People Share Their Twisted Tales Of Revenge

“A while ago I worked at a store called Bal-Mart (or a general goods store that sounded like that) not so long after the Great Recession of 2008, and management was trying to cut costs because of falling profit. One of the first things management did was fire two of the three full-time maintenance/cleaning guys.

The one guy they kept, I’ll call him MG for maintenance guy, was amazing at his job. Everything in the store ran well because of him and his willingness to go beyond what was required to help people. A genuinely nice guy.

For six months management tried to make having one-third of a maintenance staff work, and it failed miserably. MG could not do everything, and over time management increasingly asked him to “coordinate” some part-timers that were supposed to do the cleaning and carts, he spent so much time “coordinating” that he had no time for maintenance.

The night crew was also cut, so they couldn’t pick up the slack.

Then two things happened within the space of a week that told management how important he was to the store running well. First, some cleaning machines broke down. Turns out they have to be properly cleaned weekly, if left alone they gum up real bad and parts wear out quickly. A several thousand dollar repair bill because he was told to prioritize coordinating part-timers over “tinkering” with machines.

A few days later the deli lady nearly quit after the blade on the deli slicer went flying off and could have cut her face badly. Turns out that the bolt that held it in place was loose, and MG had tightened it weekly for her. When he didn’t have time to do that anymore he told management it had to be replaced for safety, well management didn’t do that because it costs money, but they told people it was fixed. That could have been a lawsuit or criminal charges, they and deli lady got lucky.

So management sat down with him and asked him why things were going wrong. MG told them point-blank he needed enough time for maintenance, and someone else had to coordinate the part-time cleaners and check up on them (they were rather lazy). Management called BS, they said maintenance should be easy and done quickly. MG got mad because that insulted his professionalism and he pulled out his notebook from his back pocket. It turns out that over his fifteen years he had filled the book with charts, schedules, and diagrams of how to do his job and keep things running.

There were over one hundred things he checked weekly or monthly. There were a lot of machines he kept in running order, some had certain things that were half-broken and had to be wiggled in a certain way, etc. To be honest, a lot of these things were minor or major safety hazards, but over the years management was fine with not replacing multi-thousand dollar machines if MG knew how to keep them working. As well, he did things that he should not have done, like calibrating machines for departments that should have done it themselves or contracted it out, etc, but he was a nice guy and he liked helping people.

He told me that he spent about a half-hour telling management about what he did, and he suspected that until then nobody had ever known how much he did.

Well, he may have said a few swear words and derogatory things while telling management why he needed time to do stuff, it was not a good moment for him and he was pissed. At the end he put his notebook back in his pocket and offered to take a week to write up everything he knew so that management would have written proof of why his job mattered in case a higher-up asked why they increased maintenance costs when corporate was demanding they cut costs.

The multiple managers in the room looked at each other, and asked him to leave so they could talk in private.

He told me (several years later, when I ran into him somewhere and had lunch with him) that he had a premonition as he walked out of the room, so he went to the backroom and tossed his notebook in the garbage compactor. For good measure, he then went around the store and emptied all the garbage cans and tossed those bags in so his notebook was properly buried. He was fine with it, all that information was in his head.

After a few minutes,  management called him back. They told him that they could not allow him to keep working there because of the level of insubordination he had showed. They said as soon as he surrendered his badge, box cutter, and notebook he would be escorted out of the building by security (they basically treated him like a criminal, most fired people are not escorted out unless they were suspected of committing a crime that could not be proved).

He handed over his badge and box cutter, they asked for the notebook. He said he threw it in the compactor. Their eyes went wide and they asked why he threw it out. He said he thought he was going to write everything up nicely on the computer from memory so he thought he was done with the notebook.

At this point, management starts looking at each other worried because they had intended to take his book, fire him, and have a less subordinate part-timer (who doesn’t get expensive benefits like a full-timer) do his job.

Now they couldn’t. One of the managers suggested that he be allowed to write up the info before being escorted out, the others agreed. He was given the chance to be unfired just long enough to give them the info. How kind. He laughed and walked out, head held high, and management followed him to his car to make sure he left.

I don’t have exact numbers, but I guesstimate the store had to spend at least twenty or thirty thousand bucks to replace stuff that MG had kept working beyond the equipment’s lifespan, and the new guy they hired had a h**l of a time figuring out how things worked. To be honest, in a few cases MG had gone too far, like creating fire hazards by taping broken chargers together after rewiring them instead of tossing them, but management had never complained when he saved them money.

There was also a lot of things that should have been done by the health and safety team or the departments, but they also never complained about having less work. I asked him if throwing out that notebook was illegal, but he said it was personal property to help him remember things, it was not a work-provided notebook. He was proud of what he did, his pride clearly showed in how he told the story.

He said that nobody is allowed to question his professional judgment by implying he is lazy. I agree.”

“So this happens back in freshman year of high school for me, about twenty years ago. Little bit of a back story, I was born with Neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that causes tumor growth on nerve endings and a large list of other problems like early onset puberty, blindness, epilepsy, death etc.

I had this teacher who if you called her an ancient old hag you’d be being polite. For whatever reason she had it out for me I can only pin it down to her being a bully.

Now I had been sick because of my medical condition and had action plans with the school as to not fall behind, the teacher knew of my condition because of this.

