they got the right guy.
The time to meet had finally arrived. My brother is with one detective camped out up the street in a sleek black car with all tinted windows that just screamed ‘I’m a cop!’ while I’m with the officers in a patrol car down the opposite side of the street.
I told the cop about my service and I can help if needed but he insisted I stay in the car.
I told him obviously if he is in trouble, I’m gonna help. He smiled and said he understood. Meanwhile, the other detective is waiting patiently for A.
A sends me a text saying, ‘Sorry I can’t meet up. I don’t have enough to pay you right now.’ I think oh no, we’re losing him. We didn’t just go to all this trouble getting the police involved to back out now.
Heck no.
So I respond with ‘I can accept a payment plan. Half now half later since I’m already here.’ I’m so. Glad. This guy is an idiot. How much more obvious can a trap be?! He agrees and sends me (what I assume) is a fake amount of $680 of the agreed $1300 and comes strolling out of his apartment head held high like he’s about to make the biggest payday ever.
I hear over the radio from the detective who’s waiting for him ‘got visual. Blue shirt, camo shorts…………………………………………. Making contact.’ The silence between those two phrases was deafening. But as soon as we heard ‘making contact’ the cop I’m with FLOORS IT from our position.
Flips the lights on, zips past 5 cars, and sees the dude standing in front of the detective ‘making small talk.’ He jumps out and grabs the dude’s arms puts them behind his back and starts repeating himself ‘Don’t fight back. Don’t make this harder for yourself.’ Over the radio, the detective says ‘detained.’
A GOES BRIGHT WHITE AND IS SO CONFUSED AND SCARED I ALMOST POOPED MYSELF LAUGHING.
The sleek black car my brother is in drives by and I hear over the radio, ‘that’s him.’ (It was my brother. He was so pumped our plan actually worked).
Shortly followed by the detective he was with, ‘100% confirmation. Make the arrest and bring him in.’ They were actually really surprised at how well we set this up for them and how smoothly it all went down. They didn’t have to do anything but show up and make the arrest.
Back at the station, A is being questioned by police. Meanwhile, my brother is like, ‘I just want my stuff back.’ So the cops raided A’s apartment and forced A to give back my brother’s $2,000 laptop. Luckily, he still had it but we later learned that it was for sale on A’s new Offer Up account.
Afterward, the police told my brother since he got his stuff back there’s not much else they can do except give him a citation and let the court system handle the rest. My brother sat and thought about it for a second and he WOULD NOT ACCEPT THAT.
During the questioning, he opened the door to the questioning room to find the detective and officers all turning to the door ready for a fight, then relaxing when they saw it was just him (apparently you don’t wanna just barge in unannounced, they don’t like that).
But he asks the detective to talk for a second. My brother goes over the evidence one more time and literally shows him the three times in ONE WEEK that jerk has scammed people. 1) Him, 2) his coworker (who luckily didn’t fall for it), and 3) me (the setup).
There’s no way this guy hasn’t been doing this for a while.
The detective agreed with my brother that it’s blatantly obvious this guy had a system in place and they decided to do more digging. Last I heard, A owes $30,000 in stolen goods and is serving time in prison.
I don’t know for how long. But it felt so good to see the satisfaction on my brother’s face.”
13. Threaten To Fire Me For Being Sick? Enjoy Your Weekend!
“Many years ago I worked at a gas station on a college campus, mainly the evening shift Thursday through Sunday nights.
The manager, I’ll call her Wanda, was a total jerk. She was constantly failing at her responsibilities, then blaming the employees when the owner would mention something.
I had been working there for about 4 years when one morning I wasn’t feeling well. I called around to see if anyone could come in for my shift (4-12), but no one was available. I called Wanda to let her know I was sick and unable to come in since part of her job was to cover shifts when others cannot.
She told me to be at work and on time, or else I would be fired.
So I took my sick butt up to work and within an hour I was throwing up. I even threw up behind the counter when I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time.
I called Wanda and told her I had to leave, as I was throwing up constantly. She had an attitude but said she would come in anyway.
An hour later, she showed up, complaining that I ruined her day because she and her man were planning to leave to go on vacation that evening.
I started to gather my things and she asked me what I was doing.
I said, ‘I’m sick and throwing up. I’m going home.’
She replied, ‘I’m just here to watch the store while you get yourself together. If you leave, don’t bother coming back.’
So I left.
Around 8:00 Wanda called to ask me where I was. I told her I was at home, in bed, still throwing up. She told me I needed to come back to work so she could leave for her vacation. I reminded her of what she said before she left and said I was more than happy to comply.
I hung up the phone and unplugged it (this was when landlines were still popular).
I plugged the phone back in at 11:45 and called the store. Wanda answered after a minute of ringing, so the store had to be busy (usually there’s a ton of college kids wanting to get drinks before the midnight cutoff).
I said something like, ‘Wanda, it’s Christine. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be coming by Monday to get my last check and also, I agreed to work doubles tomorrow and Sunday so Employee X could go home for the weekend.
Goodnight,’ and unplugged the phone again after hanging up.
I had a cell phone at this point, but Wanda didn’t have the number, so I didn’t plug my phone back in until Monday.
I went up to the office around 3 to get my last check and Wanda was furious.
She had worked an entire extra week’s worth of hours in one weekend and she was salaried, so no extra pay.
She also got in a lot of trouble when the owner found out what she did and I was rehired immediately. She was fired within a year of that incident.”
12. Yeah, I'm Gonna Need That Security Deposit Back
“I had a landlord back in the 1980s that stiffed me my security deposit with trumped-up nonsense despite the fact I left the place better than when he rented it to me. I had spent thousands upgrading the place and buying a new air conditioner to replace the previous one he refused to fix.
Due to medical problems, my family was struggling financially at the time too, making this particularly egregious. I was working 80+ hours per week and didn’t have the time to take him to court and feared he’d pull something anyway (he was rich and well-connected).
I happened to know some things about him though that would help me at least get revenge.
I knew of his upcoming vacation in Bermuda with his stunning new partner, who was at least 15 years his junior. I also knew he wanted to impress her and that he was totally reliant on credit cards. Shortly after he was supposed to leave for his trip, I called Discover, Mastercard, Visa, and American Express from a payphone and told them in a fake voice that I was him and that I’d lost my wallet with all my ID and credit cards and didn’t remember all the cards I had or which banks issued them.
I told them I would not be home for weeks and had no access to the information. I requested that they all be canceled and that I’d call to have them replaced after returning home. The only question they asked me that I couldn’t answer was my (his) Social Security number.
I told them I knew it was ridiculous but that I never memorized it. They all told me it was not a problem since I only requested card cancellation and not a replacement – as they always err on the safe side. The rules weren’t as strict in the 1980s as they are now either.
This was before the internet, and Bermuda is a foreign country, it would not be an easy and quick fix for my ex-landlord. It also didn’t help that he arrived on a Friday night and that the banks would be closed for the weekend.
