People Discuss Their "Almost Too Good To Be True" Revenge Story
16. Think You Can Speed Through A Neighborhood? Wait Until I Get Your Car Wrecked
“So, this was quite a few years ago.
One day, my kids were skating in a quarter pipe when this truck comes around the corner with a bubba driving, and he sees my daughter come off the quarter pipe, and instead of slowing down, he floors it and rips past my house still accelerating while yelling something about, ‘Leap out of the road, losers.’ I yelled also: ‘Slow down!’
The following weekend, I’m out mowing my lawn, and I see this guy coming, so I walk out to the edge and try to wave him down to talk, and the bubba floors it again laughing like a maniac as he goes flying by with his engine redlining. This guy is a nut.
So, I go to the hardware store and picked up three of those 3-foot orange safety cones, and I put a sign on each one of them: slow down, residential neighborhood, kids at play.
A few days later, I come outside and find the cones have been run over. I already know who did it. I’m pretty angry. Like really angry. And in that anger, I came up with my most brilliant plan.
I went to the hardware store and purchased 3 new cones, along with cement and steel rebar. I filled those things with rebar and cement and let them set.
After the cones were ready, I put them back out in the side of the street by my house with the same three signs as before. It didn’t take long. Two days later, I’m in my garage tinkering, and I hear that darn truck engine revving up as the bubba goes pedal to the metal.
I look up just in time to see his truck steer towards the shoulder to run over the cones.
Dang, it was a beautiful sight like none I’ve ever seen before. He hit the first cone with his bumper, and the cone fell forward and rotated the base up towards his engine block and actually lifted the front of his truck upwards as his front passenger wheel made a direct connection with the second cone and launched his truck up even higher in the air.
The third cone also made a direct hit on his right tire suspension as his truck came down to a screeching halt. There were fluids running out from under his truck, and his passenger tire was angled inwards at a 90-degree angle.
Bubba was so mad and started screaming about how I wrecked his truck and how I’m gonna pay. I yelled back and said, ‘Well, then let’s call the cops and get them out here to make a report, and you can tell them how you were racing down the road and intentionally ran over the safety cones, or I can call you a tow truck.
Which will it be?’
We called a tow truck. I never did see Bubba drive down my street anymore after that incident. I was worried he’d try to get revenge, but nothing ever happened, and we moved out a couple of years later.
For those of you talking about the legality of what I did and getting busted or sued, let me clarify some things here.
First of all, this happened a long time ago. The legal time limit has expired for anyone to do anything about it in any legal capacity.
Also, I consider myself sharper than the average bear, and I didn’t enact my plan without thinking it through and thinking about the consequences of my actions. I know a thing or two about how the law works.
If Bubba wanted to call the cops, I’d have gone inside my home and locked the door. If the police arrived, I’d tell them through my locked security screen that I don’t answer questions, and my only statement would be that I only speak through my attorney. At that point, police would make their report and run it up the chain of command.
If the state or local prosecutor wanted to conduct an investigation, I’d go with an attorney and deny any involvement. They’d have to, at that point, decide how much time do they have to try and investigate this matter and what is the likelihood of a conviction. Since I lived in a big city, I’m sure they had a lot worse crap happening that would be taking up their caseload.”
15. Teacher Is The One Who Gets Scolded
Imagine how shocked this teacher was.
“Just remembered this story from junior high. In 9th grade, I was a little bit of a crap.
I have pretty severe ADHD and made it a habit of messing with teachers. I never really did anything bad per se but was constantly disruptive and talked back a lot. My grades were solid, though, so mostly I just ended up with a lot of lunch detentions.
One teacher in particular, Ms. On-Time, really did not like me, and after my malicious compliance, she basically didn’t speak directly to me the remainder of the school year.
Ms. On-Time hated students being late to class. Anyone even a minute late would be sent to in-school suspension for the rest of the class and then would receive 1 day of detention for the first infraction, a week for the second, and 2 weeks for the 3rd.
About halfway through the school year, she made an adjustment to the rule. Nobody was quite sure why, but the rumor was the front office had a talk with her about her policies for sending so many kids to detention. The new policy was that if you were able to complete a task, you would be allowed into the classroom. These ranged from doing a math problem on the board in front of the class to collecting trash around the room before you could sit.
Well, I took this as a free way to show up whenever I wanted.
After showing up late for the 4th or 5th time in two weeks, Ms. On-Time started to get mad, and the tasks started becoming more and more difficult.
The next time I showed up late, I had 15 seconds to recite the alphabet backwards; otherwise, she threatened detention for 2 weeks. This is where the malicious compliance comes in.
After she had implemented this new rule, I started asking friends from her class what tasks she had been assigning during the other periods. I had collected a pretty long list of these tasks and made sure I was able to do any of them when asked. Fortunately for me, she had used the reverse alphabet on another student in the previous term. Without breaking stride towards my desk, I rattled off the reverse alphabet and sat down without another word.
Ms. On-Time was livid. It was pretty obvious I had practiced with how quickly I had been able to respond.
After staring at me for a few seconds, she announced to the class, “It appears Mr. Jumper doesn’t take me or the rules of my classroom seriously, but maybe he’ll listen to his parents.”
She called me up to the front of the room, put her phone on speaker, and asked me to call my dad.
Everyone in the room was ooohing and aaahing at me as I made my way up. I called up my dad, and this is a basic summary of how the call went. One important thing to note is that Ms. On-Time never let my dad know he was on speaker in front of the rest of the class.
Ms. On-Time – ‘Hello, Mr. Jumper. This is Ms. On-Time, and I have jibjumper on the line, and he has something to tell you.’
Dad – ‘What’d you do, jibjumper?’
Me – ‘I was late to class. The rule is you have to complete a task to not get detention. Ms. On-Time told me to say the alphabet backward, and I did. Then she had me call you.’
Dad – ‘Ms. On-Time, is what Jibjumper saying true?’
Ms. On-Time – ‘Yes, but he’s leaving out that he’s been late 5 times in two weeks and has a disrespectful attitude.’
Dad – ‘Is that true, Jibjumper?’
Me – ‘It’s true I was late, but I finished the task every time. I’m just following the rules Ms. On-Time put in place. I don’t get how that’s disrespectful.’
Ms. On-Time – ‘Don’t lie and act like that you know you were being disruptive and disrespectful for ignoring the ..”
Dad cutting off Ms. On-Time mid-sentence – ‘Now wait a second.
You’re calling him a liar, but you put the rule in place that he could do a task to get out of detention?’
Ms. On-Time – ‘Yes, but…’
Dad – ‘And he completes the tasks as requested?’
Ms. On-Time – ‘Yes, but…’
Dad – ‘Then what’s the problem here? It sounds like he’s following the rules YOU established for your classroom. Don’t call me at my office again unless he actually does something worth calling me for.’
And then he hung up.
I just walked back to my desk without saying another word. Ms. On-Time just stood there for about 30 seconds with a look of pure outrage on her face. Most of the class was trying to suppress giggles.
I’ll never forget the poop eating grins on my two friends’ faces as I walked past them in the aisle.”
14. Steal My Girl? I'll Punk The AC Vent In Your Car
“So once upon a time, I met an amazing woman. Same interests, geeky, smart, fun, cute, and a cancer survivor. I run game night among my circle of friends from my home, hosting tabletop, card games, and movie nights. Good times overall.
I made the mistake of inviting back an old friend of ten years who I’d felt sorry for since his mother was on her deathbed. We’ll call him Danny.
He had been kicked out before after fooling around with one of my other friend’s girl’s. I’d foolishly assumed he learned his lesson, because a couple of weeks before myself and my girl, we’ll call her Jacqueline, were to be wed (paid for venues and all), she demands her ring back and reveals that she’s seeing Danny.
I found out later that he’d hooked her on substances, had been taking her to raves the next town over, driving her around in his brand new, neon-lit black Mustang and apparently giving her quite a thrill!
Needless to say, I was heartbroken and my reaction was, shall we say, strong of personality? I demanded to know why he would pull this on me, to which he said ‘Hey, she wanted to hang with me and I really like her and wanted to show her a great time. What was I supposed to do?’
Maybe not hook up with your friend of ten year’s fiancé, but I confess to being somewhat needy that way.
Anyway, I ask her why she’s doing this and it’s your basic ‘He’s more fun/pushing my limits/showing me way more yadda yadda…’ I immediately decide I’m going to have revenge.
Petty, childish, long-lasting revenge.
I open a few cans of Monster energy drink and I spit phlegm, pour animal urine and flecks of droppings, dead stink bugs, cheese, milk and other nastiness in order to create a horrid brew.
My plan requires patience, I left these cans of horror sitting out in the sun. The cans became bloated and distorted as the gas of a billion microorganisms built up inside them, spurred on by the heat.
Three months later, well after suspicion would last, I go to his house, stroll up to that expensive Mustang of his, the only thing this sociopath likes, and I bring the brew.
I can tell it’s perfect because, despite my mask, I can feel the evil wafting up.
Did I pour it all over his car? Oh no… that can be cleaned.
I found the air intake for the AC and poured the dark brown and yellow potions into that.
This vengeance, inspired by a Mythbusters in which they couldn’t rid a car of stink after the stink got into the AC, would ensure that every single time Danny turned on the AC or heater, a stench of unbelievable horror would wash over him and my ex, haunting them for as long as he keeps that car.