So one day I come into the classroom and there’s a depiction of me on the whiteboard with the words “tumor boy” above it….the teacher just shrugged and laughed, she had disclosed my medical condition to the entire class. I tell the principal, nothing.

The guidance counselor nothing, my parents? Nothing. Nobody believes me. It’s my word against hers, so for now I let it go. I’m very patient so I know I’ll get another opportunity.

In another incident, she hits my hand with a ruler when I ask her to stop taunting me in front of the other students my medical condition is nobody’s business but my own. She tells the class I have brain tumors which is why my head is so large.

She also points out that I have the in my feet again disclosing private medical information just to be a vile person. I again go through everyone, again nobody believes me.

So then I get a mild case of the flu, and miss about a week of school so I ask if I can bring a recorder to school to tape lessons to catch up it’s immediately put in my file for whatever reason she missed this meeting, still, it’s in my file so she should know about the agreement.

So now I know if she acts like a rancid b***h again her a*s is mine, all I need is the bait which pretty much just takes me showing up.

The very next day at school I’m sitting in class with the recorder taping in my bag, and she starts with her daily routine of asking someone to draw a picture of “me and all my tumors” on the whiteboard, I again ask her to stop and this is where the book is thrown at my head with a loud thud followed by a profanity-filled tirade about how terrible of a child I am.

It’s at this point I stop the recorder, and tell her exactly what I think of her and am then physically removed from the class and taken to the principal’s office, and I’m expelled.

Once I got home is when I showed my parents the tape, within twenty minutes we are back at the school playing it for the principal and vice-principal threatening legal action. Needless to say, my expulsion is lifted and she is fired on the spot just before retirement, losing her retirement money.

She even called me after and asked “why are you doing this”? I simply told her she did it to herself.”

“Back when I was in college, I used to wait tables to pay the bills. I worked at a high-end restaurant in the “downtown” area serving both lunch and dinner but dinner service was where the bulk of my income came from. Because most of the hostesses for were in high school, the managers asked servers to volunteer to host for lunch service which I volunteered to do one day a week. The shift was always shown on our server schedule.

One day, I came home in the afternoon and had messages on my answering machine from my frantic 19-year-old manager asking where I was and saying I was scheduled to hostess. I was surprised because I swore I wasn’t scheduled and since it was after lunch service, I went in for my dinner shift as scheduled. When I got there, I confirmed I didn’t have a shift marked on the regular schedule but someone pointed out since it was summer and high school was out, the manager created a separate schedule for hostesses and I was scheduled there.

I talked to a manager and explained what happened but they sent me home from working my dinner shift anyhow.

Angry that I was punished for something I didn’t feel was my fault and because I was actually volunteering to help out, I took a note to the office the next day saying that since I was not hired to work as a hostess and it was now affecting my income as a server, I did not agree to work anymore hostess shifts.

Well, turned out, they had me scheduled on a second hostess shift that week which again, I did not know about and didn’t show up for. Sure enough, they fired me and it was only a couple weeks before I was about to leave on a long summer trip overseas.

Since I had heard from people in town that the tip-out policy for the restaurant requiring us to tip 5% of our tips to the kitchen staff was illegal; I did some research, found out it was, and made a trip to the labor board with a copy of an employee handbook and filed a complaint.

Took them a while to go in and investigate but about a year later, I got a check for $2k they had to reimburse me for those tip-outs and found out it cost them a total of over $500k to reimburse all the restaurants’ employees (they have to go back 2 years from the time they go in and investigate) and paid a ton of fines. The bonus on top of it all was it turned out they had underage migrants washing dishes when the investigators went in so they got hit with additional violations for that.”

“I am a season ticket holder for my local MLB team. Currently in my second year but this happened last year.

One lazy Saturday afternoon I was planning to use the tickets I had for the day. I have 2. My friend had to bail last second so since I’m not that far away from the park, I decided to just go ahead and go by myself. It was too beautiful a day not to.

After getting a beer and some nachos, I head down to my section. I see the majority of the row is filled including my seats. This is definitely not the first time this has happened and usually if it’s kids I just sit somewhere else nearby and enjoy the game anyway. Last year the team wasn’t doing very well and there more than a few open seats.

So I end up sitting in the same row about 5 seats away.

Well, about 10 minutes later the rest of the group came back from wherever they were and I was sitting in their seats. One of them say,s “Hey can you move, we were sitting here.” Before I could respond or even just politely move, their friends who were sitting in my seats chime in and say “Yeah we don’t who that is, he’s just been sitting there like a creep since you guys left.”

I get up and say to the kid who asked me to move, “Oh I’m sorry” and walk over to the one who called me a creep and said, “Get out of my seat.” I showed him the ticket and with little protest, he moved to the end. Then I looked at his friend and said “You, too. These are both mine.”

For two innings, we sat there awkwardly. The best part was when I ordered a hot dog and another beer so they would have to pass it down to me.

Eventually, they moved, but I felt pretty good about how I handled the situation.”

“Background: My co-worker, R, is going through a messy divorce with about a week to go before the custody hearing starts for their two daughters. Both parents want full custody and seem willing to fight for it.

A couple of weeks ago, R was driving home when two guys with a firearm pull him over and attack him. R has recently had a stroke so he installed an emergency button that he pressed before he got out of the car.