So I chuckled to myself imagining him out at a fancy dinner the first night with his new squeeze, unable to pay the bill, or worse, asking if she could pay. Since he was not good-looking or charismatic, I doubted this girl saw much beyond what she thought his credit cards could buy.
And now he didn’t have any.
About a week after he returned from Bermuda I stopped at his home to demand the return of my security deposit again. And again he blew me off. Then I asked him how he enjoyed his vacation without credit cards.
His rosy face froze and turned pale. Then I said in a sarcastic tone, “How awful, I hope that never happens again.” Then I turned my back to him as I went back to my car. As I did he kept repeating “wait!” in a plaintive tone.
I could tell I had him. I should mention that he knew I was a scientist doing very high-level work for the banking industry at the time, so he probably thought if I could cancel his cards, I might be able to do much worse.
He called me at work two times the next morning, but I told my secretary to tell him I was unavailable and to take a message. In his messages, he relayed that he was sorry and wanted to work things out. The third time he called, I took it.
He kept apologizing and rambling saying, “We had a misunderstanding” and wondered how I was able to get all his cards canceled and that it completely ruined his trip and cost him his new girl. I just listened with a wide grin on my face.
After a brief pause in his rambling, I interjected, “I’m very busy and have no time to chat. If you want to settle things to my satisfaction, send me my $2,000 deposit back plus the $530 I paid for the air conditioner.”
He said, “I will gladly send you back your deposit,” and then feebly added, “ but you know I never agreed to pay for the air conditioner.”
I replied, “I know that, and if you’d simply repaid me the security deposit back as you were supposed to, I wouldn’t be demanding anything else. Now I have to go back to work.” Just as he started to reply, I hung up on him.
He had his secretary drive over to my office the same day to hand over a check for $2,530. It wasn’t the check that felt so good but the revenge. I’ve never regretted it, and I feel proud to have done it, despite knowing I committed a felony.”
11. Try Not Being A Two Timing Jerk Next Time
“1996, I was single, and my distant cousin, Rebecca, had recently moved back to Connecticut, and we lived not far from each other. We hadn’t gotten together outside of family functions much since we were kids in junior high. We had so much in common to the point where I couldn’t believe it when I saw her apartment for the first time.
She hadn’t seen mine yet. Not one, not two, but three framed prints that I, too, had hanging on my walls! We go shopping together, and meet up with the same exact item at times! Independent of one another, we went to some singles dances and events, which would sometimes include others we knew.
We didn’t care much about the guys’ religion, but some were Jewish singles events, and often the same people were there. Well, the way we began being friends again was also another thing we shared in common but were not aware of at the time.
I began seeing this one guy who I thought was single. Rebecca’s mom is one of my aunt’s best friends. She tells her about the guy that Rebecca was seeing for about four months. She reveals his name and said that she had been going to some of the same events as him, and he placed an ad in a local Jewish community newspaper.
It was an Italian last name, and it was his mom who was Jewish. So that specific detail clinched it for her that this had to be the same guy. My aunt called me to ask for his last name.
Yup, he was already in a relationship with Rebecca, my cousin.
I may have found out eventually, but I gave men a chance and wouldn’t investigate them off the bat, as I was a private investigator. He knew this! She had Rebecca call me. He swore he wasn’t seeing anyone else to both of us.
Yet, we checked and saw that he was also still placing ads looking for a relationship. So we both decided to really get him good, and we called him together. However, we didn’t let on until after he lied some more, and poor Rebecca had to hear him say that he liked me more.
I said, well you are probably going to do this in reverse, and say the same about me to her.
Finally, after an avalanche of more lies, I asked, ”Rebecca, do you hear all of this? He’s a two-timing snake who thinks I will choose him over you!” She said, holding back her tears, “Yes, and look at the bright side, he reunited us.
Other than that, I have absolutely no use for this two-timing rat!”
SILENCE! Pin drop! He was floored, and I asked “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Then he finally opens his trap, and he had the audacity to be mad at us for setting him up!
We hung up, and he called me back to say he meant it and would rather be with me! I said, “You think I would really consider seeing you still?” I said, “You are still looking as if two women aren’t even enough for you!
She’s also my cousin, and I don’t want anything to do with a deceitful dude!” I said, “Don’t call me, don’t email me, and don’t look at me if you see me out, and by the way, don’t flatter yourself to think I am so desperate to choose you!
Good riddance!”
Never heard from him again, and it’s been 24 years, and Rebecca and I are still like sisters, and we talk about this every now and again.”
10. Turn My Daughter And Her Man Into Addicts? I'll Take You Down
“When my daughter left to live with her partner now husband Gavin, she spent most of her time with Gavin at his father’s (Mark) house.
Mark had a substance lab in his house. He would cook it and give it to Maggie and Gavin both to sell and use. So basically he turned my daughter and son-in-law into addicts. Their addiction would lead them down some dark places. I watched her throw school away, family away, more or less her life away, health away, and eventually, she lost custody of her son, my oldest grandson.
My beautiful child, this brilliant young woman, was lost to me. I was helpless; I had to let it happen. I could do nothing to help her, and on top of all of that, I had to take her son away. God, it brings tears to my eyes even now so many years after.
As Maggie and Gavin were trying to pull themselves together, so they could become fit parents, Mark was still cooking, selling, and pulling Maggie and Gavin back into the world of dangerous substances.
On the first day they were supposed to be in court, the judge ordered them to do a hair follicle test. They admitted they wouldn’t pass; they had not even been sober for 24 hours.
We were at court to determine what was going to happen with their nine-month-old son.
I was so mad at this freaking man (Gavin’s Dad). Yes, I know they chose to do it, but he was feeding it to them like candy, not to mention having them do all the dirty work to produce it.
What kind of person does that with someone’s child, let alone his own child? I hated this man like no one ever in my life.
Maggie and Gavin moved away from Mark’s into their own apartment, and both were trying to get sober. Mark kept reeling them back in.
So I called the police in the township they lived in and reported Mark’s lab and him, and when that didn’t work fast enough, I reported him to the state troopers, and then I even called the Mayor’s office. After that, I prayed that Maggie and Gavin wouldn’t be there when they raided Mark’s home.
I know you are thinking, well, that isn’t exactly revenge; after all, you had to do something, and you would be right to think that. However, it was more than just trying to help my daughter and getting Maggie and Gavin safe. I hated this person so much that I wanted to see him hurting, I wanted him to go to jail, I wanted to see his world cave in around him.
I wanted him to lose everything, I wanted the worst kind of things that can happen in prison to happen to him, and I wanted it to be because of me and what I did. That is pretty much a mission of revenge.
It was about a month before he was raided. I was on pins and needles the whole time seriously praying Maggie and Gavin would not be there when it happened.
Mark spent time in the county jail and did prison time, but I don’t know for how long. Not long enough in my opinion. Today, he is also recovering from his addictions. He tries hard to be a good grandfather.
So, anyway, that is my story about revenge.