Seven months later she shows up at my door, saying she wants me back. He keeps demanding hookups but she only likes him for the substances and parties and he ‘won’t clean his car’… I tell her the ship sailed but that if she’s serious, to try me again in a year because I was still hurting from what they did to me.
It’s been two years since then. Not a peep.
Frankly, they deserve each other. I dodged a bullet, truth be told. But Danny didn’t dodge my vengeance.”
13. Try To Take My Job? I'll Take Yours First
“This happened last year.
I was about six months into a food service job at the time. I worked in my University’s cafeteria prepping and serving food to the students.
After closing, I took about 45 minutes to finish cleaning up my station and took another ten to finish up one of my co-worker’s sections that she needed a bit of help with.
My supervisor had left just after closing to God knows where leaving the rest of us to our devices as he usually did.
He was more the “watch and rule” type.
After I had finished, I took a quick 5 minute trip to the bathroom as I usually did around this time every day. As I happily walked to the back to assist in helping the others finish so we could all leave, I hear a cough behind me.
The sound of the calm before the storm. I ignore it, thinking nothing of it and go on my way.
I hear a more abrupt “EHUM” and I stop and turn on my heel to meet the shift supervisor’s cold gaze, his hands crossed over his puffed chest in his regal stance.
I give him a questioning look as he looks on expecting me to read his mind.
Supervisor: “A half an hour?” He asks calmly, but with a sour tinge to his tone
Me, confused, I chuckle: “Huh?” This was apparently the worst thing I could have done.
Supervisor: “You were in the bathroom for half an hour?!” He yelled, stomping his royal foot.
I was taken aback as he had never come at me with a sideways tone before; I thought we were cool, but I should have known better seeing how he treated my coworkers. I was so shocked I just stood there, staring at him like he grew three horns.
I didn’t feel the need to defend myself at the moment as I knew the words he was spitting my way was pure BS.
Supervisor: “Do you like your job?” He demanded from me. I did not, in fact, like my job.
I had trouble holding back my smile at this thought as he yelled some more things I don’t remember as my ears had gone numb to his screeching at this point.
I knew he had no power to fire me and I hadn’t even seen his mug for the past hour. I knew his words had no consequence. I had nothing to say to his tantrum and as soon as he realized that, he dismissed me.
I have trouble egging people on when they are being so irrational, so generally, I stay quiet and let them get out their baby-fit.
I quickly went back to my work and started scheming about how I could get back at this man.
Over the next week, I compiled photo evidence of him slacking on the job, serving undercooked food, and statements from my co-workers about their individual experiences where he ridiculed or threatened them and I took it straight to my boss that Friday.
I laid out all of my evidence and my personal encounter, which they would be able to check the cameras and identify both of our whereabouts that day and could see who truly was off duty for “A half an hour?!”
I didn’t think much would come of it as I was a relatively new worker and honestly I didn’t care about anything that happened to that heck hole. I let it slip from my mind for the weekend.
The next Monday, I come in before most and start setting up. After a while the general manager comes out of the back with the supervisor following her like a puppy, staring at his feet.
He walks sheepishly up to me and invites me to sit with him at one of the tables in the cafeteria where he admits to me that he was in the wrong, shouldn’t have yelled at me like that, should be a better leader, is super duper sorry, all that yadda, yadda.
I sat there with the biggest grin on my face as he practically groveled at my feet, begging for forgiveness as his boss watched on, this man that sat so high on his horse for the past six months.
I watched on in celebration as he then apologized to each of my co-workers individually.
Not but a week later, he was demoted to a backroom cook and I had been given the role of the shift supervisor.
We never had a problem after that and he was a generally okay guy. I hope he really did learn his lesson and didn’t say all those things just to get it over with.
Either way, this was the sweetest revenge of my life. I have since quit that job and work for a company with people who actually know how to respect others as individuals, whether their position is below or above their own.”
Another User Comments:
“I love when supervisors/managers that keep acting like butt holes believe that it can always go on without consequences and that at no point no one will ever get back at them for what they deserved.
Love the story, keep them coming!” Im_Just_a_Cook
12. Get Me Fired? You Can All Lose Your Jobs Too
It sucks getting fired, doesn’t it?
“My 2019 was wild. But with everything finally on the up and up, I feel I can tell this story here.
After uni (late 2018), I fell on rough times and was forced to move back to my hometown.
I tried to transfer my job to a branch in my area but failed, thus I needed to get a new job.
I settled for a 20 hour a week job at a bookie’s, with a second bartending job in the evenings. The bookie is the target for my revenge, which was entirely accidental.
Involved are the following:
Janelle – My manager’s manager
Shay – My manager
Jorge and Gordan – my co-workers
and,
Kara – a co-worker at another store (who is relevant later)
I ended up working behind the counter as a customer service manager, basically a step up from a cashier.
It’s fancy when seen on a CV but there’s nothing really to it. I took bets, chatted with customers, helped people with machines and (for the vast majority of my shift) sat around waiting for something to do.
I got on well with my co-workers (or so I thought) and had no major issues.
It was 20 hours a week, about £1 more than minimum wage with a lot of overtime required of me and irregular shift patterns.
Though I had no issue with the job, beyond how difficult it was to juggle the schedules of both of my jobs.
In February of 2019 (after working for the company for 6 months) I was invited to a probation hearing.
It cannot be emphasized enough that it was a probation hearing in which I would have my performance reviewed and (as informed in training) was entitled to a pay rise at the end of it.
I arrived that morning to a Disciplinary Hearing where, without even a shred of evidence, I was accused of 11 different discrepancies back to early November of 2018 (shortly after I’d started) which all amounted to £271.36.
All but one of which I’d never heard of before.
These had apparently been reported and logged by my manager (Shay) and my co-workers, despite no one saying a word to me at all. Not a whisper in the 5 months this had apparently been occurring.
I was told that it was unacceptable, a call was made to HR and I was terminated on the spot and forced to hand over my keys and to never set foot in the store again.
To my protests, I was told the decision could not be appealed and I would eventually receive written confirmation of my employments termination in the post.
I didn’t let myself slump around and feel sorry for myself, so (on the way home) I opened up Indeed and applied for a bunch of jobs and (before I arrived home) had an interview set up for the next week at what is my current place of work.
Now, I was FURIOUS.
Fuming at having gone to what I thought should have been a normal probation meeting and having (effectively) been called a thief and been banned for life from a place I’d never go to anyway. But somehow, my parents were angrier and ordered me to let them know when they got into contact with me again.
Almost two weeks later I received an EMAIL from the companies HR which reiterated the accusations and stated (again) that I was terminated.
My mum sat me down in her kitchen and walked me through a letter response that was two parts professional and three parts scathing. Ripping into them about their unprofessional conduct, their ludicrous claims, their lack of evidence, the holes in their story (because there were quite a few) and finally, the cherry on the cake…
The employment laws they’d broken.
Now I didn’t want much, just a nice reference.
A promise that not a whisper of these accusations would turn up when my new job asked them for a reference (because, by then, I’d already been offered the job).
I then attached the letter to an email to fire back at their HR department.
Then I added Janelle’s work email. Then her boss’s email and finally, the holding company that owned the brand.
Cause I wanted to make sure this was seen.
A bit of background, the bookies I worked for is a brand that is owned by an international company, their name (behind the scenes) is slapped on everything and they pretty much dictate everything we did.
I’m not sure if the holding company is the correct term, but I’ll stick to that for now.
Anyway, I sent this email with a forty-eight-hour window for a response. I received a reply the next day from the same email that my demands were being met. I smirked victoriously and moved on with my life, happy to wash my hands with the entire ordeal. However, I’d set off a chain reaction that I wouldn’t know about until three months later.
Three months on, I’d settled into my new job, a call center position with double the hours and well over double the pay.
I’d gone through training and was settling into my new position when I see a new set of trainees settling in near my team. Among them was Gordan, one of my co-workers from the bookies.
I was stunned. Gordan had been at the bookies for six years when I joined. He was well-liked, good at his job and a favorite of the managers.
There was no way he’d been fired.
Though I didn’t really want to talk to him (as I was of the impression that he, Jorge and my manager had likely set me up) I did want to know what happened.
Luckily, on seeing me in the break room one shift, he sought me out and told me everything.
Apparently, my email had been read by the higher-ups in the holding company and had caused a lot of scrutinies to fall onto the bookies in our town (of which there were three in our area that Janelle was responsible for, two in my town and a third in a neighboring one).
Someone in HR passed a message down to the Area Manager (Janelle’s boss) claiming they wanted things investigated and they wanted results yesterday, causing him to drop everything and descend on our little town with the panic and aggression of a man who’s superiors were watching his every breath. He went to Janelle wanting to know: why he hadn’t been made aware previously that I was apparently stealing dough, why I had been given keys to the shop and shifts on my own when allegations of that nature were attributed to me AND why I hadn’t been put under investigation.
Turns out, Janelle HAD in fact put in my ‘employee file’ that I was under investigation but had never actually gone through with any of the official procedures for monitoring and investigating me (shock horror). Thus she had fired me for the accused crime without looking into it at all, falsely claiming otherwise.