5 minutes later two response vehicles arrives and chases the guys who roughed him up. After “talking” to them for a while the truth comes out. His ex-wife’s lawyer hired these thugs to scare him off.

About two weeks later, R is sitting at home one evening when his ex-wife and her new fella come knocking on his door. He opens up and they drunkenly start harassing and verbally attacking him. She tells him that she and her new guy work together and have been **c***g long before the divorce has been finalized.

R is understandably upset, but he is a gentle guy so he just waits it out and eventually they leave. R is an ex flying squad member and still has a lot of contacts in the police.

R decided to report them to their company’s HR. He needs any dirt on his ex-wife for the custody battle so he tries to dig a bit. The HR lady tells him that the guy is married with kids, and that this is not the first time something like this has happened. R gets the guy’s wife’s number and calls her calmly, telling her about the affair and emailed her any incriminating stuff he had as proof.

The new guy rocks up at R’s house that night, drunk and aggressive. R has to point his gun at the new guy to get him to leave. Fearing for his own and his daughters’ safety, R files a restraining order against the new guy. Then he takes down the guy’s number plates and calls one of his old flying squad buddies to run it through the system. Turns out the new guy is running fake plates, and now there’s a warrant out for his arrest.

New guy and the ex-wife both got fired because their affair is against company policy.”

“Being the only person who can bail someone out is delightful.

Years ago, in grad school, I was living with my girlfriend. Her computer had died, so she was using my desktop machine to write her thesis.

She never made backups of any sort. Ever. Even though I repeatedly warned/reminded her of the dangers of not backing up, she shrugged it off with “It’ll be fine!”

Then came the day when I caught her cheating. Not just flirting with another guy, I don’t give a **** about that, but walked in on them banging in the apartment.

Later, I also discovered chat logs on my computer as well. We broke up, and because the apartment was on a month-to-month lease at that point I just walked.

A week later, I get a call from her asking for all the files associated with her thesis.

You know, the ones that were on my computer that she never backed up despite my urging.

Me: “Sure, I’ll be happy to get those to you. For $500.”

Her (screaming): “What?”

Me: “Oh, right. Those files are incredibly important, representing about ten months of work at this point, aren’t they?”

Her: “Yes!”

Me: “That’ll be $1,000, then.”

Her: “**** you!”

Me: “$1,100 – and if you swear at me again the price goes up. The price goes up by $100 a day.

I’d act fast or it’ll get pretty expensive. It’s too bad there wasn’t some cheap way to have a second copy of those files, isn’t it? Oh, and it’ll have to be cash.”

I hung up on her.

In the end, she paid $1,800.”

“Backstory: I transferred to a private school in 6th grade. Because I was the new kid, I got picked on a lot. I mean A LOT. I admit, I was kind of dorky and chubby, but not so much as to earn this kind of taunting.

My bullying was spearheaded by this one kid. We’ll call him Seth. Seth reminds me of Cartman from South Park, but not funny. Just mean. He would get all of his little c*cksucker friends and follow me around at lunch calling me names, pushing me, making me feel like ***. Even the teachers wouldn’t do anything about it because Seth’s parents were very powerful and long time friends of this school. I only had one friend the entire year I was there because of him, then I transferred because I was being bullied so hard.

Present day: I am a bouncer at the local bar in college. I have outgrown my dorky and chubby stage. I was the team captain of the football and powerlifting teams. I won a national championship in powerlifting, and was an all-district offensive lineman in high school and played D1 football for a little while. I am currently 6’5 240 lbs. Long story short, I’m a big powerful dude.

So anyway, I’m working on a normal night at the bar.

Making sure everything is going smoothly when who would walk in but Seth. Seth has gotten fat. Seth is drunk. Seth is not doing well. I tried to be professional about it and just ignore him like I didn’t recognize him. A little while later Seth stumbles over to me and says “Hey! I remember you! We went to school together! It’s me, Seth!” I responded saying “Oh yeah, good to see you dude, blah blah blah.”

He said some more drunken banter and went off to play pool. I’m above throwing him out for something he did 10 years ago. Well, about an hour later Seth is ***housed. And he doesn’t like that he’s losing pool. So he starts sticking his finger into the face of the guy he’s playing and starts yelling at this guy that he’s gonna whoop his a*s and whatnot. I looked at my coworker and said I got this one.

I walked up to Seth and said, “Hey man, I think it’s about time that you leave.” Seth looked at me and said, “*** you, ****! I ain’t leaving!”

I grabbed him by his collar and said “That wasn’t a request” Seth turns to me and says, “You ain’t gonna do ***! You’re still a **** like you always were!” So then, Seth decides it would be a good idea to swing his pool stick at my head. I caught it.

I thought right after ,”Holy *** that was the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Okay, now time to bounce this *****.”

He has attempted assault towards me, so legally I can hit back. I take my hand off the pool stick and uppercut this mother ***** off the ground. As he’s laying there I grab him by his collar and start to drag him to the door. He comes to and squirms his way out of his shirt and stands up.

I see my fellow bouncers come to help me and I hold up my hand to stop them. I want this ***** to myself.

Seth runs at me and tries to tackle me. I step sideways and send him careening into a trash can. “You’re not gonna win this fight fata#%!” I yell as he gets up. This is where *** gets real. Seth stands up and pulls a knife out of his pocket. This has never happened to me, but luckily I have a knife on me at all times, so I pull mine out as well.