What Maggie and Gavin did that so impresses me was they overcame the odds of getting off a very hardcore substance, which as I understand is known to be one of the hardest substances to recover from. They also did it together, which even I didn’t believe they could do.
There isn’t a high sobriety rate in couples who try to do it together. Their love for each other, their desire to be a family, and win custody of their son back kept them going. I am crying happy tears now.
They have been off the substance for about seven years.
Live in their first starter home. They are raising three amazing kids. There is so much love in this family. They proved to me that love can move mountains.”
9. Stopping My Ex From Getting His Dream Job
Don’t put her down as a reference after all the nonsense you pulled on her.
“When I was a sophomore in high school, I was with this guy. Let’s call him Jack. He was this brooding guy in Spanish class, and I was super into the whole mysterious, not talking to anyone, not caring vibe. Once we started seeing each other, things were pretty cool.
He was nice and funny, but he would make little comments all the time that just weren’t okay. For example, I didn’t like cursing back then. So when he would say a swear word, I would ask him to stop, and he would just say, ‘Why the heck should I freaking stop swearing?’
Over the next few months, things got worse and worse.
He didn’t want me talking to boys, which I accepted as him just being a jealous partner. But then, he didn’t want me talking to girls either, because he thought I would badmouth him.
When I talked to girls in front of him, he accused me of talking in code about him, even though I was only saying things like, ‘Oh, that test in math was hard, right?’
Then came the emotional manipulation. When we would get into arguments, he would storm out of my house and cause scenes in front of my neighbors, forcing me to just agree to whatever he wanted so that he would stop making me look bad in front of others.
He would say things like, ‘Oh, if you loved me, you would do this.’ One time, I tried to break up with him, and he RAN TO MY HOUSE 10 MILES AWAY to make sure that I felt guilty enough to stay with him.
Not long after all of this came the physical stuff.
He would throw things, hit me, he even punched a hole in my wall (that was fun trying to come up with an explanation for my parents).
Ten months after we started seeing each other, I finally ended it after he assaulted me.
I told my parents everything, and they made sure that I was able to break up with him without him guilting me into backing out.
He’d lent me his graphing calculator for Algebra. You know, the ones that cost like $200. He told me that he didn’t want it back, but that he wanted me to buy him a new one. He also wanted $500 for all of the pizza, dinners, etc. that he’d bought me over our relationship.
I said screw that, bagged up all of the stuff he’d lent me, and put it in his locker. When I got home that night, the bag was sitting on my front porch.
I ended up driving to his house and giving the stuff to his parents, making sure to explain that, while he bought me food, I also bought him food, so I didn’t owe him anything.
All of that is a long-winded way to say that this guy SUCKED.
Fast forward about a year. I was in therapy, taking medicine, and doing much better after that entire ordeal. I hadn’t spoken to him at all, and things were great.
Then, I get a call from him.
Now, Jack’s dream was to join the Marines. He’d been training with a Marine recruiter for nearly 2 years, getting in shape, making sure he was up to standard to join.
As much as I hated him, I have to admit that he worked his butt off for that.
When Jack called me, he asked me to be a character reference for him. Why he asked me, I have no freaking idea. After all the stuff he did, you’d think he would have wanted me as far away from the recruiting people as possible.
Nonetheless, he asked.
So, I did what any good ‘friend’ would do, and I told him, ‘Sure! I’d be happy to be your reference.’ He said great and told me the stuff to say once the recruiting officer called.
Stuff like, ‘Jack’s an upstanding person, very loyal, very strong, very hard-working, a great guy to have in the Marines.’ I said no problem and hung up.
Two weeks later, I get the call. Sergeant whatever asked me a couple of questions, like how did I know Jack, did I think he would be a good fit for the marines, what kind of person was he, etc.
You better believe that I told that guy EVERYTHING.
I told him about the emotional manipulation, the physical abuse, all of it. In painstaking detail.
The Sergeant was pretty quiet through all of this. Just listening, jotting everything down I imagine. At the end of the call, he said, ‘Thank you for telling me all of this.
I’ll be honest, that’s…not what I was expecting to hear. But I appreciate your honesty. That’s not the kind of person we want in the Marines.’ I agreed with him on that point, and we hung up.
Never talked to Jack again after that.
Last I heard, he’s working at McD’s, still in our podunk hometown. I guess my character reference didn’t help him get into the Marines.
Whoops.”
8. Calling Crime Stoppers On A Landlord Who Didn't Want To Return My Deposit
“I had rented out a room in a house with the current owner and occupant of the joint.
I gave him a deposit to move in plus the first month’s rent. Everything was good. I did my job, I paid my rental obligation, privacy was respected. After 6 months of living with him, I finally got a better-paying job and left. The agreement was that when I left, I would get my deposit back the week after.
A week goes by, my landlord says, ‘I’ll get it next week.’ Another month goes by, my landlord says, ‘I have not forgotten about you.’ Well now it’s been 2 months and he blocked my number. I’m mad as heck. I want my deposit.
Now, I plotted my revenge.
See my landlord was a substance fanatic. Halfway through my first month’s rent, he showed me in the basement of the house the substances he was growing to run a distribution ring. He also had a substance den room where he could abuse substances to get a fix along with pills.
While I worked hard at my job for not the greatest pay, he took unemployment and disability benefits.
My landlord also had an extensive weapons collection. Firearms that were not registered in his state as well as firearms not registered under him.
My landlord also had his own dealer that would show up to drop off substances among other things.
My landlord did this the entire course of me being there. He thought he was safe until he started messing with my livelihood. So I wrote down everything I could remember and did my research. Behold the powers of search engines and the internet. Bang ‘Crime Stoppers’ fine print: Get 1000$ for your tip.
BINGO. I fill out every minute detail, time stamps, photos of the growing operation. Photo of the house, contacts, his entire life I had information on. Submit everything and I wait.
My deposit was $350 so pocketing an extra $650 is completely worth it. He thought I wouldn’t be a snitch but you backstab me so I’ll screw you over so hard.
My parents lived in a neighboring town. I asked them to forward me the town newsletters and I also looked at the county police and news updates – 4 months later I see it in bold. Substance operation busted. The police got a wiretap warrant on his phone and staked out his property.
The seriousness of substances and weapons mixed, the ATF was also involved with the DEA. A swat team executed a search warrant and busted into his house in the early morning hours, around the times I told them when he was asleep.
They seized everything, he is looking at about 40-60 years for his offenses.
On top of that, the police also apprehended the other addict who delivered to him in the middle of the night. I don’t know when afterward but at some point in time Crime Stoppers helped me set up how I wanted my 1000$. The evidence was pretty damaging.
I got my revenge but I also saved a community.”
7. Fine, I'll Open Your Contaminated Store Knowing It'll Just Get Shut Down
“So, this is a story I tell people when they tell me their horror stories in working in fast food. Names are throwaway.