Thus, the Area Manager took the dates and amounts of the discrepancies, confirmed that they had been reported on those days (without my knowledge) in Shay’s own logbook of the shop’s cash, and sent that information onto our security team to investigate.
Another little detail is that the CCTV for every shop in the brand is outsourced to a private security company that monitors each shop remotely and has access to all the cameras and video. As was the procedure, they looked into the dates mentioned to see if I’d been doing anything untoward. I know I wasn’t and nothing was ever said to me.
But they DID find something…
Turns out, WAS going missing from the shop but (surprise surprise) it wasn’t me, but Jorge and Shay.
They not only set me up (for reasons I will never know) but were also falsifying numbers and checks on the system to hide it. One thing Shay was caught doing was deliberately shortchanging customers by taking portions of their winnings without them even knowing it (bear in mind, a lot of our customers were elderly men and women).
Gordan claims that he once opened the shop (after I and Shay had closed the night before) and noticed a money difference but had been told not to say anything to me as I was under investigation and it could compromise it.
He did apologize and I let it go.
Needless to say, Jorge and Shay were fired.
But it doesn’t end there.
Our team was small, including me, there were a total of four people working at the store.
As they hadn’t been able to hire anyone to replace me, Jorge and Shay’s termination meant Gordan was the only employee at the busiest shop in our area. Even if they’d been able to get other colleagues from the two other shops to help out, it wouldn’t have been enough to keep the shop open and manage the number of customers.
So they closed the location down until they could get the staff to run it.
It was at that point that Gordan handed in his resignation and applied for his job at my work. Meaning they had no one.
On top of that, Gordan’s worked in the same shop as Janelle and she relayed that she was rarely at their store (in the other town) for the next few weeks before the Area Manager reported she was fired as well.
No reason was given to her.
I was later issued an apology for everything by the Area Manager and informed she (Janelle) was no longer with the company in an email sometime later.
But SOMEHOW, it doesn’t end there.
With the store I worked at closed (this one is on the high street and where most people preferred to go), the only other location in town was the MUCH smaller location in the suburbs.
The one where Kara worked.
ALONE.
She suddenly received an influx of customers into her tiny store space and absolutely no support from other staff or upper management. Thus, for her own mental health (having already been overworked and underpaid, running an entire store by herself) she quit, meaning that location had to be closed down too.
All of this at the worst possible time, March, when the Cheltenham Festival was occurring.
Which is a HUGE coin maker for the gambling industry, even in a small town like ours.
An opportunity the three other bookies on the high-street reaped the benefits of instead of my old place, as the former customers went to them instead.
As it currently stands, just over a year later, both shops remain closed and I’m currently entering a job in cyber-security, the training for which I paid for with my current job.
Thanks for firing me dummies, you did me a favor.
UPDATE:
Gordan and I got in touch with our old Area Manager and we were able to get a bit more information:
The security team rifled through about three years worth of footage after they found out about Jorge and Shay and have estimated that (in that period alone) they both stole nearly £4,000 through various means.
The parent company also got involved and searched through years worth of their cash checks and till checks and noted plenty of irregularities.
The parent company pursued criminal charges and the two were arrested but, as far as our Area Manager knows, the case is still ongoing. He thinks it’s because they are still looking into how much they actually stole (as they’ve both been there a while, Jorge about 8 years and Shay 10 years).
I doubt they’ll have security footage of all that time, but I bet they’re trying to get a more accurate figure to really nail them.
And in comes a new character: Tammy (obviously not her real name). She is an employee who was hired and fired shortly before I was, at the same store. She lasted just past her probation before she was fired, wait for it, for months worth of money differences and false till checks she wasn’t made aware of prior.
HOWEVER, her situation is FAR worse than mine. Tammy is in the process of suing the company for wrongful termination (alongside financial and emotional damages) as she was put under a lot of stress whilst in the job by Shay (who apparently left her to fend for herself and would refuse to step in when customers got aggressive) and then had a miscarriage shortly after her employment was terminated.
Our Area Manager doesn’t know anything more, as it’s escalated and gone way above his head and I doubt I’ll be able to get any more information on it. But I doubt the company’s doing too well on that front and I wish her the best.
Gordan and I are considering reaching out to some of the other fired employees (of which he can name a few who were terminated for similar reasons) to get their side of things.
But it seems very clear that what Shay and Jorge were doing was going on for a long time and I was only the latest scapegoat.
Janelle, unfortunately, is perfectly fine as far as I’m aware. Her husband and she opened a taxi company several years ago and she seems to have just got more involved with that. I haven’t seen her so I wouldn’t know.
But she was terminated for gross misconduct and for not following the procedure, which is kinda what I expected.
And Kara, who our Area Manager actually really dislikes (but is lovely and did not deserve what she went through) is doing okay. I’ve messaged her and she and her partner recently bought a house. She also got a job as an Events Manager at a local historical site.
She’s happier there as she actually has people to talk to at work and isn’t alone anymore.”
11. Getting The Vice Principal Fired And Many Of My Abusers Behind Bars
“This pro-revenge took place when I was in high school in the mid-2000s, a time in my country when there was much public outcry over bullying/hazing in boarding schools.
A couple of students in different schools had died from injuries resulting from bullying. Other schools were rioting and burning crap.
They were under increased scrutiny. It was a whole thing.
Personally, my life in high school was not fun. I was a fat boy with very low self-esteem going into my first year. The bullying I experienced quickly led to depression. I was prone to recklessness. The thing that made high school particularly nightmarish though was the abuse.
Low-key comments about my orientation from this group of about five boys in the fourth form.
They called me and my best friends gay. The social stigma associated with not being straight here is really extreme. These boys would stalk and terrorize me. They left threatening notes under my sheets: “we’re going to screw you up for being a “freaking gay,” “we’re going to freaking assault you,” etc. So I had only one close friend who knew what was going on.
Ironically, after an entire term of convincing everyone that I was gay, this same group began inappropriately abusing me. I’ll spare you the details, but my first year in high school was the worst time of my life.
But you’re not here for my sad story, so moving on!
Sometime in the middle of the term, the vice principal (VP) of our school was changed due to the aforementioned public backlash from the bullying scandals.
The previous VP was a decent man, but the new VP was not.
He came with a well-earned reputation of being unnecessarily harsh, dishing out suspensions and expulsions like candy on Halloween.
The Last Straw
A few weeks after the new VP came in, and I’m having an incredibly crappy week that is really battering my mind (yes, the bullying and abuse was still going on).
Now, every Friday night, a group of kids used to climb through a window into the computer lab and play video games. The windows had bars on them, but a slim person could fit through.
(I am not slim by any definition; unless the definition is fat). Among this group of kids was this troublemaker dude in my class and my dorm with the same common name.
Turns out, the VP had confused the two of us, and I was the one who was in his crosshairs.
That Friday, the kids were caught. Some of them, including my namesake, managed to escape. The VP was called in and the students who were caught snitched.
Security was sent to the dorms to bring the other culprits. Cue me being woken up at 3:00 am in the morning and dragged to ‘the scene of the crime’ to endure a beating for something I hadn’t done (corporal punishment was tacitly legal then/now).
My explanation that there is clearly no way for me to fit through the window was met with more canings.
What really made me mad was that the VP had us bring our belongings to his office at night for an inspection with the excuse of searching for stolen computer equipment.
He came across my very private journal, and like the moron he was, he proceeded to ridicule me for having a diary in front of the teachers, watchmen, and the students I was bundled with.
It didn’t help matters that I broke down and cried in front of them. I don’t think I have ever felt such humiliation in my life before. The following morning, we were suspended for two weeks.
Two weeks later, my parents took me back to school.
I had only told them of the mistaken identity that I suspected and the wrongful accusation.
They already knew about the bullying.
I didn’t tell them about the VP going through my diary or the inappropriate stuff. I was still writhing in humiliation. The VP, being the absolute b******e that he was, had convinced himself that I was the ringleader of this group of boys (again, mistaken identity), and thus deserved extra punishment. He ordered me to clear out a large patch of weeds and overgrown grass between the rugby pitch and the hockey field, about the size of a football field, using only a slasher.
Just as I’m about to head out, it starts raining and it’s the middle of July, so much cold (temperatures regularly dip to below 10 degrees (Celsius) at night). So instead of going to the field, I head to class to wait out the rain. A few minutes later, the VP barged in furious, interrupting the Geography lesson.
He proceeded to tear me a new one, even mentioning my private journal, and then he threatened to expel me if I left the field before I finished my punishment.
Mind you, this was one of the best schools in our region. It had actually been my first choice. He then he proceeded to cane me again just to make his point stick.
At this point, I just broke. All of this punishment was due to something that I had not done. I was completely innocent but this b******e just couldn’t listen. The ridicule, the humiliation, the bullying, and the abuse all just came to a head at that point, and I decided to just screw it all to heck.
So I walked out into the rain with not even a sweater. This was about four in the afternoon. I never returned.
I think the VP never really expected me to complete the punishment. But then, I doubt he had ever met someone who decided they had no more craps left to give either. My initial plan was to crucify him with his own words.
Dusk fell with me cold and drenched ripping up ferns from the ground.
By midnight, I was shivering and crying uncontrollably and it was too dark to see anything I still persevered and started blindly cutting the grass, driven by this mad desire to just hurt. I really didn’t care who I hurt. Sure, a part of my motivation was that if I did get sick out here, the VP would be in a crapload of trouble, but there was another part of me that was just like, “screw it, life sucks anyways.”