We stand there for a few seconds when a police officer walks in to do his routine check of the bar. I know this officer fairly well as he comes to the bar often on his off days. The officer pulls out his taser and screams “Drop the weapon!” Seth does not comply. So the cop tazes his as* right there in front of God and everybody.

He drops like the ****** **** he is and gets arrested for armed assault.

They run him through the system and it turns out that Seth is on probation! Uh Oh! So Seth gets hauled off to jail, and the police ask me a few questions about the situation. Everyone in the bar agrees with my story and there is a security tape to reinforce my story. The court date hasn’t been set yet, but I have to go and state my story as a witness or victim or whatever I am against ole Seth.

I guess I’m not a **** anymore eh, Seth?”

“My grandmother got married in 1962, to a young man in the military. For a wedding present, their parents bought them a house in a nice suburb. White picket fence, whole 9 yards. Not long after they moved in, the next-door neighbor planted a mulberry tree on the side of his property, near my grandparent’s driveway. Nothing seemed amiss, but if you know Mullberry Trees, you know that **** is about to get real.

About 15 years later, the mulberry tree was OBNOXIOUS.

The birds would come and eat the berries, and any car parked in the driveway would get **** on, and it would stain the cars and ruin paint jobs. My grandmother, upon realizing the culprit, baked a nice apple pie, walked next door, and asked the neighbor if he’d mind trimming back the branches of the tree that hung over her driveway. He told her not to worry, he’d get to it soon. Three days later, my grandmother opened her door to find a half-eaten pie in the plate, crawling with ants, and a note that said “I changed my mind.”

My grandmother threw out the pie, cursing up a storm, and swearing up and down she’d get him to trim that tree or get him back. City ordinance said she could not trim the tree, as the roots were on his property, so the whole tree was his property.

As the years went by, my grandmother repeatedly asked him, ever so nicely, to trim it back. His responses were always along the lines of “No” and “**** off.”Finally, in the mid-90s, my grandmother retired and received a large bonus from her employer for her 35 years of work.

She took the money, and bought the empty lot on the other side of the neighbor, then went to a nursery and bought 16 mulberry trees, planting them along her property line, on both sides of his property. About 3 years ago, he became angry at the damage they were doing to his cars and cut them all back without permission. My grandmother took him to court, and he was forced to reimburse her for the trees at a markup because they’d had 10 years to grow.”

“There’s a disabled man (cerebral palsy) who lived in my town up until recently and who uses his disability to make his living. He sued several local businesses for ADA violations, even if he never bothered to enter some of the stores. Some settled their suits and paid him a nuisance settlement with an agreement for him not to come back, other smaller businesses just closed their doors and everyone was out of work.

He sued the business I work for, even though it was a new location and completely inspected and certified as ADA accessible by the state. We decided to fight him to the bitter end. Early on, we counter sued for our costs in the event we prevailed which is a common practice in cases like this. The case got nasty; he’d come in ranting, cursing, and literally screaming at me, all a part of trying to provoke me into saying something that would help his case while he was video recording the encounters.

Throughout the ordeal, he had an almost sociopathic attitude and we finally trespass warned him from the property. That didn’t stop him from coming in and he wound up going to jail twice for trespassing. The case continued and we finally went into depositions where our lawyer ripped his case to shreds. He freely admitted he had sued us wanting a settlement and didn’t expect us to fight him. The case continued to progress through time until we finally filed a motion for summary judgement.

We won. The case was thrown out and we were awarded a judgment for our costs (which were covered by our insurance) totaling $85,000.

The revenge: He moved to a nearby town where he continues suing businesses. I set up a Google News Alert for his name. He sued another business, the regional paper picked it up in their “legal briefs” column. I got the email and wasted no time calling my attorney and then the defendant involved to offer my help.

Here’s how we worked it: Our attorney filed a motion to assume his case using our judgment as a vested interest in the outcome of his case. The court agreed and we took his case over, and then immediately settled it for $10. There wasn’t a **** thing he or his ***-house lawyer could do about it. He can expect this 8,499 more times before we quit, and I’m determined to follow through with it. It brings me joy to put effort into ruining his little *** game.”

“A couple of years ago I was renting a duplex. It was nice enough in a good area of town. Not the ideal living situation, but the price was right.

My first set of neighbors was awesome. A couple about my age who I shared interests with. Even though they watched TV or played video games at all hours, I very rarely heard them. Unfortunately, they moved out about four months after I moved in.

A couple with a toddler moved in. The loudest toddler known to humankind.

This is relevant, because my job did one of those merging and downsizing numbers, and I was one of the employees who got cut. No big deal. I had a large emergency fund and could draw unemployment. Luckily, I found a placeholder job shortly after, working overnights.

The overnights were even something of an advantage because I could apply for and interview for jobs in my regular field during the day.

The problem was the hellspawn. While I was trying to sleep, the child would scream at the top of its lungs, run stamping around their half of the duplex like a herd of elephants, then scream some more. When the kid watched TV shows, the volume was always jacked to the absolute max. It made sleeping difficult, even with high-quality earplugs or headphones.