So, while I was at university, I had a side job managing a team at a very popular sandwich branch. Myself, Joe, and Johnny would work the night shifts (8 pm till 4 am), and I would work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights as this shop was opposite from the only nightclub in town.
Very upper-class city during the day but a VERY trashy nightlife.
It would get so busy after 2 am with wasted people that queues would be out the door, and we would have to put away tables and chairs to block the toilets as people would either throw them at us/each other or dash off to the toilets for a quicky with a stranger.
This, however, happened at around 9 pm. Nice and quiet time, nothing interesting usually happens during this time, and the owner of the restaurant would call in every half hour to see how the shop is doing because he’s worried about requiring three whole employees to prepare for the night rush.
A group of around 15 girls run in, look underage, all intoxicated. Like, REALLY intoxicated.
Cool, serve them, get rid of them.
Happens occasionally, but we still got some time before the mass comes.
One of the “larger” girls collapses against the wall on the floor.
Looks passed out. Her friends don’t take any notice, but we are all first aid trained, I get Joe to go check on her – she waves him off, shouts at him, fine – back to work.
10 minutes later. The smell. Oh lord, the smell. The store is actually pretty busy, but after realizing what had happened, we had to stop serving and kick everybody out of the store because of the health hazard I was about to witness.
We kick out her friends, and she’s still asleep. John and I lift the woman to a safe location while Joe calls an ambulance in case there is anything wrong.
The smell gets worse as we lift her. I felt sick. I turned to look back, and I saw the largest, wettest, pile of feces I had ever seen in the shape of her behind with a very distinct line in the middle representing what was most likely a G-string/thong.
None of us wanted to go anywhere near it. But a joint effort between the three of us had it cleaned up within minutes. I wasn’t going to risk ANYTHING, so I left the ventilators on full blast and prepared to lock up for the rest of the night.
Incoming phone call – It basically went down as, “How’s the store?” “We had an incident, so we had to close,” “What? Under no circumstance are you ever to close early!” “Yes… but,” “No buts! Open back up immediately, or I’ll fire all three of you.”
We throw away anything perishable that wasn’t covered.
We didn’t have a lot out but still, not risking anything else that could lose me my oh so precious part-time job. We then proceed to take a 30-minute break to let the store ventilate and allow the smell to leave (like it would..).
A huge group of lads comes to the store while we’re outside and starts a fight with Joe because we were closed. I tell the lad what happened and why we were closed, but he was having none of it. He said he knew the owner and was a “law student” and would have me sued for false closure.
(Enlighten me. I can’t get sued for something like this, can I?)
He calls the owner, and surely enough, I immediately get a call back.
“Open the store now, or I’ll fire you on the spot.”
I tell him to wait up a couple of seconds while I deal with a customer.
I tell Joe to start recording the call.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch what you previously said, could you repeat?”
“Open the store, or you’re fired!”
I repeat our previous conversation explaining why I had closed the store and that it was a critical food hazard until it was cleaned properly.
(Most heavy-duty cleaning materials that could have appropriately cleaned up the mess were locked away by the owner until morning because we “wouldn’t have time.”)
“I don’t think you understood what I said. Open. The. Store.”
Alright. Will do, Boss.
So, I continue to open the store, customers start flooding in.
I get all fresh ingredients out to start rushing through the humongous line we were amassing. A lot of customers are turning their noses once they walk in, but like I said, trashy – these people are hungry! They line up anyway.
Some customers are throwing up from the smell.
It really was that bad. They asked me what was up, and I told them that if I were to close, I’d lose my job.
Then the police show up and close up shop for us. Thank God. I was waiting for something like this to happen.
We didn’t even have to clean up; we just got told to go home, and they would sort it with the owner tomorrow because the city had a reputation to uphold.
I ended up getting fired because I closed the store.
But instead of just getting fired, I ended up taking it to court for unfair dismissal and got a month’s payout, and the owner had an emergency health inspection the MORNING AFTER.
The guy lost his branch.
He works as a security guard at a grocery store now working for the security guard he previously hired to “look after us” after 1 am. I’m pretty sure he ended up losing his house and car too. Screw that guy.”
6. I'll Do Anything To Get You To Stop Parking Over That Freaking Line
“I used to live in an apartment when I was 20 where we had assigned parking spaces. I worked two jobs – one in the day and then one at night. My hours were from 7 AM–3 PM and then from 4 PM to 12 AM. As you can imagine, when I would come home, I would be DEAD TIRED!
As I mentioned, we had assigned spaces at this particular apartment complex. There was one girl who would ALWAYS park her car over the line and partially in my space, which would block me from parking in my assigned space. When this would happen, I would have to park in the visitor spaces, which were a long distance away from my apartment unit, and then walk back to the building late at night/early in the morning.
That community was VERY dark at night, and I felt VERY on edge walking alone in the wee hours of the morning back to my apartment from the visitor spots!
I was respectful, so even though this went on for almost a month, I didn’t go knock on the girl’s door when I got home because it was such a late hour, and I knew she would be sleeping.
I knew the girl. She and I were kind of frenemies, and I knew her before she moved into the complex. Her best friend liked a guy but had been afraid to tell him. I met the guy and went out with him. Her friend held a grudge, so she did too.
Initially, she didn’t realize I lived in that apartment community, but we saw each other after she moved in, and we realized that our spaces happened to be side by side.
We weren’t cozy with each other, but I didn’t have any issues with her directly.
I finally had enough of her parking over the line and blocking me from parking in the spot I was paying for, and I decided to talk to her one weekend when I was well-rested and calm. I went to her apartment and asked her REALLY kindly to please park her car only in her space.
She already knew I worked multiple jobs and got home late, and I explained that the way she parked was causing me to have to walk in the dark from the visitor spots. She laughed me off but then apologized and agreed to park ONLY in her spot.
I stayed completely calm when I talked to her and, after that talk, I thought we had an understanding.
I was WRONG!
After that talk, she parked over the line MORE than she had ever done before! I couldn’t believe it! I came home that Monday evening and found that she had parked DIRECTLY in the middle of the two spaces so that she had room on the right AND left side of her car for nothing bigger than a bicycle.
I was LIVID! It was 1 AM. I couldn’t believe she did that AFTER I was nice to her, AFTER I explained that I got off late and it was dangerous for me to be walking alone from the visitor spots, and AFTER she knew I worked two jobs and would be TOTALLY TIRED when I got home!
This was INTENTIONAL on her part! So, this meant WAR!
On that particular night/morning, I had enough! It was action time! After walking from the visitor spot where I parked my car, I went into my apartment and put my stuff down.
I grabbed some gloves and a hat and put on different clothes – all black.
I stuffed my hair into the hat and went out of my building, down the side of the building, and then around it, so I could come back into the parking lot without anyone looking out of their windows and seeing me. It was about 3 AM at this point, and I was DEAD TIRED, but I was on a mission!
I walked all the way around the back of the buildings, stealthily went over to her car, and let the air out of ALL her tires! I know! I know! Somebody forgive me! I let the air out of each tire and then I put the caps in the same place right in the center of each tire all the way around the car.