By midnight, I was too cold to continue.
I ran out of energy and just sat down under a tree. Towards dawn, I was so cold from the rain and the wind that my shivers began reducing. It was impossible for me to sleep. The teachers finally found me there a couple of hours after dawn. Apparently, the teacher on duty had found my desk empty during morning study time (between 4:30 and 6:00 am).
When he asked where I was, it came about that I had not been in bed the previous night either.
He then called the VP and other teachers who began searching the school and they finally found me in the field.
The Pro-Revenge
I don’t know much about what happened immediately after, I was so out of it. I do remember the teachers rushed me to the school nurse, who immediately recommended I be taken to the hospital. I spent a week there due to complications (pneumonia).
And a very expensive week it was, all on the school’s dime.
My parents were angry as heck, and I couldn’t blame them.
The school’s board of governors convened after my parents contacted them. The days before my parents and I were called in to speak before the board, I had the idea to just face my fears and put everything out in the open.
I was just done with that school and everybody there. So on that day, in front of a group of musty old men in the boardroom, I finally shed my burden.
I told them everything, my only motivation being to bury the piece of crap VP and my tormentors. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that scary before. From the mistaken identity, the suspension, the punishment in the rain, the threat to expel me if decided to seek shelter, and the crown jewel of the bullying and the abuse, I laid it all out.
I knew that would definitely get their attention. The board called my best friend, who backed me up.
The VP was in no position to win a he-said they-said contest with us at that moment.
The VP was fired that day. A few days later, a zero-tolerance policy on bullying was announced. I think the board was acutely afraid of finding themselves in the news for all the wrong reasons.
They didn’t want their school to be one of ‘those’ schools, despite the fact that it was one of the worst. Over the holidays my friend told me that things got really serious after that.
People didn’t know why, but suddenly, any act of bullying was met with immediate and unconditional expulsion.
As for the boys who had been terrorizing me, they were arrested. My dad went to the police with the threatening notes I had been receiving all year long.
The school board supported us in this, on the condition that we (my parents and I) do not take the story to the media. I was happy with that arrangement. I had no desire to be the face of male assault victims.
We had a few meetings with an investigator from the public prosecutor’s office. A couple of months later, the office reached out, told us that the boys had pleaded guilty.
One of them got off scot-free coz his dad was some senior army guy (corruption smh). Three of them got ten years each. The last one got eighteen. The topping: They were all in their fourth and final year. They got arrested just as they were about to sit for their national exams to go to university.
Their lives are ruined and I have absolutely no remorse for them.”
10. Try To Screw Me Out Of My Degree? Both Of You Are Losing Your Jobs As Professors
You aren’t stopping this student.
“A little background. After disappointing my parents in high school with dismal academic scores and a serious predilection for teenage rebellion, I ended up in a small-town college with a close-knit Christian community, pursuing a degree in media studies.
It wasn’t the best place I could be, but it was a fair compromise between my father’s demand that I learn a paying skill and my own yearnings for liberation.
Very quickly into this graduation program, I realized it was a waste and college was going to be a massive bore. So I spent most of my time courting (gullible) women or smoking stuff. I am the kind of straggler who puts in the bare minimum so as not to upset the balance of the universe, and thus I made it to my final year without much of a fuss.
This is when two new characters entered my life.
First was a new male professor, an external faculty, a scrawny slimy fellow (SSF henceforth). He taught a major paper and was very well connected with the local Church which had a lot of say in the college administration. On Sundays, he moonlighted as pastor for a small branch of the big church. SSF also had a reputation for acting fresh with boys.
I laughed about it with my friends, until one-day SSF made a pass at me.
And not a verbal one. I pushed him off me, and reminded him he is a teacher and asked him to get his act together.
SSF backed off, told me he was sorry. He had misread the signs. I cooled off, told him there were no signs, apologized for my abuses and that was that.
Or so I thought. But more on that later.
The second entry was a new lecturer, a garrulous young woman. Let’s call her Rose.
She was fresh out of University, had worked a few odd jobs, and had landed this lecturing gig through some connection in the Church. She was from town, had studied in this college and knew the dean of the department well.
Rose and I got off on the wrong foot to start with, a debate on art going off-hand, as I found her imagining Christian motifs and theology in Picasso. She put me down, I didn’t mind.
I wasn’t too interested either. But just to spite her, I kept turning up essays rebutting her points and she kept marking me harshly, supplementing the dismal marks with juicy opinions on what she thought of my intellect.
It became a game between us.
Now I would like to imagine Rose had a roving eye, as she seemed to favor the young, good-looking boys and really put down the girls in the class.
Except one. Jess had been a classmate of ours and she was a local.
So, she did not shack on campus and had kept a low profile. She did not shine, but she wasn’t disliked either.
Suddenly, after Rose’s joining college, Jess started to shine in academics. Happens often when the teacher is right for the student. Rose marked her extremely high for a few assignments and this got a lot of nerds in class really jittery, who saw a new challenger in Jess for the crown of nerd king/queen.
Some of them even read the assignments that Jess has turned in and found them highly incoherent.
Nothing explained the grades she was getting. This did not bother me, as grades and nerd-drama were never my thing.
But then, by a stroke of misfortune, one of our other professors, who taught us two other papers, met with an accident and was off action for almost two months. A temp was hard to find and since most of her teaching workload in those two months was going to be practical oriented, Rose very gallantly volunteered to fill in for her.
Which, it still fathoms me, she was allowed to. What it meant was that Rose was now grading our assignments and papers for three subjects and suddenly Jess’ fortunes really turned.
From being a challenger to the crown, she became the nerd queen, with her cumulative grades putting her on top of the pile. Jess just smiled through it all and made it out to be her hard work finally getting recognized. A small coterie started to gather around her.
It still didn’t bother me. My universe was still in balance.
Then one day, one of our batchmates saw Rose and Jess hanging out after college. They were shopping in some malls. Said batchmate decided to lurk around and find out what was cooking. Imagine his surprise when he saw them walk out of the mall and take the taxi together. Imagine his greater surprise, when he followed them to find out enter the same household.
Picture the pure shock for the entire batch, when a day later we were all told that Jess and Rose are sisters.
Freaking b***d sisters. Born of the same parents. All of them still living under the same roof. Somehow both sisters had conveniently forgotten to bring it up around others when they were in college. They had pulled this subterfuge for about 4-5 months now.
A bunch of nerds ganged up and approached the dean for our courses and brought her up to date to this scenario.
Turns out dean knew all along about them being siblings and had actually encouraged Rose and Jess not to talk about it, so as not to fan talks of conflicts of interest.
And now she refused to believe that Rose was being partial to her sister.
I think she didn’t want to go the trouble of replacing Rose. The nerds were heartbroken. But I was still laughing. In Rose and Jess, I saw a kind of petty evilness that I could appreciate.
Then, for one of the papers that Rose was covering, we were assigned a practical project that required teamwork. I was put in the group with a girl I fancied and to impress her, for once I threw my minimum-effort policy out of the window.
We worked on it together and our young adult rom-com had just begun taking shape. By the time we submitted the project together, this girl and I were very much into each other. Then Rose walked in and took a poop on the project. She made it part of our game and added those choicest expletives in her remarks for both of us, that she had so far reserved only for me.
Needless to say, Jess got top marks with a crappy effort.
It broke my girl’s heart. She sobbed on my shoulder, my gallantry came into question, and I was finally ready to settle some scores with Rose. But nothing major. Just a little sticking it to the man.
As I have mentioned, this story is from 13 years ago. About then, the world was waking up to social media and our college was not too far behind.
In fact, our department had quite a chattery group on one such social media site (that does not exist anymore, but used to be named after a Middle-eastern Google engineer). Rose and Jess were not in the group, but some of the faculty were.
I started writing and posting long satirical sketches of Rose, that ridiculed her teaching abilities and poked at her extra-love for baby sister.
I was hoping to get some of the faculty to take notice, but mostly I just wanted to be a jerk to the sisterhood. A few days in, the posts generated a lot of laughs amongst the students on the group but the faculty stayed away. Not be discouraged, I wrote my worst stinker of a skit caricaturing Rose. I will be honest – I wasn’t kind and didn’t mince my words.
It was a nasty piece of work, meant to hurt. I wrote it, posted it gloated with a few buddies who commented, and forgot all about it. Here, I need to pause in my narrative –
And tell you folks about another stroke of misfortune that befell me at this point. One fine lazy afternoon, between classes, I had rolled myself a little something special and smoked that thing in the college loo.
As I stepped out, after washing my eyes – I found the familiar face of SSF grinning at me.
With all the mischief and slime he could muster. The air around us reeked of smoke and SSF’s grin grew broader. He told me what my options were. He could A) tell my parents; B)ntell the college; C) tell the cops. OR. D) I could give him a favor and he would forget about it altogether.
I thought he must be joking, but SSF held that stupid grin and slunk out of the loo, stoned and slightly scared, TBH.
I had no time to worry about any of this as I started getting frantic calls from batchmates. Rose and Jess had found out about the group and my posts.
Jess has made a few crying calls to people. And Rose was livid.
The group’s moderator – one of our batchmates – panicked and deleted the entire thread. I was summoned by the dean for an emergency meeting.