I tried talking to them. “Hey, I work the night shift and so could you please try and keep it down a little?” Nothing I tried worked, no matter how polite or how firm I was.

The neighbors responded, “kids will be kids” and “that’s apartment living, you just hear your neighbors” – even though I mentioned my former neighbors had been avid movie watchers and I rarely heard them.

Fine, then. I couldn’t sleep? They wouldn’t.

Before I left for my night shift, I the volume on my sound system way up and had this song on constant repeat.

Five minutes after I got home, the wife of the couple was hammering on my door.

She started yelling about how all the noise made it so they couldn’t sleep. I responded: “Sorry, I guess I must have set my alarm clock for the wrong time. It must be rough when you can’t sleep, right?” Simple as that, the kid was much quieter. I still heard them, but only occasionally instead of almost constantly.

A couple of months later I found a day shift job again and all was fine.”

“I worked for a software company as a QA Test Lead. The company really liked me and I went from a general assistant to a test lead and tripled my pay in the space of the first 2 and a half years I was there. I have a strong work ethic and my opinion held a lot of weight 4 years in when I was leaving to pursue other ventures.

My last manager there we called ‘Half Day Hambly’ (not his real last name, but similar) because he had a habit of disappearing after lunch on Thursdays and Fridays.

None of us minded too much since when he was there he liked to ‘shoulder surf’ and micromanage projects where he knew absolutely nothing and generally made an appointment a*s of himself. He was known for forcing projects off track and then blaming the platform programmers for the stall; he had no problems tossing people under the bus to give the appearance that he was competent.

Right before I left, I had to have minor outpatient surgery and I stopped by his office to let him know that I would need to work from home for a few days afterward, which was a routine occurrence in my department and I had done it on a couple of occasions.

He agreed and I went about my business until he informed me after I put in 30 hours from home while recovering that I would need to use comp time to cover my missed hours. I went to him and reminded him of the fact that he OK’d it and he gave me a ‘*** you’ smile and said ‘Well, I guess you should have put it in an email.’

So, the following week, when I did my exit interview with HR on my last day I unloaded on them and told them all about Halfday Hambly’s adventures in mismanagement and how he regularly skipped out after lunch to go play golf on Thursdays and Fridays.

The HR manager I spoke with tried calling his office to bring him down right then but got no answer. He asked me if I’d go by his office and bring him down but when I went up, I found his office locked and no one answered the door. The look on the HR manager’s face was priceless when I told him this as it was 1:30pm on Friday when this happened. The HR manager had my check adjusted for me, wished me luck and I left with a smile on my face knowing I had outed this *****.

2 weeks later, my good friend and coworker called me up to say ‘guess who they just fired!’ HR started watching old ‘Halfday’ after I left and determined his caliber of excellence would serve him best somewhere else.”

“This is a tale of elementary school pro revenge. I was in fifth grade, and I will be frank with you, no one liked me. I was chubby and socially inept. This revenge begins with myself and a classmate we will call Jimmy.

Jimmy didn’t like me. He made a sport of harassing me, and I being the delicate ten-year-old flower I was, was naturally distraught on account of his behavior. He would exclude me from activities and lunch groups, but the final straw was on Valentine’s Day. Jimmy enacted a diabolical plot, and I did not receive a single Valentine’s in my shoebox. I was crushed.

After the Valentine snub, he made sure he rubbed salt in my wound by asking to see my Valentine’s and then laughing when I said I didn’t have any.

I wasn’t about to take that sort of cruelty lying down, so I hatched a plot. I spent days and days talking up this new candy type breath spray I had. I went on and on about how delicious it was, and how my dad got it abroad and you couldn’t get it here. Of course, Jimmy was intrigued and asked to sample it. I declined and explained that it was so special and rare that I just couldn’t spare any.

One day before lunch I was talking about how delicious it was and could see the hunger in little Jimmy’s eyes. I pulled my bottle of glasses cleaner out of my backpack and slipped in my desk all fake sneaky like. I knew he had seen it. It was about ten minutes after this that my plan came to fruition. I was walking down the hall and heard a hullabaloo of sorts, so being a curious young lass, I asked what the fuss was about.

Turns out Jimmy had snuck into my desk and drank my glasses cleaner, and by the time he realized his horrible mistake he had swallowed enough to make himself quite ill. An ambulance was called and that little b*****d never bothered me again.

As a side note: as an adult, I now realize how dangerous this was.”

“So, my daughter, who was about 8 at the time, was REALLY into Minecraft (as most kids are these days). Also desperately wanting to join the Youtube/Let’s Play culture, I had installed some screen recording software that would let her make videos of the games she was playing so she could later upload them to Youtube.

Anyways, one day I’m minding my own business when I hear her quietly sniffling over on the computer. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t want to tell me so I let it go, but decided to keep on eye on her. A few minutes later I discovered what was happening; someone was harassing not only her, but also all the other kids playing on whatever server she was on. This kid (we’ll call him Little ***head, or LS) was saying *** about how he was going to **** my 8 year old daughter (she told him how old she was hoping he would stop), how he was going to hack into her IP and steal all her info, swearing profusely (remember, this is a game for kids), etc etc. By this time I had gotten my fiance involved, and she was also obviously quite upset at what a little *** this kid was being.

We realized that our daughter had been recording the entire incident, and a plan began to form.