I wanted it to be CLEAR that it was no mistake! I walked around the building, came back up the side, and went into my unit.
In the morning, I came out to go to work. She usually left for work before I did. Her car was still there!
LOL… When I came home that night, guess what? She was COMPLETELY parked in her own spot and NOT EVEN the slightest bit over the line. She NEVER parked over into my spot again! EVER!
When I originally wrote this here, I forgot to mention what my friends told me about her end of the ordeal. Weeks later, I was out with some friends, and some of our mutual friends ended up talking about someone doing something to her car and how she had to miss work because of the issue.
I piped up and said that I hoped the person didn’t damage the tires, and they filled me in on what SHE had to go through! LOL!
As it turns out, she thought her tires had been SLASHED and ended up CATCHING THE BUS TO GO BUY NEW TIRES!
Just to put that into perspective, we lived in a nice community that was NOT in an easy place to get to for non-drivers. There was a “professional’s bus” that ran Monday through Friday from the community straight into the downtown area and another bus that ran every HOUR AND A HALF, AND you had to walk quite a distance to even get to that bus stop!
It was NOT a very bus-friendly area at all!
The place she purchased the tires from had a tow truck.
After purchasing the new tires, she had to ride BACK to the apartment complex with the tow guy, so they could get her car and then go BACK to the shop.
Then, they started taking off the tires and checking them and discovered that they weren’t punctured! They ended up refunding the tires, and she had to pay for the tow. My friends told me she had been SUPER mad! She missed work, she missed a day’s pay from her job because she had used up all of her vacation and sick time (she had gone on a trip earlier in the year and used up her yearly vacation, and she had been sick a lot, so she only had a few HOURS of vacation and sick time left!), she had to catch a bus – which she hated, she had to pay for tires (even though that they got refunded, and she ended up paying for the tow), and she went through all of that only to find that the tires JUST needed air!
She HAD a jump box WITH an air pump on it too! They said she just didn’t think to try using that before going through all of that trouble!
I should add that she didn’t even think it was me initially! SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT HER EX BOY’S NEW GIRL DID IT BECAUSE THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT OVER THE PHONE, AND SHE THOUGHT THE NEW GIRL WAS JEALOUS OF HER!
LOL! I remember sitting there feeling pretty smug about the whole thing! This is one of the few times in my life where I didn’t have ONE SECOND of remorse for doing what I did! NOT EVEN A DROP! I never had a problem out of that girl after that.
Honestly, if I had known that doing that would stop her from parking partially in my spot, I would have done it before!
Even though she wasn’t sure who did it, I was told she went through a range of emotions trying to figure out who did it!
At one point, she thought it was me, then she thought it was her downstairs neighbor (because of some loud music she had been playing), then she thought it was her ex-boy, then she thought it was her ex-boy’s new girl. When she presented the idea that I did it to our mutual friends, they ALL said that I was WAY too nice to do something like that (LOL)!
They also suggested that I’m entirely too sensible to have come to her and ask her to park in her space and then damage her tires (LOLOLOLOLOL)! One of my friends even SAID, “She just isn’t a petty person like that!” when talking about me to her (QUADRUPLE LOL)!
They told her that she should be ashamed of herself for continuing to park in two spaces after I had asked her not to.
She settled on the ex-boy’s girl because the ex-boy was at work overnight. LOL… It is a sad thing when you have so much negativity around you that you can’t even pinpoint who might have a grudge against you!
I found out later that the community had a remedy for people who did what she did. I just had to call a special number, give them my unit number, tell them a car was in my spot, and they would have come and towed her.
I didn’t know that. Had I known that, I would have done that, but my method was JUST as effective!
I got away with it because this was a time when cameras were not as prevalent. Today, I would likely have ended up on YouTube and in jail for doing that!
Or maybe NOT jail! I didn’t actually DAMAGE the tires… I would just have ended up embarrassed on some social media site! So, there you have it – my old, sweetest revenge story!”
5. Be With Multiple Guys At Once? I'll Make Sure They're All Aware
“Several years back, a significant other of mine had come over to my house to bring me some leftovers from a big family holiday party they had held at her house.
While she was there, I said I had to take out the garbage, and so she sat down to use my computer. She logged on to her messenger and messed around on the computer for a bit. I came back in and she told me she had to hurry and get home because of some family emergency.
I walked her out to her car and kissed her goodbye.
I went back upstairs and text messages to her phone were flashing all over my computer. She had forgotten to log out and her telecom service provider and the messenger company had an agreement where texts could be sent/received via the computer.
I read message after message for seven hours.
From the one-sided content of the messages, I was able to ascertain that she was currently seeing at least five different men and had actually left my house to go to one of her other boy’s houses to spend the night.
I continued to treat myself to beverages and read the messages well into the night.
At about 1 a.m., I went to the payphone in front of my apartment and called the cell phone of the boy at whose house she was staying. He answered groggily, and I asked him to pass the phone to her.
She answered jokingly thinking that it was one of his friends, but suddenly was filled with shock and dismay when she recognized my voice. She accusingly went on the defensive asking me how I’d gotten the number and yelled at me for being so suspicious.
She hung up and then wouldn’t answer either his phone or hers for the rest of the night. I continued to get bottles from the fridge before compiling all of the texts and associated phone numbers in a Word file. I then added all of the texts she had sent me and pictures from overseas trips we had taken together that were slightly risqué but proved beyond all doubt that we were actually engaged in an intimate relationship.
I wrote her a harsh e-mail about how her betrayal was duplicitous and willfully cruel in nature.
She had met my mother, she had been a bridesmaid at another man’s little sister’s wedding and was discussing what furniture to buy after she got married to yet another man.
I compiled all of this information and sent it to her, making sure to CC every person on her messenger list. All 70 of them. Her mother, father, sister, brother, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, and all five boys who had sent her texts that day.
She became an urban legend among her friends, was forced to retreat from her social life, cancel her phone and close all of her SNS and messenger accounts out of shame.
I heard later that it became so bad that her parents had sent her overseas.
I got phone calls from the other boys the next day requesting a meetup. Four of the five of us got together over drinks to compare notes and text messages and dates/schedules confirming that everything I had discovered was true.
I vomited and shook with rage when I discovered what she was doing, but in retrospect, I am still amazed how fully she was able to manipulate and maintain five different, serious and long-term relationships simultaneously.
The complexity astounds me. I worried for a time about legal ramifications because we live in a country where slander laws can be applied severely (even in cases where the slander is true), but I never really regretted what I did.
If I spared at least one other man the heartache, rage, and trust issues I experienced, then it was worth it.”
4. Sure, I'll Leave To Get Food... 3 Hours Away Back Home
“Little backstory. I’m a US Coastie and for the past year or so.
I’ve been riding the struggle bus with depression and some anxiety.
It’s a great vicious circle. With therapy and support, I’ve gotten better at managing it.