When I arrived in her room, Rose and Jess were already there, sobbing bucket loads, calling me names, and holding up printouts of my posts.
I had come prepared for this and proceeded to decimate their complaint with a well-constructed and elaborate speech on how Rose’s nepotism is severely bad for the institution and student morale, and that I was only questioning her actions.
Satire was just my tool to do so. Well you see, my well-thought-out arguments didn’t appeal to the dean. She didn’t even know what nepotism meant and I had to explain the word to her (I am not making this up. This dean is now a local councilwoman). She told me that I had slandered Rose’s good name and brought disrepute to the college with my actions.
They would have to throw me out. This I was not expecting. I had thought my speech would do the trick. I panicked. After all the effort dawdling through this course, I needed the degree.
Then gathering my wits, I told the dean that my opinions weren’t just mine alone. The nerds had brought it to her attention as well.
The dean tried to play it down, saying the nerd issue had been dealt with, but I called BS on that.
I demanded she involves my entire class to see whether they would back me up on this. Rose said they won’t. Jess was sure too. The dean agreed, thinking this will sort the mess simply. No class would gang up against faculty. Like all bad managers, she did not realize that her stop-gap quick-fix solution would open a can of worms.
I was playing a gamble.
I had no idea what my class would say. Sure, some of them had laughed and commented on the posts, but would they really stand up for me. I had no idea I was even that liked. But I guess the class had enough of Rose. Or they just liked my satire. Bottom line is, when Dean assembled the class and called a vote on the matter, our entire class (apart from Jess) agreed that Rose was unfair and nepotistic.
They backed me up. I had never been particularly attached to my class (except the girl).
But now I could kiss each of them. The dean had to agree that maybe, just maybe, Rose was unfit for the job. A departmental inquiry had to be instituted so that these charges could be heard. I wasn’t going to be thrown out after all.
Rose was not happy and I think she went to Church with it.
For soon I found myself in front of the President of the college, along with Rose and the dean.
Rose painted it to seem like I had turned the class against her and I had inflicted psychological damage on Jess. The president consulted the dean, heard all that had happened, and decided to let the inquiry make up its own mind. At this point, I began to suspect the department inquiry was going to be heavily stacked against me.
As an added bonus, the president decided that the college needed an internet communication policy – a protocol on what students and teachers can say or discuss about the college and its functioning over social media and the internet.
It was to include rules on how students and teachers interacted over the internet and recommend punishment for misdemeanors (This was still the nascent stages of social media folks.
Colleges didn’t know what to do back then).
Most of the college did not know about this Internet Code being formulated. I did because the dean and Rose had both taken out time from their busy teaching schedules to inform me that as soon as this Internet Code had been formulated, I would be chucked out for my actions.
My days in college were numbered. My girl cried more on my shoulder.
I felt like a tragic hero, a champion of the people, who will take the fall for his brethren. My class mourned me.
In this state of mind, I returned to my dorm to find an email from SSF. He wanted to know what I had decided about his offer. In all this Rose social media fiasco, this crap had completely slipped my mind.
I wanted to write back telling SSF to screw off.
Now that I was getting chucked out, his threats didn’t matter. But then something struck me. I started exchanging emails with SSF and realized he had no idea about the Rose thing or the impending Internet Code (he was an external faculty). This was God-sent. You see where all this is going now.
Well, suffice to say, that over the next couple of days, over a series of emails with SSF, I discussed my apprehensions about the offer and my hesitations as I was not gay.
I played the scared victim here, and let him coax me into ‘giving in’ to his demand. Honestly, I was just baiting him. And waiting for the president’s Code to roll out.
Sure enough, a couple of weeks later, our college unveiled its Internet Policy – banning social media for both students and teachers alike, and the usual set of guidelines to follow while interacting on the internet.
By now I had gathered enough dirt on SSF.
So, when the president summoned me for a disciplinary hearing under the new internet code, I sat down and wrote the speech I was going to give to the president. My girl was in on this and she helped me with it. Once I was confident about what to say, I printed out the email exchange, neatly bounded it all together into one file, and headed to the president a little before the appointed hour.
I met him and showed him the entire email exchange.
I wanted to know how SSF’s emails to me scored on this Internet codebook. Would it look good if I had to drag the professor, a pastor at that, and the college to court for inappropriate harassment? What would a good Christian town say about that? That did the trick.
His tone changed, he saw my angle in all of this and promised action.
I also told the president that the dean sucked at her job which is why creeps like SSF and nepotistic craps like Rose ran riot.
Now I didn’t want any of them – Rose, the dean or SSF – to be able to screw my career. The president assured me that they won’t be left capable to do that, but I had to keep my mouth shut about those emails.
I took the deal. A week later, I signed a non-disclosure with the college, handed them all the printouts and deleted my emails under their lawyer’s supervision.
SSF’s contract with the college was terminated and he was expelled from his church.
No one knew why. His life was destroyed, he hasn’t had a job since and last heard, he was living with and off his mother.
The dean was ‘let go’ and she discovered a second career in politics and went onto become a councilwoman, which she still is. Rose was ‘let go’ as well, while Jess finished college quietly without much fuss. Last heard, both sisters together run a store in town.
I graduated with distinctions in all papers that Rose and SSF handled (thanks to the president’s intervention which put me pretty high on the merit list.
And made the nerds jealous.
I was just a pesky senior who screwed up but got lucky when a professor hit on me. And yes, the college had a new Internet Usage Policy.”
9. Can't Repair The Place Your Renting To Me? I'll Make You Go Bankrupt
“So here’s the story of my previous living situation which was at best horrendous.
I moved into a, what I thought at the time was a lovely 3/4 bedroom house with a nice offset garage and garden, perfect for my family consisting of myself, my partner and my 3 kids.
Well a few weeks into moving in, the problems started to arise. We moved in just before Christmas and the weather was awful, torrential rain in fact, which is when we discovered the horrendous leak in my roof.
I mean water teaming through the roof, into the walls, and down my windows, resulting in all my pots and pans having to sit in my window to collects said rain. We then ended up realizing we had a leak through the roof in my daughter’s room after she was awoken by rain dripping on her whilst she slept, she was 2 at the time.
We discovered over the course of the time we lived there that the electrics had never been checked and often shorted out.
The gas pipes were under-regulated minimum gauge and when the heating was on we couldn’t power the gas cooker or visa versa, the decking out the back was rotten and when stood on it just snapped, there was a 4ft drop underneath this, a gas safety check showed that the combi boiler was broken and condemned but they still refused to replace it, the heating system could never be switched off even on the summer.
All of these were reported and promised to be fixed. Over time the patio door hinge, which was snapped, completely fell off and we couldn’t close it properly or lock it, reported and were told it would be fixed, waited months and even though I was still paying full rent it never got fixed.
I eventually got fed up and reported it to the local environmental health team.
They came out to inspect the property and raised concerns over the kitchen floor which was warped and a major trip hazard, we also discovered from this visit the 4th bedroom which was in the loft was illegal due to how it had been done, no insulation no heating, bodged electrics.
So the local environmental health team handed an order over to the landlord to repair all these in a 3 month period, it didn’t get done, the council took the landlord to court for breach and she ended up having to pay fines and was given another 6 weeks to rectify.
A few of the jobs got sorted when I found my new house to move into.
2 years later I’ve just found out through a close friend the council proceeded to complete the jobs themselves and the landlord has now been declared bankrupt due to this, her house is being put up for auction, she will receive nowhere near what she needs to pay off her debts and has had to give up her other houses due to bankruptcy laws meaning she can’t own equity, not even a decent car.
If only she’d put the rent I was paying into fixing her house it wouldn’t have gone this far.
I’m not sure what’s happened regarding the illegal goings-on, the gas and electrical problems that were never properly upkeep, but I like to hope she got punished in some way or form.”
8. Getting One Of The Worst Teachers Removed From The Country
“This happened over a decade ago now, I would have been 15 or so at the time.
I was in my sophomore year of high school and this all takes place in my general science class for the year.
Things started off quite well in that class with a nice teacher who was passionate about her topic. Unfortunately, for one reason or another a good 6 weeks, later classes were shuffled and we ended up with a new teacher. Our new teacher was an older guy, certainly less passionate and kind of dull but otherwise harmless.
To provide a little background, I was certainly a troubled student in high school, and troubled is putting it lightly. I was a great student providing the teacher wasn’t disrespectful and was actually interested in what they were teaching. There was nothing worse for me than a grumpy, bored and disrespectful teacher.
Now this second gentleman was certainly bored and maybe a tad grumpy sometimes, but I wouldn’t say he was necessarily disrespectful.
He wasn’t a good teacher, but he wasn’t terrible either. He didn’t ignite my passion for the subject by any means, but he was adequate.
Then, for the second time that year, things got shuffled around on us and we were on our third teacher. This time, a brand new teacher at our school, a recent immigrant from the UK. We’ll call her Mrs. Snow.
She was middle-aged with reddish hair and a scowl so cold she could extinguish the sun.
Mrs. Snow got into a routine quickly. She made it very clear she would tolerate NO misbehavior of any form. And included within the category of misbehavior was an interruption. And this meant any kind. I observed several students, even well behaved attentive ones, sent directly to the dean’s office (a dean being someone who was essentially in charge of your year group) with no warning or prior offense for having the sheer gall to sneeze while she spoke.