I started by googling LS’s username. There were several hits immediately, the most interesting of which involved a page where he was publicly applying to be a mod for a server on Minecraft. I was able to learn a lot about this little POS: he claimed to be 15, likes hockey, used to live in Toronto but now lives in Florida.

But the bombshell was easily his skype contact info; it was literally firstname.lastname. I know your name now, you little ***.

So I head over to Facebook and search for the name. Nothing. Hmmmm. On a hunch I searched for just the last name, while narrowing my results to only the state of Florida. Several dozen hits. Hmmm. So I have to start combing through each one, until I find what I was looking for: a middle aged man with the same last name, whose profile indicates he was born in Toronto and now lives in Florida.

I FOUND YOUR DAD, YOU LITTLE ***.

So I sent him a message on Facebook, asking if he had a son named firstname who goes by his username on Minecraft. Dad confirmed I had the right guy. So my wife begins telling the dad everything that LS was saying to my daughter, and we sent him the recorded video as proof. Radio silence for a few days.

Then we got the message back: LS had his computer taken away from him for the entire summer, and had also been lying about his age (he was only 11, I think).

His parents were ****** livid with him, and he surely hated the next few months of his life.

No one **** with my daughter.”

“A couple of decades ago (mid-80’s), I had an occasion where I needed body work done on my car (a kid in the lane to my right tried to turn left without looking). I took it in to a large and supposedly well-regarded body shop for repairs.

In hindsight, I should’ve known it wouldn’t turn out well when they refused to give me a quote without seeing my insurance estimate first.

To keep this short, suffice to say that they screwed it up. They charged for an undercoating that wasn’t applied, got cheap non-OEM replacement parts, ignored instructions to replace the fender (was okayed by the insurance co.), and slathered a couple of pounds of Bondo on it instead (doing a miserable job of matching the contours), and myriad other screw-ups.

Within a week of getting the car back from them, I’d returned with a long list of problems, quality complaints, and omissions.

The general manager (found later he was the owner’s nephew and had a rep for being an ******) basically blew me off with a combination of indifference and rudeness – as to the quality complaints, he said “Look, this car isn’t worth putting Cadillac-level work into it – you want it done better, you’ll have to pay us more money.”

I then did what most p*ssed-off customers do. I bad-mouthed the company to anyone who would listen.

Anytime I saw any car in need of bodywork, I’d warn the owner against this body shop, making my case by showing them the poor work done on my car. I continued doing this for at least 4 years until I finally sold the car.

The real revenge part was that about every 4 to 6 months, I’d call the shop and ask to speak to the GM; when I got him on the phone, I’d identify myself as a PO’ed former customer and tell him that I’d saved a dozen or so people from his company’s shoddy work, and I’d probably cost his shop about $10,000 or thereabouts.

The first two calls he blew off; by the 4th call he was getting worried, and wanted my name and for me to come in so that ‘we could come to an agreement and get you satisfied.’ I told him he had already blown his one chance to make good by insulting me when I came back to get them to do the job right. As to my name, I told him he could easily find it by going over his list of customers who’d come back with complaints about the work they’d done.

I continued the calls even after I’d sold the car, for about 6 years or so; towards the end of that time, I’d point out to him that his attitude had potentially cost his company over $100,000 worth of work. On my last call, I actually got the owner (the nephew was on vacation) and spent a good 15 minutes on the phone with him explaining why I’d made it a 6-year mission to cost them as much business as I possibly could, and that his jerk of a GM had blown any chance of ever getting me to quit bad-mouthing them.

I later heard from friends at a wrecking yard in the same town that the body shop had a new GM.”

“When I was 16, a guy in my chemistry class (in the year above and a bit of a gossiper) was telling a bunch of people that I’d slept with some guy also in the year above. It was untrue, so when I found out, I calmly told him that it wasn’t true and that I’d appreciate it if he stopped saying it to people.

I’d heard a few days later that he was still telling people and I was really mad, so I thought I’d start a rumor of my own.

I had to choose a rumor that was ridiculous, but not so ridiculous that no-one would spread it, but not in a way that would have too negative an effect on his life.

In the 2nd last class of the day (which almost entirely consisted of people from the year above), I said to a few people I sat with, “Hey, did you hear that Tim fingered a cat?” That was it! The rumor snowballed. Teenagers love awkward s*x stories and this one was just too awkward not to share.

Plus it was so bizarre that most people would know that it wasn’t true, so no-one would call animal protection on him. At the end of the day, I was walking home with a friend who had heard from loads of the other people in the upper class about this rumour. I didn’t even tell her it was me so that it couldn’t be traced back.

Kids joked about it for the rest of our school days (which was only a few months because they upper class graduated after that school year).

It morphed into “Tim fingered his gran’s cat” and people would poke him in the stomach singing “na na na na na na catman.” I remember someone shouted it across the social area one day and he exclaimed to a bunch of us “I don’t even know where this came from!” and I kept a wry smile on my face.

I went home last Christmas (then aged 22) and someone said they’d seen Tim Catman. I’m glad to hear it stuck.”

“Back in the 1990s, I was enjoying college life, much the same as any kid. Though I had a great many friends, I wasn’t popular with the ladies at the time, due to my extreme shyness.

Even when girls would show interest, I either didn’t pick up on it or was way too shy to do anything about it.