Until recently, I got fed up with being a scapegoat and had a good solid unmanly cry.
Tears, sobbing, the whole nine. It was great – hadn’t cried like that in over 10 years. It was very liberating. The only problem was that it was in front of my Coast Guard crew. They got scared. The mellow, even-keeled guy over there doesn’t emotion, let alone cry.
Supervisors were called, a trip to the ER was had. Meanwhile, I’m good – hadn’t felt this good in months, a weight off my shoulders. My boss made the call to let me have some time off, which I was ok with until last Monday when I got a call from one of our bigger base’s medical clinics saying I was going to do some inpatient therapy.
The nearest hospital accepting was 3 hours away but close to Big Base. Cool, whatever. I just want to go back to work. If this gets me back after two weeks off, I’ll do it.
What I didn’t know was that I was checked into the psychiatric ward.
Little me with minor depression stuck in a ward with people with serious mental health disorders. I woke up the first morning to a shouting match about someone claiming to be Princess Diana’s daughter.
Lucky for me, the doctor assigned to me saw I didn’t need to be here, and he pushed to get me discharged as soon as possible.
Still, paperwork is a pain, and I was stuck there for 3 days. Let’s just say I wasn’t bored watching my fellow patients.
My boss had dropped me off, so I was waiting for him to pick me up Friday afternoon. While waiting, I get a call from Big Coast Guard saying I wasn’t going home just yet and wanted to have me stay in barracks on Big Base for the weekend before appointments on base on Monday (today).
I was furious, being locked away for no reason for three days with people that claimed they were God. I boiled. After this nonsense, I still wasn’t going home… until the Med officer said that I wasn’t being confined to Base. Cue malicious compliance.
Verbatim, he said, “You can leave for food and the like.”
So, I checked into my barracks room, showered (yeah, I didn’t get to shower in the psych ward), and walked out as I took a train and a Lyft back to my apartment 3 hours away from Big Base.
This morning, I drove back and checked in with the clinic. The med officer that talked with me earlier met me, and we talked. He made the mistake of asking how my weekend was. I told the truth. I hiked, got laid, grilled, and played video games at my apartment.
That last bit took him back. He got very upset with me for running away. That was until I reminded him that he said I wasn’t confined to base, and I could leave for food. I just felt like having dinner off base, at my house, 3 hours away.
He sighed, and now I have follow-up appointments on the phone. Appointments I can attend from my couch, without pants.”
3. I'd Be Happy To Let You Speak To My Manager...
I’d die to watch this in person.
“Prior to being a bartender, I worked at a retail chain called Big W. I’m a nerd, I tend to switch to autopilot when tired (almost always at the end of shifts) and can be a jerk when annoyed. Me in a nutshell.
It’s a slow Wednesday afternoon, the A/C has broken again and it’s about 5 degrees C hotter inside than it is outside (29c).
I’m on autopilot, rigor mortis smile on my face and retail greetings are droning out of my throat.
A guy walks into my register, demanding a refund for something trivial. Probably his undergarments were the wrong color, I don’t remember.
I inform him in a monotone voice that refunds are issued by my supervisor, not me. There’s a surprisingly substantial line at the supervisor’s desk, people wanting refunds or information. He informs me that he’s not waiting that long for something trivial.
He demands I do it, because ‘Even someone as dumb as you can do this.’ Well, that snapped me out of autopilot and the smile fades.
I repeat, in a much more direct tone that, ‘only the supervisor can do refunds.’ The customer is having none of it.
‘Refund my item.’ He demands again, saying it very slowly as if I was the dumbest potato in the strawberry patch.
‘I am unable to-‘
He cuts me off. ‘I want to speak to your manager, I don’t want to talk to you.’
Now, this is where people need to be careful with their words.
As a cashier, I report directly to my supervisor, one of the two at the desk. They’re in charge of me. My manager sits out back managing the store, and usually never has to interact with customers unless the supervisor calls him.
So I nod, calling through the headset for my manager (let’s call him Fred).
Fred’s a great guy, he tells good jokes, he’s always ready to help his friends and he’s a caring soul. He’s also deaf. As such he knows Auslan (Australian Sign Language), but can’t read lips to save his life. I also can’t speak Auslan at all.
This probably took about 5 minutes for someone to alert Fred that he was needed and for him to come down. All this time, I’m smiling but not saying a word to the gentleman, as he told me to.
He comes up to the registers, sees it’s me waving him down and pulls out his personal digital assistant device to communicate with me.
‘What’s up?’ Fred types. I take the PDA and type, ‘Customer has a complaint, wants to speak to “my manager” not me.’ Fred raises an eyebrow at me and I just shrug.
The guy is turning red with anger, probably thinking we’re ignoring him.
Fred turns to the guy who launches into a full-on verbal assault that would curdle milk chocolate. Something about incompetent employees and terrible service. Fred just stands there. Eventually, the guy runs out of breath and Fred has a chance to show him the PDA with the words, ‘Sir I am deaf, please use this to communicate with me.’ The guy practically screams and storms out of the store.”
2. Clean Equipment Right Before A Lunch Rush? Not Recommended But Will Do
I smell a lot of angry customers.
“As my current job begins to start back operation, my memory brought me back to my previous years as a long-suffering line cook.
For those of you who have worked this job, you know it is simultaneously the best and worst job in the world.
The people are great, but if it wasn’t for the low pay, long hours, working conditions, stress… anyway!
I was in management training at this time, and this was used constantly to coerce me into doing many downright dangerous things such as in this story.
But this time, it bit them in the rear.
The Story:
On this particular Friday, I was working what we called “salad side,” which meant I was in control of the salads, pizza oven, and fryer. While it could be a lot to juggle during busy hours, I had managed to get into a pretty good groove through the morning shift.
With no orders in the window, no tables on the floor but a bar regular, the day’s prep all finished, and the area cleaned and restocked, I was looking at a good thirty-minute break between my shifts. (We didn’t get one scheduled nor were you guaranteed a meal on a double shift; you only got one if you finished on time.)
I figured that I, for once, had a good chance at a break. After checking with the other line cook on duty, I let the General Manager or GM know I was ready to go on break and to check my part of the kitchen.
From now on, she will be referred to as Lazy Daisy because that is what she was, lazy.
She is the source of many terrible events in this building, and her nickname used here comes from these. She walks and immediately goes to the deep fryer which had been forgotten about by the previous night’s crew as is tradition.
Lazy Daisy: “Why hasn’t this been cleaned out?”
Me: “Because it’s in the middle of the day. We can only clean it out at the end of the night shift, and the night cook didn’t do it last night like it is scheduled. I can do it after we close tonight, though.”
The oil was too viscous in the morning when I arrived, and the sickly pump could not cycle the thick oil through the “gunk trap” properly. Therefore, the oil must be heated up first, but it has to be allowed to cool down enough to safely cycle the oil.