And it didn’t matter how much you tried to cover it up. A friend of mine was unwell one day but doing his best to make it through his classes. Unfortunately for him, he had quite a dry cough. Poor loser was jettisoned before the class even had the chance to be seated.
And of course, it should go without saying that I was not on her good books.
She was rude, unreasonably hostile, and clearly bored to tears by her subject. I don’t recall how many lessons I saw to completion, but I certainly became intimately familiar with the dean’s office that year.
My favorite story to tell are the days when she was in a bad mood. As if she wasn’t horrible enough already! I remember more than once she kicked out the entire class.
God knows what she spent the rest of the lesson doing, but I remember the poor receptionist in the dean’s office: her eyes practically bulged right out of her head as she saw a congo line of 30-something students making their way to the office, all requiring to be written up by her and seen by the year’s dean.
I can’t imagine she was too fond of Mrs. Snow either, but the dean came to the wonderfully well thought out conclusion that the students were clearly the problem, not the teacher.
Now one day during class, I was seated near the front of the class, right next to the computer Mrs. Snow was using to deliver her wonderfully monotone lecture on god only knows what b******s. I happened to notice a small, red pen drive sticking out the front of the machine.
While she wasn’t looking and most of the class was distracted, I bent down pretending to grab something from my backpack which was on the floor below my stool, but quietly reached over and pulled the drive from the computer and stuffed it in my backpack before anyone could notice.
I dunno why I did it, just being a jerkk I guess. I figured it’s just a pen drive, she can get a new one.
Later that day, I plugged the drive into one of the PC’s in our library to browse the contents. Various things related to her class were scattered throughout, but then something, in particular, caught my eye: her immigration documents. I took a short peek and discovered her visa was due to expire in only a couple of months, and that she had a new folder in which she was assembling her documentation for her next application.
“OH CRAP” I thought. This flash drive was hot property. If she found out I had this, I would be in serious trouble! The obvious solution of quietly returning the drive never occurred to me. At first, I removed the red sleeve from the drive hoping it would be unrecognizable. Even then, I was still nervous so between classes one day I threw it on the roof of one of the buildings.
And not a moment too soon.
She’d found out. And someone had dobbed me in. I don’t think I had ever been sent to the deans that fast in my entire school life. I was grilled, kinda like those CIA/FBI interrogations you see on TV. I didn’t crack, denied all knowledge and responsibility. They conducted a search on my backpack and found nothing. Just as well I’d tossed it.
I was incredibly well known to the dean at that point and I could tell she was MORE than ready to believe I’d done it, but she couldn’t prove it.
Nobody could prove it. It was all he said she said. So I was let go.
I continued having classes with Mrs. Snow. She was incredibly hostile towards the entire class after that, but especially me.
More than once during this time, I got sent to the deans for absolutely no reason whatsoever. The referral slip she sent me with always claimed some utter bullcrap that never happened and the deans would gobble that crap up eagerly.
…until one day, we had a reliever. And the next day. And the day after. That reliever became our new permanent teacher for the remaining 2 months or so of the year.
There was never any explanation as to why. Rumors began to spread, and eventually, I learned the proper truth.
The copy of her immigration documents on that pen drive was the master copy. She had no backups, hard copies, or duplicates.
NZ’s immigration system is ridiculously pedantic in that you need to resubmit all of the evidence from previous visas you’ve been granted AGAIN when you apply for a new one.
She no longer had any of it. She was missing crucial documentation to retain her visa status and as such, her visa was declined and she left or was removed from the country.
I had no reason to suspect she wouldn’t have backups.
Usually, you’d use a pen drive AS backup, and have a master copy on a computer somewhere. This was in the days before cloud storage was a thing, and pen drives were quite small in capacity and not particularly reliable at that.
I remember having a few die on me during those years. Besides, what if you lost it? Anybody could poke through your crucial documents. It just seemed so unlikely that this would have been the case and it’s what I had assumed when I tossed the thing.
But, I was wrong. And she was never seen again.
And that’s the story of how I (accidentally and coincidentally) got one of the worst teachers ever not only out of my school but removed from my entire country.
Remember kids: Always, always, ALWAYS have a backup.”
7. Try To Stop Us From Moving In? We'll Ruin Your Yard Sale
“Let me start off with a backstory. I come from a long line of firefighters, and so when a few firetrucks from the fire company the men in my immediate used to volunteer at came up for sale, my grandfather bought them and fixed them up. However, my grandpa had a townhouse and only had just enough room to park them in his backyard but not enough land to build a building to store them in.
When my dad bought his property with a few acres, it was decided that a barn would be built to store the firetrucks on my dad’s property. This property didn’t have a house and used to be designated as farmland.
Now we get into the story. When my dad wanted to build a house in this little bit of woods right off of a new neighborhood on land he bought, he had to get the government to rezone it to be residential. This isn’t that difficult, just holding a court session to make sure nobody has any legitimate objections to the procedure.
However, for some reason, one more neighbor was just too much for a decent chunk of the existing neighborhood, so a bunch of them came up with every dumb reason as to why that land had to be left alone.
The woman who will feature prominently later in this story, and we’ll call Mrs. B from now on, suggested that the land would be much better suited for horses to frolic in.
Nobody in the neighborhood knew of anybody in the town who owned horses, and there wasn’t enough land for horses to legally be allowed to live upon it…
So, after about 2 weeks of this and similar nonsense, the court rezoned the land, and finally, construction of the house began. As soon as the trees were cut down, the firetrucks were moved onto the property where the barn would be built once the house was done.
Once all the trees were down, my dad built up a burn pile to dispose of all the wood, and before he did, as well as him being a firefighter himself, called the fire department to let them know what he was doing, and they said it’s alright because he was right in the window of land where no permit would be needed, and a big bonfire also wasn’t a problem.
So, he lit it up.
Soon, Mrs. B came strutting on the road, phone in hand, yelling at my dad that she’s calling the fire department. He tells her he is with the fire department, and in case she’s blind, there are 2 firetrucks already on the property just in case. (They were antiques, but they’d still get the job down and were ready to.) She continues screaming, so my dad gets on the phone and calls the fire department once again, asking if anyone has called to complain about a fire at his property, to which they respond to say no fires had been reported that day at all yet… So, my dad hangs up and starts calling Mrs. B the liar that she is and to go back to her house and quit disturbing us.
We have a few more interactions like this over the process of us moving in, but nothing deters us, and so finally a barn is built for the trucks. Eventually, things die down in regards to the neighbors, and we make good friends with about half the neighborhood.
Now a year or so after the barn is built, another local fire department my grandpa is involved with is working on selling one of their old trucks, a giant Ford Louisville model, basically a semi-truck with a firetruck body.
They don’t have the space to store since its replacement has come in, and until they find a buyer, they need a place to store it, so my grandpa offers to store it in our barn.
Part of this deal involves us running the truck around once a week because letting the truck sit too long could cause damage.
Well, during this time, Mrs. B starts having a ton of yard sales.
We noticed a few people parking on our lawn during this, not like, one tire on the grass or something, no; there are people using our yard like it’s a parking lot! We always tried to ask people to move because it is OUR lawn after all… but yet, it keeps happening. One day, we learn why. Mrs. B keeps telling people to park on our lawn.
We figure a good solution to this is to put up a sign that’s been spray-painted to say NO PARKING in big black letters, clearly legible so everyone knows.
Our lawn stops being used as a parking lot for a bit…
Until one day, Mrs. B decided to march on over, rip the sign off its post, rip the post out of the ground (it was all temporary, so it was just temporarily duct-taped together and pushed into the ground a little), and proceed to throw into what’s left of the woods behind our house.
My parents were furious. People began parking on the lawn the way they used to again the next day.
This is when my dad comes up with a genius plan.
He puts the sign back up, but he’s not done; it’s just that time to take the Ford around the neighborhood. My dad has been driving trucks like this since he’s had his license, so he knows just how to get it to do what he wants it to.
He takes it out, goes up to one end up the neighborhood, turns around, and starts headed back. This truck had a 10-speed manual transmission, and in this half mile-long stretch of road, he got the diesel motor into 8th, waited until just before he reached Mrs. B’s house, and by the time he had reached the edge of her property, the truck was in 3rd.
Now this truck was diesel-powered, and all that slowing down makes the truck roll some serious coal with the exhaust pointed straight at the yard sale on a relatively calm day… Needless to say, while nothing looked all that bad, maybe a little darker than before, but the worst part was the smell. Diesel fuel stinks really bad when it’s been coal rolled.
Within a few days, everything left from the yard sale was packed up into garbage bags and was sitting next to her trash can.
She might have tried to call the cops, but would the cops even acknowledge her if she told them that her neighbors firetruck drove by spewing black smoke all over her yard sale items ruining them? I don’t think so…
After this, not only did she leave us alone, she stopped having yard sales all together! So, point being, since Mrs. B was horrible to us that whole time we’ve owned property in the neighborhood, we cost her hundreds, if not thousands of dollars she could’ve made at that yard sale, and any others she might have had in the future.”
6. Make Me Work 9 Hours With No Break? You'll Have To Be Retrained And Work Weekends When I'm Done With You
“So, for a summer at University, I worked as a cafe manager in a large, British homewares store. I originally started as a normal cafe staff member but was promoted within a week as the old manager was leaving due to ill health.