So the Big Man on Campus (BMoC) lived next to me in our dorm. You know the type – good looking, rich family, born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. This is the kind of guy you saw with a different girl every week. He left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, but it takes two to tango, so whatever.

Now one day, BMoC decided he didn’t like me. I’m guessing mostly because I wasn’t successful with the ladies like himself. I was a quiet neighbor, studious, early to bed type who rarely said a word, so I can’t imagine I did anything to gain his ire. Nevertheless, he decided to torment me every chance he got for a few weeks – physical aggression, verbal assaults about my lack of manliness, typical immature *******.

Anyways, I had enough and went to work with a little revenge scheme.

I was visiting the ER of the local hospital with flu symptoms when a brilliant idea hit me. Sitting in the patient room waiting for a nurse to see me, I noticed a stack of letterhead with the hospital’s information on top. I popped a few of the papers it into my backpack, and after my visit returned to my dorm room… and pc/printer.

I wrote a professional sounding, medical term laced letter to BMoC detailing the fact that a young girl had come into their free clinic who had been diagnosed with syphilis.

She had given the name of several of her ****** partners, including BMoC, and they were requesting he come in to get checked out.

I dropped the letter into campus mail on Thursday, which means he would receive it in his box on Friday. Oh, did I mention the clinic he received the letter from was only open Mon-Thur? 🙂 Thus, he would have to wait a few days to contact them and get tested.

BMoC received his letter on Friday (confirmed by my co-conspirator friend who worked in the campus post office).

Every time I saw him the next few days, he looked like he had seen a ghost. Not really sure of the outcome at the hospital when he showed up with a fake letter in hand, but I do know he chilled right the *** out the rest of that semester.”

“This happened last spring. It was for a final project in my sophomore year of high school. I joined a group for a total of four, including two good friends.

However, we all just assumed someone knew the last guy, none of us knew quite how this kid named Dan got into our group. Whatever, Dan was a smart guy from what we knew. We planned a study session at Panera Bread the following Saturday. Group text. everyone confirms they will attend. Even Dan. Of course, Dan doesn’t show up.

No biggie right? We bust our a*ses on the script and decide to let him get away with just writing the analysis of our script.

Dan once again agrees. The next week we were going to film the project at my house. Now it is important to note here that due to poor planning on our part, we had only two more days until the final was due and we hadn’t even filmed yet. We instruct Dan to bring the analysis of the script with him to my house when we film. But guess what: he hasn’t done the analysis as we told him to.

He tells us he can write it while we film, but that wasn’t the deal, we need everyone in our group to film for full credit. So Dan says he will come film with us then write the analysis. But doesn’t show up. What the **** Dan? We missed off-season practice to accommodate you and you don’t show up!?

At this point, we realize he is just dead weight. But we were mad. We wanted revenge.

We realized we had been instructed to pick our own groups. Technically, the teacher had no idea who was paired with who. So, we compiled all of our group texts (Including some where Dan referred to us white guys using the N-word) and printed them off. Then we shot the film sans Dan and I gleefully wrote the analysis solo. The next day (the day before its due) Dan is texting us like mad trying to get us to film with him.

But Oops. Sorry Dan, we only took one day off practice to meet with you and that was yesterday.

We finish practice. I tell Dan (who had already been waiting 3 hours at this point) that we had already shot the day before. He sends a flurry of angry texts demanding that we shoot the entire project over again, to which we all reply no. Come the day of the project, we had already emailed the analysis, video, and script to the teacher.

We show her screenshots where Dan has clearly neglected his responsibilities and referred to us with the N-word. Dan is called to speak with her privately right before we present and is not in the class for the rest of the period. We later found out he had received a warning for his use of language with us but, even better, Dan received an F on his project and his grade dropped two letters. It was glorious, and nobody ever worked with him on a project for the rest of the year in any class.

He did learn his lesson, but not before getting the lowest passing grade in the class that year.”

“When I was in 10th grade I got into refereeing football for a little league in town. I got hired by a random booster club mom and she tells me they pay us in cash out of the snack cart money(fancy part of town selling Voss and ***) but hey no problem I was 16 getting $120 cash every Saturday sounds nice.

So the owner of the league (we’ll call him D from here) was a generally nice guy and had a son on a team. D was the guy living all of his failed childhood through his 9-year-old kid. The season was going great except when I had to ref. his games.

He would get mad at any call involving his son no matter what happened. If his kid was on the line and went offsides we were expected not to call it, well I like to make things as fair as possible for kids so I would always call it.

This would set him off and he would come running from the sidelines yelling at me. I tried to talk to him multiple times but his reply was always the same, “It’s my league so it’s my rules” so I moved on and just kept doing me. The season was winding down and his kid’s team happened to make it into the championship game. The head coaches get to choose 1 referee each, D chose Doug (Doug’s cool, I like Doug) and the other coach chose me.

D calls me mid-week telling me there was going to be an NFL rep. there to do the coin toss and evaluating the league for a sponsorship. Annoyed with his mid-game disruptions I decided to have some petty revenge and try to p*ss off D in front of the rep. On the day of the game, I show up and act just like always, got everything set up then called out the captains. Out comes D with his son and the other coach and his captain.