Even if we tried anyway, the time spent cleaning the fryer prevented a lot of essential prep work to be done before opening and then you had to hope the fryer would be ready before opening.
While this may not be a problem with some fryers, this old girl has seen better days and took forever to get started. Often, the opening manager coming in at 8 am had to turn it on to make sure it was alive for the 11 am opening.
The current roster managers usually refused to allow it to be taken offline during normal hours as they didn’t want to have to deal with the “but my nuggets” problems, so I didn’t think to come to her about it.
No idea what possessed her to want it done now of all times.
Lazy Daisy: “Quit being lazy and swap out the oil and clean this fryer out. It’s disgusting. This is not the attitude I want in future management!”
Me: “And good future management would know not to change out fryer oil that is currently sitting at almost 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).
I could lose a hand doing that! It will take a while to cool and clean.”
Lazy Daisy: “If you don’t change the oil and clean it up right now, I will have a talk with (area director) and discuss this promotion of yours.”
She then proceeded to strut back to the office to ignore her job and eat her lunch. This was doubly insulting as I have not had a chance to have my own lunch now.
I sat there for a moment, kind of just seething until the other line cook came over and said, “Don’t.
It’s not safe. Mucho caliente.” I nodded in agreement trying to figure out what to do. I have ignored her in the past on these kinds of things, but it never ended up with me on top.
We stood there for a moment silently trying to figure out what to do.
He was a good man and very concerned for my safety and was adamant I not even try since I had a bit of an injury reputation. That’s when light bulbs popped up in my head. Oh, I’ll make sure the fryer is clean alright, and I’ll make sure that oil is replaced.
Me: “You know, the rush starts not too long from now. And since my night shift starts in a few minutes, no need to do it quickly.”
The other line cook stood there for a moment looking at me like I was crazy, then smiled, eyes closed, shaking his head at me as if to say, ‘You are an idiot, and you are gonna hurt yourself.’ He then shouted out.
“Heard. Servers, 86 fried!” (him letting the servers know we couldn’t do fried items.)
I put no effort into doing the next steps swiftly. I cut the heat then headed out to the back dock and grabbed this metal tube on wheels we used to transport the old grease.
While the grease typically was not insanely hot when transporting it out, it was still at a mean temperature and needed a lot of precautions as it would quickly heat up the metal.
I won’t bore you with the steps required of changing and cycling grease, but know that several times hot speckles of oil popped onto my face and arms. It was painful, but I knew this sacrifice will be worth it.
As I am perfecting the art of gunk poking, several tables walked into the door including a 12 top (12 person table) of mostly little kids. I was able to see them because the majority of the kitchen was visible from the dining room and vice versa because of the open-concept design of the restaurant.
One server’s section groaned because the night shift was still several minutes away from arriving, and she hadn’t even finished looking at her snaps. Oh, how fortuitous.
Lazy Daisy began to stir in her office, so I knew I had to rush this next step.
I pulled the gunk trap out, slid in the wheeled grease tube, and began to drain it, making extra sure the flow wasn’t strong enough to splash and burn my feet off.
Since it was only a two-slot fryer, this happened very quickly, just quickly enough that she arrived as the last drop went into the tube.
The distant childish chorus calling out, “I want cheese sticks!” could be heard in the background.
Lazy Daisy: “What is taking so long! We have customers now, and the grease isn’t swapped out. Why did you waste so much time cleaning!”
I simply shrugged as the night shift began to walk in.
“It takes time to clean it out with it being so hot. I had to be extra careful. You demanded I clean it, and I haven’t even had time to wipe it with the towel yet. But it’s still too hot. I would need to wait.”
I wasn’t lying, the metal was still extremely hot, and she knew that. As if on cue, I heard a ticket print, and despite my pretty bad eyesight, I could see plain as day what was on the ticket. Three orders of the best mozzarella sticks.
I guess the server was too busy playing on her phone to hear the other line cook call 86. Oh well, that is not my problem.
Lazy Daisy turned and looked at the ticket then gave me a death glare. “How long?”
I shrugged again. “Usually takes a bit.
The left fryer is still acting up, but I can crank up the right. Still gonna take a bit with the new grease.”
Lazy Daisy puts her hand to her forehead frustrated. “Just put the old grease back in.”
Because of the rapidly rising heat of the wheeled grease tube and lack of hand grips beside the one next to the opening and the significant number of obstacles in the cramped kitchen, it was now impossible to put the grease back in without severe risk to anyone nearby, and she knew that.
Me: “No can do. If I try, the grease will be spilling everywhere, and I will probably have to go to the hospital if I try. Even if it doesn’t spill, I will still have burned hands. And do you really want all these guests seeing me pour grease from this dirty, grease encrusted tube?”
Lazy Daisy had this look of absolute defeat, and she marched over to deal with the table as I dumped the cold, thick new grease into the fryer then poured the old grease into the grease bin on the back dock.
The left fryer took forever to heat back up and wasn’t ready until well after the rush was in full swing.
The right side was much quicker but still took quite a while anyway. Aging and broken equipment were common in this building, and commercial grease fryers are not often prized for their turn on the speed.
The parents of the little kid army were complete and total Karens and began shouting obscenities at Lazy Daisy which could easily be heard over the growing bustle of the restaurant and the snickering of the line cooks.
The other morning line cook even found an excuse to stay a few extra minutes to watch before he headed out for the night. Lazy Daisy then spent a good part of the night going from table to table explaining that there were no fried items as servers never pay attention to any ‘86’ call no matter how many times it is repeated. (And as a current server, I admit to doing this far too often to be this judgmental.) This only infuriated and stressed her out even more.
Once the right side fryer had finally heated up, she spent even more of the night explaining why all the chicken parms, eggplant parms, nuggets, wings, fries, mozzarella sticks, etc. were running so far behind. After all, we only had half the usual frying capacity.
She ended up having to buy a lot of food for the tables and stay late to “put out fires” as the other manager Lucy was terrible with tables, all of which were in perfect view of me. Thank you, open concept kitchen.
After closing, I got a stern talking-to from Lazy Daisy and Lucy, but they knew I had won this round and knew that Lazy Daisy was the one who demanded I clean the fryer so soon before the night began.
I never ended up eating lunch that day, but before I turned off the fryer for the night, I made sure to sneak out with one quick item: a batch of five delicious mozzarella sticks.”
1. I Was Illegally Fired For Following Work Safety Regulations
Funny how that works.
“I’ve worked in construction, paving, and mining for years. I was a fabricator, welder, mechanic, laborer, and equipment operator or a combination of all 5 at various times.
If you’re familiar with MSHA (Mine Safety and Health Administration) then you know it’s like OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) on steroids. My dad has decades of experience in the coal, iron, copper, borax, and uranium mining industries and is an MSHA instructor (as well as a pilot).
My older brother worked in construction and mining as well and is now the safety compliance officer for a huuuuge construction company. My uncle was a journeyman for almost 40 years (that’s a lot of years to be a power line electrician and never suffer a serious injury).