This caused friction with the other staff as they had been there longer, and one of them, Lazy Worker (LW), was older than me, so he thought he should have gotten the job.
Now, LW trained me when I first started, and he showed me some “tricks” to make the start and close procedures quicker (i.e., allowing you to leave early or mess around for half an hour before the cafe opened). These “tricks” were really just not taking temperatures readings for the fridges and food and making them up as there were about 20 places to take readings for in the cafe and the back room (including 4 massive freezers).
On to the story:
After I had been promoted, he had been getting more and more late and uncooperative and just generally being a difficult person.
One Sunday, it was meant to be me, LW, and another staff member, but the other staff member had a family emergency and couldn’t come in which was fine. Then LW didn’t come in, and no one could get a hold of him until two hours after his shift started, and he said he had food poisoning.
I had my doubts but was too busy trying to teach my manager, the store manager and another random store employee how to cook everything and use the registers and coffee machine. I ended up working 9 hours without a break and having to open and close the cafe on my own.
I was livid, to say the least. Then I noticed LW had posted photos of himself out drinking the night before and then going to a family BBQ today!
Cue some petty revenge!
2 of the larger freezers in the back had stopped working that day, so we had put large ‘out of order’ signs on them.
I knew LW was opening the next day, so I tidied the area under the register and put the temperature sensors in a box (with a label), so they weren’t in the normal messy pile.
The next day I came in just before the cafe opened and was walking to the back room with my manager to inspect the freezers when I saw LW on his phone, and I ask if the temperature readings have been done.
He yells, ‘Of course’ and brings the sheets over and apologizes for missing yesterday as he was just so ill.
As he walks away, I looked at the sheets and sure enough, he had a reading of -10oC for each of the broken freezers. I showed this to my manager, and we went to check these magically fixing freezers….. which were, of course, still broken!
I also showed her his photos and told her the “tricks” he tried to teach me.
Oh boy was she mad. She stormed out to the cafe and started screaming at him about his lying about the temp. readings and how he could kill someone if the food was too warm overnight and a bunch of other things.
I may have sat on a display sofa near the cafe with some other staff who didn’t like him giggling at the yelling and his fumbled excuses.
He tried to say it was the temperature sensors that were wrong, and he didn’t see the MASSIVE signs on the doors. Trouble is, he couldn’t find the sensors when asked to prove it and that led to even more yelling when my manager came behind the counter and found them instantly in the box labeled “Temp Sensors.”
He had to redo all his training, was supervised by my manager for a month, and he had to work weekend shifts, which he hated as it got in the way of his band playing!
I left not long after that, and I still think about his face after being called out.”
Another User Comments:
“Having been in charge of cold storage and had food safety drilled into me from an early age, all I can say is it serves the little loser right! Falsifying data like that could have got the place shut down and left everyone liable for a whole lot of legal trouble, even if a customer didn’t get sick from food temperature / bacterial issues.” ununseptimus
5. Make Me Do Most Of The Group Work Then Cut Me Off? I'll Get You All Expelled
“This happened about 12 years ago while I was studying Aeronautical Engineering.
Due to some money-grubbing legislation tactics, most who have gone to college know about the unnecessary courses that are tacked onto the degrees in order to graduate.
One of those courses for my degree was a Business class (seriously, you’d think these guys would understand that most Engineers don’t do the business side of things).
Thankfully, we had a teacher who was understanding of the fact that many of us in the class were bored out of our minds.
I’ll admit to having always been a geek/nerd who loved making good grades. If I don’t understand something, I run at it hard to try to change that. This class stumped me for quite some time and then a nightmare of a project was announced: one worth 50% of our grades.
The school was a small one, the class was a little more than 30 people, and I was assigned to work with three people I knew from other classes.
We had problems straight away. Two of the people remembered me from a Calculus class that they barely passed as the person who sailed easily through and decided to dump their portion of the work on me straight away, knowing I wouldn’t allow myself to fail.
They were right.
At first, my other group member tried to pick up the slack as well, pulling hard to do a difficult project in a subject we barely understood. I’ll admit she was a trooper.
Unfortunately, she was also someone easily manipulated and our two slacking group members began applying pressure during the semester for her to take the work and allow them to present it.
The day of the project finally comes and I’m sick as a dog, pretty much stuck in the clinic due to bronchitis. I managed to send a message to the teacher. The two slackers manage to wrangle the presentation from the girl who worked with me and presented it to the class, declaring that they had done all of the work and I was skipping class because they had told me that they were going to tell the teacher what happened.
My initial grade was an F. I was beyond angry until I realized something important: part of the project involved a written report, of which, I held the only copy since I was the one to type it up.
Cue the revenge: privately I went to the teacher with my notes and the report in order to get the grade I earned and to get him in on the plot.
He agreed since it seemed fun and he planned to fail them anyway for academic dishonesty.
Publicly, there was no report.
The classmates that had attempted to take all the credit began to approach me, first demanding the report. Most of the time, my response was, “But I didn’t do any work!” in a sickly sweet voice.
Next, they attempted to act all buddy-buddy, trying to convince me that it had all been a joke and promising that they’d tell the professor that I had done some work, giving me some credit so that I had the possibility to pass.
This was met with stony silence on most occasions before I told them that I’d rather fail than let them pass.
Things escalated after that to include the door of my dorm room being rapped on at odd hours of the night, shoving, and them stealing my backpack and notebooks in order to try to find the report themselves. One of them even asked my roommate to let them search for a report I had written and forgotten for our group (didn’t have her as my roommate the following semester).
Things finally came to a head in the last week of classes. I had held out on them for a month, not telling any of my groupmates what I had done and enough time had elapsed that even if they were to turn in the report now, it would be so late that they’d still have failed.
They hadn’t even attempted to do the report themselves and the girl who had worked with me was in hysterics over the very real possibility of failing the class.
It was what the teacher and I had been waiting for and he finally decided to return the reports.
The two slackers glared daggers at me as the teacher returned the report of every other group in the class before stopping in front of them. He was holding what looked to be one extra report and they were immediately looking hopeful. He set a single sheet of paper on one of their desks before moving to the desk of the girl who had worked along with me and set the report on her desk.
“I had to dock some points for dishonesty, but you and your partner did decently,” he stated before moving on.
My partner realized what I had done. We only got an 82 on our project, but it was far better than the 0 that our ex-group mates received.
I had been carefully documenting the harassment that the two slackers had put me through and ensured several witnesses saw some of what they did.
Two days after being informed that they were failing, the pair had a new problem: I gave the evidence to the administration of our school and the teacher reported academic dishonesty.
The administration did a bit more digging and found that the pair had been making trouble for some time and a number of students reported similar problems of having their work stolen.
The slackers were expelled.”
Another User Comments:
“It always amazes me how so many people going to school for high skilled professional jobs try to their way through. These people wanted to be engineers!?” StarDustLuna3D
4. Be With Some Other Guy? I'll Get Him Fired From The Company
“I had a large webhosting company somewhere in Europe in the late 1990ies.
My wife was working with me at the company. Business was booming. With a small team we signed on thousands of new customers each week. 16 hour workdays were no exception for us both, but since we were negotiating a takeover of the company, we were instructed not to hire extra people in the meantime.
Then suddenly I managed to sell my company. We (well technically it was only ‘I’) were millionaires instantly. Part of the deal was that I would work another year at the company to hand things over. The new management put an end to our 16-hour workdays and hired lots and lots extra staff. I worked from home mainly, whilst my wife continued working at our company.
After work, there was always lots of partying, and my wife got together with a guy that worked in our financial department. Let’s call him Peter. One day, she confessed to me that she had been with Peter the night before.
We both decided that we didn’t want this to ruin 10 years of us being together and that we should work our issues out in therapy.
I decided to call Peter over to my house. He was ten years younger than I was. I asked him if he enjoyed his job. He did. He wanted to keep it. I asked him to keep his distance whilst me and my wife worked our issues out, which we tried in countless sessions with therapists. He promised to do that, and since I was leaving the company soon anyway, I let him keep his job in return.
To make a long story short, Peter didn’t stick to his promise. When I found out, I filed for divorce (since it takes two to party), but I also had a little score to settle with my friend Peter.
I called the new director of my former company and asked him to fire Peter. He told me he wouldn’t do that. And I was no longer calling the shots there, so I was basically empty-handed.
About a year later, I noticed that some domain names were registered to my private holding company, without my consent. After some investigation I found out that our friend Peter was registering domain names that were canceled by my former company’s customers using my private company credentials (back then you needed a company to register a national domain name here), so he could sell the names for profit.
He used my credentials, so there would be no risk of people noticing that it was in fact an employee of their former web host that took ownership of their domain names when customers wanted to cancel their names.
This was too nice to pass. I called the director again. He still refused to fire Peter. When he did that, I called some journalists who were eager to write on this little scandal.
The new owner of the company had no option left but to fire Peter. It took me over a year to let him keep his end of the deal.
And my former wife? It turned out that Peter had a gambling addiction. Peter took her with him to a casino most evenings. Having little to do there, she started talking to the guy that exchanged coins for the slot machines, and they fell in love.
They’re still together.”