We get everything started and at 1st I let the little things go. I feel giddy but I know I have to let the kid win a bit so he really feels the burn. The score was tied with 4 minutes left when I saw an opportunity to strike. It was 4th down on their own 15, Ds son was at quarterback and instead of taking the snap from center, he said “hike” and picked up the ball.

Normally I would let this go, but it was Ds kid so I tossed my flag. Expecting a 5-10 yard run you could imagine I was a bit surprised when he took it all the way for an 85 yard TD.

Everyone on the sidelines going crazy, including D, when the other coach starts yelling “hold up, flag there’s a flag.” I call a meeting in the middle of the field and explain what happened. D wasn’t having it he was staying surprisingly calm and he said I could either declare it a TD or take off my uniform, so *** it I quit.

I’m waiting for the booster lady to pay me when she gets a call and says “D told me not to pay you.” I waited till D was available and had it out with him when he makes it clear that I was paid under the table and that I could basically go get ***ed. Time for some serious ****** revenge.

I talk to that NFL rep on the way out and tell him what’s going on and he seemed a little p*ssed off.

Then I went ahead and gave a call to the IRS and gave them all the information I had. I forgot about it for a few weeks. Then, I got a call from Doug asking if I was the one that called him in and he explained that D had 6 other businesses that had a lot of under-table dealings. He ends the call by saying. “That was pretty ***ed up. It was just a little league football game, it didn’t have to end like this.” D had a multi-million dollar house, 2 nice cars, and a loving family, and $120 screwed him out of it all.”

“So this happened about 7-8 years ago. My grandfather ran this electrical supply store that his father started, and his still-living mother owned. My great grandmother also owned quite a bit of real estate and land around the town and was a slumlord landlord. She was the epitome of evil to quite a lot of people, and everyone hated her, including most of my family.

To give you some traits of this woman, she threw a scalding hot pot of coffee on my uncle, snuck into my grandparent’s house one night and beat my grandmother with a baseball bat, etc. Just an all-around spiteful human being, but you know, family.

She was in her 90s and still had plenty of life in her. She took absolutely no meds, not even aspirin. This woman even survived a hit on her that resulted in 2.22LR rounds being forever stuck in her brain.

That was a traumatic experience, but a story for another time.

Well my grandfather managed the store, my uncle bid their supply jobs, and my mother handled all the rentals. I helped around pretty much everywhere and grew up in that business.

Well one day out of the blue, my estranged great aunt (grandfather’s sister), shows up to visit my great grandmother. No big deal, she’s been known to do this about every 4-5 years.

Well over the course of the following months, we had noticed a change in demeanor towards us. She started spending all her time with her daughter, who we’ll call Gayle. We didn’t know it at the time, but Gayle was having her rewrite her entire will.

Over the following months, Gayle had enlisted the help of some of our local PD using her mom’s checkbook. Taps were placed on all our phones, my grandfather and uncle were both arrested under mysterious circumstances, my grandfather’s mentally disabled brother died under mysterious circumstances in their home, had the power of attorney my mom held revoked and put in her name, and then bad my great grandmother declared incompetent.

It was a complete s*******m that hit us all in a row, then she up and fires everyone in the family because it’s now all hers. Luckily at this time, we were able to destroy almost every physical copy of data we had, but not the computers. She changed all the locks and even had her corrupt cop buddies help play guard dog for her. To say we were furious would be an understatement.

My family had poured their heart and souls into that business for decades, and it was all ripped out from under us in an instant.

My family likes to take the high road, but me, not always. I pondered and waited for the right moment.

It was about 2 months later when a very rough storm was rolling through one summer night. I grabbed my bag of supplies and hopped into my truck. It was about 1 am, and the town was dead.

No one wanted to get out in that torrential downpour. I pulled up behind the building and killed the vehicle.

Now I was pretty much raised in this building and knew it inside and out. I also had helped install the security cameras, so I had that knowledge as well. I picked the machine shop door and snuck in. From this point on, I began to lace every possible surface with poison ivy. Keyboards, mice, phones, counters, doorknobs, toilet seat, toilet paper, just anything I knew she would touch.

An interesting little fact about my family: almost everyone in my family is highly allergic to the s**t, so much so that they have to go to the hospital for just getting near it. I lucked out on the genetic lottery and it doesn’t affect me at all.

After every surface had a nice, oily film to it, I proceeded to open up the business computers and wipe every financial record and every backup.

I also decided to sabotage to computers’ electrical supply so it looked like a power surge blew it.

To my glee, I heard the next day that she was in the hospital and a lightning strike had fried their comps. She spent that entire week in the hospital and had to keep going back for months because they just couldn’t get rid of the poison ivy. All invoices and accounts both for the electrical supply business and the hundreds of rentals were all lost. Literally, all of the information had just disappeared.

I wish I could say this story had some sort of happy conclusion, but unfortunately, there isn’t one. My family couldn’t afford to keep the lawsuits up, and grew exhausted from the harassment, especially after my great grandmother died. We lost, but I made her life h**l for it.

She was never able to truly salvage either business. She was a raging sociopath, and definitely not cut out for business. I’ve heard over the years that she was able to “salvage” the rentals somewhat, with a few hiccups.

One tenant threw a brick at her car for threatening her, several people have shot up the business, bricks thrown through her windows, etc. I’m sure there’s way more, but I don’t keep up.