Needless to say, we have a rather large knowledge of what is safe and what is not safe. Safety regulations aren’t nonsense. They are designed to keep your fingers attached and your heart beating. Literally, thousands upon thousands of people have been horribly maimed and killed in order to build these regulations into what they are.
I detest employers skirting safety for a quick buck.
Story: I quit my last mining job because the employer was shady as heck (white-collar crime stuff. Yes, they went out of business) and I was tired of the 200+ mile commute each day on top of 12+ hours of work in 130+ degree heat.
I began looking for a new job and found a fabrication gig building/maintaining/repairing offroad vehicles. I rather enjoyed the work even though it paid half what the mining did. Fairly large facility with about 40 employees. I had decent coworkers and this was my first job with air conditioning (LOVE AC), however, I couldn’t really stand the shop manager (SM).
SM was a know it all who didn’t really know anything about welding or fabrication or safety. I’d say something like, ‘I think we can do this work/repair/job twice as fast if we do this instead’ and his normal type of response would be, ‘Well, we pay you to work, not think/ask questions,’ etc.
The guy was (and to my knowledge still is) an idiot and I cannot figure out how he got his position. Literally, every time you’d step into his office, he was watching stuff on YouTube or reading a magazine. He never lifted a finger in the shop in my 1.5 years around there, and I have no idea what he actually ‘managed.’
For about the first year there, each month I’d put in orders for stuff like welding gloves, respirator filters, welding hoods, welding wire, tools, raw materials, etc. You know, stuff they’re supposed to supply. In my last few months there, SM slacked even more which I didn’t think was possible, and started skimping on my orders.
I’d order 5 pairs of decent gloves, and he would get me 2 pairs of awful gloves. I’d order name-brand parts to repair machinery, he would get me cheap Chinese parts. Other requests were simply ignored and I did end up spending more purchasing PPE (personal protective equipment) which got old really quick.
I’d tell him stuff along the lines of, ‘hey you can’t let people block fire extinguishers like that’ or ‘you can’t store those chemicals there” and he’d brush it off like I have no idea what I’m talking about.
This is where all the safety stuff I’d learned and been around for decades came in handy.
He really started getting under my skin badly, so I wrote up a loooong list of around 20 – 25 OSHA violations I found over the course of a Monday and took about 60 photos which I planned to turn into him since IT’S HIS JOB TO FIX THIS STUFF.
That Friday I went looking for him around lunchtime but couldn’t find him so I went to HR and basically vented to them about SM and about how because of his ever increasingly low standards, they are begging for an accident to happen. The work environment had become unsafe and it needed SOMEONE to straighten stuff up.
I leave HR and go back to work. Around 30 mins later SM walks up to me and is livid. The convo went a little something like this:
SM: ‘HR tells me you don’t think this place is safe?’
Me: ‘Yeah man, something’s gotta be done bout some of this stuff.
In fact, I got a list for ya right h-…’
SM takes the list from my hand and rips it in half.
SM: ‘Well, if it’s so unsafe, why are you here?!’
Me: ‘Because I-…’
SM: ‘YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU CAN TAKE THE REST OF THE DAY OFF.’
Me: ‘Alright…
SM: ‘IN FACT, DON’T BOTHER COMING BACK MONDAY OR TUESDAY OR WEDNESDAY-…’
Me: ‘Are you firing me for bringing up safety complaints to you?’
I start getting a fat grin
SM: ‘YES, IN FAC-…’
Me: ‘Say no more. See ya.’
I gathered up my tools and toolbox and left. I get home and file for unemployment. My unemployment claim gets rejected (surprise, surprise) and I appeal the decision, so the matter gets sent to arbitration a few weeks later (roughly 6 weeks after I was let go).
I’m in the waiting room and reviewing all the paperwork relating to my claim and the first page I see is the company response to my initial claim which said I was fired for, ‘freaking out, being belligerent, and wouldn’t say what the safety issues actually were.’ The next page is their response to my appeal which said I was fired for ‘being belligerent’ and despite my poor attitude they were ‘fixing the safety issues he brought up.’
I get called into the arbitration room and I’m actually shocked that no one from my former company showed up.
It was just me and the arbitrator (very Judge Judy-like lady), she asked me straight and direct questions, I answered truthfully and the whole thing was over in probably 6 minutes.
She asked me if I had any questions and I had just one, ‘why did they say on page one of my paperwork that I wouldn’t tell them what the safety issues were but page two says they are working towards fixing the issues I told them?’ The arbitrator went silent for a minute while reading each page and just says ‘Huh… You’re right.’ I’m told it’ll be about 2 weeks before I have an answer.
The next morning, maybe 14~ hours after the arbitration I receive a letter saying my benefits are approved… Plus I get retroactive benefits from the date I was fired AND I’m receiving $100 more each week (net income) on unemployment than I was making full-time at the company lol.
Fast forward about a year, I saved some of the unemployment funds and used it to get my own little fabrication shop going. My dad calls me up one day letting me know that one of his customers that day is an OSHA inspector and they got to talking about what had happened with my former company, and my dad and I even showed those pictures to the inspector guy (I didn’t have a PC or printer at home so I printed those 60 pics up at his work and left copies there the year before).
He said the inspector was appalled by the pictures and said he would check it out. Fast forward another year. My little fabrication company gets brought into the fold of the company my dad works at so they could stop outsourcing mechanics and fabricators and it’d be much cheaper to have a mechanic/welder in-house.
On one of my days off, that same OSHA inspector fella came by and got to talking with my dad again about my former company. Apparently, he did a surprise visit to them not long after he had seen my dad the previous year and handed out somewhere in the neighborhood $30,000 in fines for OSHA violations.
Not fix-it tickets. Full-on ‘pay this or we shut you down’ fines.”
Another User Comments:
“I love OSHA.
My father was electroshocked badly at a previous employer and injured badly. Then the most amazing thing happened. They fired him because he was injured in the accident and couldn’t work.
They FIRED HIM. So naturally, he went down to the unemployment office to file for unemployment, he told them what happened, and they sent him straight over to Workman’s Compensation.
Then they tried to claim it happened before he was on the clock – he was one of those people who showed up a few minutes early to open up the store – so they wouldn’t have to pay his workman’s comp claim.
It didn’t fly, but it really upset me that they’d try that nonsense.
I called OSHA and told them about the surprise wiring failure safety issue that caused my father’s accident. I also mentioned that they routinely lock the fire exits because they didn’t want employees going outside to smoke.
As soon as I mentioned those locked fire exits, the inspector’s voice perked up. Now he had something. Did you know that locked emergency exits are gold mines to OSHA inspectors? They positively get off on hearing about those.
I told him that while he was there he should also check the ambient lead levels because one employee had to quit due to excess lead levels in his b***d.
OSHA wound up inspecting and fining the owner over $40k in various egregious safety violations. The owner fought it for 10 YEARS before he finally had to pay both the violations and the legal costs for fighting them.” supershinythings
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