3. Giving A Mean College Peer A Big Wake Up Call
“There was this girl, quite good looking, and that’s all about her. She used to get lots of attention from guys, and I guess due to that, she was literally started behaving like a witch.
Anyway, it didn’t bother me much.
I hardly talked to her anyway. Things changed when she became roommates with my girl. Though I knew about her personality, I didn’t stop my partner from befriending her.
Days passed, and everything was going normally. One day, my girl came crying to me and said she never imagined I would say such bad things about her.
I was amused. I had no idea what the heck she was talking about.
After some hue and cry, she told me that her new roommate said I talk crap about her behind her back and make fun of her in front of my friends.
I could not believe the nonsense I was listening to.
I knew this girl was not the kind of person you would probably be friends with, but now she has crossed all the limits.
She was literally trying to malign my image in front of the person I really cared about.
I had taken enough crap from this girl. I needed to do something real soon.
The next day, I was really furious. I went to the class where the professor was taking a class. She was sitting in the middle.
Me: “What do you think of yourself? Just because you are getting some attention from few duffers, you think you are some model or what?
First of all, you are nothing outside this college, and on the contrary, you will be considered below average and secondly try to have a decent character. Stop spreading lies, and you better don’t talk about me ever again, or next time things wouldn’t go smoothly for you.”
She almost had teary eyes. But someone had to teach her a lesson. After that time, she never moaned about anyone again.
I could sense how proud my friends felt at that moment as their eyes were glowing with happiness because she was talking crap about everyone, and no one had the guts to call her bluff out. Few clapped.
Karma is a trick. But sometimes you can’t wait for karma to do its bit and have to take steps yourself.”
2. Insult My Work From A Decade And Counting? Lose Your Only Employee, And Watch Your Business Rot
“I worked in the smoke industry from 2013 to 2019; four of those years were in management.
My real passion is graphic design though. I grew up around art; my mother is a professional photographer and introduced me to Photoshop when I was 12-years-old (1999). I learn by dissection and by hands-on experience. I never went to school for design. I just learned from others in the field and by studying what was being done.
Needless to say, I considered myself just shy of a professional in design by my mid-twenties. I took those skills in design, advertising, and marketing to every retail job I have ever had, and it has served me and my employers very well.
The Job
Three years into my career in the smoke industry, my chick (now wife) had found a job out of town, and I moved with her.
(She makes a lot of dough, so she leads the way.)
I soon found a job in a newly established smoke shop and was hired as the manager and graphic designer. My resume was a beautiful, full-color creative piece that easily fit into my already respectable portfolio. It was clear that I knew what I was doing, and I had the references to back it up.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of red flags that I should have picked up on from the very beginning, but I am a naturally trusting person, sometimes to a fault.
Red Flag #1
The owner didn’t know much of anything about the industry. He had started in the smoke industry six months prior and decided he liked it enough to open a shop.
If anyone here was/is a professional in the industry, you know as well as I do how bad of an idea this is.
This is an industry where “crash course 101” does not cut it for product knowledge and sales methods. Products, safety, usability, and product fit all take considerable research to know well enough to sell them competently.
Red Flag #2
I asked for $12/hr, which I felt was more than reasonable to be the only employee, manager, and graphic designer for a franchise smoke shop. I was offered $10/hr, “but you’ll be working 50 hours a week, so that comes out to about $12/hr” (hint: it does not).
I needed the job, so I took it and immediately got to work learning the products on hand and figuring out what graphics corporate would let me use and how I could use them.
Red Flag #3
I know my products, and I know the chemistry and the science behind devices and liquids. Dark juice isn’t bad, but the owner thought it was. A quick rundown of the science behind it netted me the response, “I don’t think you know what you think you know.” (Out of all the quotes here, this one is 100% verbatim, and you’ll see it again.)
Red Flag #4
This was a new shop with few customers. Sales were sporadic if they happened at all. The owner didn’t have the capital for an advertising budget, so everything was word of mouth and the small magnet on the side of his moving-business truck that I designed. Despite how busy the owner was with his moving company, he always seemed to have time to watch me make sales on camera remotely.
As soon as a customer would leave, the phone would ring, and I would be hounded by questions about what they bought, why didn’t I upsell them, and a list of ways I need to do better and sell the high dollar products (selling people things they don’t need is a great way to never have return customers).
Red Flag #5
There were two more situations where the phrase, “I don’t think you know what you think you know” was used. Unfortunately, I had long since given up trying to push this business forward that I can’t even remember what they were about except that it involved my expertise in design and marketing.
Revenge and Aftermath
After the third time that was said to me, I slapped my key down on the table, informed him that he’d do well to never say that to anyone else, and I walked out for good.
The revenge part is that he had just stopped in to resupply himself, and he very much needed to get back to his moving company clients.
Well, that’s not going to happen tonight, freak. Good luck closing the store you know nothing about.
Now he had to spend more than he was paying me to cover workers for his moving company, all while trying to sell products he wasn’t familiar with. A couple of weeks after I left, the front windows were smashed, and everything was stolen. (I had nothing to do with this.
It was a crappy part of town, and this happened a lot in the area.) The windows were boarded up for a couple of weeks, and he bought new product.
Then it happened again (still not me). 3 weeks after that, he was locked out for nonpayment of rent and wound up having to pay some hefty fines to corporate because he signed a 5-year contract and only lasted less than six months.
All of this could have been avoided if he had heeded my advice and simply let the manager manage the business. I even mentioned the lack of security measures that caused the break-ins. Unfortunately, he clearly knew better than I did, and the perfect revenge was to upturn his entire working life to prove him very, very wrong. I guess you could say he doesn’t know what he thinks he knows.”
1. Knock My Friend Up? You'll Never Be Able To Live Or Work In Your Hometown Again
Should’ve been more careful, dude.
“During the period of my school years, I went to a Catholic school.
I had made very few friends, but we appeared very close. There were four of us females and two guys.
When I was 16, nature finally decided to take its course and I became interested in guys (girls as well, but this was a Catholic school in an extremely small southern town).
My affections fell on a senior in our group, who I will call Adam. He seemed interested as well, and we began seeing each other.
That summer Adam decided to join the army. Having grown up in an entire family of army and navy, I was very proud of him, and I intended to join the military as well once I could. (And I did.
Hooyah Navy!) So, when he left for boot camp I tried to help him as much as I could. But, alas all puppy loves must come to an end.
You see, high school boys are notorious for being dogs, and my little soldier was no different.
Adam had married an exotic dancer immediately after AIT (or Technical Training for the non-military). But it doesn’t stop there!
Oh no, I mean what good would a revenge story be if it was JUST an ex who decided to say screw it.
No, you see, our group of friends had one particularly saucy lass who I’m going to call Lilith. She also had her eyes on Adam.
Now, it wasn’t but a few months after Adam came home for a few weeks on leave, that I learned about his wife.
But, this was after I found out that he had knocked up my “best friend” Lilith.
As you can imagine, 16-year-old hormones+undiagnosed bipolar+first love+first betrayal equates to a whole mess of nonthought out actions.
Now, I need to say, this is NOT a path I am super proud of. In fact, I cringe every time I think about what happened.
For anyone who doesn’t know, adultery in the U.S.
Military is an extreme offense.
Punishable by all sorts of nasty things, such as restriction, docking of pay, court-martial, dishonorable discharge, or even brig time (although while I’ve heard it is a possible punishment I’ve never seen that one).
The very first thing I did was report the adultery and pregnancy to his command, followed by his wife. She deserved to know her less than one-month-old marriage already had a Jodi problem.
Long story short, for his part he lost his wife, rank, and was discharged when found to be drinking underage AND in uniform, as a result of the divorce.
Lilith, on the other hand, met a much nastier fate. See as I said, this was a very small and predominantly Catholic town. So, her revenge was much meaner.
My first stop was to the school’s priest. I didn’t make it a confession, as my family was not Catholic (we were pentecostal) so, I spoke with him about “a crisis of faith.” Where I basically spilled the beans that 16-year-old Lilith and school volleyball star had gotten pregnant, and, due to my beliefs I was unsure if I should maintain a relationship with her.
Of course, the priest took that to the school board, as a pregnancy was a violation of our “purity promises” (I know extremely stupid, but, again the southern dogma at its best). She was kicked from the team pending a pregnancy test. Surprise it was positive.
The next step was to ruin her job, the diner she worked for was basically owned by a couple who believed intercourse was for reproductive purposes only, and taking pleasure from it was a sin.
Lilith was fired.
As a bonus, her parents discovered she was not only pregnant but had gotten that way with a married man. They lost it, and did not speak to her (I’m not really sure to the extent they maintained their silence, seeing as she was a minor) and she was kicked out on the DAY of her 18th birthday.
I’ve really lost touch with almost everyone from that time, but from my understanding, Lilith suffered a miscarriage (this is where most of my guilt resides) due to the stress and has since developed a habit, although I’m not sure of what, and I don’t want to assume.
Adam’s wife did leave him, but, not before getting pregnant herself and taking him for everything she could. Due to the dishonorable discharge, he could no longer work in that town and moved somewhere in the Midwest.
Maybe I went too far over a highschool crush, but, in the end, it was the anger of a teenager scorned. I feel guilty over the miscarriage, yet, knowing that I’m remembered by even a few people as a force to be reckoned with, does bring a smile to my face.”
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